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

by Richard A. Knaak

  Mendeln spoke of death, but not as a finality. He declared it only a state. Master Ethon and his son lay not just cold in their graves; they existed now on another plane. They had gone beyond the struggles of mortal existence to face new and exciting challenges. Death was not to be feared, Uldyssian’s sibling insisted, but to be better understood.

  No one seemed more surprised at these suggestions than Mendeln himself. When questioned, he could not explain just when they had occurred to him. They just had.

  The inhabitants of Partha knew nothing of Uldyssian’s intention to leave them. That was the way he wanted it. If they discovered the truth, he feared that there would be an upheaval and many would simply give up their lives and follow him. Lylia seemed to think this a good thing, but enough trouble had been caused here. Uldyssian wanted to reach the great city without further loss of life. In the city, he told himself, things would be different. No one could attack him surrounded by so many people.

  It was a lie, of course, but he preferred to believe it.

  To his surprise, however, Uldyssian discovered that his party would be much smaller than he imagined. The news came from Achilios and dealt with an unexpected situation.

  It was only two nights before their intended flight. Lylia still urged him to forget sneaking away. If the people wished to follow him, the noblewoman had said, was that not what he wanted? Did he not want to give Kehjan proof of what he offered? What better than scores of willing witnesses, including some who could show their own abilities, however meager at this point?

  Rather than argue with the woman he loved, Uldyssian had walked the dark streets again. He always made certain to stay within sight of more populated areas, not desiring any repeat of the attack. It was doubtful that there were any more of Malic’s creatures about, but one could never tell.

  Still, despite his precautions, he had sensed someone quietly following him. Only when Uldyssian had turned a corner, then waited, did he discover it to be the archer.

  “Ho, there!” Achilios blurted much too loudly. “I’m no morlu, I swear!”

  “You knew I’d hear you and wait,” Uldyssian returned. “Otherwise, I’d have never noticed a sound.”

  His friend grinned. “True! I’m that good.”

  “What do you want?”

  Achilios immediately sobered. “I wanted to talk with you, but in private. This seems the only way. I apologize if it’s wrong.”

  “You can talk to me about anything, Achilios. You know that.”

  “Even…Serenthia?”

  Like Uldyssian, the hunter had always called Cyrus’s daughter by the shortened version of her name. That he now called her differently made the farmer’s brow arch. “Serenthia?”

  The other man cleared his throat. Never had Uldyssian seen Achilios look so uncomfortable. “She prefers that.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Uldyssian…all that there is between you and Lylia…it remains strong?”

  The course of the conversation began to make sense. “As strong as the spring storms. As strong as a raging river.”

  “There is nothing between you and Serenthia.”

  “She is a beloved sister to me,” Uldyssian stated.

  Achilios managed a slight grin. “But far more to me. You know that.”

  “I’ve always known that.”

  This caused the archer to chuckle. “Yes, I’ve been pretty obvious, except maybe to her.”

  “She knew.” Of that, Uldyssian could swear. Serenthia had been no fool when it came to the lovesick Achilios. “Now tell me what this is about. We’ve only got all night.”

  “Uldyssian…Serenthia wants to stay behind when you leave. I want to stay, too.”

  That she wanted to stay startled him, but that Achilios wanted to remain with her was not so surprising. Uldyssian found that he was relieved by the news, even though there was a part of him that ached at the loss of friends. “I wanted all of you to stay behind. That Serry—Serenthia—wants to do so now, I’ve no problem with. I’m also glad that you’ll be there for her, Achilios, but…does she know and, if she does, do you expect anything to change between you?”

  That produced a wider smile. “I’ve recently had some hint that it has.”

  This was even better—no, joyous—news. “Then I’m doubly happy. I’ve wished that she could see you as you are, Achilios…and that the two of you will be safe makes me glad, also.”

  “There is that last. I shouldn’t abandon you, of all people. This is not the end of the danger. There will be other Malics! I should be standing with you—”

  Uldyssian halted him. “You’ve done more than you should, just as Serenthia and Mendeln have! I told you before, I wanted all of you far away from me. You spoke the truth; there’ll be other Malics, especially as long as the Primus still commands the Triune. I want none of you near me when the next comes…not even Lylia.”

  “But she’ll never leave you!”

  “I know…but I’ve got to try to make her see sense. If I do, please watch over her for me…and Mendeln, too.”

  The hunter extended a hand, which Uldyssian clasped tight. “You know you can ask anything of me,” Achilios muttered. “Even to stay.”

  “You could do me no better favor than to leave and keep the others with you.”

  “What about the Parthans? What do I tell them when they discover you missing? They won’t like it.”

  Uldyssian had considered this for quite some time, but all he could say now was “Tell them to keep growing.”

  It was the words of a farmer and so the truest he could speak. He hoped that they would understand. He also hoped that they would forgive him for forever altering their lives. There would be no peace for them now.

  No peace at all…

  Mendeln remained outwardly calm, but inside he was very much on edge. He had come to realize many truths in the past few days, but those had also opened up the road to a thousand more unanswerable questions. He still had no idea what was becoming of him, save that it seemed sharply different from that affecting his brother or any of the rest. Their paths seemed pointed toward an expansion of life, a growth.

  His appeared fixed upon death.

  He did not entirely mind that. Not anymore. In truth, Mendeln found himself more comfortable than at the beginning, so comfortable, in fact, that he could spend much time away from other people. The solitude and the shadows seemed to beckon him. There was someone watching over Uldyssian’s younger brother. He knew that now. Who it was had yet to be revealed. That stirred Mendeln’s curiosity in more ways than one. True, he wanted to know the other’s identity. However, Mendeln also found it interesting that he did not fear the answer.

  And by all rights, he should have.

  With his gradual understanding of things came changes. Mendeln had always dressed a bit more subdued than Uldyssian, but now he found he favored the colors of the calming night. He also noted how people treated him with more veneration, but also a little uncertainty. Everyone appeared to see the transformation slowly taking place, but the rest understood it even less than he did and likely assumed it had to do with his brother’s gift. Thinking that, they came to him for comfort concerning their lost leader and he told them what he believed. To his relief, most took his words to heart, even if they did not completely understand what he truly meant.

  The shadows more and more became his companions. He began spending excessive time awake at night. It was at that point that Mendeln first started hearing the whispers. After two nights of listening, he finally became bold enough to try to follow them.

  And, sure enough, they led directly to the cemetery.

  This time, Mendeln did not hesitate to enter, despite the fact that there was no moon this eve, and no stars. He was not in the least afraid, for what lay before him was not the mysterious, endless place of his vision, but merely the final repository for the locals’ loved ones. As such, it was a location mostly of peace, of murmured thoughts and eternal dreams.
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  But there was something else, something far more ancient in the very center. The thing that stirred the whispers and enticed him forward.

  Mendeln had noticed that his night vision had grown acute of late. In truth, he felt he saw almost as well now as he did during the day. Even Achilios could not have matched him.

  He neared the area that felt the source. Here the whispers grew more pronounced. Most of them were from the graves nearby and they talked of their lives as if those lives continued to this very moment.

  Must get the beans cooked, then the bread in the oven. The children need their shirts mended…

  That mare’ll breed a fine colt, yes, indeed, then I can sell it once it’s old enough to Master Linius…

  Poppy says not to go play by the river, but it sparkles and the fishes dance under it. I’ll just go and look a little and I’ll be real careful…

  On and on they went. If Mendeln squinted, he even thought that he could see vague shapes above the graves, shapes resembling those whispering.

  But while all this fascinated him, it was not the reason for his presence here at this time. That had to do with what lay at the heart of the cemetery. Yet when Uldyssian’s brother first looked there, it was to see nothing but an overgrown old stone with faded markings.

  He leaned close. Disappointment filled him. The markings were in an old but legible script, not the ancient symbols for which he had hoped. Mendeln almost left, then, but suddenly recalled something else about his current location.

  It was the very same place where, in his vision, the huge winged statue had stood.

  That brought him back to the gravestone. With tentative fingers, he touched it where the name had been inscribed—

  A tremendous force tossed him back more than a yard.

  Mendeln landed against another stone, the collision jarring him. His vision blurred…

  A huge, half-seen shape suddenly stood above the stone. It was nothing remotely human but neither did it seem anything demonic in nature. Shadow and starlight—starlight coming from somewhere other than the sky—formed what was visible. What Mendeln thought a long muzzle like that of a reptile turned his way.

  You must stay with him…, it intoned. The brother reveals the secret of the sister and she will kill for it…

  Mendeln’s vision finally cleared…and the shape vanished. All was as it had been before he had touched the stone.

  Somehow, though, he knew that it was not the marker itself that had been summoned this…whatever it was…to him. No, the true source was buried beneath the grave there. The marker had merely acted as a conduit of sorts.

  But what did it mean? Mendeln ran the words through his head. You must stay with him…The brother reveals the secret of the sister and she will kill one for it…

  “The brother? The sister?” None of it made any sense to him save that the shadow creature had warned him that death would come of some conflict between them. Oddly, this “death” disturbed Mendeln as none other had of late. It would cause even more terrible things to go into motion, he felt.

  You must stay with him…

  He jerked to his feet. The key lay there. The warning could refer only to one person, for who else would Mendeln first think of other than his brother?

  “Uldyssian!” He raced from the cemetery, urgency overwhelming his respect for his surroundings. Whatever the message spoke about would take place very, very soon.

  If it had not already…

  In the dark of night, the Cathedral was literally a gleaming beacon that welcomed all to it. No matter what time, there was always someone to greet a late-traveling pilgrim or lost soul. The Prophet had decreed it so, saying that the salvation of the masses could not cease merely because the day was over.

  The Prophet could often be seen in those late hours, for Inarius did not require sleep. However, although he would have denied it, the angel did grow restive and so, unable to go out among the mortal throngs in his full glory and take flight, he instead paced the length and breadth of the spiraled edifice, sometimes appearing where his followers least expected it.

  This night, the radiant youth stood at the top of the highest of the towers. From here, one could overlook the landscape for mile upon mile. It was as close as he could come to soaring through the sky.

  Inarius was not afraid, but he was cautious. The game he played against Lucion required tact from both in order not to upset matters and reveal Sanctuary to his brethren. He felt more than adequate to handle the demon, even with Lucion able to summon all the might of the Burning Hells. After all, this world was Inarius’s creation. No one could take it away from him…not the demon, not her, and not even some simple farmer whose life span was less than the blink of an eye compared with his.

  And they would all soon find that out.

  EIGHTEEN

  Uldyssian heard the shouting just as he was building up the nerve to tell Lylia that she had to stay behind no matter what she desired. He had already failed twice this evening and the fact that both attempts had ended up in lovemaking had not assuaged his guilt much. Now, just as his breath and strength had finally returned and he had been determined not to fail a third time, what sounded like his brother’s voice echoed throughout Master Ethon’s house.

  The people of Partha seemed to consider it Uldyssian’s now, but he planned to use it only for a day or two more…and even that with much guilt. Once he was gone, Lylia and the others were welcome to make it their own long enough to sort out their lives.

  Unfortunately, it seemed that Mendeln needed sorting out immediately. Uldyssian rose from the bed to see what was the matter.

  “Do not be long,” Lylia murmured, her tone seeking to entice him anew.

  With a nod, he put some clothing on and stepped out…at which point he nearly collided with his brother.

  “Uldyssian! Praise be! I feared the worst!”

  Mendeln’s tension was contagious. “What? Is it Peace Warders or morlu? The Cathedral’s Inquisitors?”

  “No! No!” Mendeln looked him up and down. “Uldyssian! You are well?”

  “I am.” The older brother did not bother to mention his intentions just now. Mendeln could learn about them later. “Now, what’s this all about?”

  “I feared…I thought…”

  “What?”

  With a look of chagrin, Mendeln shook his head. “Nothing. It was a nightmare, Uldyssian. Just a foolish nightmare…” His eyes glanced past his sibling, to where Uldyssian realized an unclothed Lylia could be partially seen in the bed. “I am sorry. Forgive me…I do not know what to think.”

  Mulling it over, Uldyssian suggested, “You’ve been up all hours, Mendeln, day and night. That’s not good. You’ve helped me a lot in soothing the spirits of the Parthans after Master Ethon’s slaughter. I think you just need some rest.”

  Uncertainty tinged his brother’s voice. “Perhaps…” Again, the eyes flickered past Uldyssian. “I am very sorry to have intruded…”

  Before Uldyssian could say anything, Mendeln whirled and rushed off to his room.

  Shutting the door behind him, Uldyssian returned to Lylia. She smiled languidly as he slipped in next to her.

  “Your brother is all right?”

  “He’s overexhausted.”

  The blond woman ran soft fingers over his chest, toying with the hair. “And are you?”

  “Not in the least,” Uldyssian returned, taking her in his arms. “Let me show you.”

  Three hours passed. Three hours in which he had drunken deep of Lylia again. Three hours since they had lain side by side.

  Three hours that now saw Uldyssian just finishing the saddling of his horse.

  It was the only way to resolve the situation. No more thinking. No more explanations. After assuring himself that the noblewoman was asleep, he had cautiously risen and dressed. With soft footfalls that would have made Achilios proud, Uldyssian had then slipped out of the room and through the house. When he had come across the few guards on duty—they
swearing to watch over him as they had their former employer—none saw him sneak past. They could not be faulted for that, however, for it seemed that Uldyssian’s gift worked for him without trouble this time. He wished the men to look the other way…and they had.

  It was with growing guilt that Uldyssian rode quietly through the streets and, at last, out of Partha. The people were just beginning to understand what was happening to them. As recent as he was to his own abilities, the son of Diomedes knew that he understood them far more than anyone else did. Uldyssian was also the one responsible for their transformations. All that demanded he return to the town immediately and take responsibility.

  But always weighing more heavily were the deaths. It was possible that he was making a terrible decision in abandoning everyone and riding to Kehjan himself, yet…

  Uldyssian shook his head as he rode on. He could ill afford to think of any more “yets.”

  The trees surrounded him like silent sentinels. The night seemed blacker than usual. Uldyssian tried to encourage his mount to a swifter pace, but the animal moved tentatively, almost as if it feared something lurking in the shadows.

  The trail wound around a series of low hills. There was a well-traveled road leading from Partha to Kehjan, but Uldyssian wanted to make it less simple for anyone to follow him. Other than Achilios, who would understand his sudden departure, there were probably few who could track him. Taking a lesser trail would also guarantee less possible encounters with other travelers.

  His belongings were meager, consisting mainly of the clothes on his back, a worn but workable sword, and a few bits of food he had managed to gather on his way out. His impulsive departure had given him little time to do much else. He had one sack of water—filled near the stables—but assumed that somewhere soon he would pass another source.

  Thinking of the water sack, Uldyssian suddenly felt very thirsty. He tugged the pouch free from the saddle and drank his fill. The contents were a bit brackish, but tolerable.