Mythborn: Rise of the Adepts

by Lakshman, V.

  Baalor shrugged off the stabbing pain in his knee and kicked out, catching the firstmark on his shield arm. Pain exploded in Ash’s arm as he felt himself hurled away.

  You must use me, beloved!

  No!

  You must. You cannot survive against Baalor without my help, and you withhold your own true might!

  Ash looked around, dazed. The demon lord had turned to face the king and he couldn’t do anything about it.

  What? he asked.

  You fight as if you have forgotten the old ways, my love. I must help.

  Ash shook his head and rose to his feet. No! I’ve seen how you help.

  When you fall, I will do what I must.

  The sword did not say anything else, but Ash could almost see her form, sullen and angry at what she thought was an obviously stupid idea. He realized he needed to fight and survive, or she would do something far worse to keep him alive.

  * * * * *

  The king watched the carnage, even as the demon warrior turned its lightning gaze toward him. They had to make it to the Gate! It was Niall’s only chance of rescue. He knew what he had to do and turned toward Silbane.

  "Silbane!" he yelled. "You have to go!" The king motioned to the exit leading down to the cistern catacombs.

  Silbane and Duncan moved in unison, striking the giant armored demon with fire and fist, while Kisan struck a third time, distracting Baalor as the other two made their way over to the king.

  Silbane was the first there and said, "What are you talking about?"

  The king looked at the armored demon and said, "We have to make it to the Gate, or Niall and Arek cannot be rescued."

  "So you want to run?" Duncan sneered. "Did you not see before? He can follow us through the walls." He looked at the king with disgust. "The Golden Lion of Bara’cor..." he said, making the title sound like a curse. "Valorous to the very end."

  The king looked at Duncan with sadness in his eyes, but addressed Silbane, "Go. Take the party and get to the Gate. I will surrender myself here."

  Silbane looked at the king in shock, then said in a soft voice, "You’ll be killed, Bernal. What about your son?"

  "This is the only way for the people of Bara’cor to survive. This is the only way for Niall to survive. I’ll not see him, but he will live. I trust you to that."

  Silbane’s gaze did not waver. "We can defeat this thing."

  The king smiled and said, "You don’t believe that."

  He looked over the battlefield, watching Ash hack at the giant warrior, his blade sparking and bouncing off the ebonite armor, then roll as the mace clipped his shoulder. The firstmark went down, lightning crackling around his body.

  "Stemmer is dead. He’ll kill you all, one by one, to get to me." Bernal looked back at Silbane and said, "If I surrender, he will stay here. It gives you the chance to gain the Gate."

  Duncan and Silbane both stood still, not answering. A moment passed in silence. Then to the king it seemed they communicated something to Kisan, for the master suddenly grabbed Yetteje and sped towards them, dodging around the demon’s mace. The two zigzagged to his position while the demon turned back to Ash, who lay sprawled out on his back.

  The king nodded to the group’s unspoken agreement, then yelled, "Baalor!"

  The Aeris lord stopped, his arm upraised to smash down where Ash lay. The firstmark looked about in a daze, then slowly got to his feet and shuffled out of Baalor’s reach. He fumbled through the carnage, joining the rest of the group with an unspoken question in his eyes. His left arm hung useless.

  "You claim to be honorable," said the king, addressing the Aeris lord.

  "I claim nothing. My actions speak for themselves," intoned the giant. He turned and faced the king. "As do yours."

  Bernal Galadine stepped forward. "I have no taste for dying without a challenge, and neither do you, it seems. I challenge you, then, to single combat. You will allow my companions to leave. They are of no concern to you."

  Ash stepped forward, but was held back by Silbane. The firstmark exclaimed, "What? You’ll not survive!"

  The king looked back, handing his bow to Ash, "Take Valor. Give it to Niall when you see him."

  Ash ignored it, struggling to get past Silbane. The older master took the bow and said to the firstmark, "It is his son’s only chance."

  "No!" said Ash. "There has to be another way!"

  "I accept your challenge, King Galadine of Bara’cor," Baalor said with a slight bow. "The men of Bara’cor who still live will be allowed to leave its walls, as promised. Your companions may gain the Gate, should the Goddess allow it. If I fall, you will still turn yourself over to Lilyth’s forces, or your men will die." He bowed again, then stepped back to wait for the king to approach.

  Ash then turned to plead to Kisan, who stood with Yetteje and said, "You can’t let him do this!"

  Kisan looked at the king, then addressed Ash, "Baalor has accepted the king’s challenge, in exchange for the safe passage of everyone left in Bara’cor. We can now attempt the Gate and find Arek. What would you have us do?"

  Bernal looked at Ash and asked, "Your duty lies with the king of Bara’cor, yes?"

  Ash looked stricken and replied, "Of course, my liege."

  "He has been captured and taken to another realm." Bernal met Ash’s eyes and said, "Rescue him, if you have any love for me."

  Something happened then to Ash. He stopped struggling and collapsed in on himself. His body seemed to deflate in defeat. Safeguarding Niall was as much his duty as obeying the king. Now it all seemed to be conspiring to worm doubt and defeat into his every thought. He fell to one knee and crouched there, unsure what to do, while his dislocated shoulder and broken arm throbbing with each heartbeat.

  Yetteje rushed forward and said to the king, "You don’t have to do this. If I could speak for Niall, he wouldn’t want to lose you."

  Bernal smiled at the girl. "Your father expected me to defend you." He stroked her scarred cheek. "I choose my end. Most men are never given that chance."

  Yetteje stepped back, tears in her eyes. She moved over and took the war bow from Silbane and in a choked voice said, "I’ll make sure Niall gets this."

  Bernal put a callused finger under her chin and lifted it till their eyes met. He smiled then brought her into a hug, whispering, "Do not forget, your mother was a Galadine, and so are you."

  When he released her, she fell back a step, but nodded. She would carry forward, for her family and for his.

  Kisan came forward, put a hand on the king’s arm and squeezed. "I wish we had met earlier."

  The king nodded. "Me too, Kisan."

  "Do not worry for the princess. She will be under my wing."

  Bernal smiled, then drew Azani, the steel ringing with a pure sound in the dust-filled space, as if the enchanted blade was eager, as Duncan had said. He unslung his shield, the golden lion of Bara’cor rampant on its face. It settled on his arm like an old friend, a companion he had known his entire life.

  "Go, find Niall and your apprentice. Bring them safely home."

  Kisan bowed once in respect. The group moved back, away from the king. The stairwell stood behind them, its black maw open like a mouth. Yetteje slung Valor across her back, its great recurved shape making her seem somehow smaller. She supported Ash, who looked battered and forlorn. Together, they made their way to the stairwell with Silbane in the lead, their eyes still on the king.

  Duncan looked at this man, this father, then looked down, shaking his head. He turned to follow the group, but paused. He then turned back to the king and said, "I can make your end quick, less painful than Baalor will offer. It may be of some solace."

  The king shook his head. "No, but tell my son my thoughts were of him."

  Duncan did not move, watching the king as if drinking in the character of his soul. He looked at the runebow across Yetteje’s back and seemed to consider something. Then he snapped his fingers. A small sparkle erupted, then disappeared. The only acknowledgment w
as from Baalor, who grumbled, "It is sooth, but pointless."

  Duncan looked at Baalor and said, "Perhaps."

  "He will meet you," Baalor said, taking another step back, "one way or the other."

  Duncan then turned his attention back to the king, his gaze becoming fragile as his tenuous link to sanity began to erode. "You may not thank me later," whispered the archmage, "but I wish someone had done the same for me once." Then a small giggle erupted and he leaned forward and confided, "She waits for me."

  The king’s steady gaze met Duncan’s shifting and feverish one, as if the archmage thought he conveyed something real. He then watched as the man spun and headed for the stairwell, all the while shaking his head and muttering to himself.

  In the short time he’d known Duncan, Bernal was convinced the man was mentally unbalanced. For all he knew, the archmage had just brittled his sword and shield. Duncan had hated Galadines for so long, it was doubtful he would have done anything beneficial. Still, he hoped the man would find some peace.

  Then his eyes were drawn to Yetteje, who raised a small hand in farewell. He gave her a small wink and a smile, watching as she, too, turned to enter the black maw with Ash.

  Bernal’s mind then turned to thoughts of his wife, Yevaine, waiting for him in Haven. He hoped she would not be angry at his decision for too long. Allowing his men safe passage and giving the team time to find Niall was the only decision he could make as king and father, but knowing her, she would never forgive him.

  He smiled fondly at the thought, then turned and faced the giant warrior, sword and shield in hand. Stepping forward, Bernal raised his sword in salute to Baalor. "Come, Lord of Lightning. I need a partner for this dance."

  PLANEWALKERS

  You should not fear forging ahead alone.

  The world is vast and its wonders endless.

  It begins the same way for everyone,

  With one step, into the unknown.

  Breathe deep and easy,

  Let the sun fall warm on your faces.

  Remember me, and I shall always be with you…

  —Davyd Dreys, Notes to my Sons

  Silbane's battle-weary eyes looked to the pyramid rising from the stone floor of the cavern. At its apex shone a cobalt sun, its radiance filling the room in a soft, flickering light. The entire chamber seethed with movement as black, sinuous shapes flowed in, around, and through each other. They looked to be the same living smoke Yetteje had fled from in fear, the same they had just faced in their fight against Baalor. He turned his attention back at the princess, his suspicions confirmed by the look on her face.

  "What do we do now?" asked Ash. He cradled his arm, still broken and dislocated from the strike from Baalor’s mace.

  "We move," said Silbane without looking at him. "The boys are still trapped. If we do not go for them no one will, and the king’s sacrifice will have meant nothing."

  They hobbled forward, whittled away by Lilyth’s forces until only Silbane, Kisan, Duncan, Ash, and Yetteje were left. They were unsure if anyone else survived within Bara’cor’s walls, for they had not seen another living soul. Their flight here had been a mixture of mistfrights and death, punctuated by desperate moments of reorientation to avoid a literal dead end. The combat against Baalor mixed with the constant attacks from Lilyth’s forces had taken their toll and none were left unscathed.

  Still, unlike the king and Alyx, they lived and their objective lay ahead: the Gate. It would lead them to Arek and Niall.

  Silbane moved forward and the sinuous fog reacted, bending to either side. It took on feline forms, dozens at first, then hundreds, then more than they could count, lining up in a ghostly procession to either side of the Gate. The group limped forward, nearing the bottom of the pyramid. Lilyth’s phantom army offered no resistance.

  Duncan took a step ahead, then turned to face the group, his eyes centering on Silbane. "Release me."

  Silbane cocked his head. "What?"

  "Release me, Silbane. I have acted in good faith, but we do not follow the same path."

  Kisan stepped forward and snarled, "You’ve done nothing but act within your Oath." She turned to Silbane and said, "He can’t be trusted."

  They all doubted this man’s sanity and feared his mercurial moods. The last thing they needed in the middle of Lilyth’s army was another enemy.

  Silbane nodded, his eyes never leaving Duncan’s. "You tried to kill us."

  "Did I? I recall healing you and urging you to escape. You read my mind, my most inner thoughts. What is my life’s purpose?" Duncan took a deep breath. He could not act without Silbane’s release of the oath. Silbane broke eye contact with a sigh, looking at his companions, but Duncan demanded his attention by asking again, "What is my purpose?"

  Silbane looked back at Duncan, his body reflecting the tiredness he felt. There was almost no point in answering, but the man’s lifelong compulsion was too much to bear.

  "Sonya," he said with resignation, for Silbane knew this was all Duncan thought about. Being reunited with his wife consumed him completely. He had obsessed about it for so long, it was unlikely there was anything left, except his hatred of the Galadine kings. If not for the Oath, it was doubtful Bernal would have survived his encounter with this particular archmage. Silbane wondered, what had Duncan done to the king’s weapons?

  "But she is dead!" exclaimed Kisan. "Two hundred years dead."

  Duncan ignored the outburst, instead looking up at the pyramid and the shining Gate. "She is there, waiting for me." He turned his attention back to the group and said, "They all are... anyone you lost."

  Stunned silence followed the archmage’s statement. Questioning eyes darted to Silbane.

  "Is that true?" blurted Yetteje. "My family... my father is alive?"

  Ash hobbled forward. "The king?"

  Even Kisan looked at Silbane, and though she never uttered a word, he knew her thoughts could only be for her dead apprentice.

  Duncan looked at them all, finally coming to rest on Silbane. "I can bring them back. Release me."

  Silbane didn’t move, his form absolutely still. So much had happened to them. Now Arek was lost on the other side of this Gate. Would keeping this insane mage help or hinder them? Furthermore, their presence in Lilyth’s world would be noted. Would having a beacon of power as bright as Duncan’s, separate from them, allow a measure of anonymity?

  "I have done all you asked, there is nothing more!" Duncan’s face crumpled and he fell to one knee. He looked up and whispered, "You know she carried my unborn child. I cannot leave them on the other side!" A small sob escaped, and his back shook as if the very ground of his composure crumbled under him. He raised a fist illumed in power and slammed it into the granite floor, which buckled and cracked under the blow. "Release me!"

  Silbane caught himself and took a deep breath. He was surprised Duncan had lasted this long, for the man’s mind was fractured. Every step closer must have been agonizing for him, knowing he could not leave without breaking the Oath, thereby jeopardizing his very existence.

  Each choice had its dangers, but one afforded them the most safety. His mind made, Silbane blew out the breath he held and said, "You stand released of your oath." As he uttered those words, a flash of yellow surrounded them both.

  "Are you mad?" cried Kisan. She looked around the seething mass, then at Duncan, expecting an attack at any moment, but the man didn’t move. He just knelt on one knee, his face resting in the crook of his arm, as if asleep.

  He slowly stirred, as if hearing Silbane for the first time, and looked up in disbelief. Tears rolled down his face as he drew in a shuddering breath. His eyes locked again with the master who had just released him and he nodded once in gratitude. He rose slowly, facing the group. "I thank you and offer you this in repayment. What is my true name?"

  Silbane stared at Duncan but felt his concentration narrow like it had once before, presaging the advent of Sight. The air darkened and time slowed to a heartbeat. Duncan still stood b
efore him, but surrounding him was a conflagration of yellow light, as if the air itself had ignited into a sunburst. It was the Way, and so potent! He had had no idea the man held so much power, but there was more.

  Superimposed around him was another figure. It stood towering over them, terrible in aspect. Red eyes that spoke of death glared from beneath a helm of burnt cinder. Dark wings of ash and smoke wrapped protectively around the Old Lord, making him seem somehow small and insignificant, despite his incandescent aura. It was a creature that filled Silbane with dread, and yet there was nothing he could do to escape it.

  Another heartbeat and the creature inclined its massive head to the master, acknowledging they could see each other. Its eyes flared crimson and in a voice with the rasp of a dead snake’s skin, a sound recalling rot and decay, it said, "I am Scythe, my lord. We thank you for our release."

  Time snapped back and the vision was gone. Silbane staggered into Kisan, drained again as before. This time, however, he felt himself recovering more quickly. He pushed himself erect and looked at Duncan, already knowing what the other would say, and offered simply, "Scythe."

  "My memories begin to open to you and in time you will understand more."

  Silbane knew Duncan meant the mindread they shared, but he had just seen something vastly different. Clearly it had been the Sight, the gift of Rai’stahn and the Conclave, yet he did not correct the archmage. No one else had seen the creature and while this made sense, it brought into question everything he knew about himself and the Way.

  Duncan focused on the two masters and continued, "The name I heard when I Ascended was Scythe, but it is not my name."

  Though both Kisan and Silbane knew what Ascension meant, only Silbane understood the literal truth of what Duncan had just said. Did every adept have a companion such as Scythe? And what of the vision of Valarius and the Conclave? What was the connection to Azrael? He felt the underpinnings of all he believed tilt and could not find his intrinsic equilibrium.

  It was Yetteje who finally said, "Who is Scythe?"

  Duncan smiled. "An Aeris lord." He turned back to Silbane. "You must understand this if you are to survive in their realm." He gave them a small, crooked smile and added, "That Ascension is both a lie and the truth is my parting gift to you. Use it well." He backed up a step and gave the group a small bow, then he turned and faced the pyramid.