Page 41 of The Cruel Dawn (Vallendor #2)

Separi’s not fucking around.

“You could’ve endangered everyone in that tent,” she shouts at Philia. “What if they didn’t want him to know they had the Librum —?”

“But he already knew ,” Philia retorts. “You’re being a—”

Separi’s lavender eyes narrow. “Take care what you say next, young miss.”

Elyn and I jam our lips together. We’ll let Separi go off because she’s right.

“I’m not some young miss ,” Philia murmurs.

“You’re still talking?” Separi snaps back. “I may choose peace most of the time, but you continue and I’ll…” Her lips twist, but no words escape them. Her anger renders her speechless.

“Philia,” Jadon says, “know when to talk and know when to shut up. Now’s the time to shut up. Gileon would’ve taken the Librum and done who knows what with it. Just like he held a blade to your throat and forced my hand.”

“But no one knew that was going to happen,” Philia protests.

“I knew,” I say.

“Me, too,” Elyn adds.

“We all knew, Philia,” Jadon says, “and now Gileon is dead. Anyway…” He points to the dip in the land ahead. “Olivia’s down there.”

He leads us to an underground warren guarded by two dead soldiers. Elyn gently relocates the men with puffs of wind.

The entrance is a jagged wound in the earth, its edges lined with splintered wood and rusted metal spikes. The smell wafting from this opening is worse than the camp above—thick, cloying, and sickly sweet.

I glance back at the campground, at its decaying tents and shambling soldiers, and dread floods my heart. If this is what Wake’s men endured beneath the daystar, what horrors must the prisoners face in the darkness below?

You’re changing . That’s what Gileon told Jadon. But how? Is the power he carries growing stronger? Does the wind carry it like pollen, allowing it to take root in a land far away? Or is Jadon diminishing like I am?

Elyn won’t let anyone touch the heavy bar that keeps the doors to the prison closed.

Since she’s not of Vallendor, nothing, not even the death coating this place, affects her.

But even she doesn’t want to put her hands on that rail—something slick and oily has seeped into the wood.

Instead, she uses wind to lift the bar, tossing it into the fire that continues to burn down Beaminster.

The doors swing open and…

“Sweet Supreme.” Philia slams her hand over her nose.

The jail reeks of rat droppings, human waste and rotting flesh, rank water and vomit. All of it makes my eyes water. Skeletons and decaying bodies crowd every cell we pass. Unlike the jail at the abbey, torches and oil lamps burn bright.

As we descend the uneven stone steps, the air grows colder and heavier. The slick walls are streaked with dark stains.

“How can anyone survive down here?” Philia’s voice quavers as she peers into the gloom.

No one answers her question. No one wants to open their mouth.

The tunnel widens as we reach the main chamber. Iron cages are stacked against the walls, many of them bent and broken, their bars crusted with rust and dried blood. The prisoners inside the cells are skeletal and covered with sores, their hollowed eyes barely blinking as we pass.

Who are these poor souls? What have they done to be locked up and forgotten down here? Jadon might think my questions are rhetorical, but no, I want to know. Did they murder entire families? Did they burn down holy places with worshippers still inside?

We continue to walk the long corridors in silence, passing a few open cell doors. Did some of the prisoners get to leave before the worst happened?

The few living prisoners look up as we pass them. One man, his face grimy, his eyes hidden behind scraggly hair, whispers, “Celestial, help me.” His amber-shine could light a meadow on the darkest night.

I step into his cell and crouch before him. His name feathers into my mind.

“Divine,” he murmurs. He tries to bow his head, but his pain is a constellation of yellow sparks. He bears the pain of seven men.

“Be at rest, Ebelar,” I whisper.

He closes his eyes, and a breath slips from his parched lips.

Behind me, Philia whispers, “Is he dead?”

Separi shushes her.

This place is evil.

No one complains any time I stop at a cell. No one hurries me as I say the doomed one’s name—Scorsca, Thilos, Nenji, Igal—and end their pain.

At one point, Elyn stands behind me and touches my shoulder. That healing sensation crawls from where Elyn touches me, across my shoulders, arms, and back. “You grow weaker each time you do this,” she whispers. “Remember what’s happening to you. My help is less effective each time…”

My eyes fill with tears, but not from the stench. “I know. And thank you.”

She squeezes my shoulder one last time before she lets go.

We reach the last cell, and the iron door is still locked.

It’s occupied by a young woman with a gaunt, dirty face and big blue eyes.

A once-beautiful dress, now tattered, clings to her thin, amber-glowing frame.

The fabric used to be a deep, shimmering sapphire, but none of that color remains, stained as it is with grime and streaks of dried blood.

It hangs limply from her shoulders and hips.

The skirt is shredded, the hem caked with mud.

I imagine that, once upon a time back in Maford, she’d danced around her sitting room, her voice proud and playful as she named this dress DECADENT or OCEANSIDE.

Now, this young woman gapes at me from the floor. Her expression slips from surprise and joy to fear as she remembers all that she did to me.

With only a thought, Elyn opens the door.

Jadon rushes past the Adjudicator and into the cell. “Livvy.” He pulls his adopted sister into his arms.

Olivia’s glow slips into a shade of brown.

“Jadon, no,” Elyn says.

He releases her and scrambles to the other side of the cell. But knowing that he’s Miasma, that he’s just lessened the length of her days, does not temper Jadon’s joy at finding Olivia.

Philia enters the cell, her eyes bright with tears. “Livvy?” She kneels in front of her beloved and touches her cheek. Bursts of purple light flash from both young women.

Olivia croaks, “Phily?”

Philia and Olivia crash into each other like the softest waves against a lakeshore.

Phily swipes tears from Olivia’s grimy face. “I love you so much.”

“I must look frightful,” Olivia says.

Philia giggles. “You may not see them, but…” Her smile dims. “I have so many scars now. Big, ugly ones. I’ve been fighting to get to you, and… I fought a burnu!” She shakes her head, unable to speak, embarrassment now coloring her cheeks.

Olivia tries to smile but looks to Jadon. “What about Gileon?”

Jadon shakes his head and looks away.

“What have you decided?” Elyn whispers to me. “Mercy or…?”

I grind my teeth as my heart rises up against my anger. The Adjudicator waits in silence as I agonize over what to do about Olivia Corby.

“Life,” I whisper, finally.

Elyn nods and places her hand on the small of my back, since my decision means extending more of me for her to live. Then she says, “Olivia, we need to go.”

Olivia shuffles over to me, her cheeks red, her head bowed. After I touch the top of her head, after her glow shifts from brown to blue, she whispers, “I’m so sorry, Kai. I never thought… I’d hoped…” She manages to look up at me and offers an earnest smile.

I don’t return it. I want to break her neck, or at least her hand. Sure, I’ve healed her, but I can still take a little of that gift back. I’m still angry, and the ground rumbles beneath us. The bones of the dead rattle like pebbles in an empty cup.

“Lady,” Separi whispers.

“Kai,” Elyn warns.

But I’m not the first one to spit angry words.

“Do you know how much we all risked looking for you?” Jadon asks, his joy soured.

Olivia nods. “I do know, and I can never—”

“That’s right,” I interrupt. “You can never repay any of us. You can never make amends, nor repair what’s been broken. And you did all of this because you’re greedy. How much time did I waste chasing you across the realm? Veril died because of you.”

I touch my fingers to my vibrating amulet. “You can’t steal from others and think that your theft is harmless just because no one’s bleeding. And you can’t decide that because you’ve been hurt, you have the right to hurt someone else.”

Olivia lowers her head.

“Look at me,” I shout.

Somewhere, a wooden beam cracks and stones fall to the ground.

Olivia looks up at me.

“I only came here because she ”—I point to Philia—“asked me to, because I promised her that I would. Your decisions have cost lives. I’ve granted you life so that you may learn and do better.

However…” I bend down until Olivia and I are nose to nose.

“Touch something of someone else’s again and I’ll see that you regret it.

Now, that is a promise to you that I certainly won’t forget. Do you understand me?”

Olivia whispers, “Yes.”

We return to the surface, to smoke and thick ash that stings our eyes. Shadows dance across the charred landscape as fires burn everywhere. In the distance, we hear the howls of bloodhounds anxious about the encroaching flames—and that’s where we head.

Daisy wags her tail to see us again, and so do her brothers.

“You came back for us!”

“It smells absolutely awful!”

“I told you that I’d be back,” I say to the hounds.

They howl, sniff my legs, and lick my hands.

Now, Elyn has questions for Olivia. “Why did you take the book?”

Olivia shrugs. “Because it looked expensive. Like I could get a lot of geld for it.”

“Did you ever hear Gileon or his father talk about the book?” she asks.

Olivia shakes her head. “Not once.”

We all peer at Jadon.

He shakes his head, too. “It was always just a book.”

Philia and Olivia decide to return to Caburh with Separi.

“We can do glasswork and tailoring there.” Philia blushes and grins at the Renrian. “That is, if we’re welcomed.”

Separi squints at the couple. “Will you listen to counsel? Not insist on forcing your way and forcing Caburh to be what you want?”

The young women nod and say, “Yes, ma’am.”

Philia clasps Olivia’s hand. “We’ve learned a lot out here. I think… I think we’re ready to do things differently this time.”

Olivia kisses Philia’s hand and says, “We’ll earn all of your trust back, Kai, Separi. Promise.”

Separi studies the two women for a long moment, her expression vague. Finally, she exhales and nods.

Philia releases Olivia’s hand and comes over to hug me. “Promise me that you’ll visit.”

I roll my eyes, pretending to be annoyed, pretending that her hug doesn’t hurt my skin. “Another promise, Philia?”

Her face shines with love and devotion. “Promise.”

I smile. “Fine. I promise to visit.”

Satisfied, she closes her eyes. She bows, then slips onto her knees and folds her hands at her lips. “Oh, Guardian, gentle Lady of the Verdant Realm, hear the humble plea…”

Watching this young woman grow is almost worth the journey.

I touch the top of Philia’s head as she prays, my heart full of her love and the love I now have for her.

She’s grown from a thief, conspirator, and petulant girl into a fierce, devout warrior.

Once she’s finished praying, I pronounce, “You will live a long life of joy, Philia Wysor.” I shift my gaze to Olivia. “Do better and perhaps you will, too.”

Separi takes my hands. “The threat in Caburh. Seven dawns are left.”

I nod. “And I’ll check in on the eighth.” I turn to Elyn. “Are they strong enough to…?”

Worry flashes across Elyn’s face.

I wince. “We don’t have a lot of time,” I say.

Elyn’s expression doesn’t change even though she acquiesces.

“Ridget and I and the others,” Separi says, “we’ll make sure they heal.”

Before they leave, I let the bloodhounds slobber all over me again. I laugh and say, “I love you, too.” Daisy and her brothers will live long lives until they’re ready to cross over their own bridge.

“Before you go…” I place a hand on Separi’s shoulder. “We will need you and your kin to fight with us.”

The Renrian nods. “I’ll go and prepare them for your call. All of the Vallendor Renrians will do as you ask, Lady. Here—” She takes a scrap of clean gauze from her bag, sprinkles droplets of a pink tonic onto the cotton, and presses it against my still-bleeding cheek.

“That woman-fighter back in town,” I say, feeling the medicine’s sting. “Can you believe she cut me?”

“How did you reward her success?” Separi asks.

“I told her ‘good job,’ then drove my blade through her face,” I say.

Separi replaces her hand over the bandage with my own. “The cut should be better by dusk.”

“You’ve been a great help to me these last days,” I tell her.

She nods, but she doesn’t smile. “Gileon Wake… That man sat in my inn and yet, moments ago, he didn’t even remember my face.”

Nothing I can say will take away the sting she feels—everyone wants to be remembered.

Still, I say, “You and your kin are the stewards of Vallendor’s story.

Take up your pen and pay him back that way.

” I hug the Renrian and add, “I’ll always remember you—hopefully, I will never have to wander the realm without my memories again. ”

Elyn calls my name.

Separi hands me the last vials of tonics that she’d prepared for this trip.

Elyn says, “It will be a treacherous battle, Separi.”

The Renrian dips her head in acknowledgment.

“But the traitor must be destroyed. If there’s a war that requires sacrifice, it’s this war.

Our forebears, the Onama, didn’t help evolve the realms only for Danar Rrivae to destroy them.

” She bows to Elyn one last time and says, “Just as we were there in the beginning, we’ll be there to erase the threat at its end. ”

Philia, Olivia, Separi, and the bloodhounds gather around the Adjudicator. The cardinals flit around the group. In a blink, they are gone.

Jadon stands several paces away from me, his shoulders slumped. His loss is still fresh.

I say, “Hey.”

He looks up with hope in his gaze.

Before I can say anything else, though, Elyn and her sentinels are back.

“That took forever,” I say.

“I’m slowing down in my old age,” Elyn says, pretending to wince as she rotates her shoulder. “Are we ready?” She looks over at Jadon.

“Back to the abbey?” he asks.

Elyn nods, but before we get underway, she turns back to me. “You told Olivia that your search for her distracted you. But dealing with her, wandering Vallendor, fighting, losing, and loving—all that has only galvanized your purpose. You’re becoming the mountain this realm deserves.”