Mythborn: Rise of the Adepts

by Lakshman, V.

  "How will we see?" Arek asked, wincing a little at the pain he felt from stooping.

  Niall nodded to the walls and ceiling and said, "Trust me."

  Arek looked at him a moment longer, then smothered his torch as well. They were instantly plunged into blackness. He felt Niall’s hand come and squeeze his arm and assumed he had a hold of Tej also.

  "See?" he heard Niall say.

  As his eyes adjusted to the dark Arek noticed he could see quite a bit better than he expected to be able to, and noticed a sparkling on the slick walls of the passageway.

  "It’s some sort of byproduct of Shimmerene. The water lets off light, like starlight," whispered the prince to the others. "It clings to the rocks, and as it does, it gets brighter."

  Indeed, as Arek slowly stood, he found he could see quite well. Everything was covered in a faint luminescence. "How much farther?"

  "And what do you think we’ll find?" asked Yetteje. "A weapon of some type?"

  "I don’t know," Arek whispered, "but it’s important."

  They made their way down the right passageway, which turned colder and wetter as it angled sharply downward, and followed it for a few hundred paces. As they progressed, a roaring sounded in the distance, getting louder. The path doubled back on itself, turning downward again, then ended at a small landing.

  From that landing, Arek could see a mist rising. He went to the edge and saw below a white ribbon of water, falling hundreds of feet into the darkness. It sparkled with the same luminescence as the walls but brighter, as the waterfall concentrated the light and created a shining ribbon that fell into darkness.

  "The Falls of Shimmerene?" asked Arek, to no one in particular.

  Niall looked on in awe. "I’ve never seen this. This wasn’t here before."

  The pearlescent stream of water fell in a white wash of mist and sound, disappearing into, it seemed, the very bowels of the world.

  "How could something like this appear out of nowhere?" Yetteje asked.

  "I have no idea, but we’d have known about this." He looked at Yetteje and said, "I’ve played in these catacombs since I was a child. I know them like my father’s face."

  One side of the landing abutted against a large, flat stone wall. Carved into the granite face stood a stone door, but there seemed to be no hinge or seam to open it. All three looked at the door pattern, clearly etched and outlined on the wet wall by the sparkling luminescence from Shimmerene, clinging to it like a sparkling and fragile sheet.

  "What now?" asked Niall, a bit unnerved by what they had found, a waterfall he had never seen before today. "Maybe we should get back, warn my father..."

  Arek ignored the fear he heard in Niall’s voice and looked around, saying, "I’m here, as you asked."

  "Who are you talking—?" The scene froze, cutting off Yetteje’s question.

  Piter’s shade appeared, illuminated by his own light. He looked at the door, then at Arek. "Do you remember?"

  "Remember?"

  "How you killed me?" the shade sneered.

  Arek shook his head and said sadly, "I don’t remember anything about that day... but I am sorry." He tried to convey to the shade the guilt he also felt for his treatment of him, but it seemed to fall on deaf ears.

  The shade didn’t respond at first, staring at him. Then it said, "Do you remember your Test of Potential?"

  Arek hesitantly nodded. "Not the details, but I remember preparing."

  "This door opens the same way. Prepare as you did and the Way will open."

  Reality snapped back into place and Arek heard Yetteje finish, "—to?"

  He held up a hand for silence, then moved closer to the door. Now that he was closer, he could feel power in the air, like a vibration that ran just below his senses. It flowed through him, tantalizing and just within reach. His injured foot began to itch.

  "I think I can open it," he said.

  "Wait," began Niall, but Yetteje took him by the arm and moved a short distance away.

  "We’ll be here, Arek. Do what you have to," she said.

  Arek closed his eyes and willed himself to relax. He took a deep breath and exhaled, letting go of the turmoil of the past few days. He took another lungful of the cool, wet air and let go of the fear and anger, felt it bleed out of him. He took another and imagined cool water washing in with each breath and cleaning out the detritus of emotions and peace-robbing conflict within his heart and soul. Arek breathed in peace and exhaled chaos.

  There! In the calm waters of his mind, he could almost see something bound to the door. It was a woman. No, something like a woman. She hung suspended, with her arms outstretched to either side. Her body was covered in a fine gossamer gown, falling in straight white lines as if frozen in time. Feathered wings flared out, rising above her head, the tips almost meeting in the air above. Her head was down, as if she were lifeless or slept. To Arek, she looked like an angel.

  He whispered, "Who are you?"

  Her head slowly lifted and she opened her eyes. A cerulean light shone from them, power incarnate. Silver flashed down her length, as if awakening her also brought to life some eldritch power within. She looked around, questing with her ears, seemingly unable to see. "Where are you?" she countered.

  "My name is Arek. What are you doing here?" he asked, unable to see where the door ended and she began. The air began to shine, as if infused with an energy all its own.

  "My name is Dvarin." Her form strained forward, but still she could not see Arek.

  Arek took a mental step closer, unable to understand how she had gotten here. As he did so, he felt something change within him. Something grew, a hunger he could feel gurgling up from deep within himself. The itching in his foot grew worse.

  As if in response, Dvarin pulled back. "No! You cannot mean to do this!"

  Arek took a deep breath, then stepped closer. He could feel his body hunger for the energy that surrounded her. It flowed cleanly through the very air, infusing her with an almost holy light. He could not resist it. It was meant for him, it was sustenance.

  "No, I beg you! You cannot!" She tried to withstand the onslaught, but the power within Arek was too much. She bucked once, desperately trying to free herself, but a blackness had formed, a void into which she was inexorably pulled. It tore at her, disintegrating her into minute particles of light, then sucking that light into Arek. In a moment, it was done. Her psychic scream of death echoed across a vast, ethereal plane, before fading into nothingness.

  Arek’s eyes opened, liquid pools of darkness, and his form flashed, outlined in a luminous black fire. Power coursed through his body, healing and regenerating. The stone door responded, itself burning silver in protest, flashing brighter for a moment than the sun itself. Then, with a silent implosion, it lost its struggle against Arek’s fire and was sucked in as well, leaving behind only a square afterimage floating purple in both Niall and Yetteje’s eyes.

  Niall looked in wonder at the door, now a blank opening before them, then at Yetteje. Neither could believe what they saw. Then they heard a small sigh and saw Arek crumple to the floor, his black fire extinguished.

  Before either could move, the luminescence surrounding the entire area faded as if drained, and they were plunged into complete and utter darkness.

  Journal Entry 17

  I have been watching my imps more. It is another piece of the puzzle. They were formed from nothing but my need, my need for company, for help in scavenging.

  As my need for companionship grew, they have slowly begun to speak. My will is evolving them, but to what purpose? It satisfies me, yet could something like this be created with a different purpose?

  My little imp, the first one to speak, has become inquisitive, almost childlike. It whispers the word, "self," as it points to its tiny chest. I find myself taken aback, for it had not occurred to me it could understand its own existence.

  Its innocence and desire to help can only be described as adoration. More surprising, it adores me as if it knows I
am its... father.

  FIND AND KILL

  When blades meet,

  Make your opponent respond to you first.

  Use striker and counter,

  To lead him down the keen-edged path,

  Until no options are left, except death.

  —Kensei Tsao, The Lens of Blades

  The team appeared with a blue flash within a war room of Bara’cor. The chamber had two guards stationed within and two more outside, as the king had ordered. Their job was not to fight, but to sound the alarm should intruders appear. Had they been facing normal foes they may have succeeded, but the six who appeared were no ordinary men.

  Kisan exploded into action, moving with blurring speed at the nearest of the guards inside the room. She knew that if she did not act quickly, the defenders of Bara’cor would pay with their lives, and thwarting these assassins had become something personal.

  She kicked one guard in the temple, then spun and elbowed the other in the sternum. She moved back to the first, a quick chop to the throat, then back to the second with a knee to the head. Both sank to the floor, unconscious.

  Neither had had time to cry out to their compatriots stationed outside, but the muffled sounds of a scuffle drew the two in to investigate, to their misfortune.

  Five had moved with Kisan and continued through the doorway just as the other two guards appeared. Thin stilettos appeared in each hand and he drove them quickly through the front of each man’s throat, severing their spines. Letting go of the daggers still lodged in their throats, he grabbed the two dying guards and pulled them fully into the room, dumping them in a heap and retrieving his weapons.

  Prime moved in and signaled, Clear?

  Kisan looked out into the hallway and saw no one. Having assimilated more of Tamlin's memories she now understood the sign language of these dwarves and signaled, All clear.

  When she turned she was greeted with the sight of Five sinking his stilettos into the chest of each of the men she had just rendered unconscious. One of the guard’s eyes opened, shock registering on his face, but Five clamped a hand down over his mouth and nose. The guard struggled for a moment, then died without uttering a sound, nothing but a small sigh escaping from between the assassin’s fingers.

  Kisan felt anger welling up inside her, but quickly held it in check. It was not yet time to act.

  * * * * *

  Now clear, corrected Five. All the guards were dead. Except for the night watch and the soldiers patrolling the walls and corridors, most of Bara’cor would be sleeping.

  Prime pulled off a glove and knelt, touching his hand to the bare stone. His eyes closed and his stonesense opened. Then, as he and the stone of Bara’cor became one, he could see what the fortress could see.

  People throughout the fortress became visible to his mind’s eye, wherever they touched or slept upon the stone. These were the ones who soiled the granite of his forefathers but today was not the day to exact justice on all of them, just three. He searched for them quickly, and saw the king gathered with a few others in a ready room, not far from here. But where was his son and the null?

  Prime’s stonesense spread, searching. There! He saw the prince now, but he was far from his father and deep within the fortress. Why would he go there?

  The king’s son stood with a girl. There was also a strange black spot that moved along with them, blurred and indistinct. This was the null, he realized with a start, and so long as he was within Bara’cor’s walls, he could be tracked by stonesense. Whether or not the null was the prisoner was irrelevant now, but why were they so far below the fortress proper?

  As he struggled to understand the logic of this, another fact punched him in the gut and he almost lost his composure. He focused on his training and protocol, then made the necessary changes. With multiple targets and the need to protect their egress point, he would have to split up his team. Killing the null was the primary mission, and therefore it fell to him. Three halfling kids would not present a problem, but his team had a harder target; the king surrounded by true fighting men.

  He gathered his group, signaling their change in strategy. He would send the majority against the king. Their orders were to terminate their targets, confirm it with him once done using Bara’cor’s stone, then exfiltrate.

  He knew the null was with the king’s son, and this allowed him to finish both primary and secondary missions in one place. He wished he could take more men with him, but given what he knew now, plans had to adapt and a more immediate problem had to be dealt with.

  Five, Six, remain, protect our exit. Two, take Three and Four. I will proceed alone.

  He finished his hand signals, then motioned for the team to touch Bara’cor’s rock and see what he saw. In a moment, the entire team saw the situation and knew what their leader wanted. Prime was careful to compartmentalize any information about his target's location. He could leave nothing now to chance.

  Prime signaled to Two, Execute, then stood and moved out into the hallway. In an instant, he was gone.

  * * * * *

  Five shot a quick glance at Two, nodding once. Whatever he saw must have satisfied him, for he oriented his team and shot out of the room in the opposite direction, followed by Three and Four. They left like a small wing of lethal predators hunting Bara’cor’s halls.

  Kisan, for her part, had played along, but did not understand what had just happened. At first, she thought the touching of the stone had been some sort of ritual, another homage paid by the dwarves to Bara’cor.

  But something had been communicated when they touched the stone, something lethal and deadly. Prime had signaled, Execute, and separated the group into two strike teams. That could only mean that their targets were in at least two places, but who was Prime going after? She could only intervene with one of the strike teams, not both, so it was vital she knew their targets first.

  A sickening realization hit her that they had not been performing a ritual. They somehow used the stone to determine their targets’ locations. They were dwarves and had an affinity to the very rock itself, hewn from the earth and shaped by their people. Had they used this rock to find the king, his son, and possibly Arek?

  Kisan knew she couldn’t wait here with Five, and was going to have to make a difficult choice on who to follow. She closed her eyes and increased her awareness, bringing herself up to full combat readiness, preparing for battle. She shot a quick glance at Five, then crouched against the wall. That act saved her life.

  A stiletto buried itself where Kisan’s head had just been. Before she could react, a booted foot struck her in the ribs, flipping her over and backward. Five advanced on her, his eyes burning blue and his intent clear.

  Five stopped a few feet away from the prostrated form of Six and said, "If you're one of Dazra's men, stupid way to choose to die. Tell me and I'll make this quick and painless."

  Kisan flipped up to her feet and stood facing the dwarf. It was clear she had lost her cover, but did not understand how. Then with sudden clarity she knew, the stone! The fortress itself had shown Prime and the others that one of their team wasn’t a stone maker.

  Her flameskin blossomed around her dwarven form in an ignition of orange fire. Kisan’s subterfuge no longer mattered, and she felt an icy cold anger settle into place.

  "Six is dead," she admitted. "I killed him back on the Isle. Tell me, which target does Prime pursue?"

  Nothing but silence came from Five. In a blur of motion, he attacked. His granite-like fists struck quickly and unerringly at Kisan’s body in multiple double punches and kicks, followed by knees and elbows.

  To Kisan, however, the dwarven assassin moved in slow motion. On the Isle, when they had faced Thera, they had used poison and surprise to best her in combat. She had paid with her life, trying to protect so many children around her.

  This time, Kisan wasn’t surprised, and there were no children to protect. This assassin faced a master who wasn’t outnumbered and knew her opponent. Whether he knew i
t or not, this assassin faced death.

  Kisan moved into the attacks, instantly reading the timing and style of everything thrown at her. Her arms moved in a motion that was both economical and brutal, inflicting damage at every block. Orange fire blossomed to white as her power grew. She countered with elbows, then used the assassin’s momentum and weight against him, striking with short arced knees to his upper thighs, and forearms to her opponent’s collarbone and neck.

  Each blow hammered into the dwarf like the maul of a titan, battering him backward. When the assassin, in desperation, threw two punches at Kisan’s head and midsection, the master stepped in with her arms circling, blocking both. She continued her motion, pushing the assassin’s arms away from her body. Then, her head slammed into the dwarf’s nose, splattering it in a detonation of orange-white fire and pain.

  Before the assassin could recover, Kisan hit him with a spinning back kick to the chest. The force of the blow threw the dwarf against the back wall, where he crumbled to a heap. Kisan moved up and grabbed the assassin by the hair.

  Just as she pulled his head up, he punched upward like a snake, his fist curled around a poisoned stiletto. Her hand stopped the blade in mid-air, his wrist caught in her vise-like grip. Then, consumed with rage, she released the illusion and was Kisan once more.

  Judging by the sharp, indrawn breath and the sudden cessation of any movement, it was clear the change had stunned the assassin. The detailed dossiers on her and the other adepts guaranteed he knew his opponent, and likely what was coming next. The arm in her grip curled and tensed, fighting her for control as he pushed his weight forward, trying to get himself into a position with more leverage.

  "I want you to know who killed you," she said. "This is for my friends on the Isle, and for the lore father."

  The bones in his wrist snapped and broke as Kisan crushed them in her grip, the Way flashing in her eyes like lightning. The stiletto turned slowly until it pointed at his eye.

  "And this is for the children."

  The stiletto punched into the assassin’s eye, the poison taking hold even as the brain registered shock and confusion. Five fell back, his one remaining eye focused on the adept as his muscles clenched and tightened, a gift from the poisoned blade. Kisan pulled her hand back, delivering a strike that crushed his neck and spine, ending his life.