Mythborn: Rise of the Adepts

by Lakshman, V.

  Anything soft about her had died with her family, but she still found herself unable to abandon the direhawk chick to its fate. Finding it alone and injured, she had nursed it back to health. Soon it would be able to fly and grow into a deadly raptor of the air. She was not ready to give up on it, not before it had a fair chance. With the obtuseness of youth, she never considered anyone else could feel the same way about her.

  Instead, she remembered Silbane’s friend calling her helpless and pathetic and let out a small, derisive laugh. He had no idea she had already mastered much of what her mother could do and a few things she couldn’t. She looked over her shoulder at the sparkling trail, then grabbed her pack and blade. Securing them, she made her way along its glittering path, listening all the while to her chick continue its complaints.

  "You don’t know me," she said, addressing the memory of the other man, the one with Silbane.

  The one-sided conversation cooled her anger a bit but left her unsatisfied, so she turned her attention back to the forest and the path, winding ahead through the sun-dappled undergrowth. She had to admit starting this journey filled her with a strange excitement, and as the morning crawled on her mood lightened. For the first time in a while, Kisan felt anticipation at what the rest of the day might bring.

  Above her, she thought she heard the cry of an adult direhawk making a kill, and the sound brought a faint smile to her lips. Her eyes then flitted down, sparkling with power as she focused on the scintillating trail once again. Somehow, she knew only she could see it, a path left by the Way for her and her alone.

  The chick had settled down in the comfy darkness of the soft pouch. Saving it wasn’t only kindness or altruism, she admitted then with a touch of guilt, for Kisan knew bringing her bird along would serve to infuriate the older man. The thought tugged the corner of her mouth up in an impish grin. The vision of their surprised faces as she appeared in Sunhold only made her smile more.

  He thinks I fancy sky serpents, like I actually want to be one? He was stupid and wrong. There were things far deadlier in this world than snakes or birds, evil things living in the hearts of men. She had learned this firsthand when her family had been butchered. They had been hunted and lived their lives in fear until the very end.

  I’m going to master everything you have to teach, she vowed silently, no matter how long it takes. Her eyes glittered with that promise and the burgeoning power that lay behind it. Then I’ll finish the job, one Magehunter at a time.

  HAVEN

  When you are the anvil, be patient.

  When you are the hammer, strike.

  —Altan proverb

  The team waited under cover of night, within sight of the walls of Bara’cor. They had docked in Haven a day before, handing the boat off to waiting dockhands, specially contracted by Arsenal to give them discrete access to the capital city and beyond. These dockhands would also dispose of the boat and any other evidence of their arrival.

  From there they had made their way quickly up the Land’s Edge pass. Kisan wondered again at the conditioning of these dwarves, who ran for hours at a stretch with the same ease as a normal person breathed.

  It was during one of these prolonged runs that she finally attempted contacting the lore father, having regained enough energy for the attempt, and having become comfortable with the conclusion that none of these men could mindspeak themselves.

  At first, she heard nothing. Then, strangely, she heard Adept Giridian’s voice. The moment they made contact, though, Kisan knew her old friend was an adept no longer, but the new lore father. She could feel the other’s newfound might, but what had happened? In an instant, both had conveyed to the other the events that had transpired since their separation.

  Giridian confirmed what Kisan already knew, these "men" were in fact dwarves. Upon hearing of Themun’s death, however, the master nearly lost step with the others.

  Arguments happened, but they were the result of those who felt passionate about their own stance. Kisan held no ill will at their last confrontation at council. The old lore father had been a mentor, a wise teacher skilled in the Way, and he had been a close friend.

  She knew they had lost Thera and had feared Dragor dead as well. Her grief was only balanced by the fact that Dragor lived, saved by the lore father’s final illusion. Kisan breathed a sigh of relief as the burden of Dragor’s last sacrifice lifted from her heart.

  The children with Thera were a different story. The memory of Piter welled up, and Kisan knew how the parents of those lost felt. A cold anger grew in her heart, a need to exact vengeance upon these assassins who cared nothing for their victims or the families that suffered in the wake of their passing. She would not forgive. They had performed their atrocities on the Isle thinking it had all been real. Despite the lore father’s final illusion, not one death, real or not, was removed from their hands.

  Giridian shared his vision about Valarius in council and Thoth next, but because of the distance, Kisan could not be given the full immersion of the experience that touch required. She could, however, feel the profound impact it had on the lore father and his beliefs. It was more than enough.

  Arek posed a danger and he had committed murder when he took Piter’s life. That fact alone condemned him in her eyes, but the needs of the mission had taken precedence. Now, with his denunciation by the Conclave and Lore Father Giridian, Kisan was free to act, but what she should do was still unclear.

  Kisan related the dwarven team’s orders to find and kill Arek and the royal Galadine family inside Bara’cor. Given that fact, were their interests in conflict? Also, what were her actual orders? Was she being ordered to help these assassins seek out and kill an apprentice they had trained since he was a child, aid the same men who had killed Lore Father Themun Dreys?

  What troubled her more was the knowledge that if this "Conclave" could direct their hand against Arek, why not the Isle itself? That knot of worry she found was more difficult to unravel. Measured against the fate of the world, the lives of Themun, Thera, or of everyone on the Isle would be a small price to the Conclave—a price they would not hesitate to pay if they thought they were right.

  Of Silbane, Kisan had heard nothing. What were her orders concerning the other master? Silbane would not allow his apprentice to come to harm and Kisan could not fault him for that. Her doubt and weariness came through the connection to the new lore father, who could empathize, but decisiveness was needed.

  Though he had only been lore father for a very short time, he could not be uncertain in the face of the challenges arrayed against them. Giridian felt the Conclave was correct about Arek and if left alive, the boy threatened the very existence of the Way. He knew that Silbane would not allow any harmful action against the boy without significant proof and the question was, did they have time for that luxury? The lore father turned it over in his head and came to the only decision he felt he could. He ordered Kisan to kill Arek at her first opportunity.

  As far as sharing information with Silbane, Giridian knew they could not take that chance. If he interfered it endangered the entire land, something the new lore father would not allow. While he shared this with Kisan his heart felt heavy, but once the decision was made he felt it was the correct one, and that confidence bled through the connection to the young master.

  He did take care of one vital thing and used his newfound powers to replenish Kisan’s health and vigor. The master marveled at the wash of energy that came through the connection, easing her muscles, lending clarity to thought and providing much needed succor to her entire being.

  Facing Silbane was not something she relished. Despite their argument, Kisan still thought of Silbane as a mentor and friend. Piter’s death supported the Conclave’s claim and though she did not want to bring harm to one of their own, her orders were clear. Her best chance would be to take Arek alone, when Silbane was not around. Hopefully the master would never know who killed his apprentice, and Kisan could avoid a confrontation.

 
Losing Piter had shaken her to her core and she lay the blame at Arek's feet. She would not compound that loss by letting the land suffer because of a misplaced sense of family, especially not to one who had already proven lethal by killing her own apprentice.

  With renewed freshness she let Giridian know she would carry out the lore father’s orders. She hoped to accomplish this without injuring Silbane, if possible. These assassins, however, would receive no such quarter. Once she felt she could glean no more information from them, she would kill them all.

  Giridian hesitated at that, for they still did not know enough and his caution came through the connection. These dwarven men were highly trained and the fact that Kisan had infiltrated them spoke to her quick thinking and self-sacrifice. Giridian instructed her to keep her cover and first find out more about this Sovereign, who gave them their orders, before taking any action.

  The lore father did not stop there. He shared the knowledge about the danger that Sovereign represented to their people. He did not know if the Conclave was behind this and meant to keep his wits about him, regardless of how much he believed the vision given by the enigmatic Thoth, guardian or not.

  Giridian did not explicitly tell Kisan how to handle the orders to kill the Galadines. Kisan was there and had to have the freedom to respond in any way she judged best. He knew she was no supporter of Galadine rule, but let her know he hoped current circumstances would outweigh any personal feelings she might have with regards to them. The fact was that this king had disbanded the Magehunters and ended the laws that persecuted those with Talent.

  The full moon shone overhead, turning the ground between their cover and the base of the walls of Bara’cor an eerie white. Their uniforms had changed color to match the surrounding terrain, a dusky gray and beige. From their vantage point, they could see the rear gates. Bara’cor sat hunched into the recess of Land’s Edge, its rear three walls connected to the switchback pass that dropped to the lower plains and Haven two thousand feet below.

  Prime didn’t seem to think that making it into the fortress would be much of an issue. He gathered his men close. "Let us ask Sovereign to guide our hands," he intoned, and the rest bowed their heads.

  Kisan did the same, seeing in Tamlin’s memories that this was the benediction they offered before combat.

  Prime continued, "We fell, and from ashes rise again. We exact justice in Your name. Blessed be our hands, for they deliver to You the new Way. Blessed be our people, who will regain the sky."

  The others intoned, "We are the First, We are the Last, We are the new Way."

  Prime made a strange sign, grabbing his fist with his other hand and offering both, then looked up. "We make our way to the Stone and from there into Bara’cor, the fortress of our fathers."

  Two looked at everyone and said, "From here we keep silent. Getting in is the easy part. Getting out will be more difficult. Five and Six will secure the room for our egress. The rest of us will carry out our orders, no prisoners, no survivors. If we come in contact, they die. We may be coming back with pursuers, so be ready."

  A pit formed in Kisan’s stomach. She couldn’t be left behind as rearguard. While she didn’t particularly care about the king’s family, she would not be in a position to insure her orders concerning Arek were carried out. Indeed, she had argued for the destruction of Bara’cor with the lore father, and nothing had changed her mind yet.

  Still, she didn’t want these assassins to achieve any goal they set themselves to. Because had attacked and killed those on the Isle they believed with impunity and now sought to do the same at Bara'cor, Kisan felt committed to exacting a price from these dwarves. Since they acted without conscience, Kisan set herself to be the lethal consequence they thought could not touch them.

  The team made its way quickly parallel to the great fortress, which used its rear walls to create a protected area that led down Land’s Edge. Because of this, the only way to the rear of the fortress was up the same cliff and through the fortress itself. Kisan appreciated the tactically sound strategy followed when building this stronghold.

  They continued until it came upon a small way station situated in a copse of trees. A pool of clear water bubbled forth, fed by the same underground rivers that fed the lake within Bara’cor’s walls. Its gurgling was the only sound that broke the still night air.

  Kisan marveled at the beauty of the place, peaceful and clean. The trees gave weary travelers respite from the sun, providing shelter and cool shade. In the center of this way station stood a statue of a female with horns, her arms outstretched and holding a stone sphere roughly two feet in diameter. The sphere was smooth to the touch, the granite polished by an artisan’s hand.

  Prime picked up a piece of loose stone from the ground. He gripped it in his hand and squeezed. The rock pulverized into fine dust, which he slowly let fall on top of the sphere. He said something under his breath, something Kisan couldn’t make out. At that moment, the sphere began to glow a soft blue. It was not so bright as to alert anyone, more like the soft light one sees in the night sky just before dawn.

  He looked at the others meaningfully and whispered, "Keep silent, watch each other’s backs. We finish our job and we get out, all of us. Remember tonight, we fight on home ground." At his command, all six touched the stone and vanished.

  Journal Entry 16

  The raids continue, and I have created a ritual of sorts. I hide, hunker down and put my head in the sand. Truly.

  I can feel them now, the hunger of their presence building to a point where I can predict their entry.

  I build a cocoon of power, one I know can withstand assault. I cannot ward the entire area, but warding myself seems to be something I believe in enough to be successful.

  Of course, I emerge to devastation, my gathered resources taken and the ground scoured. They take everything of value, and while I know it is precisely because I value it... I am growing weary of it.

  I took the imp into my cocoon with me. I know it is nothing except a conjuration of my loneliness, but it speaks and I find myself strangely attached. My desire to protect it seems to strengthen my wards and more importantly, my resolve.

  Even with the benefit of the dragon’s vision, I find it hard to understand how to unravel these Aeris.

  INTO THE DARK

  To act without knowing is fatal;

  To know and not act, is cowardice.

  —The Bladesman Codex

  The three made their way into the darker bowels of the great fortress, with Niall in front. The passageway cut roughly into the rock, but merged to join with a smooth floor that strangely had neither seams nor cracks. It was yet another example of the ancient lore of the dwarven builders and their skill with stone.

  "How far down does this go?" asked Arek.

  Niall looked back over his shoulder, his face hidden in the shadow cast by his torch's own firelight and said, "I don’t know. Pretty deep, maybe all the way down to the lowlands and Haven. My father once told me that Bara’cor was just the visible part of an entire dwarven city built below it."

  Arek looked to his left, where the passageway dropped off into inky blackness. "Can I see your torch?"

  Yetteje lit another torch off Niall’s and handed it to him. "Here."

  Arek looked down using the torch as a guide and saw they stood within a passageway that joined a rock face on their right and opened to empty space on their left. "You weren't kidding. Pretty far down, by the looks of it." He fought a sudden sense of vertigo and looked at Niall.

  The prince answered, "We’re not going that deep to reach the place I think you want." He looked down the passageway where it forked and said, "Come on, this way."

  They started to move forward, the cold, damp air clinging to them like a second skin, when Arek’s vision tunneled and time froze. From the darkness came the shade of Piter.

  "Not as stupid as I thought, and not as crippled anymore. Learn something new about yourself?"

  Arek looked at the shade wit
hout surprise having grown accustomed to the feeling presaging its appearance, and simply asked, "Do you mean you had me tortured on purpose?"

  "What purpose would that served, master?"

  Though the question seemed genuine, Arek could hear something below it, a current of obsequiousness, like the shade was in fact mocking him. And he had learned that he could heal, though he still didn't know if it was because of Tempest or something he did himself. He'd like to believe the latter, but at the same time doubted it for the simple fact that he had rarely done anything magical. He decided to focus on why he was down here and asked, "What am I looking for, exactly?"

  The shade looked down the passageway, ignoring the question, then back at Arek. "This is a rare and potent place. Can you feel it?"

  And all of a sudden, he could, as if it had always been there. It felt the same as when sunshine soaked into his skin, but this was not sunlight, it was power. "How can this be?" he said, but Piter held up a forestalling hand.

  "As you get closer, you will feel and see more. Your powers are only now coming into their own, as your Maker intended. Stand ready and pay attention to the world around you." The shade nodded then pointed to the right passageway and said, "Your destiny lies in that direction."

  The scene snapped back with the dizzying speed Arek had grown accustomed to. Piter was gone and Niall was quickly making his way to the fork. Arek looked around once more, steadying himself against the wet rock wall, then hobbled forward to catch up.

  "We need to go right at the fork," he said, his voice echoing through the subterranean space. He stumbled, his injured foot jarring painfully against a rocky outcropping, and muttered a soft curse.

  "Got it," said Niall. He motioned for them to slow down and then gathered their small group together. "Listen, we came in through a side passageway that's hardly used. However, my father has patrols, even here. Galadine name or not, if they see us, we’ll be arrested, so douse the torches." He smothered his.