Remember the Dawn Read online

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Afterword

  © 2018 A. M. Macdonald. All rights reserved.

  Visit the author’s website at http://www.dybsy.ca and follow him on Twitter @therealdybsy.

  ISBN-9781730833786

  Editing by JD Book Services

  Cover by J Caleb Design

  Formatting by J Caleb Design

  For my family

  Chapter One

  “The first step to channeling your star is understanding a simple truth: It is alive.”

  - Neranian’s First Degree

  Valura Rayn's shrieks pierced the night's calm. Her wardens responded immediately, and she heard their plated armor clang off the city-home's leystone walls. Three men charged into her chambers, longswords gleaming in the twinkle of stars hanging in the sky above her lunette.

  She stood alone, twitching fingers covering her mouth as she stared in horror beyond the silk sheets hanging from bedposts. Her wardens approached with measured steps until the tips of their blades poked into the drapes and shifted them aside. A single black arrow lay atop her frilled, pink pillow, tipped by a serrated blade, metallic fins for feathers.

  “Lady Rayn?” Levant, head of her family's wardens, asked as he lowered his weapon. “Are you all right?”

  She snapped from her shock.

  “Fool, keep your steel ready. They are here!”

  Levant arched his eyebrows, but lifted his sword. It glinted in the soft glow of decorative candlelight.

  “Who's here?” He nodded his head to the corners and his men spread out through the room, weapons at the ready. Valura watched them with contempt. Her wardens were as decorative as her candles, but her father demanded their presence at all times. How could starless men hope to keep her safe?

  She grabbed the arrow from her pillow and abruptly fled the room, nightwear swishing behind her. Levant and his wardens followed without question.

  Her mind reeled as she hurried through the city-home, oblivious to the stares from servants and sycophants roused at such a late hour. She knew the parables of the black arrow left on a pillow, as did every child in the Celaena. It was a dark fairy tale for the naughty, those who were marked for death by Saryx.

  Such superstitions were beneath the Astral families. Her belief displeased her father, and thus displeased her brother. But she, however, did not care, pushing aside any concern as she navigated to her brother's chambers, dodging between white pillars and rushing past towering sculptures of warriors from an age long past, the remains of defeated apostles scattered about their feet.

  Large oak doors crashed open as she announced her entrance. She glared down her brother's wardens posted to the sides who had drawn and postured, prepared to defend their charge. They quickly took the knee before the Astral, faces to floor. She swept into the room, illuminated by the glow of twinkling stars, light reflected by a cascading pattern of mirrors arranged around the walls.

  Antarro paced beside a map of the Dominion of Vespri that stood ten feet high and stretched from wall to wall. An orb of incandescent red light bounced in his palm and cast a halo over portions of the map. He focused on the Sundered Valley.

  Despite Valura’s commotion, her brother did not turn from his map, so damned consumed with politics. She fumed.

  “Shouldn't you be sleeping? Tomorrow's negotiations with House Lokka are quite important,” he spoke at his map, not to her, his voice hinting at boredom.

  She hissed, fear coursing through her body, and propelled the black arrow at her brother's map with a conjured wind; the arrow buried into the map, directly in the center of the Sundered Valley. His wardens rose to their feet and gripped the hilts of their swords, watching, though their gestures were meaningless. They were not defiant—only simple, starless men—and posed no threat to a Starsinger.

  Attention seized, Antarro flicked the still reverberating arrow shaft and ran his fingers down the cold metal. He grasped and pulled it from the map, leaving behind a jagged rip, and examined the serrated arrow head.

  “Fascinating. It looks just like I’d imagined. Such craftsmanship is admirable.”

  “Fascinating? You consider a threat on your sister's life to be fascinating?” She clenched her fists and shook in place.

  “A threat on your life? Really, Val', it's too late at night for drama.”

  “This is serious, 'Tarro, so please take me seriously.”

  Her brother sighed, finally turning from his map. He still wore his formal attire, a red tunic with blue trim—the sigil of their House branded across his chest—with straight black pants that seemed as if they'd never before creased. Black boots shone from beneath the cuffs. He looked at her with kind eyes sunk beneath his brow, but nestled above high cheekbones. His upper lip was quite thin, a Rayn trait, and his face gaunt, framed by medium-length white hair.

  “I never believed the stories.” Valura strained to hear her brother's whisper. “I still don't, and I want you to know that. Still, I am of course concerned when my sister presents in my chambers at this late hour in a frenzy. So, where did you find this?”

  “On my pillow, 'Tarro, and it didn't come from any story.” She raised her voice, frustrated at her brother's calm. He was treating her like a child that needed consoling.

  He raised a finger to his lips, and with it the arrow.

  “Let's maintain our composure, shall we?”

  She caught her tongue, but her face reddened.

  “As you say, 'Tarro.” She pulled tight her nightdress to smooth the wrinkles. “Are you going to ignore this?”

  “Of course not.” Antarro chuckled. “If this was truly laid on your pillow, then we have a prankster in our midst. A prankster who must be found… and dealt with” His next words flowed like ice.

  “Prankster? You think this was a prankster?” she huffed. A commoner playing a prank on an Astral? No, it didn't make sense.

  “Who else?” He raised an eyebrow and his tone sounded just like her father’s.

  “You know damned well, 'Tarro.” She spoke incrementally louder, and her face burned hotter as her brother laughed.

  “Saryx is legend, Val', nothing more. Cautionary tales for children who stay out too late or cause too much trouble. I'm a little worried by your reaction, to be honest.”

  “Do you still think I’m little girl?” She was shouting now, hands on her hips, eyes fogged red and skin glowing. The star within began to vibrate.

  “Easy, sister.” Antarro stepped forward and rested a hand on her shoulder, the incredulity on his face shifting to concern. “The star can go wild in an instant. Breathe deeply. Feel it, control it, don't let it govern you. You are the singer, Val', not the song.”

  She relaxed, as she always did when she saw the fear in her brother's eyes. He commanded the star much better, but her wild magic made her more dangerous.

  “I promise you I will look into this—story, myth, or otherwise. Whoever is responsible with be brought to justice.”

  “Proper justice?” Her eyebrows lifted.

  “Of course.” Red mist began to fill Antarro’s eyes, and a crimson glow began to shimmer from his fingertips.

  “That is your justice, 'Tarro. You need to send for
the Order's justice “

  He pressed his lips together. “I will do no such thing.”

  “Please! For me! I'm scared of that,” she pointed at the arrow, “thing, brother. Even if this is just a prank, there is something nefarious about raising a legend from the ash. It must be investigated.” She crossed her arms. “I want an Arbiter.”

  “Do not speak that word around me!” Antarro hissed between tightened lips, and his brow furrowed. “They cannot be trusted.”

  Valura sighed and squeezed her brother's arm, summoning a calm she didn't really feel.

  “The war is over, Tarro'. We lost, the Lion won—the balance has been restored. We must embrace the old ways.”

  “You almost sound like you believe that drivel.”

  She scowled. “Believe or not, brother, we've no real choice at the present.”

  Valura met his eyes, clear and sharp, and saw the deviousness within.

  His demeanor changed immediately. “Of course. You're right, balance must be restored. I'll send a herald to the Order at first light.”

  What is he planning?

  She dismissed the thought and smiled, satisfied, then threw her arms around her brother. He hugged back, and she nestled in his embrace, a familiar comfort. Her older brother had looked after her all these years, taking their father's place while he’d attended to family affairs. He’d kept her hidden through the war, despite the infancy of his journey in connecting with the Rayn star.

  While still grasping Antarro, Valura flicked her eyes to the map and the Sundered Valley. House Lokka controlled the eastern passage—the doorstep to the unexplored Expanse—and the meadows within the Valley provided the richest source of pure silkweave.

  “Marcinian will never yield, Antarro. These talks are a waste of time, and I hate that I’ve wasted so much time preparing.”

  “Do you still think this is about taxes?”

  Her brother’s question caught her off guard. Why else had she spent so many nights studying treaties which went back centuries, familiarizing herself with trade rights and the ebbs and flows of resources, and discussing strategy to bring back prestige to her family and remove the taint of their brutal defeat by the Order. She couldn’t understand how the other families blamed her House when it was the Ferai who sat on their blasted mountain and refused to fight? It wasn’t Rayn’s fault that the Astral had gone to war with four Houses, not five. She seethed.

  “It's not?”

  “No.” Antarro chuckled again, but gently and without malice. “It's about much more. Marcinian Lokka doesn't need any more tokens—the coffers beneath his manor are full to the brim, and excess spills out into the streets, mostly carried by his dimwitted sons. Though, thankfully for him, the Lokka provide more than enough Starsinger fodder for the League to claw most of the tokens back. Betting against his own children? I suppose it makes sense.” He dropped his smile. “No, our talks have nothing do with taxes.”

  “Then what?” she asked with a frown, slightly annoyed at the waste of her time.

  Her brother moved to the southern window and looked out over Celaena, the largest city in the Dominion. He beckoned and she joined him. The view was not the best, and most preferred to gaze out over the Unpassable Sea to the north of the city-island. But Celaena vibrated, wondrous in its own right.

  The city housed a million commoners scattered between the quints and districts, living under the grip of the Astral families, fierce and feared. Buildings of varying heights dotted the skyline, and lights from natural—and unnatural—sources twinkled, brightest at the center of the city, where life in the Nightmarkets shimmered. And high above the city, in the deep black of the starry sky, she saw the familiar constellations, always in the same place throughout every season, among them three points of a crown, a projection of her family’s sigil.

  “The Sundered Valley is just land, Val'. It is important land, to be sure, and a gateway for the silkweave we need for our cloth trade, but it is still just land. House Lokka will gouge us for the right to pass, even though they don't need it, and we'll pay more than required. That's the way of things, and there's no one to oversee any of it. And the families will keep on, forever, moving to and fro in the perpetual rhythm of boring mercantilism to which we've been relegated.”

  She kept gazing out the window, waiting for his point.

  “But the families are small, Val'. There are far more people without stars than with. I can feel their resentment when I walk through the city, even at night when they are most vulnerable. If they were defiant, it'd be different, for they'd have nothing to fear. But that power is left to the Arbiters.” Disgust laced his voice. “Only they stay the tide, prevent us from taking our rightful place as lords.” He gestured in the air to an audience of one. “The way of things needs to change. We are just thugs, gangs who've used starlight to accumulate wealth, restrict supply, force scarcity. We are not kings or nobles.” He paused. “But we should be.”

  “Wait, did we go back in time just now? Is this ten years ago?”

  Antarro did not smile. “You jest, but I know you feel the same. You're a singer too—an Astral—and you feel your birthright in your veins. Fabric and taxes will never be enough.”

  “Whether I agree or not isn't relevant, brother.” How quickly he'd reverted to his lust for vengeance. Their family's defeat still clearly weighed heavy upon him.

  “Perhaps not, but even you must see the truth of things. The war will never really be over, 'Val. After so many thousands of years, the gates finally broke—the dam burst. It cannot be put back together.”

  “Let's pretend for a moment, 'Tarro, that you're right: that the Astral are fated to another conflict with the Order, the only obstacle preventing the Astral from enslaving the starless. What change do you propose to yield a different result?”

  “Remove the obstacles, of course.” He grinned.

  “I'm not seeing a difference.”

  “Not with fire and brimstone, but with subversion and deceit. Weaken them from within, strike when they're vulnerable.”

  Valura's curiosity was piqued. Maybe there were other ways to bring prestige back to House Rayn beyond just gaining incremental advantages in trade disputes.

  “What are you planning?”

  Her brother grinned again. “Father says the Patron Ferai is seeking to resurrect the faith.”

  “What?” She stepped back, raised a gloved hand to her mouth. The faith had been purged from the Dominion millennia ago, considered as much a fairytale as the legend of Saryx. “That cannot be!”

  “We'll allow it.”

  “You'll allow it? Antarro, this is madness—the faith cannot be restored. It will be the death of us all. Those damned Ferai! First, they abandon us in the war, and now this?”

  “Relax. There can be no faith without dogma. A cheap knockoff, nothing more.”

  “You can’t know that! It must be stopped!”

  “Again the dramatics, Val'? Demons with metal arrows and celestial gods with weaponized faith? The truth is far simpler.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Think, sister. Give the worthless commoners an illusion of power, give them a reason to be, and let them believe they have a voice. In time, their jealousy will subside, the tension between singer and starless will dissipate, and the Arbiters will be without meaning. There will be no more balance needing of preservation. Two birds with one stone, and we'll be free to shape the Dominion as we want—on the backs of the people themselves, no less.”

  The information flowed as if from a hose. It seemed like only yesterday the Astral had been licking their wounds, settling their grievances, and accepting their defeat. Like the ringing of a bell, her brother's words resonated in her mind. Emotions surged inside her, turmoil from being born to a humbled House and her birthright being shackled by the institutions of lesser men. And then, stillness. She knew it to be true.

  “It is a cunning plan. 'Tarro. One I think you will execute well.”

  He smiled as he rested another heav
y hand on her shoulder. “We'll do it together, sister.”

  “No, you will not.”

  The siblings started at the intruding voice, but reacted in an instant, eyes fogging red and skin glowing. Valura swept her arms over her head and the air about her became a swirling vortex of wind and light, while Antarro clasped his hands together, palm to palm, his orb of light increasing in size until it enveloped him.

  “You do not deserve such power.”

  The intruder's voice was soft, but deep. Antarro and Valura maintained their defensive stances, eyes scanning the room and seeking the source. They saw wardens laying disemboweled by the now sealed doorway, an act unheard and unnoticed. Levant was sitting in a chair across the room, facing the map, positioned as if taking in a grand show in the promenade. He looked peacefully asleep.

  “There will be no more of your abuses, no more lies. Your arrogance is astounding, but not unexpected.” The intruder spat the words as if they were poison, and they seemed to emanate from all corners of the room at once.

  “Show yourself, starless!” she screeched, unsure and terrified, words dampened by swirling winds.

  Antarro would believe now, he must. But the thought didn't matter and she shook it away, concentrating on maintaining her channel and control over her star. She repeated her brother's words to herself: the singer, not the song. Antarro stood firm next to her, pressing his palms together to expand his orb light to shield her, until she became enveloped in a pulsing intersection of her churning winds and Antarro’s orb of light.

  The intruder cackled. “Starless? I've not been called that for many years. In fact, I'd almost forgotten how imperious you singers could be.”

  Now Antarro laughed. “You are not worthy to stand in this home. We are wielders of the star of Rayn. Who are you? Just a bitter man. Go back to the shadow and rot.”