Lady night, p.1
Lady Night, page 1
Praise for Lady Night
“I love it when a sequel not only matches the first book but surpasses it! It’s such a pleasure to see and with how much I loved Amulet of Wishes, I didn’t know if this one could. But it did. Oh, it did!”
— Cat Bowser, author of Mirrors and Ashes: A Snow White Retelling.
“Simultaneously a mystery and adventure, Lady Night will keep you guessing until the end. This is an edge-of-the-seat sequel that has me begging for the next book.”
—Talli L. Morgan, author of The Windermere Tales.
“Chronicles of the Guardians is a lovely, entertaining series and I was excited to pick up this second installment.”
— A. E. Bennett, author of the Serrulata Saga.
Chronicles of the Guardians
Lady Night
Rita A. Rubin
Chronicles of the Guardians, Lady Night.
© Rita A. Rubin 2022.
The right for Rita A. Rubin to be identified as the author of this book has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright Act 1968.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without prior written permission from the author of this book.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to real people or events is coincidental.
Cover design by Emily's World of Design.
ISBN: 978-0-6450928-5-1
Also by Rita A. Rubin
Chronicles of the Guardians
Amulet of Wishes
Content Warnings
- Violence
- Blood and mild gore
- Sexual references
- Depiction of panic attacks
- Mentions of parental death
- Implied childhood sexual abuse
P R O L O G U E
The red-eyed man stood on the footpath outside, a shard of glass wrapped in cloth and string, tucked under one arm, watching as the fire consumed Blackwood's Spells, Potions and Magical Objects, with a detached sort of fascination. Seeing the fire and the smoke climb into the night sky reminded him of another night, many years ago. Another building—a cottage—set alight.
Even fighting the Elf woman, Blackwood, just now had brought back memories of a fight with another Wood Elf. She'd even had the same black hair, although she hadn't been a mage like this one.
"Who are you?! Answer me!" she had screamed at him right after he had cut her husband's throat.
"No one," he had replied.
Only that wasn't really true. He wasn't no one, had never been no one—no matter how much he might have wished to be at times.
Being no one meant that you were inconsequential, just another face in the crowd. No one special. No one to be remembered.
Draken had never been that. Whether it was "abomination" or "cursed" or "kin slayer", from the moment he had been born—no, even before that—he had always been someone.
The blaze had started to garner attention. All around him, people were beginning to emerge from the surrounding buildings. Lights were being lit and there were shouts of alarm, calls for the Town Guards, and help to put the fire out.
Draken took this as his cue to leave. He turned on his heel, away from the burning shop and mid-step, he burst into red flame until there was nothing left.
He reappeared, moments later in another burst of red fire, completely unharmed, in a cold and dark corridor. The old fort had been abandoned for many years now. It had been built during a time when blood-thirsty creatures known as daemons roamed the lands. The royal family back then had often used this fort as a refuge from the daemons. High up on the mountains, it was a perfectly defensible structure.
However, no one had set foot in this fort since the daemons had been banished by Aryanna Vir Fortis more than a hundred years ago.
Which made it the perfect place for Draken's hideout.
His footsteps echoed against the stone floor as he made his way down the long corridor. With each step he took, the torch sconces on the walls lit up, casting a flickering glow and long shadows.
The great doors of the second floor's study were flung open as Draken entered. The chandelier that hung in the middle of the ceiling lit itself, making the room more visible.
Draken seldom used any of the rooms in this fort, only this study and the bedroom across the hall. It was spacious, with a circular floor and floor-to-ceiling window. Two identical oak desks occupied the east and west walls. The brass handles on the drawers had been carved to look like the snarling face of a bear. On one of the desks sat a miniature pencil portrait of a smiling woman holding a small boy.
Draken stepped over to the desk by the west wall and set down the item he had taken from Aurelia Blackwood. He unwrapped the cloth to reveal a jagged glass shard, almost as long as his forearm. His reflection was clear in the glass.
Draken had been searching for this shard for close to a year now. Looking for the one he knew would be hiding it, but they had proven to be surprisingly elusive. When he finally tracked down the young woman who had been in possession of the shard, it had been to find out that she no longer had it. The woman refused to tell him where the shard was and Draken had been forced to resort to some admittedly unsavoury methods of persuasion. Soon enough, she told him that the shard was at a shop called Blackwood's Spells, Potions and Magical Objects in Florintsone
Lifting the glass shard from the desk, Draken carried it over to a tall object by the window concealed by a purple cloth. Gripping the cloth with one hand, he pulled it away to reveal a mirror.
It was large and oval in shape, with a black, metallic frame. By all means, it looked like any ordinary mirror. Only the glass was marred with cracks. Jagged lines splintered across the reflective surface, and in some places, the glass was even missing.
Draken looked down at the shard he was holding and then scanned the mirror until—ah—there it was. A missing piece that was exactly the same size and shape as the shard he held in his hand.
He fitted the shard into the gap. It went in easily, like fitting a jigsaw piece into its correct place. Draken watched as the mirror lit up with a pale, red glow and for the briefest of moments, he caught a glimpse of something in the glass: reddish skies, a dead, grey landscape. Hunched shapes skulked around in the shadows, before it all disappeared and Draken was left gazing at his own reflection in the cracked glass.
There were now only two pieces missing.
"Excellent work", came the voice in Draken's head, a hissing amalgamation of many different voices, men's and women's . . . even children's. The first time Draken had ever heard it, he had wanted to tear his ears off and beat his head against a wall. Anything so that he wouldn't have to hear that disturbing voice anymore.
"My, my, was that actually a compliment?" He responded.
"Your job is almost finished," the voice continued, as if Draken hadn't just spoken. "Find the next two shards." The voice went quiet and Draken knew that he wouldn't be hearing from it again anytime soon.
"Hmph. What was even the point of dropping in just to tell me that?" He muttered to himself.
He knew full well what it was he needed to do, he didn't need to be reminded like a forgetful youth.
With a careless gesture of his hand, the purple cloth picked itself up off the floor to cover the mirror once again.
Draken stepped over to the window. With his hands clasped behind his back, he surveyed the view of the night sky, growing lighter with the impending dawn. The mountains, the forests below and the specks of light from the hamlet by the river.
Draken couldn't wait to see it all destroyed.
But first, he thought. I need the remaining shards. And then, the boy.
1
Four Months Later
It was sometime around midnight when Derek Draco yawned.
"Oi," said Jared Regalias, shoving him playfully. "No dozing on the job."
Derek shot him a glare. "I wasn't dozing."
"You were yawning. Dozing was imminent."
"It was not."
"Yes, it was."
"You two sound like my brothers arguing," said Arabelle Aloria, Jared's cousin. She was sitting across from them on her own bedroll, her arms wrapped around her knees. The icy breeze ruffled the fur lining of her cloak and blew the golden-blonde strands of hair that had come loose from her braid into her face.
"I doubt we could ever pass for brothers," Jared said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I'm much more handsome, after all."
Derek shoved his elbow into his friend's stomach. Although he wasn't wrong about the two of them looking nothing alike. Where Jared was all soft brown skin, warm brown eyes, brown curls and dimpled grins, Derek was fair with raven black hair that looked like it needed a good brush, and sky-blue eyes.
The three of them sat together on the snowy hilltop not too far from Serpent's Cove, and close enough that they could smell the salty tang of the ocean on the wind and hear the distant sounds of waves breaking against the shores.
It had been four months since the death of Durbash, one of the most notorious slave traders in all of the four lands. With his death had come the assumption that the dregs of his crew and slave trading business would simply wither away into nothing.
That assumption had been proven wrong.
Rall—one of Durbash's cronies and his self-appointed successor—had also proven to be just as elusive as Du rbash had been. It was only thanks to an inside tip-off that the Guardians—Aloseria's sworn protectors—had learned that Rall and his crew would be making a private trade tonight at Serpent's Cove.
All they had to do now was wait for the right time to act.
Soon enough, Derek heard the familiar sound of wing beats in the air. They looked up in time to see a pale yellow dragon, no bigger than a horse, land in the snow in front of them. A moment later, the dragon Changed into a tall, young man with long, golden-brown hair pulled into a ponytail. The man was Darus Flynn, Derek's adoptive father.
Another dragon landed next to Darus, this one with red skin, and Changed into Lila Delron, a petite-looking young woman with auburn hair.
For Derek, seeing a dragon Change into a human was not an uncommon sight. It was something that Derek himself could do, as could Jared and Arabelle and many of the people from their home city of Ember. It was what made them Guardians; the ability to Change into dragons through the use of enchanted rings that had been passed down to them from the very first Guardians hundreds of years ago.
Darus and Lila strode towards them, snow crunching under their boots. They were both dressed in the uniform of the Guardians—a brown leather vest over a gold shirt and armguards, with the addition of cloaks to keep them warm. Derek, Arabelle and Jared were dressed similarly—only they wore the blue shirts of rookie Guardians instead of gold.
"All right, kids," Darus announced happily. "It's time to go to work."
Rall and a few of his men met the buyers by the road just outside of their Serpent's Cove hideout. The buyers were two men, the golden brown tone of their skin gave them away as Ishlavan and the make of their clothes suggested they were merchants. Although one of the men looked more like a bodyguard than a merchant, with his tall and imposing stature. His head was bare with the tattoo of some kind of bird etched onto the side of his skull. They stood huddled by a closed cart hitched to two piebald horses.
So far, neither party had noticed the Guardians hidden in the shadows of the treetops.
"You're lucky hardly anyone ever comes by this road," Rall said upon greeting. "It's risky, us leavin' our hideout like this."
The shortest of the two men, wearing rings on all ten of his fingers, smiled diplomatically. "Forgive us for the inconvenience," he said in heavily accented Aloserian. "We would have made the journey to you, but it is likely our cart would have gotten stuck in the snow."
Rall shrugged. His expression unconcerned. "Here's the four slaves ya wanted."
He stepped aside to allow one of his men to bring forward four individuals—three women and one man. All human and all Aloserian. They all wore the same tattered, rough spun clothing that provided them with little protection from the cold. They had their hands and feet shackled and attached to a single length of chain that one bandit used to usher them along like dogs on a leash.
The man with the ringed fingers stepped forward to consider them. He even took the chin of the one closest between his fingers and turned her face from side to side as if he were inspecting the quality of a fruit.
Finally, the merchant took a step back and said, "Yes, I think they will do." He gestured to his companion. "Bahmir, poystik yiv shet volzt," he ordered. "Bahmir, put them in the back of the cart."
Wordlessly, the larger man, Bahmir, took the chain and keys from the bandit and walked the prisoners over to the back of the cart where they were loaded inside.
"Thank you. They will make fine workers back home," said the merchant with a pleasant smile.
"Glad to hear it." Rall held out an expectant hand. "Now, the payment?"
"Of course." The merchant reached inside his cloak and produced a coin purse, bulging at the seams, and tossed it at Rall.
Something sliced through the air, catching the purse midair and pinning it to the trunk of a tree. The fabric tore and dozens of gold coins spilled out onto the snow.
"I think this has gone on long enough."
Like spectres materialising out of the darkness, the Guardians moved to surround the bandits and the merchants, Derek and Darus, Lila, Jared and Arabelle among them.
Rall and his bandits drew their weapons while the merchants looked around at the new arrivals in panic.
Derek saw Rall take in the appearance of Derek, Jared, and Arabelle in particular. His eyes narrowed. "Not you bloody brats again," he growled.
Derek waved the sword in his hand. "Nice to see you again, too."
"Lay down your arms," Lila demanded in a clear, hard voice. "And give yourselves up. This doesn't have to end in a fight."
"Ha! Ya think we're gonna give ourselves up just like that 'cause you ask all nice?" Rall sneered. "Well, you're dead wrong. Get 'em!"
The bandits rushed the Guardians, and the quiet woods were quickly filled with shouts and the sounds of ringing steel.
One bandit charged at Derek. He raised his own sword—the shortsword of blue steel that had once belonged to his father—to meet the bandit's blade.
Derek managed to push the bandit back, parrying a few more strikes before he could get under the bandit's guard and aim a kick to his gut.
The bandit doubled over, and Derek slammed the hilt of his sword against the bandit's temple with enough force to knock him unconscious. Their orders had been not to kill anyone if they could help it.
As the bandit fell face first into the snow, Derek heard the pounding of hooves against the snow and spun around to see that the Ishalvan merchants had taken the opportunity to escape, their cart clattering down the road at high speed.
Sheathing his sword, Derek took off after them. Of course, he knew there was no chance of him catching up to them on foot, so as he raced down the road, he reached beneath his shirt collar and unclipped his ring from the chain around his neck. He slipped the black band onto one of his fingers and Changed, turning from a boy to a black and blue dragon in the blink of an eye.
He spread his great blue wings and launched himself into the air. He was able to gain ground that he never would have on foot, and it wasn't long before he had caught up with the merchant's cart.
Bahmir hung onto the side of the cart while the man with the ringed fingers sat up front, flicking the reins and urging the horses on. It didn't take long for Bahmir to spot Derek and climb onto the roof of the cart. He drew a crossbow from beneath his cloak and took aim.
Derek rolled to the side in midair as the crossbow's bolt shot past him. He didn't even give the man time to load another bolt, before diving towards him and digging his claws into the front of Bahmir's cloak, Derek lifted him off of the cart and threw him over the side.
He didn't bother to see where or how the man landed before he turned his attention to the one in the driver's seat. Changing, he sat himself down next to the merchant, who could do no more than let out a startled shout when Derek appeared next to him, and knocked him out with a strike to the back of the neck.
As soon as the merchant went limp, Derek took up the reins, pulling on them until the horses came to a halt.
Everything seemed to fall quiet, only the horses' huffing breaths breaking the silence. Derek slumped against the seat to catch his breath.
A low creak from behind him was the only warning he had to move out of the way in time to avoid being split in half by an axe.
It buried itself in the wood of the cart with a loud crack. The horses whinnied, startled by the noise, but thankfully, didn't bolt.
Derek looked up to see Bahmir standing on the roof of the cart.
How the hell did he catch up so quickly?
As Bahmir dislodged his axe, Derek leapt from the cart, landing on the snow packed ground. He unsheathed his sword, spinning around to face his attacker at the same time Bahmir jumped from the roof of the cart and landed with a heavy thud.
"Is there any chance you'll drop your weapon and let me arrest you if I ask nicely?"
The man lunged towards him.
"Didn't think so," Derek muttered to himself just before their weapons clashed.
