by Lakshman, V.
Silbane turned and looked at the portal in surprise. He looked back at Kisan and said, "It should have closed when I came through."
"Unless Scythe did something," Kisan replied.
Before Silbane could answer, a nomad spear flew through, narrowly missing them both. Then dozens of arrows came flying out, swishing through the air with feathered death, most bouncing off the large granite table, but a few sticking into wooden barriers. Some caught a few men of Bara’cor unawares, slicing through flesh, but no one was mortally wounded.
Everyone scattered for cover as Ash yelled, "Return fire!"
* * * * *
Dozens of bows bent and released, followed by crossbow bolts. They flew into the blackness as if falling into a hole. Silbane grabbed the unconscious form of Scythe and tossed him near Kisan’s cover, then joined her there.
"Scythe wouldn’t have left you the Finder unless it let him open a way into Bara’cor," Kisan said. "He seemed eager we escape."
Silbane raised an eyebrow. "Escape? I think he was more eager to kill us."
More arrows exchanged via the black door, impacting the barriers and granite table, lodging into wood or bouncing off stone. This time, however, no one from Bara’cor suffered injury. Of the nomads, they could not tell if their return fire had had any effect.
"No," Kisan countered, "he kept asking why we hadn’t left."
Silbane looked at Kisan, realizing she was correct. Scythe had seemed concerned they hadn’t escaped sooner. "Even so, if he’s somehow propped the portal open, I don’t know how to undo what he’s done."
Kisan smiled and pointed at Scythe. "He does."
Silbane immediately knew what the other meant and said, "Defend me." He then quickly put his fingers on Scythe’s forehead. Instantly his consciousness dove into the mindread, unraveling Scythe’s memories.
* * * * *
Kisan leapt up, blurring with speed to Ash’s position. "We need to hold this line, Firstmark. Silbane attempts to close the portal."
"I understand," he replied, motioning to a female sergeant, who began screaming orders. While those on the flanks set cover, those behind the granite table braced. At the sergeant’s signal, they tilted it back and two men shoved more rollers under the lip. Then they braced again and pushed, rolling the large table forward. The tabletop faced the open portal. If they could roll it far enough, they could drop it at the entrance and create a stone wall that would be difficult to pass.
Dozens more arrows flew out, bouncing off the granite surface. The men moved quickly, replacing rollers that came out back to the front. The table continued to move, closing the distance from six paces to three. One more push and they would succeed.
Ash gave another signal and the men braced again and pushed. The table rolled to cover the portal hole. They pulled back and the table legs acted as braces, making the table an effective wall.
A ragged cheer went up, but Silbane still knelt, his eyes shut. Whatever he was doing, he needed to do it soon. This temporary measure wouldn’t last against a real effort by the nomads and she hadn’t forgotten Rai’stahn was just on the other side.
As if answering her fears, a mighty blow struck the table. Cracks appeared and the men’s eyes widened in fear. The table was thick granite taking ten of them to move. Whatever had struck it from the other end had pushed it back a hand’s width.
The blow struck again, reverberating the table like a gong made of stone. Chips fell and the cracks widened. One of the legs bracing the table cracked. The sergeant moved forward to that end and screamed, "Get up and put your backs into it! Brace!"
"Silbane!" Kisan shouted. "We don’t have much time."
Still, Silbane did not stir. Kisan began to move to him when the table was hit again. The room shook from the force of the blow and the table cracked more, some pieces falling in chunks from the back. The leg, which had suffered injury before, broke with a snap.
The sergeant screamed to her men to brace that side and a half dozen scrambled to obey, but the granite was heavy and not enough could find purchase to apply their strength. Only one leg remained, bracing the entire weight of the table on it, and as a result the table began to list to one side.
Kisan slid to Silbane’s side. "We have to close the portal, now!"
If she broke Silbane’s contact, it could destroy Scythe’s mind and leave nothing to recover. However, the table would not hold and if Rai’stahn came through, everyone would be dead. She took a moment, then made the decision. She had no love for Scythe and decided leaving him in a comatose state would be fair recompense for closing the portal before the nomads or worse came through. She grabbed Silbane and pulled.
A yellow flash of power discharged at the break, hurling both Silbane and Kisan from the point of disconnection. The flash blinded Kisan, but she still heard Silbane gasp. She rolled over and grabbed the other adept, feeding him whatever energy she had as she mindspoke him to come to her voice.
Slowly, Silbane’s body calmed. He took a deep, shuddering breath and opened his eyes.
A concussion of force hit the table, blasting the granite backward into a pulverized explosion of rock and dust. The men directly behind it were killed instantly, the power of the blast hurling their bodies away like tinder. The granite table fell, crushing most of those who had attempted to brace it.
Ash and three of his men had escaped injury, having been in flanking positions. Still, the force of the blast threw them away from the black portal to land painfully on their backs, their ears ringing. Through the hole came half a dozen nomads, short blades and shields ready. Behind them came the armored form of Rai’stahn, his yellow eyes gleaming like gold.
Kisan grabbed Silbane and yelled, "Close it!"
Silbane looked at the portal, and said to Kisan, "I Saw... lines of force connecting the opening with the other end. We pulled some with us, keeping the portal open. If I can snap those lines..." His eyes closed, his face bent in concentration.
Rai'stahn reached forward, emerging from the other side. Just as he did so, the portal opening snapped shut over the dragon knight's outstretched arm, leaving six nomad archers in an indefensible position within the center of the room. The remnants of Bara’cor’s forces did not waste a moment and soon those six lay dead or dying. A sudden silence fell over the scene, as no more intruders could enter.
Kisan fell back, looking at the scene of carnage before her. Along with Ash, no more than four people looked to be alive. Only the flickering light from a torch showed the vast destruction the room had suffered. Nothing was untouched. Survivors rolled, spitting stone dust from their mouths and shaking shrapnel from their hair.
On the ground in front of where the portal had been lay a single black armored arm ending in a taloned fist of mail, still smoking from where it had been cut from the great dragon’s body.
Then the room shook, a heave greater than all others as the ground itself moved like an ocean wave. It caused those left to lose their feet, as the very stone seemed to reverberate with the shockwave. Slowly they regained their balance, then looked at each other.
Kisan moved closer to Silbane, who was attempting to get up. She helped him, asking, "Are you all right?"
Silbane nodded, but a strange look came over him. He knelt next to the red-robed mage, his eyes seemingly focused on something below the man’s skin. In a quick motion, he stabbed three times with his fingers, locking prana points. Then he checked the metal torc on the man’s neck, where it still sat locked securely. He tested it, confirming it could not be undone by anyone of magical Talent, before getting up.
"Good," stated Kisan, not surprised Silbane took that precaution. They could not keep Scythe unconscious forever, and from what little she knew, she detested the man already.
Silbane nodded, still not saying anything, but something in his eyes made Kisan uneasy. Before she could ask him about it, he made his way over to Ash. "We need to find Arek. I do not sense him."
Ash looked at the man before him and a
sked, "Who is the prisoner with you?"
Silbane flicked a glance at Scythe and said, "I thought he was the true force behind the nomads, but now I know differently. He is dangerous, however, and should be guarded at all times." Silbane moved forward, looking Ash in the eyes. "Now, where is my apprentice?"
Ash tried to meet his stare, but couldn’t. "The king followed an assassin who went to the lower level cisterns. We think he hunts the king's son. Guards reported that your apprentice was with the prince." He then called to the sergeant for her report.
"You and I, four of our men, and the three from the portal are all that’s left alive, sir. I’ve reformed us into one squad."
"What about reinforcements?"
"Plenty, but how fast do you want to move, sir?"
"Fast, Sergeant." Ash put a hand on the woman’s shoulder. "You did well, Alyx. We held the room and now we go to defend our king. Secure the prisoner," he said, indicating Scythe.
"Thank you, sir," the sergeant said. She then made her way over to Scythe and propped him up. It looked to Kisan as if Scythe was slowly regaining consciousness.
"You cannot sense anything about your apprentice?" Ash asked Silbane.
Silbane closed his eyes again, then opened them and looked at Kisan, who had come to stand beside them. "I sense someone with power."
Kisan closed her eyes. "I sense it too," she said with surprise. "It’s far from here, though, and lower. Do you think it’s Arek?"
Silbane shook his head, no, then looked at the firstmark and said, "We travel together. Your men and our prisoner. Stand ready, I fear something terrible has already happened."
DEVASTATION
Kill one and you are merely a man.
Kill everyone and you are a god.
The difference is merely in numbers.
—Lore Father Argus Rillaran, The Way
Lilyth turned and looked down at Yetteje, still frozen in place. A slight smile came to her lips as she walked down the pyramid, coming at last to stand directly before the Princess of EvenSea. A soft blue hand rose and gracefully stroked her face. At her touch the slash healed, leaving only a thin white line that sliced down the girl’s face, through her eyebrow to her cheek.
"So beautiful," Lilyth cooed. "You heard everything?" With a gesture, she freed Yetteje, who stumbled back and away.
"What did you do to them? Where did they go?" Yetteje demanded.
"No fear from you," said Lilyth. "Good. I promised Arek I would ensure Bara’cor’s safety. Stand, and bear witness to the true power of your people’s faith."
Yetteje watched as Lilyth raised her hand, then clenched it into a fist. White radiance burst into being, along with the sound of lightning striking. An itchy feeling, like ants crawling on skin, consumed the princess and her hair stood out on end.
With a groan and a thunderclap, the radiance bent inward, becoming brighter as it coalesced in Lilyth’s fist like a shining blue-white star. Outside, the world paused, as if holding its collective breath.
Then Lilyth’s fist exploded in a blinding flash of pure white, shaking the very stones of Land’s Edge itself. The cliff walls buckled, shattering the vertical face of rock with a crack and destroying the pass leading down to the lowlands.
The ring of power flashed outward, igniting the very air into argent brilliance. It broke the earth apart where it touched, shattering rock and stone and pulling the ground apart, breaking it into chasms and fissures as it continued to grow, encompassing the nomad army and the lands surrounding Bara’cor.
Then, with a groan and a thrum that ran through Yetteje’s very bones, the conflagration stopped its expansion, pausing for a moment as if surveying its own devastation. Another thunderclap boomed, and the circle of power collapsed in on itself, sucked back towards Bara’cor, dragging everything and everyone with it.
The lucky ones were killed immediately, swallowed by the gaping maw of the earth and crushed in its granite embrace. The rest would pay obeisance to the goddess walking again upon what was once their world.
* * * * *
Across the Shattered Sea, Lore Father Giridian looked to the northwest, in the direction of the Altan Wastes and his lost adepts. He could not see Bara’cor from here, but could feel the explosion of power. He drew a shuddering breath, then reached out to Silbane and Kisan, only to find a blank spot—nothing—where Bara’cor once stood.
He looked back at Dragor and the newly Ascended Jesyn, her black adept’s uniform crisp and clean, cinched tightly around her waist. She had heard her true name and now defended the land with the full powers of an Adept of the Way at her command. They prepared to investigate the ancient city of Dawnlight.
"Bara’cor is lost," he said. "Something has happened and it has disappeared from my Sight."
Dragor turned his eyes northwest at this, squinting as if he could see all the way to the fortress. He then said, "We should make haste and find Themun’s brother, if he lives."
Tomas stepped forward and hugged Jesyn. "I wish I were going."
Jesyn hugged him back. "I wish you were going, too, but get better and test. When I return, you’ll have your true name and will be wearing the Black."
Giridian nodded. "Jesyn is correct. You are almost healed and ready to take on the role of Adept." He smiled at the boy, then turned his attention back to Jesyn and Dragor. "You both take care of yourselves. I packed a few things for you, from the Vaults."
Dragor nodded once, knowing what Giridian had chosen for their trip. He clasped arms with the lore father in farewell then said, "We should make landfall within a few days. I’ll contact you as necessary."
Their goodbyes said, the two adepts made their way from the courtyard to the shore and a waiting boat. Giridian turned and moved to stand by Tomas. He put an arm around the boy’s shoulders and gave him a reassuring squeeze. "Fear not for them."
Tomas watched their retreating forms and said, "We are so few."
Giridian looked sidelong at the last of the initiates ready to test and said, "Perhaps, but this has always been true." His mind still reeled from the change at the desert fortress. The boy was correct. They would need every able adept to face what may have been unleashed at Bara’cor.
* * * * *
Those in the nomad army who did not fall into the chasms, fell instead into the following maelstrom, smashed by the deadly wash of sand and rock that tore through living flesh and crushed bone. The earth, consumed by Lilyth’s touch, blasted outward first, then inward in an implosion that scoured the area surrounding the massive fortress clean. In one simple stroke, the demonlord had swallowed thousands of nomads camped on Bara’cor’s doorstep back into her radiant storm.
Rai’stahn looked in disbelief at his missing arm, before the blast sent him tumbling. Nevertheless, he was not without power of his own. He grabbed the earth with his good hand and felt for the Way, bringing his full might to bear. The wash of power from Lilyth’s spell bent and then diverted around him much as water flowed around a stone.
Rai’stahn looked around, his golden gaze more radiant than the sun. He could feel the power of the land in him now, making him stronger, better. The boy was no longer draining him and with that came the sudden realization of just how weak he had become.
It had been so insidious, so gradual that only now did he see the full effect Arek’s presence had had on him. Dread filled him then, and anger. His eyes swept the carnage, watching as the force of Lilyth’s might obliterate those without power such as his. Not all perished, however. A few caught in his aura of protection had survived and endured.
I hath been a fool, feeding that thing for all these years...
Lilyth’s spell blasted through the nomad camp, then the air cleared like the passing of a storm. The land surrounding the fortress was barren, wiped clean. What was once desert was now bare rock, broken into black chasms and fissures crisscrossing its barren floor, leading back to the walls of Bara’cor itself, still standing intact.
The great fortress stood sh
eathed in a glowing field of blue, scintillating in the sun. Everything and anyone near the fortress had been sucked back into those shimmering blue walls, leaving no trace that they ever existed.
Rai’stahn let loose a snarl, knowing he could not find and destroy Arek now. Lilyth’s spell protected the fortress from all incursions. Curse Silbane, he thought, for he brought this ruin upon us.
The great dragon rose, looking again at his arm. He could see the bones re-growing, muscles and sinew re-knitting. In a few moments, he would be whole again, but it no longer mattered. The boy still lived, and brought with him the death of the Way. Flexing his new arm, he took two strides and changed into his full dragon form. Around him, some few nomads stood speechless as a great black dragon appeared, to them seemingly out of thin air.
Of the one who called himself Scythe, Rai’stahn could feel nothing. His oath-forged companion stood behind Lilyth’s shield and thus beyond his reach or aid. Because of this, the dragon stood released from the Binding and could do as he wished to these paltry beings scavenging the dirt around him. He knew this to be true.
They tried to flee, but Rai’stahn fell upon them, his frustration at Arek and Silbane needing release. He smashed some and tore apart others, flinging their bodies in all directions, littering the hard ground with a gruesome mix of body parts and splashes of blood, drying quickly in the hot, desert air. When finally there was nothing left alive, he looked southeast, across the Shattered Sea. His anger began to cool, and with it, reason returned.
The boy must be stopped, and there are still those of power who walk this earth. Though many believed dragons were gone, Rai’stahn was not the last. He kept the Vigil, guarding this world while others of his kind slept. They too, had once walked Edyn as gods and would do so again. It was time for them to rise and decide how best to deal with the return of the Celestial Lilyth and her Aeris Lords.
The great dragon bunched his muscles then leapt into the sky, beating his wings once, twice, before finding his bearings and arrowing off toward the one he had called to earlier. Soon, he knew, Sovereign would act, the Aeris would counter, and the Conclave would prepare for war.
