Mythborn: Rise of the Adepts

by Lakshman, V.

  Rai’stahn then turned toward the young Themun and reminded, "Do not forget our pact. Upon my return, we shall take the oath and bind your service to mine."

  Themun knew what taking the oath would mean, for it would fundamentally change their role in this world. What would it do to those they saved, obligate them to serve whatever agenda the dragon had? He looked at Armun and Thera. "And shall we accept this unquestioned, for service unnamed?"

  Armun was first to speak, "You know what father would have said." He moved to stand closer to the great armored knight, "I believe we accomplish much in building a future for our children, just as Rai’stahn does for his. Let us join forces and save who we can today." He smiled. "The future is for an older, better you."

  Giridian watched as Rai’stahn changed back into his dragon form, and had Armun climb aboard. Through Themun’s eyes, he saw his brother raise a hand in farewell, a small crooked smile playing across his lips.

  "Father chose well when he chose you to lead," said Armun. "I will return and follow, no matter what you decide."

  Giridian felt the heartache Themun felt, the fear that knotted his stomach as the great dragon moved a bit farther away.

  Rai’stahn looked back one more time and locked eyes with the young adept, saying, "It is a fair bargain I offer thee, mortal. Unasked, thou came to the aid of my hatchling and for that, I grant thee this boon. Think on it and we shall speak upon my return." With that, he bunched his great muscles and leapt into the air, departing with Armun aboard, a small streak of black arrowing through the clear blue sky. They quickly turned north to Dawnlight and a rift that seemed eerily similar to the one Giridian now faced at Bara’cor.

  Rai’stahn’s daughter smiled, revealing again those fanged teeth and said, "Come, I will convey thee back to our lord’s demesne."

  Giridian watched as the three walked down to the clearing littered with the remains of the basilisks, then, his vision faded to black.

  * * * * *

  Slowly, the Vault came into focus again, along with the concerned face of Dragor, who now stood to one side, rubbing Giridian’s hand to wake him.

  He looked at Dragor and smiled. "Did you know Themun had a brother?" He did not yet mention the pact Themun had agreed to. In light of his conversation with Thoth, he had begun to see why these visions were problematic, for they created more questions than they answered.

  Dragor shook his head and asked, "Trained in the Way?"

  Giridian nodded. "He is Armun, and when they last saw each other, his brother had begun a journey to—"

  "Dawnlight," Dragor finished, guessing correctly. "We need to find Armun, then, if he still lives. He may know much of these rifts and the dwarves."

  "There is more," Giridian said. "I think I saw how we came into our service and our oath. It was driven by Rai’stahn."

  "A dragon? That can't be true."

  "No, I don’t mean that." The lore father looked about the room, as if searching the air for an answer. "What happens when one takes an oath so encompassing, so consuming, it defines the very nature of all who follow? What if it changes the very essence of who we are?"

  "I don’t know what you mean. We are who we are," Dragor said simply. "Our oath is to serve the land and we have done so since Themun came here."

  Giridian stood deep in thought, then came to a decision and said, "Prepare Jesyn for her test. There is no reason to delay her Ascension, and we will have need of another adept. Tomas will have to wait till he fully heals."

  He needed to think more about Themun, Rai’stahn, and their role in all this. He had not known Meridian Isle and their beginning stood so inextricably linked to the great dragon, and knowing now gave him new perspective. It explained how so many of Talent found their way here. Rai’stahn brought them for protection by Themun and his council. It also shed light on some of Themun’s actions, though their moral rightness still seemed uncertain.

  "And what of Armun?" Dragor asked.

  Giridian looked at his friend and paused, not relishing the idea of sending yet more adepts into danger, but knowing there was no other choice. Assailants bent on their destruction had attacked them. Only Kisan’s quick thinking and the lore father’s sacrifice had let them survive. He needed to protect the Isle and contact Kisan and Silbane, which left only Dragor to deal with finding Armun.

  Giridian laid a comforting hand on Dragor’s shoulder and said, "We must find him."

  For his part, Dragor seemed to know what was coming next and asked, "By ‘we,’ I assume you mean me? You can’t use your new powers to just See there?" He didn’t expect an answer. "No, I suppose it’s not that easy."

  The lore father smiled, "It’s not the same as being there. You will start at Dawnlight."

  Journal Entry 15

  I wonder who survived the last assault. My thoughts linger on them more, as time crawls along. That Rai’stahn intended the blow that pushed me here is uncontested. I have no doubts of his betrayal, and cherish the sharp focus the memory of it provides. I hope to see him again so I can repay his 'kindness'.

  Beautiful Sonya, surely, for she was strong in the Way. Perhaps Duncan, though only by someone else’s sacrifice. He was always weak-willed so I question Sonya’s judgment, but only in her choice of him.

  Elsimere, Dale? I hope they lived. Do they know it was my forbearance, my love for them, my intervention on their behalf that bent Lilyth’s final blow? Or do they blame me still? Is it foolishness to want their company, yet be angered by their lack of action, of fortitude? I feel no desire to write anything except how I stood alone in the end, victorious. Curse them all and good riddance to the lot. Perhaps I will see them again, but as conqueror and king.

  Did I expect any different? No. I am the greatest. I am the most powerful archmage to have ever existed. Why would anyone stand with me to the very end? In trying, it would mean their lives, for they would have died long before I succumbed.

  The imp is speaking now. It whispers things sometimes... it asks questions. What is it? Why do we live here? Stupid questions.

  Documenting the failure and shortcomings of my so-called friends grows tiresome.

  I am weary...

  HISTORIES: KISAN

  Is one style of fighting better than another?

  Will you see a different view,

  From the same mountaintop,

  As one who arrived by another path?

  —Kensei Tsao, The Lens of Blades

  The sky serpent flew through the dense foliage, its senses attuned to the heat of any living thing small enough for it to eat. A forked tongue flickered in and out, tasting the air for a meal. Its blue and silver iridescent scales flashed in the sunlight that pierced through the canopy above. The light pooled in reverse shadows, creating edges that looked like leaves.

  Sky serpents were dangerous, something even a child knew. Unlike normal snakes, they hunted in either day or night, usually for small rodents and the like, but two things made them especially deadly.

  First, their poison worked quickly and fatally on most creatures. Even the tiniest of these flying snakes could kill a man with one bite. Second, wherever baby sky serpents flew, there were usually one or two adults.

  The adults were fearsome to behold, their bodies stretching for several lengths of a man. As they matured, their upper torsos became more man-like and their wings reduced into something similar to arms. They stood on their lower torso, wending their way through their hunting territory in search of larger prey.

  It was said that adult sky serpents could speak, but learning their language presented severe challenges, resulting in few success stories. The most likely reason: adult sky serpents seemed unwilling to have a civil conversation with an inquisitive linguist, instead having the nasty habit of poisoning and eating them. As a result, little had been learned of these dangerous creatures, other than to give them a wide berth.

  This juvenile still had its wings and now spotted something near the ground, a baby direhawk fallen from its
nest. Instantly the serpent moved in, its senses alert and watching, both for the chick’s parents and for any other dangers that might lurk near so easy a meal.

  Sky serpents’ nemeses were direhawks, one of the few creatures they feared. They would plummet from the wide blue above and kill with their taloned claws. They were fast and unerring, a predator equal to these feared creatures, at least while a sky serpent was still a juvenile.

  Satisfied that there was no immediate threat, it wove through the air in a graceful spiral, unerringly at the fallen chick, who sensed the danger and began to cheep.

  The serpent came to a stop a hand’s span away from the chick, its wings moving in a blur as it hovered. Its forked tongue flicked out, measuring, tasting. Then it shot forward, mouth open and fangs outstretched. The air shimmered and a blade whistled down, slicing the serpent’s head from its body in one clean stroke.

  Even as the two pieces fell to the ground, the form of a girl appeared from out of thin air. She may have been sixteen or seventeen summers old, but one could already see the nascent beauty she would one day command as a woman. The blade she wielded rested comfortably in one hand, with a small streak of the serpent’s blood, bluish-black, dripping from its keen edge.

  Her other hand held a string tied to the baby direhawk’s foot. She pulled that string and grabbed the chick, stuffing it into a small, soft pouch on her belt. The head popped out, complaining in bird cheeps, and she fed it a grub saying, "Stop it. You were never in any real danger."

  Turning her attention to the serpent’s body, she grabbed and stuffed it into another pouch. Later she would skin and eat it. It wasn’t the best tasting, but highly nutritious. She straightened to stand and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Something was definitely wrong.

  She looked around, her eyes bright and keen, searching for whatever was out there. If it was an adult sky serpent, she would need to move quickly to a defensible position. She had never faced one and did not relish the thought, though her heart quickened a bit at the idea of the challenge.

  "How long will you continue this?" The voice carried clearly through the trees, and the form of the man attached to it slowly became visible. "You have better options, Kisan."

  She let out a sigh and an expletive. "Wasn’t ‘no’ the last three times enough?" She backed up, sheathing her blade in one smooth motion. "At least this time you didn’t scare away dinner."

  "Snake meat? I heard it tastes like—"

  "Snake." She sighed, then said, "What do you want?"

  The man who walked up to her looked to be in his twenties, with faded blue eyes and dark hair that had not yet seen the lightening of the summer sun’s kiss. A small smile played on his lips, as if humor lay on the tip of his tongue. The corners of his eyes crinkled, familiar lines of a face used to laughing. "Same as always. You seem determined to live out here."

  "And you keep visiting. Who is the bigger fool?"

  He bowed, conceding, "The answer is clear."

  She snorted and said, "Silbane the Fool. Nice ring to it."

  Silbane smiled, taking no offense. He moved over to a log and sat down. "We’re not giving up."

  "We?" she asked, wary again.

  "I brought a friend," he said, nodding to his left.

  From thin air stepped a second man, older, perhaps in his thirties. He smiled at Kisan, then said, "I knew your mother, and offer my sorrow at her passing."

  "You’re a month late," Kisan said through pursed lips. She and father are buried over there, if you want to visit them." She said this while pointing with her chin. "But you can leave me alone."

  "Your mother was powerful in the Way and has taught you some of its uses. Come with us, and we will complete your training."

  She rolled her eyes at that, then looked back at Silbane. "Has everyone suddenly become more stupid? Breaking the King’s Law will only get me killed."

  "The Magehunters will not spare you because you have not been trained. You are only making it easier for them."

  "How long do you think you can hide out here?" This came from the older man. "Your mother was a gifted initiate, and yet she fell."

  Kisan moved away from them, taking a deep breath, trying to stay calm. The two men followed her, but kept a respectful distance behind. She walked in silence, knowing they wouldn’t give up and running would solve nothing.

  "Maybe you think you’re like one of these sky serpents. Fast, agile, deadly?" The older man scoffed behind her, "Take a good look at yourself. Calling you ‘dirty’ would be a compliment to dirt."

  "Are you trying to be mean?" she spun and asked in exasperation. When there was no answer, she moved farther along the forest floor. "I’ve been here since they died. No one’s found me."

  "No one is looking for you... yet."

  Silbane stepped in and offered, "Maybe my friend is a bit too direct, but if we can find you, so can they."

  She stopped, her shoulders hunched, then turned and faced them both. "Don’t you get it? The Magehunters killed everyone."

  The older man began to say something but she cut him off, "No! I’m done with this. Leave me alone and don’t come back!" A small flame appeared then, surrounding her. It was faint, almost invisible to anyone who could not see the Way, but Silbane could not hide his astonishment. Neither could the older man.

  Silbane cleared his throat and said, "You’ll not win through anger. Come with us, learn to control your growing powers."

  Kisan shook her head, Silbane’s persistence infuriating her further. What was it that made him so obtuse? She was not about to put herself in harm’s way. Learning magic would only make her a target for the Magehunters to come back and finish the job, just as they had with her mother.

  Before she said anything however, the older man turned on her and she could see he was angry. "I’m through listening to your childishness, Kisan Talaris," he said. "We may not return, but others will. The Galadines have a long arm, and they’ll not suffer a mage to live, untrained or not. Learn everything you can from these serpents you fancy. They are hunters too, and yet they fall even to your inept blade. What lesson does that teach you?"

  Kisan didn’t say anything right away, as she was caught a little off balance by the man’s willingness to suddenly abandon her. She had not expected him to give up so easily. Her focus narrowed and she asked, "What’s your name?"

  "Why do you care?" he replied. "For all your Talent, you’re thick-headed and stubborn. You’re not a sky serpent, just pathetic and useless, like your pet bird. And within another month, you’ll both be dead." With that, the man turned, took two steps, and vanished.

  Silbane gave her an apologetic smile, and snapped his fingers. A sparkle flashed then fell to his feet. She could see it still glittering where he stood, as if he left behind bits of... something. "If you change your mind, you can follow this and join us. We will depart tomorrow at dusk and this trail will disappear." He met her eyes and gave her another small smile. "I hope to see you before then."

  He raised a hand in farewell, then faded into nothingness. But the glittering trail appeared, moving through the woods in a relatively straight line toward the coastal city of Sunhold, a half day’s walk away. Most likely to catch a boat, she surmised.

  Later that evening she sat, hunched in front of a campfire, chewing absentmindedly on sky serpent meat while her mind seethed. How dare he call her pathetic? Had he ever lived on his own? What had he ever lost? Probably born into wealth, suckling milk from some fat cow of a nurse in some grand castle filled with servants and food. The more she thought about him, the angrier she became.

  Behind her stood a small shelter, built out of branches and leaves. In it were the few things she had salvaged, scrounged after the Magehunters had razed her village. She had been safe only because of her timing and luck. She had been gone that day, hunting, as she often did, deep within the forest. Her return had been a harsh end to childhood. Exactly twenty-nine days ago, her life had changed forever.

  Sh
e looked up and could still see the sparkling trail, winding its way through the trees. The stillness of the forest and the silver moonlight seemed to intensify the effect, showing her a way quite literally to her own future, if she chose to follow it. What lay along that bright path? What happened if she stayed?

  She took whatever stock she could of her life, and though it was not with the deep rumination of one with years behind them, the tragic end of her childhood had forced her to grow up faster than most. She accepted she had no family, no home, that everyone she knew was dead. How long could she truly live out here alone?

  As the night wore on, her reasons for refusing Silbane’s invitation seemed less and less clear. She was still angry, but questioned herself honestly, a habit she had recently found useful to her survival. How long would it be before the Magehunters returned? Was she just being stubborn?

  When morning came, it greeted an empty shelter. Anything she valued had been packed up, but one small task remained. She moved over to a dense bush, reached into her pouch, and withdrew the direhawk chick, still complaining, and the rest of her grubs. She undid the string from its leg and carefully nestled it in, then scattered the grubs around for it to eat.

  "Don’t eat it all at once, stupid bird."

  She knew it would perish, likely killed by the very serpents it helped her catch. Nothing left alone out here survived for long, a point the older man had made so abundantly clear. The message had sunk in, but she still hated him for it.

  The chick sat there with its small beak wide open. When it realized that nothing more was coming from Kisan, it turned its attention to the grubs and grabbed one, swallowing it hungrily before moving to a second. Kisan drew a deep breath and watched in silent thought. Then, with a curse, she moved over and grabbed it, stuffing it back into her pouch amidst a small flurry of flapping wings, cheeping complaints, and a painful peck for her efforts.