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

by Richard A. Knaak

  “What is this Balance?” Mendeln called to the stars. “You speak of it and I think of it, but I have never known what it truly means!”

  The stars moved, briefly erasing any semblance to a beast. When they returned to their proper positions, Trag’Oul replied, The Balance is the even distribution of Light and Dark. Its essence is most significant to Sanctuary, but it goes beyond, to all of creation. A world where Dark rules would burn itself up. A world where Light commands would eventually stagnate. If either gained enough control of Sanctuary so that the other could not match it again, then that would be the end of all things…

  There was sense to what the leviathan said, or at least Mendeln saw it that way. Yet…“But should we not ever strive for good over evil?”

  Light and Dark are not necessarily good and evil, son of Diomedes. Yes, good must outshine evil, but if the knowledge of evil is erased utterly, even good may turn on itself…

  “Even still, I would never side with any demon!” Such a notion seemed incredulous.

  What almost appeared mirth touched Trag’Oul’s “voice.” “Never” is a word rarely attained in fact. And would you ever join the cause of an angel…such as Inarius…who would keep Humanity bent low in prayer to him?

  The dragon had him there. From all he had learned, Inarius’s notion of what was right meant absolute obedience to him.

  Mendeln shook his head. “I cannot believe that we must suffer two such forces without any hope…”

  Did I say there was not? The High Heavens and the Burning Hells create their own notions of their absolute might. The dragon paused, then added, They will someday find that they are far from the ultimate masters of all things created…

  Uldyssian’s brother seized upon the other’s words. “Are you saying that there is something more, something greater?” He recalled something that he had wondered about earlier. “The spirits of the firstborn; they have not moved on, but where do all others go? Where do the souls of my people go?”

  To their rightful place…to beyond the reach of both the High Heavens and the Burning Hells and this universe of tragedy they have wrought…

  “What does that mean? How do you know all you say?”

  We know because we know…

  Mendeln noted the “we” and somehow felt it did not include Rathma. Were there others like Trago’Oul? Was that possible?

  But the celestial beast said no more on the subject and Mendeln knew that, if he asked such questions, Trag’Oul would not answer him. Still, some of what the dragon had said just prior gave him hope again.

  “Then, there is truly a chance for Sanctuary to be more than what they would have of it…” Mendeln clutched the dagger, which felt so right in his hand. It was not a weapon—although it could easily be used as such—but one key toward freeing Humanity’s destiny from the angels’ and demons’ perpetual war.

  However, that was only if he and Uldyssian managed to somehow help prevent Lilith and the mysterious Inarius from succeeding with their own plots.

  The angel bothered him most. “This Inarius…Rathma’s father…what does he do now?”

  For the first time, Trag’Oul radiated uncertainty. Lilith is a creature of many plots and although difficult to always ferret out, her mark is generally quite noticeable. Inarius, on the other hand, plays the game more subtly. It may be that we are already destined to fail against him, for he may have moved to defeat her and us simultaneously. Rathma can judge him better, but even he is uncertain as to how well…

  Which was a lengthy way to tell Mendeln that the angel was as much an enigma to his mentors as he was to the human. “But we know he acts as the Prophet, whose face stands unveiled for all to see! Surely, we can calculate his actions thus—”

  Inarius stands utterly veiled even surrounded by a multitude of eyes. What is seen of the Prophet is never necessarily what he is, even more so than the Primus, who has been not one but at least three…

  And here he brought up another point that had troubled Mendeln even before Rathma had whisked him away. “The demon Lucion was the Primus and he is no more. It is Lilith who wears that mask, surely.”

  But would Lilith have created such chaos in Hashir?

  She would not have and Mendeln knew that. He had wondered at what had seemed irrational even for the demoness.

  “Another commands?” Uldyssian’s brother finally asked. “Another demon? That could work in our favor! If even indirectly this third interferes with her plots—”

  It does not…in fact…it has accelerated it.

  That did not bode well. With both him and Uldyssian gone, that left only Serenthia to watch for the demoness. Still, in many ways, Cyrus’s daughter was likely far more capable than Mendeln. “Serenthia will guide the edyrem. They trust her. They will follow her in all things—”

  The stars yet again shifted, then resettled. Mendeln had learned quickly that this was a sign of the dragon’s displeasure. Yes…they will heed the commands of your companion in the absence of your brother…and thus become Lilith’s more and more…

  Mendeln let out a growl of frustration. “What are you not telling me? What is it you know?”

  There was an unusual hesitation…and then Trag’Oul replied, Uldyssian’s edyrem believe that they follow your friend, but in doing so, they actually follow the demoness.

  “Follow—no!”

  Yes…it is Serenthia of Seram that they see before them, but she is in truth Lilith and has been so since some days ago as Sanctuary counts time…

  “Serenthia…” Mendeln fell down on one knee, so struck was he by the news. His mind raced back to Partha and Malic, who had worn the skin of another. “No…Serenthia…no…it cannot be…”

  The skin of another…Lilith wearing Serenthia’s skin…

  Hashir might have been far smaller than Toraja, but the mark the edyrem left upon it—especially within the temple—far exceeded what they had done in the first city. The temple still stood, but it was awash in blood. The high priests had been made special victims, their bodies now hanging from the ruined pillars standing at the building’s front. The power of the edyrem had allowed bolts a foot long to drive into the thick marble…after going through the soft flesh first.

  Each of the priests had their arms held directly over their heads. The metal bolts had pierced the back of the hands, which had been first clasped together. Bolts had also been driven through the throats and torsos.

  The suggestion for such a visual display had come from the woman now leading the edyrem. The priests had stolen away Uldyssian, Serenthia had vehemently claimed, and one by one they would be hung so until some voice among those remaining revealed where he was.

  But all the priests perished, each swearing that they did not know what had happened to the mob’s leader. Serenthia had seized upon that to further scour the area for supporters of the sect, especially among city leaders.

  Three days after Uldyssian and his followers entered the city, Hashir was, in many ways, little more than a scar.

  The populace hid while this happened, fearful of both the temple and the newcomers. However, on the fourth day, Serenthia—her long hair flowing wildly in the wind—went to the market center and proclaimed in a voice that echoed throughout the city that she had now brought peace and hope to Hashir. This was naturally met with some wariness on the part of the locals, but the edyrem ushered many out of their homes so that they could see that she spoke the truth.

  To her captive audience, Serenthia offered the same as Uldyssian, but not immediately. The Hashiri had witnessed the might of the foreigners and so not a few were tempted. Yet, Serenthia did not show even those the way, although she among all the edyrem should have been able to do so.

  Instead, in the very temple they had conquered and even as the bodies of the priests fed some of the local birds, good Romus found himself summoned for an audience with the master’s first acolyte. He had no idea what Serenthia wanted of him, save that, if Uldyssian were no more—as was the rumo
r vilely spreading through the ranks—then she was their only hope of not only continuing on, but even merely surviving.

  Serenthia had taken for her temporary quarters those of the local high priest. Romus, who had always been poor even when he had been a brigand, could only marvel at the silken wall coverings and gold-laced tapestries as he entered. Some of the regret that he had had for the harshness of the edyrem’s actions in Hashir faded as he considered the Triune’s massive, ill-gotten wealth.

  A moment later, he stopped short. Serenthia lay stretched across a reclining couch, her gaze on a parchment in her hands. Her long, lush hair cascaded down her shoulders and even enshrouded part of her face. She was a breathtaking sight to behold even in her battle-worn garments, especially to Romus, who had been infatuated by Serenthia almost since the first he had seen her in the Parthan square.

  He finally managed to clear his throat, which made her immediately glance up.

  “Romus!” The smile that lit up her face kindled the fire in his heart. Had Serenthia asked him to singlehandedly fight a pack of the savage creatures called morlu, he would have willingly leapt into the fray. “I feared you wouldn’t come!”

  “How could I not, mistress? Anytime, for anything, all you need do is call and faithful Romus will rush to obey…”

  She sat up. “How poetic! But come! Why are you standing all the way over there by the doorway?” Serenthia patted the couch. “Join me here!”

  Bowing low, he hastened to approach. At the couch itself, the onetime thief hesitated, but again Serenthia smiled and patted it.

  He seated himself, leaving a respectful space between them. Romus looked at his mistress and immediately found his gaze captivated by her glittering green eyes. A small part of him vaguely wondered why he had once thought them blue. Surely, he could not have been so mistaken…

  “Romus…you were one of those closest to Uldyssian besides myself.”

  It took him a moment to notice the past tense. “We’ll find him, we will, mistress! Have no fear of that!”

  She shook her head. “No, dear, loyal Romus…even though I’ve said so to the people, I don’t think we will. Like his brother, I fear Uldyssian’s lost to us forever!”

  It was unthinkable. The master had defeated terrible demons and legions of warriors! Nothing could take him so easily…and yet…

  “Some say…mistress…some say that they saw his brother near him just before he vanished…perhaps…”

  “A disguise, like that worn by the two monsters who attacked me.” Serenthia shuddered, which made Romus want to comfort her in his arms. “No, a demon took Uldyssian, of that I’m certain.” Her green eyes bore deeper into his. “One almost took me even. Before Hashir.”

  He was aghast. “Mistress! When?”

  “In the jungle. When Uldyssian ordered us across the river. You recall?”

  “Aye…” Romus gritted his teeth. In some ways, it bothered him even more that she had nearly been taken than it did that Uldyssian was now missing. He found it impossible to imagine the edyrem without her.

  “Uldyssian…and even Mendeln…protected me then. Since they vanished, I’ve worked as hard as I can to protect everyone else, but…I must tell you something, for your ears alone, dear Romus.”

  “What? What?” Without realizing it, he slid closer until they were nearly touching.

  “I am afraid. Afraid. I can protect the others, but who is there now to protect me?”

  The answer escaped him before he realized how it sounded. “Me! I’ll always be there to protect you, mistress!”

  Before his face could redden too much from shame, Serenthia suddenly put a soft hand to his cheek. She smiled. “You would? Would you really, Romus?”

  It all began pouring out. “I’d give my life and soul for you, mistress! I’d stand against all the powers of the Triune! I could never let anything happen to you!”

  He expected her to throw him out for daring to speak so when it was evident to all how much the master had meant to her.

  And yet…

  “Romus…” Serenthia whispered, her lips so close that he was nearly ready to sacrifice his life just to kiss them once. “Romus…you’ve no idea how much that means to me…”

  She caressed his cheek again, then, almost reluctantly, leaned back. The former brigand was unable to stop himself from exhaling sharply.

  “If you mean what you say…and I so very much hope that you do…this gives me another idea…”

  Still recovering from before, Romus managed only a grunt of inquisitiveness.

  “You know how Uldyssian introduced others to the gift. But with me, he delved deeper…and that’s why I think that my abilities grew faster than anyone else’s.”

  “Very likely, very likely,” he replied, glad to have a safe subject to discuss.

  “I think…no…I know…how he did it. They were private moments, when he could focus on me alone. You did notice that there were times when he and I were gone for hours?”

  Romus recalled some such periods and felt for the first time a jealousy that the master had been able to partake in them with the woman before him. “Yes…mistress…”

  “Good!” Her eyes seemed to glow brighter than the torches in the chamber warranted. “Will you do me the honor of doing as Uldyssian did with me? It’ll mean hours together, for which I apologize, but with both him and Mendeln gone, someone else must step up…and I suppose you could better protect me while I protect you…”

  He could hardly deny her. “I’m yours, mistress. To my very soul, I’m yours. Teach me, if you think me worthy…”

  “I find you very worthy,” Serenthia returned in what from any other woman would have sounded coy to Romus. Not the mistress, though. Not her.

  Steeling himself, the brigand finally tore his gaze from hers. She wanted him merely as a fellow comrade, nothing more. Everything that she had suggested made perfect sense; Romus should have felt honored for that alone. If the master was indeed never returning, as she clearly believed, the least that his loyal follower could do was to see that his legacy lived on.

  Feeling better about his decision, Romus bowed his head. “When shall we start, mistress?”

  Her smile curled higher. “Why not now?”

  “Now?” He thought quickly. “Saron and some of the others’ll need to know, mistress, so they can do without me…”

  “They are capable of that already. You need go and tell them nothing…not even after tonight…”

  Her hands went to his and when she touched them, a flush went through Romus. Trying to recover, he looked to the doors and only then noticed that they were shut.

  “I want us alone…the better to concentrate,” Serenthia explained. “You understand the need for privacy, don’t you?”

  “Yes…yes, mistress…”

  She giggled, which caused his face to again flush. “And one more thing, dear Romus…” Her fingers intertwined with his. “You need never call me ’mistress’…”

  Thirteen

  It sounded to Uldyssian as if something immense was breathing.

  The cavern in which he and Rathma stood stretched so high that the stalactites forming above had managed to grow many times the length of a man. The stalagmites had done fair, too, rising like squat giants from the floor.

  Ulydssian felt as if he stood in the mouth of a hungry beast. The “breathing” only added to that disconcerting sensation.

  It was the stalactites and stalagmites that were also the source of illumination for the tremendous chamber, for radiating from deep within each was a ghostly crimson light whose source he could only imagine. While he was grateful for their brightness, they, too, contributed to Uldyssian’s overwhelming sense of unease.

  “This is as far as I can risk bringing us by other than physical means,” Rathma commented with his usual detachment. “You can sense why, I think.”

  But now that he was getting over his astonishment at where he and his undesired companion had just materialized, wha
t Rathma had proclaimed just before their arrival once more seized hold of Uldyssian.

  Lilith had control of the edyrem…

  Stirred anew by anger, he seized Rathma by the collar of his cloak. “What did you mean by what you said before?” Uldyssian growled as he shook the demoness’s son. “How did it happen? How did she do it?”

  “You refer to my mother and her usurping of your followers,” the other said needlessly. “She is cunning and keeps herself well shielded, but I have gradually considered that she must have possessed the woman Serenthia at some point when she was out of your sight in all ways. From there, it was a simple task to—”

  Head pounding, Uldyssian roughly released Lilith’s son as he thought of just when it might have been that the demoness had taken the merchant’s daughter. One incident immediately came to mind. Serenthia had gone to get water and for once, he had not used his abilities to monitor her. She had bent behind the lush plants and…and a moment later had gasped.

  And fool that he had been, Uldyssian had taken her response to his concern at face value. He had forgotten the twisted ways of Lilith…

  “Serenthia…” he whispered. “It can’t be…she can’t be dead…”

  “And she is not.”

  Confusion, hope, and distrust warred for mastery over Uldyssian. “What do you mean? It’s Master Ethon and his son all over again! That foul witch wears Serry’s skin like a damned dress! She slaughtered her then stripped her of her flesh!”

  Rathma shook his head. “No…for the game my mother’s chosen to play, she cannot disguise herself so. Such a technique, while definitely demonic in nature, allows only a limited ability. Enough to fool some priests or household servants for a time, but not for extended periods and needs. For this, Lilith required a more careful, more delicate touch. She has literally had to make herself and the woman one. My mother is like a haunting spirit that now guides each movement of the body, yet your Serenthia is still within, but very, very deep asleep.”

  Uldyssian’s heart, which had felt to him a moment before as if it had ceased beating, now pounded with renewed life. “Then, she’s all right? If we can cast out Lilith, Serenthia will be herself again?”