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Destiny of Dawn Available soon from New Concepts Publishing Copyright © 2004 by Jaycee Clark. All rights reserved.

Prologue

She dreamed of a meadow. Part of her knew this was a dream, but part of her believed.

The air floated with the sweet smell of spring, the meadow alive with the whisper and sighs of the flowers that rainbowed across the clearing. Her small child hand reached out, a gentle finger shaking the dew from the blue bells and she heard their soft chime.

Flora and fauna rose high all around her. A giggle whispered to her and she turned, smiling into deep periwinkle eyes so like her own.
Nieve darted behind a stand of mallow flowers, pink and smiling in the early morning air.

“Think we’ll get in trouble? I heard Maman calling us,” her sister, Leisalie said.

“I hope not. We’ll gather some flowers and take them back to her. But only the ones that are sleeping.”

“I know, I’m not stupid,” Leisalie said.

They were twins. Nieve older by hours, born at the dark of dawn. Leisalie was born at dusk.

Another giggle reached them.

“Ceit, you came.” Nieve looked at their cousin. All of them with the same bright eyes, but different in features and hair coloring. Ceit had bright curly red hair. Nieve wished her hair looked like that.

“Let’s go to the stream,” Ceit said. She was older and always got them in trouble, but she was fun.

“I don’t know. Papan said it was dangerous.”

Ceit rolled her eyes. “It’ll be fine.”

On the wind she heard her mother’s voice. “Nieve! Leisalie!”

Perhaps they should head back.

Nieve looked, Ceit and Leisalie ran ahead through the dense vegetation, their whispers and chuckles dancing back to her before the treeline swallowed them.

Nieve stopped, looked back and saw her mother step into the clearing.
“Nieve! Where have you been?” The sunlight shot off her mother’s pale blond hair, almost white against her purple cloak. “Why didn’t you—” An arrow shot from across the meadow and lodged into her mother’s chest.

Nieve stood frozen. Her mother’s wide eyes looked at her and she stumbled forward. “Hurry. Nieve! Hurry! Run!”

She couldn’t move. Couldn’t move. “Maman!” She yelled. Then she saw them…. They moved from the shadows, slithering towards her mother.

“No!” she screamed and started towards her mother, whose tunic was quickly turning red from the wound. “Maman.”

Her mother motioned with her hands. “Run. Go. Run. Your father…”
She shook her head and tried to go forwards. The flowers caught her hands, pulled her back. “Maman.”

She could see her mother’s lips moving, heard the words in her head as her mother asked the flowers to keep her safe.

“Nieve! Go!”

She turned and ran. The hisses and groans behind her made her want to look.

Don’t look back. Her mother’s voice in her head….

She ran…

Demons chased her, nipped at her heels as she dashed through the field. The blue bells no longer chimed, they clanged, like the great bell in the hall, calling a warning to all.

What was she to do? How did she go? Where did she go?

Maman. She wanted her maman.

Nieve glanced over her shoulder, her black hair slapping across her face and neck. Her heart slammed in her chest, roared in her ears.
Was that her heart? Or the beasts behind her.

Someone… or something screamed. Chills raced down her spine.
Her feet pumped, tripped in the high vegetation, the flowers now traps, not helping her. Why wasn’t anyone helping her? The wet hem of her blue tunic slapped against her legs, tangling her.

The child screamed, whimpered, and ran on. Wishing, hoping that someone would come, that someone would be there to help her.

Please… maman.

Maman.

Papan. Papan would help her.

More yells rent the air apart.

She glanced again, and saw them. The Reapers. The Reapers were after her. Their long black cloaks swirling along the ground.

An arrow whizzed by her, and another, and another.

There was a small sting along her arm.

Her heart stopped and she tripped, screaming in terror…knowing…knowing they would devour her, and pull her power from her.

A horse leapt over her, the giant beast arching over her head to stand in front of her.

More horses followed.

“Nieve? Nieve?” Then he was there.

Papan. She looked at him, but only saw the darkness swirling nearer and nearer.

“Reapers,” she whispered. “Reapers, Papan. Maman.”

She could smell it then. The sweet smell of the flowers, the tang of the grass, and through it swirled the stench of blood—blood had been spilled in their world. Her mother’s. And then the smell of the Reapers reached her, decay thick and rank curled in the air. She coughed.

Just look at Papan. Don’t look at the Reapers, she thought. They’ll get you if you look them in the eyes.

Papan. Papan. She would focus on him. His eyes were blue, blue as the sea…

She frowned.

Brown splatters marred his cheeks, and his trim beard was wet with sweat. Blood trickled from a gash down his arm. She reached out and touched it, gasping when pain sliced into her own arm, the sting near her shoulder pulsed.

“Damn it, Nieve. I’m fine.” He shrugged her off.

Things were wrong. Papan didn’t talk to her like that and he wasn’t fine.
Swords clashed, and the twang of released arrows pierced the air.

“Maman?” she asked.

He grasped her under the arms and slung up onto Taber, the white stallion trampling the ground beneath him.

“The others. Are they meeting us?” he asked a guard.

“Aye, at the south portal.”

“And they’re closing all the others?” her father’s voice rumbled against the back of her head.

Nieve turned to look up at him, even as he spurred his horse. And then she remembered….

Her mother. Leisalie.

“No!” She screamed and twisted, almost falling off the horse. “Maman. Papan, Maman. They…the arrows….Leisalie.” Tears choked her, clogged her throat and she pointed back to the clearing.

“Leisalie?”

She pointed to the row of trees, and thought of the falls beyond.

He jerked the horse around, and started to spur it on, but his guards closed around. “Sire, you cannot,” Baggard said, the white scarred slashes on his face standing out even more.

“Nieve. Where was Leisalie?” He turned her and shook her. She tried to see over his shoulder to her mother, but there was nothing there. Why was that?

“Maman?”

His eyes narrowed. “Nieve. We’ve been looking for you.”

“But Maman….” She pointed again, and he glanced back to nothing. Nothing was there.

“There is nothing there. We killed the Reapers who were after you.”

She sobbed, remembered the arrow, the blood. She shook her head. “They got her.”

His face cleared. “Who?”

“The Reapers… Maman…” Her words started to tumble over each other.

He glanced back again, but nothing was there. “You-You must be mistaken, Nieve. You’re mother is back at the castle preparing Bre’Anne.” He gripped her shoulders again. “You should not have gone out this morning. Of all mornings,” he muttered. Spearing her another look that made her feel very small, he asked, “Leisalie?”

She pointed to the tree line again.

“Of all the blasted mornings to sneak out.” She and her sister had gotten in trouble countless times for sneaking out, but he’d never looked so angry.

He looked to the trees, then to her.

“Sire, we’ll get her.” Two other riders took off into the line.

“Sire, the portal.”

His jaw moved back and forth. Finally, her father pulled her up against him. “Shhh. Shhh.. All will be well. Things have just not gone according to plan and this was not a good morning for you and your sister to be out alone. When I think of what could have… We must get you out while there is still time.”

He settled her tightly against him, his armor rough against her back, and urged the horse on.

Nieve listened to the horse, the quick gallops thundering on the ground. She could hear them, the flowers were crying. She felt sick.

No. No. She had to be mistaken. Papan was right. Her mother was fine. She was at the castle and she’d see her soon. It was just an image the Reapers had wanted her to see. Leisalie would come. She would. And Ceit would be fine.

The rhythmic tempo of hooves slowed, then stopped. Nieve looked around.

Two rocks rose high out of the ground, dripping with ivy and she felt a hum along her skin, a crackle through her hair.

She blinked.

The south portal. She looked back up at her father. “Papan?”

His face was set, the features hard. He was mad at her. She shouldn’t have left this morning.

He looked around, his dark brows furrowed, his narrow face stern.

“Leona, where’s the rest?”

Leona? Nieve looked to the older woman, her grandmother. She shrugged. “I know not.”

Papan said a word he wasn’t supposed to. He handed her off to one of his guards, the new warrior, very young. The boy’s eyes locked with hers, dark and intense. Then he pulled back and looked at her arm. He reached out and touched it, the sting numbed, the pulse slowly faded.

“You were hurt,” he said. “Worry, not, I’ll make it feel better.”

She looked from him to the portal behind him. The air shimmered, so that what appeared beyond, the trees and flowers and grass, seemed to wave. But she knew it an illusion. The portals were dangerous. They’d always said so. Never go near the portals. They will take you away from us and we might not find you. Her parents had told them that so many times they never even thought about going to the portals…

“Papan?”

He knelt down on one knee. “Nieve. I love you. Don’t ever, ever forget who you really are. Even if you don’t remember.” His eyes narrowed and he brushed his large hand over her hair. Then he bent his head, the sun shining off his brown locks, and took off one of his medallions and hung it on her neck. She glanced down at the image she’d traced so often.

Something warned her then. She glanced at the portal to her grandmother and the guards who looked away from her. All but the one boy.

“Papan?” She looked at him, frowning and jutted her chin out. He would not…

He pulled her to him in a tight hug. “The graces be with you.”

He stood, with her in his arms and handed her off to her grandmother. Nieve kept her arms tight around his neck.

“I’m sorry Papan. I’m sorry. I want to stay with you.”

His eyes misted, and he kissed her forehead. She breathed deep and smelled him. That faint whiff of the pine and smoke, and something else. Something that was only her Papan. His beard tickled her cheek and then her arms as he pulled her arms from his neck.

“I love you. Remember who you are.”

Her grandmother held her while she struggled, while she reached over her grandmother’s shoulder, her arms outstretched to her father.

“Papan! Papan!” The humming got louder. She watched as things turned blue, then purple, and white. And all the while her father stood, his hands fisted at his sides, glaring in at her. “Papan!”

He raised his hand.

Bright lights exploded behind her eyes and pain shot through her head.

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