“‘Protection’?” Mendeln returned. “As the high priest Malic sought to protect him with his spells of skin-flaying and his bloodthirsty morlu?”
“Exactly. Malic’s. I regret his actions immensely. I was unaware that one so close to me had been seduced by demons. I had sent him to invite Uldyssian ul-Diomed to visit the temple as my guest. To be honored, nothing more.” He considered further. “The morlu are an abomination created by what is called the Cathedral of Light, not the Triune. It must be from there that came the demon who turned poor Malic.”
There was something about the Primus that made Uldyssian want to believe him. Yet, bits of what he said did not sound true.
“The only demon here stands before us, Uldyssian,” Mendeln insisted, stepping between his brother and Lucion. “You must believe.”
The master of the Triune shook his head. “His words are strong, embellished as they are by sorcery. For your sake, I fear I must remove the taint. I am sorry for your loss, dear Uldyssian, but there is no choice.”
It took Uldyssian a moment to understand. When he did, he reached out in sudden panic. “No! Mendeln—”
A circle of silver light formed around the Primus, then immediately burst forth. It struck where Mendeln had been standing…and suddenly, Uldyssian’s brother was no longer there.
Both Uldyssian and Lucion eyed the empty spot, then the Primus remarked, “Fear for your brother, Uldyssian. The demon is powerful. It has taken him away from here. It would be best if we joined together, fought him side by side—”
“No.” Uldyssian was not quite certain what was going on with Mendeln, but he refused to believe that his brother had become some vessel for evil. He also now refused to believe much of what the Primus had told him concerning Malic. The high priest had been too adamant when it came to speaking about his master. Malic had been a loyal follower, not a betrayer, of the Primus. “No. Leave me alone.”
“Dear Brother Uldyssian—”
Something pressed against Uldyssian’s brain. Gritting his teeth, he stepped back from the glistening figure. “Leave me alone! I want nothing of you or the Cathedral of Light! Nothing at all!”
He spun from Lucion. Uldyssian was not certain just where he headed, but he knew somehow that he needed to be away quickly.
There was a flaring of light behind him, as he recalled had happened just before Mendeln’s odd vanishing. Even as Uldyssian ran, he steeled himself for the inevitable.
The force that struck him was oddly cold. He felt as if his body was twisted inside out. His legs, his arms, refused to function, both the muscle and bone seemingly turned to jelly.
Uldyssian collapsed against a tree, then tumbled to the jungle floor.
“Perhaps you are actually nothing, as my sister said,” Lucion commented clinically. “Perhaps there is nothing to Uldyssian ul-Diomed.”
A tingling surrounded the barely conscious Uldyssian. The ground beneath him suddenly grew distant. Vaguely, the son of Diomedes realized that he was floating several feet above it.
“I shall have to test you and retest you to be certain. Let the morlu play with you, too. They tend to bring out the desire for survival, which should, in turn, bring out the power of the nephalem…if it is truly stirring within you.”
“There…is nothing,” Uldyssian gasped. “I am no…threat to you…”
“But you never were, human. I am Lucion, son of Mephisto, the greatest of the Prime Evils! Blood of my kind may flow through your veins, but it’s watered down with the puerile emptiness of Inarius’s ilk!”
Uldyssian’s view shifted as he floated toward his captor. Lucion still wore the semblance of the Primus, but Uldyssian very much believed that the horrific glances he had seen during the earlier transformation had been nearer to the truth.
What had Lucion said of Lylia—Lilith? That she was his…sister?
“Yes, test you and retest you so that there is no mistake,” the demon repeated. He smiled, and although his face was yet human, the sharp teeth and forked tongue were not. “And if you fail…then I will just feed you to the morlu…still alive, of course.”
And although Lucion continued to smile, Uldyssian knew that he was not in any way jesting.
TWENTY-TWO
Achilios had let Uldyssian go without hesitation, aware that his friend was under incredible pressure. The startling arrival of so many people from Partha was enough to even disturb the archer. He was astounded by their dedication, even to someone whom Achilios himself would have trusted with his life.
His thoughts were interrupted by Serenthia, who suddenly gasped and turned in the direction that he had last seen Uldyssian go. Barely had she done so when he, too, sensed that there was something terribly wrong going on.
Something involving Uldyssian and Mendeln.
“Stay here!” he shouted at her. Racing past startled townsfolk, the archer unlooped his bow. He knew that the jungle presented an even trickier environment than his native forest, but all he asked for was one clean shot. That was all he needed.
Providing, of course, that he was not already too late.
“I wanted to do this in quiet, in private, so that others with a possible interest in the nephalem would not take notice,” Lucion remarked to his helpless captive. “There are so many others who would be interested, yes. And, besides, anything my dear sister takes an interest in is deserving of such caution.”
His eyes were no longer human and reminded Uldyssian too much of Lilith’s. They appraised the farmer again and again, seeking that which Uldyssian himself felt was not there.
“She is cunning and her mind is like a labyrinth. I wasn’t too sad when I learned, centuries later, that the angel had cast her out into the endless void, never to return.” He laughed. “Well, ‘never’ is a relative term with her. Inarius should’ve known better. He should have slain her, but his kind always was too sentimental.”
A sudden crackle of blue energy engulfed Uldyssian. He let out a cry, but the sound was smothered.
If this told Lucion anything, he did not reveal it. Instead, the demon nodded to himself, then said, “There remains only the question of your brother and what has a hold over him. I lied about so many things, but not that. Something of a demonic nature does hold sway over him…and yet it’s also something else. Perhaps, I’ll make a study of both of you. Would you like that?”
“Damn you!”
“Thank you, I already am. Shall we go?”
Lucion smiled wider and the world around Uldyssian took on a hazy, insubstantial appearance. Somewhere in the background, the faint images of the interior of some great structure—the main temple, Uldyssian assumed with a shock—began to form.
And, at that moment—the scene illuminated by the energy surrounding Uldyssian—a feathered bolt struck the Primus directly in the throat.
Lucion’s head swung back from the force. Blood spilled from the ugly wound. The head of the arrow lay embedded so deep it was a wonder to Uldyssian that it had not come out in the back.
“Uldyssian!” called Achilios. “Try to free yourself!”
He had been attempting just that since his capture, only to fail miserably each time. Uldyssian had used Mendeln’s advice again, but to no avail. He began to wonder if it had merely been by chance and whatever power his brother had wielded that he had escaped then. As ever, Lylia’s mocking words returned. He was nothing…nothing…
A whistling sound presaged another arrow soaring at Lucion. Knowing Achilios’s skill, Uldyssian had no doubt that it would hit exactly where the archer intended.
But at the last second, Lucion’s hand caught the bolt just an inch from his chest. He easily snapped it in two and, as the pieces fell, reached up to take the one buried in his throat.
The Primus pulled at the arrow. With a horrific sucking sound, it came free. He inhaled and the blood dripping from his wound receded into the gap, which then healed shut.
From somewhere to Uldyssian’s left, Achilios let out a curse, then grow
led, “Not again!”
Lucion eyed the blood still on the tip of the arrow. His tongue shot out and lapped up the red liquid, leaving the arrow perfectly clean. The demon chuckled as he tossed the shaft to the side.
“Able to make a perfect strike at night even from a bow enchanted to miss! A fine morlu you would make,” he said. “Would you like to join us?”
The Primus gestured. Achilios grunted. Uldyssian heard the shuffling of feet and guessed that the hunter was being forced forward.
“I’ve not had this much activity in centuries,” their captor mocked. “I’d forgotten how delicious it was doing it myself instead of relying on fallible mortals…”
Without warning, a different missile came at him. However, where Achilios’s arrow had struck true, this one—a rock—bounced away after hitting what seemed an invisible shield around Lucion.
That, though, did not stop a storm of more rocks, bits of wood, and other, unidentifiable objects. Many were tossed with terrible aim, but several others would have hit their target if not for the same force that had repelled the first rock.
And from all through the jungle, completely surrounding the trio, the people of Partha, led by Cyrus’s daughter, emerged.
“Let him go!” shouted Serenthia. “Let them both go!”
Others took up the shout, Romus among their leaders. The townsfolk brandished crude spears, axes, and pitchforks, the weapons of the common people. Several more objects flew at the Primus, with the same lack of result.
For the first time, something other than arrogance filled the demon’s visage. He surveyed the throng with tremendous interest.
“Impressive!” Lucion boomed. “I didn’t sense their coming until just before the first stone cast!” He eyed Uldyssian again. “Could it be you…or maybe your brother?” The gaze narrowed. “No, I think it has something to do with you, pawn of my sister! I sense a connection spreading between all of these others, but originating…yes, that would make sense…it would have to be because of…” Lucion trailed off in thought.
Apparently taking this for hesitation, Romus let out a yell and led several of his fellows forward.
Lucion stared at his oncoming attackers with bemusement.
The ground around him erupted. People, trees, dirt—nothing escaped. An explosion ripped apart the jungle for yards around. Screams filled the air and the night was momentarily blindingly bright.
Uldyssian did not fear for his own life, for not only would he have rather died at that moment, but the demon kept him protected. He was the only one, though, and his heart wailed at the thought of what was happening to all those who had come here because of him.
It seemed to never end and yet, Lucion’s spell in truth lasted but the blink of an eye. When it was done, there stood not a tree within twenty paces and the ground not only crackled black, but underneath there was a fiery glow, as if the demon had, in the process, summoned up the anger of the world. The jungle had always been hot and humid, but now the very air burned.
“A taste of what is to come,” Lucion stated to no one in particular. “When this world is made over in our image.”
Moans arose. Uldyssian smelled something horrible, something that he had not smelled since his family’s death. The acrid stench of burning corpses. Yet, these were not plague victims being incinerated to protect the living; these were innocent folk who had perished for no good reason but that they had believed Uldyssian’s naive promises.
Something within him wrenched tight. An overwhelming tangle of emotions swept through Uldyssian. He relived every mistake, every catastrophe. With an anguished cry, Uldyssian struggled to free himself.
Struggled…and failed again.
“I see you’re as anxious to return to the Temple as I am,” jested Lucion. The towering figure surveyed the carnage he had caused. The fiery cracks in the ground illuminated his face with ghastly perfection. “And since there really is nothing of value left here, we might as well go now, don’t you think?”
But even as he spoke, another shaft struck him in the chest. However, unlike the first, this one bounced off with no visible effect.
Out of the corner of his eye, Uldyssian saw Achilios quickly notching another arrow. The blond archer kept his gaze on the demon as he worked.
Lucion tsked. “I said that you would make a splendid morlu, but to do that, you must die.”
Achilios fired.
“And so you shall,” continued his target.
The arrow curved around in midflight. Achilios stumbled back, one arm going up in defense—
The bolt caught him through the throat, exactly where the demon had been hit…but where Lucion was a demon, Achilios was only mortal.
A scream echoed through the ruined jungle. However, it came not from the hunter, but rather Serenthia. As Achilios crumpled into a limp heap, Cyrus’s daughter ran to him. She caught him just before he would have struck his head on an overturned tree.
“Oh, Achilios, no! No!”
The man in her arms had no words for her, and his gaze was empty. He had died instantly, although not due to any kindness on Lucion’s part.
The Primus now extended a hand toward Serenthia. “How delicious! Come to me, my dear. Let me comfort you in your loss.”
She struggled to maintain hold of Achilios as she was pulled forward by the demon’s sorcery. Lucion’s power dragged her across steaming, molten gaps and ragged patches of burnt ground. Serenthia was finally unable to maintain her grip and the limp body of the hunter was left behind.
It was all coming to an end now. Uldyssian’s humiliation had brought with it the death of his friends and his brother—he had to assume that Mendeln was no more or else where was he?—and Serry was, like him, to be a victim of another sort.
It might have been different if the power he had thought he wielded had been truth. Then, Uldyssian could have at least tried to make a stand, possibly save his friends from sharing his fate. However, he was no threat to Lucion. He was nothing…nothing…
His gaze passed from the desperate Serenthia to Achilios’s cold body and back again. They had fought for him, more than once. They had believed in him, just as so many had.
One of the Parthans suddenly ran up to help Cyrus’s daughter. Romus, face disfigured far more than ever, took hold of her with burnt hands. Another Parthan joined him, then another. Their added mass slowed but did not halt her progress. Lucion merely laughed at their antics.
But as he laughed, a score more Parthans tried to charge him again. This time, they had weapons other than their axes and pitchforks.
They used what some would have described as magic.
Around the Primus, the air became a cornucopia of violent energies. Rocks appeared out of nowhere. A tree limb went flying at Lucion’s handsome face, only to go bounding back.
Among the fighters was Bartha, who had tears in her eyes and a grim set to her mouth. Uldyssian noted with dismay that there was no sign of her son. He prayed that the boy was somewhere farther back, unharmed.
“The potential is there,” Lucion commented, nodding at his attackers in approval despite their dismal results. “But I think I’d prefer to test just the one and train others from scratch. Less to unteach!” He said the last with a dark gaze at the Parthans.
The jungle floor burst open around Bartha’s group. The fiery, molten earth below it engulfed her and several of the others. Their screams filled Uldyssian’s ears—
“NO!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. His eyelids clamped together tightly as tears coursed down over his face. He beat his fists against the soil, repeating his anguished call. “NO!”
It took Uldyssian a breath to notice that the rest of the area had fallen into silence again. He worried that the carnage Lucion had earlier wrought now faded in comparison to what had just happened. Tears continuing to streak down his face, the son of Diomedes opened his eyes.
To his surprise, he beheld Bartha and the others untouched. A wall of formerly molten ground rose a
round them, yet, it had obviously cooled completely, for one of the Parthans began cracking open the side with his foot and fist.
Uldyssian gave thanks for the miracle, then discovered two more. One was that Serenthia no longer helplessly moved toward Lucion. Instead, Romus and the others with him even now carried her away.
The final—and to him in some ways most astonishing—miracles concerned himself.
Uldyssian no longer floated in the air. Only now did it register with him that he had been pounding his fists, that he knelt on the ground.
That he, not Lucion, had made it so.
Lilith had lied to Uldyssian…which should not have surprised him. He could guess now that the reason he had been so unable to fight her had been because of what he had once thought her to be. She had used that to crush his spirit further.
Uldyssian pushed himself up on one knee. His gaze grew terrible as he looked at his persecutor. The treacheries of Lucion and Lilith combined in his mind to further fuel his determination.
“No more…” the once-simple farmer intoned, rising. “No more of this.”
The Primus did not smile now and there was that in his face that hinted more than ever of his true, monstrous self. “You’d do well not to provoke me, mortal. This kind and civilized exterior is a shell, nothing more. You do not want to anger what lurks just beneath…”
Shaking his head, Uldyssian returned, “You have it all wrong, Primus…Lucion…brother of Lilith. You should be careful not to provoke me, anymore.”
This caused the demon to howl with laughter, but Uldyssian could almost swear that there was something hollow to that laughter. There had been no reason why Lucion would have lessened his control over the human. Uldyssian had freed himself and that meant that the gift…no, birthright, Lilith had called it…flowed through him much as he had once believed it. Perhaps not as powerful and as malleable as it had seemed, but certainly Lilith had lied when she had said he was nothing without her.
“Leave now,” Uldyssian suggested sharply. “Leave now or finish it here.”
Lucion ceased laughing.
Diablo® The Sin War Page 30
