Mythborn: Rise of the Adepts

by Lakshman, V.

  “Wha—!” Niall backed up a step, then stopped. “I mean, no... That could hurt.” Actually, Ash’s finger had felt like an iron rod, and hurt quite a bit, but Niall didn’t want to admit that in front of Yetteje.

  The armsmark straightened and asked, “Why?”

  “That would hurt a lot more than your finger. Even that didn’t feel so good.” His hand had unconsciously begun rubbing the spot Ash had poked.

  Ash spread the fingers of his hand in front of Niall. “Each of my fingers represents one facet of defending this fortress. No one part can succeed by itself.” The armsmark closed his fingers slowly. “Together, we form a fist the nomads cannot break.” He looked at the prince thoughtfully. “Do you understand?”

  Niall stood for a moment, dumbfounded. “I think so.”

  “I hope so. Do not forget that we, who repel the attackers from the wall cannot do so without arrows, or survive the heat without water. There is no station beneath your respect, my prince. The men will be heartened to see the Prince of Bara’cor perform such menial duties for them. It is important and noble. It is the stuff of leaders.”

  The armsmark looked thoughtfully at Niall, then his face broke into a grin, “It is one of the many things you will have to master if someday you wish to command these men. By your leave?”

  As Niall nodded, the armsmark scooped up his shirt and made his way out of the Warriors Hall, into the cool night.

  Yetteje came up behind Niall, who stood alone now, deep in thought. “Maybe he’ll promote you,” she said.

  “Drop it, Tej. Seriously.”

  COUNCIL’S CHOICE

  If an opponent is frustrating you

  By fighting well,

  Consider adopting her strategy.

  —Altan proverb

  Silbane entered the council chamber and took his seat. Looking about, he saw the other adepts had already arrived, and an expectant murmur ran around the table as views were debated back and forth. He watched all this in silence, waiting for the lore father to make his appearance. He has played us well, like a master at the game of Kings. The thought came with more than a little anger and Silbane wondered if their opinions had ever really mattered.

  A few moments later, Themun Dreys entered, took his place at the head of the chamber, and tapped his runestaff three times to call the council to order. Once everyone had been seated, he sat down and took a moment, mentally assessing each adept before speaking.

  “The problem is simple. We have a fortress besieged, within which I sense a Gate opening. I believe the attackers are being helped by someone of power, and wish to send Silbane and his apprentice into the area to investigate. I would hear what counsel you have to offer.”

  Kisan was the first to speak, stating, “It is simple, my opinion has not changed. Forget investigating Bara’cor, or sending Silbane’s apprentice. If the problem is the nomads, deal with it there. Let us take direct action.” Everyone understood by this she meant, kill the nomad command. This simple declaration had a palpable effect on the gathered adepts and the room itself seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the lore father’s reaction.

  One adept could not contain herself any more, rebutting, “And what of our Oath? Shield of the Weak, as I recall, is still one of our duties. Is that so easily dismissed?” This was from Thera, who in the gathered silence chose to stand in answer to Kisan’s statement. “We cannot dismiss it just because it is convenient to do so, else we would be no better than those who first drove us from the land. I have felt that pain and do not wish to be the arbiter of justice.”

  Giridian stood now, a deep rumble echoing from his throat. As the eyes of the council turned to him, he bowed to the lore father and said, “As Thera says, our very existence is based upon the nurturing of the land and its people. To assassinate them is not why I became an adept.”

  He paused for a moment, casting his eyes at Kisan and said, “However, I can see merit in Master Kisan’s suggestion. What would our ancestors do if given the choice of killing a few to save our world? I think they would have taken it. Now we have the same choice. Do we do any less?”

  Themun paused, then looked to Dragor and said, “I would hear Adept Dragor’s thoughts.”

  The others turned to the dark-skinned adept, waiting. Dragor was known for being more quiet than most. These events, however, had driven him to near silence. Now he bowed his head and wiped the sweat from his face with a large hand. The firelight of the torches gleamed on his bald pate and hung sparkling from a gold earring he wore, but distress showed in his every move.

  Slowly, he stood and addressed the council, his voice troubled. “You know I prefer a peaceful solution. Lore Father, is the Gate protected by wards of the Old Lords’ making?”

  Themun shook his head, “Basic warding spells completed before they were cut down. As I said before, they had not expected to be butchered by their own king.”

  Dragor nodded once, his expression hinting to the fact that he did not find this surprising. Much of the old lore about gates indicated that making and warding them was difficult work, requiring advanced skill and intense concentration. The fact that the First Council even had the wherewithal to raise any protective measures spoke of their incredible competence.

  This fact surely didn’t make his next announcement any easier. “Then I have no choice but to agree with the lore father. If the Gate can be found, we must attempt it. We should come to Bara’cor’s aid.”

  “The noble-born Galadines, who enacted laws that killed mothers and fathers and hunted innocent children?” Kisan retorted, looking at Dragor. “Shall we help them, too?”

  “You advocated killing the nomad command. That also helps Bara’cor. Can we not first determine what is necessary? You seem bent on killing,” said Dragor, icily. “What harm comes in letting Silbane investigate?”

  Themun cleared his throat, then raised a hand. “I understand Kisan’s point, for she seeks to avoid sending an apprentice. Unfortunately, we do not have an option. The Gate, if found, cannot be allowed to open. We cannot leave it for the nomads to find and we cannot ignore it.” He looked at Giridian and continued, “Despite your confidence, we have not the means in our Vaults to destroy it.”

  Giridian paused, about to retort, but then nodded hesitantly. “Yes, but none of us have that kind of power either. The Old Lords and their knowledge would be necessary.”

  Thera jumped in before the lore father could answer Giridian and said, “How do you know the Gate is even at Bara’cor?”

  This was not really a question and the lore father knew it. Thera was cunning and sought to create doubt, when there was none in his heart. He could not afford to let her influence the others.

  Themun said, “With the other three fortresses now laying in ruin, I know it is there. I have no way of proving it to you, but I know the Gate has awakened somewhere in Bara’cor.” He looked at the council and said, “Let us focus on what I said last, these other fortresses. These nomads are being helped by someone of power.”

  Kisan nodded. “Investigating the fortress or killing the nomad command is still easily accomplished.”

  Themun shook his head. “Not without revealing yourselves. Until we know who they are, they are a danger to us and potentially anyone living on the Isle.”

  “King Galadine rescinded the laws against magic some years back,” said Giridian. “What danger?”

  “They’ve hunted us for close to two hundred years. The law has little to do with our safety, if you act outside it. Do you truly believe the Magehunters are gone, just because they stand outlawed? We cannot risk knowledge of us coming to light until we know who is behind the strength of the nomads.” Themun looked pointedly at Silbane. “We need to hide our presence during this mission.”

  Giridian shook his head. “You are asking the impossible. We cannot hide our life auras. The Magehunters used that fact to hunt us quite effectively.”

  Themun looked at Silbane, then said simply, “Tell them about Arek.” />
  From the moment the lore father had spoken with him privately, Silbane knew it would come to this. Still, he had to try to dissuade him, and with a matter-of-factness that belied his anguish he said, “He would never survive.”

  Themun’s eyes did not waver. “You don’t know that. He’s not helpless, and you must think of the benefit of the people of Edyn over the needs of one boy.”

  Silbane shook his head. “It cannot have come to this.” He knew the lore father meant what he had said. One look into his friend’s eyes showed him a man who would stand by this course of action because he believed in it. He would send Arek with Kisan and Silbane felt his heart grow heavy, the burden of their planning now exacting its own personal debt.

  Then he drew a deep breath, calming himself, centering his thoughts, purging the fear. He took another, then another, each bringing with it the calm needed to explain to the others what the lore father requested of him. His ability to think was crucial to this council acting with alacrity, and for Arek’s survival.

  Slowly, he turned and addressed the assembled adepts, his voice heavy but measured. “As many of you know, I apprenticed Arek at a very young age, much earlier than normal. As you’ve seen from his performance in your classes, while he is quite accomplished in many of the physical arts, his ability to command the Way is... limited.”

  Kisan scoffed, “That is being generous.”

  “Nonetheless,” Silbane continued, “all of you know why. His ability to disrupt magic is unique, and none of us has yet understood how he does it. Conveyed by touch, it causes those who are further along in their mastery of the Way more danger. However, Arek has another ability, one the lore father and I think is an offshoot of this magical disruption.”

  Silbane paused, gathering his thoughts, then said, “The lore father can sense magical potential, even at far distances.” He looked at Thera. “I believe Themun when he says he can sense the Gate come to life. He has saved many of us in much the same way.”

  He turned back to the adepts and went on, “I, too, have this ability, though to a much lesser degree. When Arek first came to the Isle, we noted two things were very peculiar about him. One was the magical disruption his touch causes. We are all familiar with this. The other trait is when anyone of magical potential stood within close proximity to Arek, they faded from our awareness.”

  Dragor leaned forward and asked, “Faded?”

  Silbane nodded. “Anything near Arek tends to have its magical aura suppressed. We don’t know why. Further, it persists for some time even after Arek leaves the area, like the ground after a rainstorm, slowly drying in the sun. I apprenticed Arek early to try and understand the reasons, for it could have great value in hiding us from persecution.” He paused, then added, “In this I have not made much progress.”

  Kisan looked back at the lore father and asked, “This is the reason you brought up his apprentice?”

  “Yes,” Themun replied. “Closing the Gate falls to us. To ensure that, no sacrifice is too great. Getting to Bara’cor undetected, past whomever or whatever is helping the nomads, is critical. Staying out of the demon’s notice if the Gate is open is paramount. Arek guarantees these things.”

  Silbane shook his head. “Themun, I can’t do this.”

  Themun looked at his longtime friend, noting in his eyes what his mind already knew. “Yes, you can, and that frightens you. You know risking Arek to keep our existence safe and close this Gate is choosing life for the land and her people.”

  The anguish in Silbane’s eyes told Themun he had guessed right, but his voice softened when he asked, “He seeks to become an adept, does he not? What oath will he take then? Will it be the same one you and I took, pledging our fealty and service to this land? You think him young, but he may wish to stand by his pledge of service, though he has not yet achieved the Black.”

  Silbane forced a laugh. “Then test him! Promote him to adept and let him reaffirm the Oath! Will that not be better?”

  Themun’s eyes hardened, “We do not know what will happen when spells are cast at him. What if he is incapacitated, or killed? Gone will be any chance of achieving this mission.”

  “Wait,” said Thera, hesitancy in her voice, like an instinct that something was not being said. “What do you mean? Silbane acts as if his apprentice is doomed, when all you’ve asked is they investigate the Gate. Can they not achieve that and return easily?” The rest of the adepts nodded, Thera’s question a valid one.

  Themun looked at Silbane. A moment passed and finally the lore father said, “If you wish me to state Silbane’s orders fully so there is no confusion, fine.” Themun met Silbane’s gaze unflinchingly and said, “If it is open, he will use Arek to close the Gate.”

  Shock followed that last statement and Thera leapt to her feet. “What will happen to the boy?”

  Themun looked at Thera and said simply, “The initiate may be in danger, but he is not helpless, and his master accompanies him.”

  “You know what is likely,” Silbane responded. “He will either die, or be trapped on the other side of the Gate, in Lilyth’s world.” Then he looked meaningfully at the lore father and said, “And you seem quite sure his touch won’t open the Gate further. How can you suggest something so potentially disastrous?”

  Themun answered, “Arek’s power has never increased magic, nor created more from less. That would be like saying soaking cloth in water creates more water than when you started. Clearly that does not happen.”

  “But you don’t know.”

  He held his hand up to Silbane and said, “Yes, I do. Arek does not increase or magnify magic in any way whatsoever. He has never done so. The only thing he does is nullify it. You know this better than any of us.”

  The council remained silent, but Silbane didn’t have an answer to that. What the lore father said was true, for he had never seen his apprentice create anything, only disrupt the Way with his touch.

  Kisan raised a hand, her head bowed in thought. When she looked up again, one could see the sincerity in her eyes. “Danger is our job... all of us. Even our apprentices, for they have the freedom to leave with coin in their pockets if they do not wish to remain here. Some leave of their own accord and still we give them every means to survive, should they choose that path. Others choose to stay.”

  She looked at Silbane and said, “I would ask we consider what indecision will mean to the people of Edyn. We cannot hesitate to seal a wound because of the pain. Doing so will only cause the patient to die.”

  “Then should we not give him this choice?” Thera implored. “Service is our oath. Danger is a by-product, and we accept this risk. Even if Arek’s touch can close this Gate, Themun is asking the boy to go in blind, not knowing the possible consequences. Should he be sacrificed for the greater good?”

  “You speak of sacrifice and forget those who have not yet been born. Do they not deserve better than this? Have we not killed in the past?” Kisan retorted, looking around the council chamber. “The mistakes of the Old Lords are well known to us. When they failed in their duty, how many innocent children—and parents—died in the war and the persecutions that followed? Who killed them?”

  Kisan looked at each adept before speaking. “We did. Our arrogance caused Lilyth’s blight on the land and the resulting persecutions against us. Now we hesitate again, much as the First Council must have done. Had they the benefit of hindsight, would they have hesitated with the life of one initiate? I doubt not, seeing the price it would exact.” She paused, then intoned, “A fool expects the same song to end on a different note.”

  Thera shook her head at this, looking down and saying, “I cannot believe I am hearing this. Have we become so fearful we sacrifice our own at the slightest hint of danger? Is that easier than thinking?”

  Kisan looked at Thera, exasperation in her eyes. “What option is left to us? If closing the Gate means sacrificing lives, or even one life, you are against it?”

  “What if it were Piter?” she retor
ted.

  Kisan sat back, disbelief written plainly on her face. She did not say anything, but Silbane could see on her face that her mind worked quickly against the sudden reversal brought on by Thera’s words. What would she do if it were Piter? Perhaps a part of her began sympathizing with Silbane’s plight. She grew silent, apparently not trusting herself to answer immediately.

  Thera continued, her voice a mixture of disbelief and anger, now directed at all the assembled adepts, “I cannot believe what I have just heard from this ‘council’.” Her words fell like acid. “We pledge ourselves to the service of the land. ‘Shields and blades, healers and spirit,’ these words are part of our oath, but at the first hint of trouble, we offer our children as acceptable casualties. I—”

  “Enough!” Themun exclaimed, his voice like thunder. “Do you not understand?” He slammed his staff into the ground in frustration. “You were ever cautious, Thera, from the day my father rescued you till now, always holding back! That is why you sit as adept, and not yet a full master, though you have twice the teachings of anyone here. Do you think this day is one of simple problems and easy solutions?”

  Thera looked down, abashed by Themun’s words. Her will was strong though and in a voice supported by her convictions, she continued, “I know you think me yielding and soft, but after a storm, it is the whiplash tree that remains standing. As for this, I cannot in good conscience agree.”

  She looked at the gathered adepts, then back at the lore father. “I excuse myself,” she said softly. She made her way to the large double doors and stopped. She kept her back to Themun and dropped her head, but her voice echoed throughout the large chamber. “Your father would be ashamed of you.” Themun stepped forward, but before he could say anything, the doors opened and she swept out of them in a swirl of black hair and blue silk.

  As the doors shut again, Themun stood in silence. Silbane knew it did not bode well for them that Thera had left and yet he also knew the lore father couldn’t bring himself to blame her, no matter how her words had hurt him.