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

by Richard A. Knaak

  “And yet you stand at my hand, do you not?”

  “A miracle of which I feel unworthy.”

  The Prophet granted him the glory of a smile. “Would you seek to feel more worthy? Would you wish to prove yourself as none other can to me?”

  Gamuel now understood why he alone had been summoned. The Prophet had a special task for him! The priest’s eyes brightened. He was honored beyond belief. “I would give my life and soul, if it must be!”

  “As you should, my child, and as you might. This is no easy affair. I must trust that nothing will deter you from seeing it through.”

  “I swear, nothing will! Nothing! Just tell me what I must do!”

  Steepling his fingers, the Prophet calmly said, “I grant you the glory of personally removing from life the sinner Uldyssian ul-Diomed.”

  Despite the bluntness with which the words were said, it took Gamuel several seconds to understand them. Then, as realization struck him, he put on an expression of fanatic determination. “I shall bring his head to you!”

  “His death shall be enough. You have the skills, both with the spells I have taught you and, more important, the training of your life.”

  Beaming, Gamuel stood straight. “Consider it done, master!” Then a brief hesitation came over him. “Forgive this one question…but for so long, Oris and I urged something to this effect, and you forbade it—”

  The eternal youth nodded. “And now I do not.”

  It was enough of an answer for one so devoted as the priest. He bent low again, kissing the Prophet’s hand.

  “It shall be done, master.”

  And because he kept his head low, Gamuel did not see the hardening of the young face. “Yes, I shall make certain of it, Gamuel. I shall…”

  Mendeln assisted Serenthia in leading the edyrem as they marched on the city, but he knew that if it came to it, hers would be the orders they would follow. That suited him, for he felt uncomfortable leading armies.

  They met with no resistance the first day. The villages that lay in their path emptied of people before they neared. Mendeln was glad about that, for it meant less chance that innocents would suffer. However, he knew that would soon change, for there was no chance that the capital itself might be abandoned. There, some would try their best to slaughter the edyrem.

  However, it turned out that they did not have to wait until the capital for their first confrontation. The mounted patrol the edyrem encountered numbered a good hundred men and, to Mendeln’s eyes, had likely been created by combining two or three smaller patrols. The men were grim of aspect and obviously well aware that they were tremendously outnumbered, but they held their ground.

  In a scene reminiscent of the encounter with Master Fahin’s guards, the chosen captain demanded that they turn away.

  “We mean no harm,” Serenthia responded, her tone hinting that she found the officer’s order absurd under the circumstances. “You’d best move aside.”

  The Kehjani patrol did no such thing. The captain tried one more time. “You are ordered by the august authority granted to me by the grand capital to either disperse or surrender yourself to my control!”

  In the front ranks, Jonas and some of the other edyrem laughed defiantly at the officer’s demand. Serenthia herself wore a smirk.

  Mendeln grew worried. Taking the forefront, he said, “There is no need for concern, captain. If I could—”

  A soldier went flying off his horse. Some of the edyrem laughed as he landed hard.

  The captain wasted no time in drawing his weapon. “Arrest them!”

  And as quickly as that, pandemonium broke out. The mounted guards charged. Edyrem rushed up to meet them. Mendeln looked to Serenthia for assistance in curbing the violence, but she was at the head of those going into battle.

  No! This should not happen! This destroys any hope of peacefully rescuing Uldyssian! But only Mendeln seemed to see that. The edyrem had given in to their emotions yet again. Like Uldyssian in the jungle that night, they let their powers control them more than they controlled their powers.

  The Kehjani soldiers paid the price for that. A hundred armed men on horseback were nothing to thousands of edyrem. Mendeln did not have to see the struggle to know that the riders were being torn to ribbons without so much as landing a glancing blow against the invaders.

  In desperation, he forced his way toward Serenthia. Only she could make the others listen, but first he had to make her do the same.

  Only because of the edyrem’s almost-inherent unease of him did Mendeln manage to reach her quickly. He seized Serenthia by the arm and tried to pull her back.

  Her fury startled him. “Mendeln, you fool! Let me go! Now!”

  “Serenthia! Look what is becoming of you—of all of you!” Even as he spoke, a soldier let out a horrific shriek. Mendeln saw the head and an arm go flying through the air. “This is the work of beasts, not men!”

  “They brought this on themselves! They—”

  Mendeln had been surrounded by ghosts so consistently that he paid their presence little mind save when he required an answer to something. Rarely did they speak without being spoken to.

  Yet now there came from more than one a sense of impending threat that made the black-robed figure not only ignore his friend’s demand to be released but instead pull her harder toward him.

  The arrow did not hit her, as clearly had been intended. Instead, the angle sent it soaring into his shoulder with such velocity that Mendeln was thrown to the ground.

  That alone brought Serenthia to her senses. She grabbed for him even as he fell, resulting in her dropping with him. Around them, the edyrem continued forward unchecked.

  “Mendeln! Mendeln!” The merchant’s daughter used her body to protect his from the crush.

  While he did not have his brother’s remarkable recuperative powers, Mendeln did have other resources upon which to call. He used the techniques that Rathma had taught him for reducing pain, managing to bring the searing agony to a dull, insistent throb. “I—I will be fine, Serenthia…”

  “I’ll make the soldier who shot you pay, I promise.”

  He clutched her forearm tight. “Serenthia…do not blind yourself. The bolt was not meant for me.”

  “No, but it hit you because you tried to save me!” Her eyes burned with fury.

  “Listen! I said not to blind yourself. I want you to gaze at the arrow, which should not have come so close to you in the first place save for one obvious reason.”

  She finally looked—truly looked—and her mouth went slack. Serenthia shook her head.

  Like Mendeln, she easily recognized an arrow crafted by Achilios.

  “He would not—he would not try to slay me—or even you!”

  “He would.” Uldyssian’s brother seized the shaft. Summoning all he knew from Rathma and the dragon, he worked to free the arrow. “He already tried with Uldyssian.”

  As he freed the shaft, Serenthia quickly put her hand to the wound. It healed so quickly that even Mendeln, who knew how powerful she was, gasped in surprise.

  Around them, the flow had slowed. There were few sounds of violence. It was already too late for the soldiers, and Mendeln mourned that terrible mistake. How could they peacefully approach the leaders of Kehjan now?

  But that was a point of contention for later. Serenthia knelt over him, unable to believe this latest vile betrayal by her love. “He would never! Not Uldyssian!”

  “He did. That night when my brother and I took the two bodies beyond the encampment—” Mendeln grimaced at the memory of what had nearly happened. “It was a miracle that Uldyssian survived.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know Achilios’s marksmanship. He would have hit your heart with ease. I was fortunate enough not to be the target and so only received this—simple wound.”

  “And Uldyssian?”

  “Any nearer the heart, and he would have been instantly slain. Somehow, though, Achilios just missed. He never just misses…
unless he wishes to.”

  This brightened Serenthia’s mood. “You see? He would’ve done the same for me!”

  “Let us be grateful that we did not have to see whether that was true or not. And it does not excuse him for trying, does it?”

  “But he saved our lives against that giant demon! Why would he then try to slay us?”

  “Not him…another. An angel, I believe, who is not Inarius.”

  She shook her head in disbelief. “Not possible. There is no such being!”

  “More than possible, I am afraid, especially to Rathma and Trag’Oul, who have been suspiciously absent. What they know, I would like to also.”

  “Does this—does this other angel work with Inarius?”

  Mendeln finally felt well enough to rise, which he did with her assistance. He eyed the arrow as he straightened. “I doubt that he does, at least directly. He is an enigma that we have little time to solve, especially now that we are at war with Kehjan.”

  Serenthia glanced around, for the first time noticing the subdued atmosphere. She knew as well as he what that meant in terms of the lives of a hundred men. “It couldn’t be helped, Mendeln! It couldn’t!”

  “There is so much that ‘couldn’t be helped,’” he retorted almost bitterly. “So much. What are the edyrem—what are you and Uldyssian—becoming, Serenthia? I saw his powers consume his mind, just as I saw them do the same to you and the rest here. As you grow more comfortable in them, they grow more dominating of you.”

  “Ridiculous!” Her tone suddenly bordered on anger—anger at him. “Maybe you’re just a little envious, Mendeln!”

  He had seen that same look just before the edyrem had rushed the soldiers. Mendeln quickly diverted Serenthia back to the other subject. “You know that Achilios would not wish to slay you, that this arrow—” He held the feathered end before her eyes. The anger at him faded, replaced by sorrow at the archer’s continued absence. “—was intended for you by another. Another angel, I am certain of that.”

  “But Achilios missed!” the dark-haired woman said proudly. “He missed both of us despite that!”

  “Indeed…and what do you suppose that angel will think of that, Serenthia?” Mendeln tried not to imagine the hunter at this very moment. “What do you suppose he will demand of Achilios for that failure?”

  The color drained from her face.

  Achilios was caught between relief and concern. Mendeln’s unexpected reaction had saved the archer from possibly succeeding despite every iota of his will striving for the opposite. When he had discovered that Uldyssian had survived, Achilios could only assume that it had been his own powerful determination that had made the difference. That had been his one hope when finally commanded to fire at Serenthia.

  He was glad that Mendeln had made it unnecessary for him to find out if he had been right.

  Once again, Achilios had fled even before the shaft neared its target. He was now deep in the jungle, although the path had been a more meandering one than last time. The edyrem were moving into more and more populated areas, which meant individual settlements in unexpected places. Neither he nor his tormentor desired him to be seen.

  And even as he thought of the angel, Achilios felt his limbs slow. He came to a stumbling halt in a densely overgrown area that allowed so little light that he almost felt as if night had fallen again.

  His body no longer obeyed him. Achilios wondered if he was to fall unconscious again, as had happened in the past. For one who was dead, unconsciousness was an unsettling thing. Achilios had been afraid of waking up buried or being burned.

  When more than a minute passed and he still stood there, the archer finally lost his temper. He knew that it was ill advised to rail against the being but did not care. Achilios had already been forced to try to kill the two people dearest to him. What more monstrous thing could the angel expect?

  Monstrous…angel, The irony of such thoughts all tied together was not lost on Achilios.

  At that moment, the familiar glow erupted at his side. Despite its brightness, no one but Achilios was near enough to notice it.

  “All…right! I did your damned work again…but someone outsmarted you! I saw it as I was fleeing, and I know bloody well that…that you did, too!”

  THE BROTHER OF ULDYSSIAN DID NOT SAVE HER.

  “What?” The words sent a sudden panic through the undead hunter. “No! I saw the shaft…the shaft miss her! She’s alive! She’s got to be—”

  The ethereal warrior formed in the light. Somehow the blazing energy that radiated where his eyes were supposed to be seemed to hint at pity for Achilios. YOU MISUNDERSTAND. SHE LIVES, BUT IT WAS NOT HE WHO SAVED THE FEMALE. THAT WAS YOU, ARCHER, JUST AS BEFORE.

  He could not have given the blond hunter a better answer. Achilios grinned wide—an image that would have frightened any mortal seeing him—then gestured defiantly at the winged figure. “I did it? I beat you then! Kill them…kill them both…you commanded…but I didn’t.”

  He said this expecting—nay, hoping—that the angel would grow so incensed that he would destroy Achilios on the spot. Then there would be no possibility of the archer being forced to try over.

  But no celestial fire burned him to cinder. Instead, the heavenly light around the winged being dulled. The towering figure cocked his head.

  NO. YOU DID NOT,…AND THAT MAY CHANGE EVERYTHING.

  Eight

  The palace consisted of four rounded buildings surrounding a fifth one several times their size. Small, decorative points topped each. The main entrance was a wide, columned affair that could only be reached by a lengthy series of wide stone steps.

  Six columns flanked each side of the brass doorway. Every column had been carved to resemble some animal respected by the ancient Kehjani builders, including the great cats of the jungle and the massive, prehensile-snouted creatures the lowlanders used for heavy burdens.

  He was ushered inside by the prince, who seemed far less in awe of himself than his followers were. Uldyssian marveled at such a lack of ego from one who clearly had the hearts of many in the capital.

  Perhaps he was not the first to show some indication of this, for as they walked down a corridor filled with brilliantly painted images of human and jungle life, Ehmad cheerfully informed his guest, “I have no true standing in Kehjan, you know. The mage clans and guilds such as the merchants rule outright here. If they wished, one of them could just come in here and have my head!”

  Uldyssian doubted that it would be as simple as that. Ehmad’s rivals would then probably have an insurrection on their hands that even the mage clans could not suppress. If Master Fahin was an example, there were even those among the guilds and clans themselves who willingly supported the young noble.

  A black-haired girl in a low-cut blouse and billowing, gauzy leg coverings raced barefoot to greet Prince Ehmad. In her delicate hands, she held a small, decorated tray with a silver goblet atop it.

  Ehmad gave her a smile that made her giggle. However, instead of drinking from the goblet, he proffered it to Uldyssian. “You look like you could use this better, my friend!”

  Unable to argue, Uldyssian gratefully accepted the drink, which proved to be one of the sweet wines that he had heard were favored in the capital. Parched, he swallowed it in only three gulps.

  Retrieving the goblet from Uldyssian, the prince gave it to his servant. “Kaylei, bring us tea and some fruit at the Balcony of the Chadaka King.”

  “Yes, my prince.” Kaylei bent low, then retreated from their sight.

  There were few guards around and none near Ehmad himself. The prince walked with Uldyssian as if they were old friends, not two strangers who had met but a short time ago. The son of Diomedes finally decided that the young noble was either very reckless or very daring…or both.

  And then Ehmad surprised him further by casually commenting, “You are not at all what I expected, Uldyssian ul-Diomed.”

  Suddenly, all the courtesy and friendliness struck Uldyssian as not
hing more than false front. He leapt back from the prince. The few sentries reacted immediately, charging toward the duo with spears ready.

  “No!” shouted Ehmad at the men. “To your places.”

  It said something for his command of them that the guards obeyed without hesitation. Ehmad’s dark eyes studied Uldyssian.

  “I will have my little jests, won’t I? They will get me killed, my mother used to say. Judging by your expression and the fact that your hands now glow the color of molten iron, I suspect that I came closer than I first imagined.”

  Uldyssian looked down at his hands and saw that the prince had not exaggerated. His hands were now a burning orange and radiating a similar heat.

  “I’m sorry,” he told Ehmad, mentally willing the hands to return to normal.

  But they did not.

  Unaware of the truth, Prince Ehmad took Uldyssian’s continued display as distrust. “I knew who you were the moment I saw you. Master Fahin saw to that.”

  “Master Fahin?” As he listened, Uldyssian concentrated harder. The glow emanating from his hands cooled, then finally disappeared. The heat dwindled away a breath or two after.

  “You did not know? Master Fahin, he sent a pair of messenger birds on the night he agreed to bring you to the city. He wished me to know in advance of your coming.” The handsome youth looked sad. “He was a strong supporter and a stronger friend….”

  Uldyssian looked down at himself. “You knew who I was even though I resembled a beggar?”

  “I had but to look into your eyes. Master Fahin was right about them.” What that meant, Ehmad did not say. Instead, he gestured to a corridor on the right. “Come, let us go to the Balcony of the Chadaka King.”

  Their destination was indeed a huge balcony overlooking a good portion of the northern part of the city. It also had, as Uldyssian had expected, images of chadaka, the large tailed primates he knew lived in the nearby jungle. Although they were not the only primates worshipped in Kehjan, the chadaka were considered the cleverest, and in the lowlands, he had come across many myths of their king, whose antics taught valuable lessons about pride and rule.