The Borderlands (Book Two): War Read online

  The Borderlands: War

  Aderyn Wood

  Contents

  Copyright

  About the book

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Arcadia

  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

  Earth

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  The Borderlands

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Aderyn Wood

  Copyright © 2016 by Aderyn Wood

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Edited by Amanda J. Spedding

  www.phoenixeditingandproofreading.com

  Cover Art by Taire Morrigan

  www.facebook.com/MorriganArtwork

  Cover Art Stocks by:

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  Created with Vellum

  About the book

  The Borderlands: War is the second book in ‘The Borderlands’ trilogy.

  ‘The saviour shall have fire for hair and emeralds for eyes – her heart knows both goodness and evil.’

  The prophecy predicted Dale to be the saviour. It's what everyone believed. But after a year of training, even a basic illumination spell proves impossible most of the time. How is she supposed to defeat the dark sorcerer and thwart the Unseelie horde that masses on the Arcadia border, bringing war to their doorstep?

  The Seelie queen still has faith in her daughter – the fraught faith of one who believes in prophecies. But the belief has died in those left in Arcadia, and each day Dale is reminded by the fading hope in their eyes.

  Desperate to halt the destruction of her new world, and despite her flawed sorcery, Dale heeds the strange whispers in her dreams and embarks upon a dangerous and secret quest in an attempt to fulfill her part in the prophecy.

  If successful, Dale could be their saviour after all...

  Follow Dale's struggle to overcome grief, self-doubt, fragile friendships and mystifying romance as she attempts to discover her purpose and help save the Borderlands from destruction.

  To friendship

  Prologue

  The old woman rested against the stone wall of the cell. The concrete floor lent its cold to her body, and she shivered for the millionth time. Darkness filled every crevice, and the air sat still and stale. She’d lost track of time – outside it could be night or day, summer or spring. Her weary bones ached but hunger over-rode the pain. And thirst. Her dry tongue failed to soothe cracked lips.

  Footsteps echoed and she hitched a breath. They were back. Back to see if she would talk, now they had broken her. A heavy door, off in the distance, groaned open and footsteps grew louder. Cruel lights blinked on in the cell and her eyes shut tight, craving darkness once more.

  The click of the lock to her cell door was next, and she slowly opened her eyes, blinking away the blur. It had been many years since she’d last seen him. His face hadn’t changed one notch. Although he now wore his black hair short and slicked back, its widow's peak was still prominent. His nose, long and slightly hooked, was just like the hawk. But his eyes were different. Those golden irises almost seemed to glow.

  He stepped into the cell, gaze assessing. Her dress was torn and dirty and her grey hair hung in tangled strands over her shoulders. Weak as she was, she held her chin up.

  “You know what I want.” His voice was calm and lulling, yet echoed in the cold, hard space. “Will you do it?”

  She kept her chin high and didn’t move her gaze from his. She wouldn’t speak. She wouldn’t betray the lass.

  He clenched his jaw. “It’s quite a little thing that I ask. Just open a portal, as close as you can get to her, long enough for us to enter. Then you’ll have food, wine, a hot bath. I am a man of my word. Even you cannot deny that.”

  Oh, he meant what he said. He’d promised all those years ago that one day he would kill his own master, the man who had taught him the secrets of sorcery – her oldest friend. He’d kept his word, yes.

  She clamped her dry lips shut, her eyes still fixed on his. She could keep her word too, the lass would remain safe.

  He grimaced, turned, then looked over his shoulder. “This was your last chance, Nessa. You have until I reach that door to change your mind. Then you shall remain here, forgotten, until you die.” He took a step, followed by another.

  She looked at her hands, their wrinkly paper-fine skin revealed her age and her dehydration. A hunger cramp clawed at her insides and she gasped, doubling over. His footsteps paused. Ness could almost smell the promise of food and water in that pause, but she couldn't give in to it. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. His footsteps echoed down the corridor until they stopped and the heavy door opened.

  “Fool.” The word spiraled its way to her, bouncing off stone walls. The door shut with a solid thud, the lights blinked off, and she was alone.

  Part I

  Arcadia

  1

  Dale touched the leaves of the young willow. The tree had grown fast, at least a metre over the last year. After her hurried escape from Earth she’d propagated a stem, no longer than her hand, and planted it to commemorate yet another friend who had died because of her. She’d watered it every day in summer.

  “Hello, Cat.” She gathered up her linen skirt and sat on the grassy bank to pat the ground beneath the sapling. “I miss you.”

  A tiny hand appeared beside hers and patted the ground too. Dale looked at her little sprite standing beside her; even with Dale seated, the sprite was so small her head barely reached Dale's shoulder.

  “Hi, Esme.”

  In her usual purple dress, Esme grinned, revealing her little fangs, but then her expression morphed into a picture of despair and she threw her arms around Dale’s neck.

  Dale’s breath shuddered as she hugged the sprite back. “It’s all right, Esme. I’m just sad. It was a year ago today that Cat died. I miss him.”

  Esme stood back and wiped Dale’s eyes, before flinging the tears on the ground. Then she turned to the grave and pointed her finger a number of times giving Cat a soundless lecture with a stern face before disappearing as suddenly as she’d arrived.

  Dale laughed and cried at the same time. Even with Cat gone, Esme was still trying to argue with him.

  She wiped her eyes before nestling into the long grass next to Cat’s grave, and took her sketching pad and pencil from her satchel – the only remnants from her old life.

  Dale ope
ned the pad and flicked through the images – a mix of things from this world and her old one. A butterfly from Earth; another of Arcadia; city lamps twinkling in the dusk sky. There was a dragon she’d drawn years ago – its mouth open in a ferocious snarl, ready to spit fire. And a sketch of Ness. She took a quick breath and wiped her nose before opening to a fresh page.

  As she sketched, thoughts of Ness cycled through her mind, questions about where she could be and if she was still alive. Dale had dreams, nightmares – Ness in danger, alone and in the darkness. Dreams that replayed that moment Ness was captured. Natalia’s evil powers had been too much and Ness had used the last of her strength to send Dale back to the Borderlands.

  “But was I worth it?” Dale stopped sketching to look at the willow. She’d given them all hope – her mother the queen, Ness, Jaral, Rhys, and all the people of Arcadia and beyond. But the more time passed, the more their hope faded.

  Dale pursed her lips tight and focussed on the sketch, shading vigorously. Her life was different now. In many ways, it was better. She had a mother who loved her and refused to doubt Dale would be a powerful sorcerer one day. She had friends, especially Agathina and Jaral. Rhys too, she supposed. She paused her sketching for a moment when she remembered the way he’d kissed her. Sometimes, at night when she was alone, she tried to predict what would happen when they met again. Would he kiss her just like that?

  She held the sketchbook out to look at the image she’d created. It was Cat. He sat in his typical pose; head high, paws together, his eyes looking out to a distant horizon, just like he used to do in the boat. Joy was still moored at the Eastern Gate, the place where she had first entered the Borderlands. It was at least a three-day ride by horse.

  “Just as well Joy's so far,” she whispered to the willow. “Sailing away solved all my problems once before.”

  A pop sounded above Dale’s head and she jumped. Rose petals fell in spirals around her; a gentle rain of perfumed flowers.

  “Happy birthday!”

  Dale turned to see Agathina grinning. Her dark hair straight and shiny in the morning sun, fanned out over her slim shoulders.

  Dale laughed. It was nice to have a friend her own age. Time worked differently in Dryadalis, where Agathina was from, and Agathina was much older that Dale, though she didn't look it. The Dryadalin people lived very long lives, much longer than Earthens, even longer than the dwarves of Gloryll. Not that it mattered. Here in the Borderlands everyone lived for centuries, and for the first time in her life, Dale belonged somewhere. She even had a best friend.

  “I’ve been summoned to collect you. Thought you’d be here.” Agathina’s yellow eyes shifted to the willow. “With Cat.”

  “Yes, I wanted to talk to him.”

  Agathina embraced her and kissed the top of her head. “Happy birthday, my sweet friend.” Like all the Dryadalins, Agathina was very tall and slim. Her ears pointed delicately up, her eyes were more like a wolf's than a human, and when she smiled, she showed two small fangs. When Dale had first arrived over a year ago, she had to force herself to stop staring, but now she was quite used to their appearance. Most who lived in Arcadia looked like the elves of Dale’s childhood dreams. Although they weren't called elves here. 'Seru' was the term used to describe them. It vaguely translated as 'very old'. But there were some here like Dale with rounded ears – the 'Novu'. There were also dwarfs, both from the planet Gloryll and the Stonwold Mountains here in the Borderlands. Arcadia had become a shadow of its former glory since most of the population had gone to the Verge to fight the war. Rhys among them.

  “Thank you,” Dale said, dusting off her skirt.

  Something wet nuzzled Dale’s hand and she turned to see Vulpanna. Dale chuckled and scratched behind the wolf’s ears.

  “She wants to say happy birthday too,” Agathina said.

  Vulpanna was Agathina’s hysbryd and was never far from her mistress. All the sorcery novices had hysbryds now. All bar Dale.

  “Thank you, Vulpanna,” Dale said as the wolf lay down and rolled over for a scratch on her tummy.

  Dale couldn’t help but smile. “You’re such an opportunist!” But she obliged and gave the warm fur of the wolf’s belly a good rub. Vulpanna’s tongue hung out at an angle that made her look rather ridiculous, and far from the menacing fighter she could become. The wolf eyed her and the odd feeling Dale sometimes got with animals buzzed through her. Vulpanna's eyes were the same amber-yellow as Agathina’s.

  “So, you’re eighteen today. They tell me this means you’re an adult in your world.”

  Dale gave Vulpanna a final scratch behind the ears and stood. “Yes, it means I can do things like drink alcohol and vote back on Earth. And pay taxes and drive a car. Well, in most countries anyway.”

  “Countries? And a car? What’s that?”

  Earth was so different from the Borderlands and the other two worlds. All three had only what Dale would describe as a ‘mediaeval’ standard of technology. There was much use of cogs and wheels, and pulleys and fire to work metals, but no modern technology. She’d spoken about it with Jaral, and he’d said Earth had forgotten about the importance of balance many centuries ago and now took from nature more than it should.

  “A car is one of those machines they have on Earth. It gets people from place to place.”

  Agathina frowned. “They don’t have horses for that?”

  “Well, yes, some people have horses. But cars have mostly taken over their role.”

  “Oh.”

  Dale smiled. Agathina was equal parts curious and confounded about Earth. Maybe one day she could take her there to visit although they’d have to weave an enchantment to hide her ears, eyes and teeth. Agathina would have to cast it though, Dale's powers were nowhere near strong enough. “So, you had to summon me?”

  “Hmmmm? Oh yes!” Agathina’s hands went to her cheeks. “Quickly! We’re supposed to hurry to the Fane!”

  Dale frowned. “The Fane? Sorcery lessons aren’t until mid-morning.”

  “I know, but there’s been a change and Jaral wants all the novices there now. I’m sorry! I got distracted with that silly birthday spell with the roses. Did you like it?”

  “It was lovely, thank you. But I suppose we should hurry.” Dale packed her sketchpad and pencil into her satchel. “So why the change anyway?”

  “Jaral didn’t tell me exactly, only that we have a special visitor.”

  Dale’s heart stopped. “Visitor? You mean someone from the Verge?” A special delegation from the war front was due to arrive today to take part in the celebrations for Dale’s birthday, and to discuss the war with the queen. All the councillors would be present here in Arcadia for the first time since the war began.

  Agathina locked eyes with her. “That would be my guess, but who?”

  Dale swallowed. Who indeed. What if it’s Rhys? She checked her skirt. There was mud on the back. Her hands went to her hair in panic; she hadn’t even brushed it yet.

  “Come.” Agathina grabbed her arm. “We best hurry.”

  The Fane of Sorcery stood at the top of a hill surrounded by old woodland to the east of the Palace. It resembled the temples of ancient Rome and Greece with a polygon shape, tiled dome roof and four-arched entry points to the north, south, east and west. It was customary for novices to pass through the eastern entrance, and Dale and Agathina walked quickly toward it, both slightly out of breath from the climb up the rocky path. For a valley, Arcadia had a lot of hills.

  As they approached, Dale could make out those already present. The other novices were all seated, and Jaral stood at the front addressing them. He wore his formal robes, and they made him look so different, so official. Dale and Agathina were the last to arrive. She squinted, but couldn’t see Rhys.

  The two young women slowed their pace as they entered the arch into the Fane.

  “Nice of you to join us, ladies.” Jaral’s smile was too forced; his eyes lacked their usual cheekiness. There was a warning in his gaze, and w
hen Dale looked past him she understood.

  “Princess Dalendra.” Even with his head bowed Master Aethyll was tall, and his beard almost ran the very length of him.

  The butterflies in Dale’s stomach started somersaulting, and she swallowed a hard lump. “Master Aethyll, I hope you’re well.”

  The old sorcerer smiled. “Very well, and eager to see how you’ve advanced.”

  Dale blinked. Didn’t he know? Hadn’t anyone told him? Master Aethyll’s face was a picture of giddy expectation, like a child on Christmas morning. And just like a child who receives no presents, he was about to be crushed with disappointment.

  “Ah, if you would be kind enough to take your seats,” Jaral said. Dale gladly turned her shoulder from the Master of Sorcery and sat with Agathina on the bench seat that lined the Fane’s interior. She glanced at the other novices. There were nine all told. Hentiel gave her a short smile that was almost a grimace. Alf and Troidan, the only dwarfs in the group, both gave her a wink. The others looked straight ahead. Dale shut her eyes, suddenly angry no one had bothered to tell Master Aethyll the truth. Not Jaral, or Sa'r Atapole, not even her mother.

  “Very well.” Master Aethyll clapped his hands together and Dale jumped. “Let’s begin. Time to see how you have all progressed. It’s a nice day.” He looked through the northern arch. “I can see Lake Verne clearly, let’s heave some fireballs into it!”

  “Yes!” Samblar, the youngest novice, threw a fist in the air.

  “Ah, might I suggest, your excellency,” Jaral took a step toward the front, glancing at Dale, “that we begin with a very basic spell, so that you may witness technique. Something like an illumination spell perhaps?”

  Dale took an easy breath and thanked Jaral silently. Yes, she could do an illumination spell… well, some of the time.