Authors: Shae Ford
Chapter 1 - The Wrath of the King
Chapter 4 - Bad Luck or Piracy
Chapter 11 - The Merchant’s Daughter
Chapter 13 - The Tales of a Halfcat
Chapter 17 - Devin and the Dragon
Chapter 18 - A Different Ending
Chapter 19 - The Voice of the Mountains
Chapter 21 - Warmth and Silence
Chapter 26 - Wee Mountain Mice
Chapter 27 - To the Gates of Midlan
Chapter 39 - A Short-Lived Victory
Chapter 41 - A Month in the Brig
Chapter 43 - The Hatching Grounds
Chapter 45 - Baird’s Cursed Letter
Chapter 47 - The Battle Begins
Chapter 50 - A Fight for the North
Chapter 55 - The Edge of Villainy
Chapter 57 - The Eternal Woods
Chapter 60 - A Little Reminder
Daybreak
Fate’s Forsaken Series: Book 4
Shae Ford
Copyright © 2015 Shae Ford
All rights reserved.
For Nana and Boompa; Mimama and Poppy
There was always a new adventure to be had, wasn’t there?
Whether we trekked by machete or paintbrush — it didn’t matter to us
Your homes were the corners of our Kingdom
Devin stood alone at the mountains’ top.
The world was cold and still. Snow poured so thickly from the clouds that if he paused, he could hear it: the earth tugging on their bellies while the air hissed across their backs. The heavy flakes wavered uncertainly. They spun like creatures with broken wings until they finally struck the ground, their fragile bodies shattering against unforgiving mounds of white.
They broke one after another, spilling across the remains of those who’d fallen just before. As all the little pieces of their crystal flesh rolled away, each made a distinct sound — its own tiny, final gasp.
Noise had become unbearable, of late.
Devin could hear everything, even the things he didn’t want to hear. The whistling of the archmage’s breath as he sucked air between his teeth, the way his steps dragged across the cold stone floor — the things he laughed about with the castle guards. These sounds haunted him to the edge of the Kingdom, to the crest of the mountains’ top.
A ruined, frozen castle surrounded him. Devin didn’t remember the journey. But if he closed his eyes tightly, he could see it: a broken memory of rounded walls and a shattered tower perched upon a hill of bright blue stone. There was a gap taken out of the back wall — as if the rest of the fortress had broken off and fallen into the sea below …
The sea …
Devin’s mind cut from the memory of the frozen ruins and struck upon another. He saw swirling waves and mountains of ice set adrift among the blue. Though a part of him curled its toes at the distance between his body and the ground, another part cleaved to the memory — it welcomed the cold relief of the icy spray, relished the danger of gliding between the mountains’ peaks.
It wasn’t the sea that excited him so much as the thing that lay beyond it … a warm shadow in the distance … a refuge set atop the world that made both parts of him long to take flight …
The sea
, Devin thought again. He took a half step towards the shattered cliff …
Concentrate, beast. Tell me what you’ve found.
Devin clutched his ears at the sudden burst of Ulric’s voice inside his head. The archmage was always listening. All the words that Devin thought belonged to
him
— he’d made that very clear.
But Devin never had much time to think.
A strange darkness had come along with the sounds. It stood unflinching at the back of his mind, always coiled to strike. Sometimes its presence was nothing more than a dull throb — an annoyance he shoved aside. But other times, the darkness rose sharply.
It covered his eyes and trapped him in something that felt like sleep, except that when the darkness covered him, he
knew
he was asleep. His mind scratched and clawed against its hold. Hours might pass while Devin battled the darkness. Sometimes it would be days before he woke — and its hold was always strongest around the archmage.
He was often awake when Ulric entered the chamber. Sometimes he would even feel the pain of the first cut or burn. But after that, the darkness snapped its wings over his eyes. He knew no more until he woke, wounded and sore.
Devin knew the darkness must’ve been
his
doing: the dragon whose soul he’d fought with at the Braided Tree. Though they’d tried, neither of them had been able to defeat the other. Their battle crashed through the shadowed realm and into the world beyond. Now the dragon’s grip on their bodies was just as strong as Devin’s.
Sometimes, it was even stronger.
There was no end to it, either. There was no hope that the darkness would ever relent. Devin could escape the dragon’s hold no more than a man could escape his shadow.
He’d shoved Devin aside the moment they took flight. He’d carried them here. But the dragon didn’t always understand what Ulric wanted from them. So he’d had no choice but to slink back and let Devin speak.
The fortress is ruined
.
Devin picked his way across the snow. Behind him lay a broken tower. Its top had burst and its bricks were scattered across the field. The ruins spread in an arc throughout the courtyard.
Among the bits of brick were a number of strange mounds. Devin scraped the snow from the edge of the nearest one. His stomach twisted when he saw a hand lay beneath it — a human hand, perfectly preserved beneath a cask of ice.
There are bodies in the courtyard
.
Whose bodies
?
There should be an emblem on the chest
.
Devin didn’t want to look for an emblem. He didn’t want to scrape any deeper. But Ulric would not be ignored.
Search the body
!
His voice stabbed Devin’s ears with something that felt like the barbs of bees. Their insides swelled, screamed for relief. He swiped desperately at the snow beside the hand.
If there had been an emblem on the man’s chest, it was gone now. There was nothing but a ragged hole — edged by the shattered remains of his ribs, stained with the dark red of his blood.
Devin’s stomach lurched and his last meal came up behind it. He was still retching when Ulric’s voice stung him again. He nearly tripped in his rush to get to the next mound.
It was much larger than the first. When he wiped the snow away, a monster’s face startled him backwards.
Fur sprouted from its flesh in coarse, uneven patches. Fangs cut out from a mouth twisted in a snarl. The bridge of its nose was wrinkled in what could’ve been pain or shock. Its empty black eyes were frozen in death.
What do you see
? Ulric demanded.
Monsters — like the ones in the dungeons. Some sort of cat
, he added, scraping the snow from its pointed ears.
This monster sickened him more than the corpse. Devin had seen the creatures trapped in His Majesty’s dungeons: their human halves had been nearly devoured by the animal. A curse twisted their bodies into horrible shapes … the same curse Devin wore around his neck.
The iron collar had rubbed a raw circle into his flesh. If he ignored Ulric for too long, the collar would burn white-hot with his fury. He would threaten to boil Devin’s blood and cook his innards. But though he feared the pain, he feared the change even more.
Devin’s hand shook as he traced the curse’s first mark: a line of scales that’d popped up down his nose. They’d burst through his flesh and bled weakly until they healed. The skin beside them was strangely hard. If he pressed down, he could feel another layer of scales growing beneath it.
Eventually, they would overtake him. They would twist his face and make his teeth grow long —
The emblem
, Ulric snapped.
Though his hands shook badly, Devin forced himself to wipe the snow away. Tiny links of steel were embedded into the monster’s flesh — as if the change had pressed against the armor, but couldn’t break it away. So its skin had begun to grow over the edges of the breastplate.
Ulric cast a spell on Devin’s clothes that allowed them to stretch with his shape. But tears had begun to appear along the seams of his tunic. There were holes in his boots: he could feel the wet of the snow leaking through them.
He tried not to wonder if his skin would wrap around his clothes the way this monster’s had … but he couldn’t help it.
Carved into the shining metal plate — just above another tattered wound in the creature’s gut — was the snarling head of a wolf.
Titus
, Ulric mused when Devin described the emblem.
His army froze to death at the summit, then
?
No, they were … slain
.
Slain
?
How
?
Devin tried not to look at the monster’s wound, but his eyes seemed to have a mind of their own.
It looks like a fist went through his middle
.
It’s
—
He retched again at the thought. Ulric’s voice grew impatient.
Impossible. No one could punch through armor. If they are truly slain, then you’ll search for Titus’s body
.
Please
—
Now,
beast. His Majesty demands it
.
Devin didn’t want to have to sift through all of the bodies. He didn’t think he could stomach the sight of one more frozen wound. But if he didn’t obey, Ulric would punish him.
He’d resigned himself to his fate when a strange feeling made him turn around. The feeling grew as he stared at the broken tower. It tugged on his bones, made him want to go closer.
This feeling was another thing that’d come with the dragon’s soul. It pushed him along, sometimes. It showed him things he couldn’t have possibly seen or heard — and it was never wrong. He’d learned to listen.
Devin dragged his feet through the snow, stepping carefully along the thick layer of ice that cloaked the summit. His blood boiled so hotly that he often had a difficult time falling asleep — even in the cool damp of the dungeons. The cold would’ve likely frozen any other man to the rocks.
But for Devin, it was a welcome relief.
He was near the rampart steps when a sudden gust of wind ripped through the still air. Bumps rose across his flesh where it touched; his bones trembled against it. The feeling that guided him towards the broken tower now whispered that those winds were meant for
him
. The mountains were speaking to him.
They roared that he wasn’t welcome.
Find Titus
!
Devin bared his teeth against the mountains’ growl and forced himself to the top of the ramparts. He climbed through the shattered remains of the tower and onto a stretch of wall. There were so many chunks of tower scattered around that he almost didn’t see the lone mound hidden near the edge of the ruins.
It was misshapen, buckled in at its middle. When Devin cleared the snow away, the face of a man gaped back. Though his mane of hair was tangled and his face twisted in shock, it matched the memory Ulric had given him — one of many thoughts that’d come with the curse. Even now, the words of a thousand captives swam inside his ears, behind his eyes.
Ulric’s was just one of the voices that kept him awake.
Interesting
…
how did he die
? Ulric said.
Devin cleared the snow at Titus’s chest — the part that bent inwards so strangely. Though the ice shell was as clear as glass, it still took him a moment to realize what he saw.
One final blow had finished Earl Titus. It’d bent his breastplate, collapsed his chest. A nearly blackened puddle of blood ringed his corpse. Devin studied the mark for a moment, still not entirely sure. Then he stood.
When he placed a foot on Titus’s chest, his boot slid perfectly into the mark.
There was no denying what had happened. As impossible as it seemed, someone had stomped Titus to death. But Devin knew Ulric would never believe it.
He was crushed
.
How
?
A fallen rock. It landed straight on his middle
.