Diablo: The Sin War Box Set: Birthright, Scales of the Serpent, and The Veiled Prophet

by Richard A. Knaak

  The bush stood swollen several times its emaciated size and was now covered in lush leaves. From the few dried berries had burst a cornucopia of fresh, fat ones. They were not restricted to those native to the bush, either, for Uldyssian could easily make out more than half a dozen distinct variations. Blossoms also dotted the rejuvenated plant, filling the vicinity with a sweet scent.

  In comparison to the storm, it was a small thing, this transformation, but it forever put to death for the farmer any doubt that he wielded powers beyond his imagination.

  And that very realization made him tremble as he never had before, not even when facing the guards of the Cathedral.

  “Why do you shake so?” asked Lylia, coming around him. “Look!” The beautiful noblewoman reached out and snatched some of the berries. She thrust them in her mouth, eating with gusto. Her eyes widened in merriment as she ate. “Delicious!” Lylia concluded. “Taste for yourself!”

  Before he could decline, she had torn off another bunch and brought them to his lips. Her face she planted in his chest, eyes ever on his own.

  Uldyssian could do nothing but accept the bounty. Lylia placed the berries into his mouth, her fingers lingering for a moment.

  “Taste them,” she repeated, slowly removing her hand.

  Never in his life had Uldyssian come across such flavor. Each berry was a treasure unto itself, as sweet as the sweetest wine…

  “The power within you should be feared only by those who envy you! When all others see the good it creates, they will understand…and then…then, you can teach them…”

  “T—Teach them?”

  “What I spoke of before! To see the potential within them to be as you! To show them that they need not cow to mage clans, Temples, or Cathedrals, Uldyssian! To know that within each is a glory beyond the conceiving of any would-be prophet or cleric…” She halted. “I speak from knowledge, my love. You can show them the way…I know it! Watch…watch…”

  The noblewoman reached out to one of the blossoms, touching it softly with the tip of her index finger.

  And from within the flower burst a tiny stem ending in an oval berry. The berry swelled quickly, then broke open, revealing a small, curled flower. That, in turn, opened wide. As Uldyssian gaped, a twin of the original blossom formed.

  “It worked! I knew it! I felt it!” Lylia’s laughter was music. “I have felt it ever since you healed me, as if what you did somehow stirred to waking a force within! It is not much, compared to what you have accomplished, but it is something…” She turned to him again, her voice taking on a determined edge. “You woke it in me, my love! Therefore, you can do the same for others! No false prophets will be able to fill their ears with lies after you are done! No one will ever be given empty promises, useless hopes! And all because of you!”

  Her words swirled around him, both daunting…and tempting. In his mind, the farmer relived the deaths of his family and the cloying ways of the clerics who had come to take advantage of his grief. His anxiety and fear gave way to outrage again.

  Lylia pulled his face down to hers, her lips barely an inch from his. “How many more are there who have suffered like you, my dear Uldyssian? You could see to it that it never happens again!”

  No more clerics. No more Triune. No more Cathedral of Light. Men would depend upon themselves, guide themselves…

  The son of Diomedes grinned. He liked the sound of that.

  “And I…” Lylia breathed. “I will stand with you at all times. The two of us always together, always…one.”

  She kissed him long and longingly…then led him to the soft ground…

  Serenthia huddled by the fire, on a small cloth her meager find. Most of the berries were hardly edible, but at least they were there. She had found a few flowers worth eating, too.

  Mendeln stood across from her, peering into the dark beyond the campfire. Achilios was not expected for a time, but Uldyssian and Lylia should have been back by now and both there knew it. Mendeln only worried about his brother’s safety, while the thoughts of the trader’s daughter were far more complicated.

  “She’s with him,” Serenthia murmured, her tone hinting of an emotion that Mendeln ever found uncomfortable. Women in Seram had never found him of interest and he, in turn, had never figured out exactly how to change that.

  “It is possible, I suppose.” He tried to change the subject. “I hope that Achilios can catch at least one rabbit. There was little but dried rations in the guards’ saddlebags.”

  “I worry about him, Mendeln,” she went on. “When that woman is with him, Uldyssian loses track of reason.”

  “Surely not. I know my brother well.”

  Serenthia abruptly rose, causing her companion to step back in surprise. “All she’s got to do is whisper in his ear and he follows her like a puppy!”

  “Love will do that,” he replied before realizing just what he had said. To his horror, Serenthia gazed at him as if he had just shoved a dagger into her heart. “What I mean to say is—”

  Thankfully, his babbling was interrupted by the arrival of not Uldyssian, but Achilios. The hunter carried two rabbits and a bird in his left hand and wore a smile on his face that evaporated when he noted Serenthia’s expression.

  “Serry…what?” He looked from her to Mendeln and the burning gaze was enough to make Uldyssian’s brother feel like the next quarry in Achilios’s hunt. “You told her? Mendeln! How could you? Serry, I’m so sorry about your father—”

  Mendeln sought to wave him to silence, but it was too late. Now the terrible expression that she had focused on the younger son of Diomedes was turned against the archer. “What about my father?”

  Achilios suddenly started toward Mendeln as if not hearing her. “Help me make these ready, Mendeln! They’ll take a while to cook, so we’d better work fast—”

  “Achilios!” Cyrus’s daughter stepped around the fire, coming between the two men. “What happened to my father?” She glanced at Uldyssian’s sibling. “You know, too?”

  “Serenthia, I—”

  She only grew more distraught. “Something’s happened to him! I want to know what!”

  Abandoning his catch, the hunter seized her by the shoulders. Mendeln had thought of doing the same, but, as was usual in dealing with women, he was generally a second behind the actions of other men.

  “Serry…” All the merriment Achilios usually displayed had utterly vanished. “Serry…Cyrus is dead.”

  She shook her head vehemently. “No…no…no…”

  “It is true,” Mendeln added as cautiously as he could. “It was…an accident.”

  “How?”

  Uldyssian’s brother hesitated. “A portion of roof torn off by the wind.”

  The dark-haired woman looked down. “The wind…”

  Mendeln feared she would blame Uldyssian, but instead Serenthia slumped down by the fire again. Putting her face in her hands, she began to cry.

  It was Achilios who went to her side first. The archer put a comforting arm around his companion. There was nothing but compassion and concern in either his expression or his actions. Mendeln was aware just how much Achilios cared for Serenthia, more so than anyone including himself. Certainly in a different manner than Uldyssian, who had never truly ceased seeing her as the young girl tagging along.

  But knowing Serenthia as he did, Mendeln pitied the hunter. Here was one quarry all his skills could not catch for him.

  Feeling uncomfortable, Mendeln slipped away from the campfire. Achilios had brought them enough food, and once matters calmed, they could all get to work preparing it. For now, all he desired was to leave Serenthia in the care of the archer.

  It was not simply out of respect that he left the trader’s daughter to Achilios, no. As he slipped into the dark woods, Mendeln knew that he had departed as much for the sake of his own mind. What would he have said next to Serenthia…that her father had been calling for her after his death? That he could have sworn that he had seen Cyrus standing abo
ve the wreckage of his own body?

  Slumping against a tree, Mendeln tried to understand what was happening to him. The blackouts, the dirt on his fingers, and finally the voice and the vision—they all pointed at madness.

  Yet, what he had witnessed around his brother could have also been called that. Certainly, Uldyssian had appeared to think so.

  And Uldyssian had clearly been wrong. Mendeln carried proof of that himself. The savage scar left by the whip was no more. It had healed, possibly during the brothers’ flight from Seram. Certainly, by the time they had stopped for the night, it had utterly vanished.

  Although the night air was cool, Mendeln felt the sweat dripping down his face. Wiping it away, he tried to calm himself. His brother needed him more than ever. He had to focus only on that. Only on—

  He was being watched.

  Mendeln spun to his right and in that moment glimpsed a figure in black robes and what seemed an odd, segmented armor. The face was utterly obscured by a tremendous hood.

  Then, just as with the shade of Cyrus…the figure was no longer there.

  It was too much for him. Whirling back in the direction of the camp, Mendeln started to run.

  A huge shape dropped down from the trees, landing on all fours in front of the farmer. Even crouched, it was nearly as high at the shoulder as Mendeln was tall and when it stood, even hunched over it was more than half again his height.

  The thing opened a mouth much like a frog’s. The dim moonlight could not hide from the human the row upon row of daggerlike teeth and the thick tongue darting from within. Above, half a dozen black orbs glistened with an unholy light of their own.

  “Meeeeaatttt…” it rasped, extending two appendages ending in sharp claws as long as the human’s hand. Behind the monstrosity, a thick tail thumped eagerly against the ground. “Cooommme toooo mmmmeeee, mmmmeeeeaaaatttt…”

  Mendeln had no intention of obeying, but his body evidently had other, more horrific notions in mind. First one foot, then another, slowly, inexorably, dragged him toward the waiting talons of the fiend.

  A stench filled his nostrils, the smell of what seemed a hundred years’ worth of rotting carrion. The thing waited as he neared it. It could have already ripped out his throat or disemboweled him, but from its rapid breathing clearly enjoyed the fear rushing through its victim.

  Mendeln wanted to cry out, but could not. However, as the creature loomed over him, its maw dripping with saliva, an image flashed through Mendeln’s mind, an image of symbols familiar to him. They were akin to those on the ancient stone to which Achilios had led him, with some new ones mixed between. Oddly, where last time he had utterly failed to make any sense of them, now Mendeln knew how to pronounce each.

  Which he did without urging.

  The giant creature suddenly let out a snarl of confusion. It turned from Mendeln, looking past him. One taloned appendage thrust just next to the stunned human. The beast sniffed the air, its mood clearly much angrier.

  Only then did the farmer realize that the fiend was now blind…

  Mendeln also realized that he controlled his movements again. Not questioning his good fortune, he cautiously stepped to the opposite side. The beast turned, but away from him. Holding his breath, Mendeln took another step further on.

  He must have made some sound, for the fiend spun in his direction and swiped the air with one massive paw. Although Mendeln moved as quickly as he could, the tips of one talon caught the sleeve of his garment. He twirled helplessly in a circle before crashing to the ground. At the same time, his mind for some reason took objection to the fact that the demon could hear. Somehow, Mendeln felt that the blindness should have been accompanied by a deafness as well.

  The creature reached for him—

  There was a shout and then the hiss of an arrow. Mendeln heard a thump, followed by a furious snarl from his inhuman attacker. He felt the beast turn from him.

  “Move, Mendeln!” Achilios called. “Move!”

  He obeyed, but not without shouting back, “The eyes! It is blind for the moment, but shoot the eyes!”

  Likely he had not had to tell the trained hunter what to do, but Achilios had saved him and Mendeln owed his friend what little aid that he could give. The sudden sightlessness of the beast was the only advantage that they had at the moment, if even that could be called so.

  “Mmmooorrree mmmmeeeaaatttt…” mocked the thing. “Wheerrre arrre yyyyooou?”

  Achilios let loose with another arrow, but although blind, his target somehow sensed it coming and moved aside. The wooden shaft bounced harmlessly off its scaled hide. Mendeln saw only then that the first bolt stuck in the monster just under the arm, where the flesh was less covered. Achilios had been fortunate with that initial attempt; the rest of the creature’s form was very much protected.

  As the archer readied another shot, the abomination leapt like a frog in his general direction. However, from the monster’s side, Serenthia lunged forward, gripped in both hands a thick, burning branch from the fire. Had the giant been able to see, she would have surely perished, but instead the blindness enabled the trader’s daughter to bring the flames right against the vulnerable orbs.

  A howl that tore into the very core of Mendeln’s soul ripped through the area. A new stench filled the air, that of burning flesh.

  The injured fiend swung wildly. Serenthia could not escape his reach. His talons slashed her back. She crumpled, then lay still.

  “Serry!” Like a man possessed, Achilios fired upon the beast. This time, he caught it in one of the other orbs. The giant howled anew, then tore the shaft from the ruined socket.

  As it turned again on the hunter, Mendeln realized that its sight had come back. With that also returned another danger, one of which only he was aware.

  “Look not in its eyes, Achilios!” he shouted desperately. “It will draw you to it, then!”

  His warning came too late. Achilios stiffened, the bow dropping from his hands. The hunter’s arms went slack and he stood motionless before the oncoming horror. The beast laughed—a terrible, grating sound—then reached for the helpless tidbit.

  But the talons halted just before Achilios, unable to touch the prey. The next moment, the earth beneath the fiendish creature seemed to liquefy. It tried to pull back, but its legs only sank deeper into the soil.

  The beast looked around for an immediate cause, but found none. “Wwwwhatttt?” it roared. “Wwwhhhhooo?”

  Its gaze fixed upon Mendeln, the only one in sight. Without thinking, he shook his head in denial of responsibility. Nonetheless, the scaled horror tried to turn toward him, the better to focus its hypnotic gaze.

  As it did, the liquid earth now rose up its legs, as if impatient to take the beast. Mendeln suddenly forgotten, the creature struggled to remove itself…but to no avail.

  The ground crawled ever upward, quickly enveloping the torso. One set of talons tore at it, only to become ensnared as if in solidifying honey. The trapped beast tried to use its other talons to pull free the one limb, only to have that also caught.

  Within seconds, all that remained uncovered was the grotesque head. The creature twisted its head upward, then rasped, “Ggggrrreaaatttt Llllucionnnn! Ssssavvve yyyyyooourrr llloyyyyall ssssservvvvannnttt! Gggggreeeeaaattt Llllucionnn! Ssssavvvve! Grreeeatttt—”

  With one last swift effort, the ground sealed over the froglike mouth, finally entombing its victim.

  Achilios let out a grunt, shook, then dropped to his knees. Mendeln cautiously rose, not completely confident that the monster was no more. At last, he moved to Serenthia’s side and gingerly inspected the wounds. They were horribly deep, but at least she was still alive. How long that would be, though—

  “I’ll see to her, Mendeln, don’t you worry,” Uldyssian’s voice suddenly said.

  The elder brother stood on the opposite side of the stricken woman. Mendeln eyed his brother with almost as much surprise as he had the beast. Despite the night, Uldyssian stood perfectly visible, a
s if a light within illuminated him. He was bare-chested, but seemed unmoved by the cool air.

  There was a look in Uldyssian’s face, a look that Mendeln could not read but that somehow made him feel more insignificant than ever. As his brother knelt down by Serenthia, Mendeln involuntarily slunk back, as if not worthy to be so close at such a time.

  Seemingly ignorant of his brother’s reaction, Uldyssian placed his hands palm-down an inch or so above Serenthia’s torn back. He then stared at the wounds, while Mendeln watched in wonder and curiosity.

  And as the younger brother watched, each of the terrible, crimson valleys healed themselves. The ends first tapered, drawing the wounds together as if by invisible needle and thread. The slashes themselves then shrank rapidly, in many cases going from over a foot long to a bare scar in less than three beats of Mendeln’s racing heart.

  One more beat…and Serenthia’s back became completely unmarred again.

  A slight moan escaped her. She started to move. Nodding in satisfaction, Uldyssian stepped back, the light within seeming to fade now.

  It was Achilios, naturally, who proved to have the presence of mind to remove his own shirt and cover Serenthia as she started to rise. Mendeln, meanwhile, stood up to face his brother.

  “What…what did you just do?”

  “What had to be done, of course.” Uldyssian looked at him as if Mendeln had asked why crops needed rain.

  “But…how?” The younger son of Diomedes shook his head. “No, that is not what I mean…Uldyssian…everything that happened in Seram…was that you?”

  Now seeming more as Mendeln knew him, Uldyssian slowly nodded. “It must’ve been.” He nodded toward the macabre monument that was all that remained of the abomination. “And that, I won’t deny doing.”

  “What was that thing?” snapped Achilios, still holding a stunned Serenthia. “Those talons…and those eyes…”

  It was Lylia who answered, Lylia appearing behind Uldyssian almost as abruptly as he had moments earlier. The noblewoman wrapped her arms possessively around Mendeln’s brother, saying, “It is the murderer they sought in Seram, obviously. The fiend that slew the two missionaries. What else could it be?”