Treading with a nimbleness generally absent, Mendeln dove deeper into the jungle. The voice kept urging him on, telling him where to turn. He followed its guidance with the utmost trust.
The insects kept their distance from him, just as they had since shortly after he and his companions had entered the lush land. They had quickly sensed the change in him, the otherness, that Mendeln was only just beginning to understand.
Despite the dark, he found it not at all difficult to see. Things were shadowed, true, but his vision was sharper than ever. Indeed, in some ways, Mendeln could see better than he did even during the day. His surroundings had more definition, more distinction.
Turn…turn… the voice commanded. Mendeln obeyed, took several steps, then waited.
But the voice gave him no more instructions.
Frowning, he took one more step—
And suddenly, in front of him stood a towering, glittering obelisk untouched by the incessant growth. It stood more than twice as tall as Mendeln and was made of what he suspected was obsidian. Mendeln had admired samples of the black stone that Cyrus had bought from a merchant and felt that what stood before him could be nothing else.
Yet, what drew his attention most was not the pointed obelisk itself, but what was carved on each of its faces.
More words in the ancient script.
They ran from the top to the bottom and as he eyed them, it almost seemed that they glowed faintly. Mendeln mouthed them as best he could, recognizing enough symbols to have some crude notion of what others might mean.
As he read, his understanding grew. Becoming excited, he poured over the first face again and again. Each time, the message proved clearer. His expression transformed into that akin to a child, for what was written there filled him with awe.
And so, Mendeln kept reading…
Uldyssian stared in disbelief at the man before him. Romus, the criminal. Romus, the converted.
“What—what’re you doing here?” Uldyssian demanded. His gaze flickered to the few faces partially visible around them. He recognized most. They were all from Partha.
“When you were found missing, Holy One, we feared for the worst, especially after how it was for poor Master Ethon and his boy! Nicodemus, he’s a good tracker and some of the others’re, too! We took off as soon as we could after you!” Romus grinned. “But you’re all right!”
“You shouldn’t have followed,” Uldyssian reprimanded the men. “You endanger yourselves…and what of your families?”
“All of us came willingly,” someone else said. “And our families are all with us, of course! We’d not abandon them! Isn’t that right?”
There was a chorus of ayes. For the first time, Uldyssian noticed that some of the figures toward the back of the dark throng were of slighter builds. Several were fairly short. He had not thought of them as women or, for that matter, children.
But why bring their families with them on such a desperate pursuit?
A sick feeling swelled up within him. “Why are you all here, Romus?”
“Why, to learn more from you, Holy One! To follow your path, wherever it takes you!” Others backed up his declaration.
“Don’t call me that!” Uldyssian blurted. “Never that!”
Romus bowed his head. “Very sorry, Master Uldyssian! I’d forgotten, yes!”
Gritting his teeth, Uldyssian continued, “You uprooted your families to follow me? Are you mad?”
Almost as one, they shook their heads. He eyed the townsfolk, aware that his fury barely touched them. They were utterly insane, but could not see that fact.
But as it became apparent that he had nothing more to teach them, they would surely come to their senses…and then it would be they who would become outraged with him.
Mendeln still concerned Uldyssian, but he needed to deal with this band first. “How many are there of you, Romus?”
“A good quarter of Partha stands around you, Master Uldyssian, and others but await word of our success before they join us!”
The sick feeling swelled a hundredfold. Barely able to think, Uldyssian whirled back toward the camp. “Follow me.”
“Always,” murmured Romus.
Already regretting his choice of words, the son of Diomedes stalked away. Behind him came a mass shuffling of feet and the shaking of grass and branches.
As he neared the edge of the camp, Achilios—an arrow notched and ready to fire—stood sternly waiting. His face went through a contortion of emotions as he drank in what came in his friend’s wake.
“What’ve you found out there? An army?”
“The Parthans…or, at least, a good number of them.”
Achilios looked from one newcomer to the next. “Is there anyone left there?”
“Too few.” Uldyssian looked around. “Where’s Mendeln?”
“I assumed with you.”
“I noticed him rise at one point,” Serenthia piped up from near the fire. She, too, eyed the Parthans with wonder. “I fell asleep again almost immediately, though.”
It was not what Uldyssian had wanted to hear. “He’s been gone too long. I need to go back out and search for him.”
Leaning close, the archer whispered, “Then, why not use this bunch? I can only assume that they came after you and, from the looks of those admiring expressions, if you asked them to hunt for your brother, they would!”
“And half of them would get eaten while the others would likely die of accidents or some disease! They understand nothing about the jungle!”
“Nor do we, but we chose to come here, nonetheless.”
As the two argued, more and more people flowed into the tiny site. The women and children became apparent now, they moving closest to the single fire. Some of the men came bearing wood, which they used to build other fires for their numbers.
Numbers which continued to grow.
“You’re certain that it’s only a part of the town?” Achilios asked.
“For now…” Uldyssian spotted Bartha and her son. The woman smiled, then leaned down to point out him to her child. The boy waved merrily. Uldyssian could not help but wave back, but his heart grew heavier. Their faith was based on lies.
Romus joined him again. There was absolutely none of the distrust and unsavoriness of the man Uldyssian had first viewed from a distance in Partha’s square.
“Master Uldyssian, would it be permissible to have them start cooking meals and clearing more ground?”
“You have food?” He prayed that they did not somehow expect him to magically supply them with anything.
“Oh, yes! We knew that we might have to travel some distance to catch up to you! There are horses laden with packs just coming up now.”
Sure enough, in addition to the throng of people, more than a score of heavily encumbered mounts were already in sight. Uldyssian could scarcely believe what he was seeing. How could such a large party have organized so quickly, much less followed him so expertly?
And they all expect the world from you, came the thought. They all expect you to teach them to become more powerful than the mage clans…
The immensity of what he was supposed to do—especially in light of the fact that it was utterly beyond him—struck Uldyssian so hard that he turned from the others without another word and stalked off into the jungle. He did not go far, naturally, but just enough to find some peace.
Or at least, attempt to. Even alone, Uldyssian could not escape his feelings of failure, of complete shame. They ate away at him with an intensity he had not experienced previously. In his mind, he heard the voices speaking so reverently about him, saw again the awed faces, both young and old. Bartha’s son came unbidden to his memory, the boy and his mother seeing him as some mythic healer when the truth was that it had been a demoness who had given the child a new life.
Lylia. How she would have laughed at his situation. In fact, it was very likely that she watched from somewhere, enjoying his torment and the eventual chaos when the Parthans discovered t
he awful truth about him. Lylia had called him nothing and he was seeing the truth of her words more and more with each passing moment.
Perhaps the temptress had even silently urged the townsfolk to this foolish trek, whispering in their ears that they had to follow. That could explain their swift and certain path. How better to ensure the greatest depths to his downfall than to bring all the elements together herself? Once more, he had underestimated her retribution.
“You’ve got what you want!” Uldyssian shouted at the darkness. “Now leave me be!”
No one responded, of course. He had not expected it. She wanted him completely humiliated, perhaps even slain. If Uldyssian was torn apart by his enraged followers, Lylia would simply find herself a new puppet.
You thought that you would bring down the masters of Sanctuary. You thought that the Triune and the Cathedral of Light would fall, so that you could finally rid yourself of the demons of your past.
Uldyssian shuddered, thinking how he had even failed anew his lost loved ones. Their memories would be tainted by his debacle. When people recalled his family, it would be with curses and dark thoughts.
“I only wanted to help,” the son of Diomedes muttered. “Only wanted things to make sense.”
To his ever distraught mind, the calls of the jungle’s nocturnal denizens began to sound like mocking laughter. Uldyssian almost turned and headed back to camp, but then recalled what he would find there. He looked at his shadowed surroundings, seeking some escape.
There is always the Triune. At first, the thought startled Uldyssian, but as he considered it, it made some sense. True, before it had been the suggestion of Malic, but now Uldyssian considered what would happen if he willingly walked into the main temple and gave himself over to them. There would be no more running. The Parthans would initially grow angry when they discovered his duplicity, but then they would feel justice had been served. Uldyssian did not care what happened to himself at that point, only that no one else would be affected anymore.
Perhaps it would even be best to lead the Parthans to the Temple, too. Let them see the truth there for themselves.
Uldyssian grimaced. It said something for his state of mind that he had thought of such an outrageous thing for even a moment. Uldyssian shook his head, trying to clear it. What he chose to do concerning himself was one thing, but he would not lead the Parthans through any more deceit…and he would certainly not lead them to the Temple.
Yet, if Uldyssian intended to cut all ties with those following him, it behooved him to do so as quickly as possible. However, once he returned to the camp, they would be with him waking and sleeping. It would almost be better, Uldyssian thought, if he just never returned at all.
Never returned at all…Perhaps this time, it would work.
His feet began moving even before his mind registered the action. Uldyssian shoved aside the thick branches, pushing as fast as he could through the jungle. On the one hand, he knew that his abrupt flight was even more insane than the one from Partha, but on the other, it would catch everyone unaware. They would have no idea where to look, where to go. He defied their best trackers—Achilios included—to keep on his heels in this thick vegetation.
But as Uldyssian tore his way through the night, he began to wonder how far he would get without a mount. A horse could at least barge through the jungle easier and surely there would be emptier trails ahead where a rider could quickly pick up the pace. If only he had thought of taking one with him.
But that was something well beyond hope now. Unable to do anything else and feeling as if all depended on him running and running until he could run no more, Uldyssian moved blindly through the jungle. Each moment, he expected shouts to arise and pursuit to begin…
A large form moved through the vegetation just ahead.
Uldyssian tried to slow, but the ground was soft and moist and his footing failed. He tumbled forward, landing on his face.
There was a heavy snort. A muzzle prodded his shoulder.
Wiping dirt from his eyes, Uldyssian beheld a towering white horse. Loose reins dangled under the thick neck. The animal was also saddled and Uldyssian could only surmise that this was a Parthan steed lost during the trek through the jungle.
Seizing the reins, he murmured to the horse, reassuring it that he was no danger. The mount actually seemed grateful to have him near, the unknown landscape no doubt putting it ill at ease.
Thanking his good fortune, Uldyssian started to mount—
“No! Keep away from it!”
Startled by the voice, his foot slipped free. The horse snorted violently, as if furious at the interruption. It moved away from the direction of the caller, pulling Uldyssian—who still gripped the reins—with him.
“Easy! Easy!” Forcing the animal to halt, Uldyssian turned to face the one who had spoken.
The face was so pale that even in the dark jungle he could make out some of its detail. The figure strode toward him with urgency, but also a smooth movement that seemed right at home in their surroundings.
“Mendeln?” Somehow, Uldyssian could not quite be certain that he was actually seeing his brother. This was Mendeln…but somehow, it was not.
“Uldyssian…” Mendeln’s voice was low and so steady it again made the older sibling wonder if what he saw was truth or illusion. “Uldyssian…keep away from that creature. It is not what it seems…”
The only “creature” near them was the horse, which, to Uldyssian’s eyes and hand, was certainly what it seemed. He could not entirely say the same for the figure approaching him. Memories of the foul work of Malic returned.
“Keep back!” he demanded of Mendeln. “Keep back!”
“Uldyssian…it is me.”
“I don’t know that…” His head pounded. It cannot be him! It cannot be Mendeln! A demon, perhaps! Let him come closer. The knife…use the knife when he is in range…
“Do not listen to him,” the possible Mendeln quietly said. “I do not understand what he tells you, but I know it to be vile.”
Uldyssian frowned. The pounding was becoming worse with each beat of his heart. “Who? Who are you talking about?”
“Yes, you cannot see him as he truly is. He leans at your shoulder, murmuring like a lover, but giving only hate. I think he knows her, Uldyssian, for he has a look to him akin to her.”
Her. In Uldyssian’s mind, that could mean only one person. “Lylia?”
“That is what you called her, yes. Do you also remember how you finally saw her?”
Uldyssian had once believed that he could never forget Lylia’s true form, but now, no matter how hard he tried to summon it, he could not. “I…No…Keep away from me!”
“Uldyssian…it is me. Your brother Mendeln. Look closely. See my eyes. Remember all we have been through. Remember the pain and suffering of the plague as our father, mother, and our brothers and sisters were eaten away by it…”
As the figure spoke, his tone changed. It remained low and overall steady, but there were hints of deep pain that mirrored what lay within Uldyssian’s own soul.
He knew then that this had to be his brother, not some demon wearing Mendeln’s flesh.
That made him release the reins…or at least, Uldyssian tried to release them. His fingers would not uncurl. In fact, if anything, they tightened their grip, defying his will.
The white steed snorted, then renewed its efforts to pull him away from Mendeln.
His brother uttered something unintelligible. The horse suddenly reared, shrieking as no earthly animal could. Its form twisted in a manner that should have snapped the spine in half. Yet, the creature seemed more furious than pained.
“Pull free now, Uldyssian! Lean against the reins and pull with all your will!”
Uldyssian immediately obeyed. His one hand continued to clutch the reins even as the enraged horse twisted as if made of soft bread dough. Its orbs blazed red and no longer had pupils. The mane coursing down its neck and over its shoulders had a thorny cast to it now
. Despite its girth, the creature stood upon its hind legs as if more accustomed to moving in that fashion.
Still his fingers would not free themselves. Uldyssian tugged as hard as he could, using his strength to its utmost.
Then, something Mendeln had said came back to him. The younger brother had used the word “will,” not “strength.” Mendeln had been so specific…
Relaxing slightly, Uldyssian focused on wanting to be separated from the reins. He concentrated on his fingers, seeking control.
His grip loosened. He immediately whirled, his hand flinging free.
And as it did, the beast next to him lost all semblance of a horse. It reshaped, growing slightly smaller. The demonic aspects also transformed, at least, to a point, the thorns becoming hair and the body more human.
Before him now stood a tall, kindly figure with flowing, gray hair and a trim beard. As he smiled at Uldyssian, he extended his arms.
“You have proven very worthy, my son. Come and accept my blessing for your stalwart efforts.”
“What—who are you?”
“Why, I am the Primus, of course.” The smile dazzled. “But you may call me Lucion.”
Uldyssian looked aghast. “The Primus! Lucion!”
The figure nodded. “Yes, Lucion…and I understand that the demoness Lilith has been spreading false witness concerning me.”
“Lilith? You mean Lylia?”
“Lilith is her true name, an evil older than the world! She is the mother of deceit, the mistress of betrayal! You are indeed strong for having survived against her, my son.”
From behind Uldyssian, Mendeln said, “Beware, brother. False images are legion where this one is concerned.”
Before Uldyssian could respond, the Primus calmly replied, “Does that actually sound like the Mendeln you know? Have you not noticed the dark changes in him of late? There are more demons in the world than merely Lilith, my son…and one of them has cast his shadow over your sibling.”
Diablo: The Sin War Box Set: Birthright, Scales of the Serpent, and The Veiled Prophet Page 29
