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

by Richard A. Knaak

  “You know him better than I.”

  “Can’t you sense him?”

  “No.” The Ancient looked to Mendeln. “Can you?”

  Uldyssian’s brother held up his dagger, then pointed it toward the grasslands. The faint glow did not change. “I think…there is a hint…but I cannot be certain.” As he lowered the blade, he added, “But it would be like him, wouldn’t it, Uldyssian?”

  Serenthia grew upset. “We’ve got to go after him! If there is something out there, it might—”

  She refrained from using the word kill, as Achilios was already dead, but they shared her concern. Uldyssian put a foot into what he considered the true boundary between the jungle and the grasslands, then concentrated as hard as he could.

  “He’s out there. I can’t place where, but he’s definitely out there.” A part of Uldyssian wanted to go chasing after his friend. “He’s scouting for us.”

  Even Rathma showed some surprise at this. “Was that wise of him?”

  “This is Achilios,” Uldyssian returned. “He makes his own choices…and he’s very capable.”

  Inarius’s son nodded, then prudently left with Mendeln while Uldyssian dealt with Serenthia.

  “This is ridiculous!” she blurted. “Uldyssian, he can’t be allowed to risk himself like this! I know why he is. Because he thinks that since he’s dead and I’m not, what we have can’t go on.”

  “There’s a good chance that we’ll all be dead soon, Serry. I think Achilios is just doing what he can maybe to save the woman he loves. You can’t fault him for that.”

  She suddenly beat her hands against his chest. “I fault him for leaving me over and over! I fault him for thinking that I don’t love him enough—”

  Her fists flared with unbridled energy. If not for his own inherent defenses, Uldyssian knew that he would have been badly injured. As it was, both of them were suddenly surrounded by a green fire that originated from him.

  “Serry! Stop this now!”

  The merchant’s daughter shook uncontrollably, then started sobbing. The fire vanished from around her hands. As it did, Uldyssian retracted his own spell.

  Or, at least, he tried to. The green flames resisted. The heat around both of them continued to increase. Sweat began pouring down Uldyssian’s face, and he heard Serenthia gasping for breath.

  Gritting his teeth, the son of Diomedes focused harder. He demanded that his power obey.

  And it did. Just like that, the flames ceased. Yet the effort took more out of Uldyssian than he had expected.

  Serenthia shifted in his arms, bringing his attention back to her. She looked up, her face drawn from her outburst.

  “I’m…I’m sorry, Uldyssian…. I didn’t mean to lose control of myself…but…”

  “It’s all right. I understand.”

  She wiped the moisture from around her eyes. “It’s just that…I suddenly feared that I might not see him again this time.”

  Her fear was a reasonable one, but Uldyssian could not tell her that. “You’ll see him again. I know Achilios. Nothing can keep him from you. You should know that by now.”

  “I hope…I hope he’ll be all right out there,” the dark-haired woman murmured as she stepped away from him. “I hope he will be.”

  Eyeing the grasslands, Serenthia quietly walked away. Uldyssian kept watch until he was certain that she was simply going to sleep, then turned his own attention back to the grasslands. Try as he might, he could not determine exactly where Achilios was.

  “You’d better come back to her,” Uldyssian whispered. “You’d better come back to her….”

  If only so that they could die together this time…

  Serenthia looked as if she slept, but she did not. Regardless of what Uldyssian had said, she could not merely leave things be. Achilios had been reckless, true, but Serenthia would not abandon him because of that trait. After all, he had always been reckless, but also extremely loyal.

  And so, while her body lay still, her mind went in search of the man she loved.

  Serenthia soared over the grasslands, seeking any hint of Achilios’s presence. She was aware that, being dead, he did not leave a trace as Uldyssian or she might, but the merchant’s daughter was certain that her bond with the archer more than made up for that. She would find him.

  The grasslands had a surreal calmness that should have set her mind at ease, but instead, Serenthia soon felt as if something watched her from behind. Yet when she reversed her view, it was to find nothing.

  Finally shaking it off as nerves, Serenthia pushed herself faster and faster. Achilios could not be far.

  Something to the east caught her attention. She veered toward there with ease. There was nothing visible, but then, the hunter would hardly be standing out in the open.

  As she neared the area in question, Serenthia was finally able to tell that what she had thought might be Achilios was instead something else. Secure in the knowledge that she could neither be seen nor heard, Serenthia hovered over the spot, seeking the source of the strangeness she felt.

  When that failed, she descended. Lower and lower she brought her view, until at last Serenthia stared into the very ground.

  And then she saw the hole.

  It was not truly physical but bordered between that and some plane of existence almost akin to that which she currently inhabited. The gap was wide enough to fit a man or something slightly larger, but the edges seemed in flux, as if prepared to close…or open farther.

  Curious, Serenthia descended lower yet, directly through the center of the gap.

  The moment she passed into it, her entire perspective shifted. Serenthia knew that she was no longer in Sanctuary, but where she was, it was impossible to say.

  Something black and seemingly consisting entirely of huge, sharp teeth shot up at her.

  Serenthia tried to retreat through the gap, only to discover that it was far, far above her mental form. How she had descended so deep, she did not know, but all that mattered now was to escape.

  The thing closed on her, its many teeth gnashing. Up close, she saw that it had a circular mouth and two tiny, almost-blind eyes. Somehow, though, the fiendish beast clearly knew where Serenthia was despite her not being there physically.

  Undulating like a snake, the creature pursued at a pace far greater than hers. Serenthia feared that it would catch up before she reached the gap, and if it did, there was no doubt in her mind that despite her lack of body, it would destroy her. It was possible that her powers would work against it, but for some reason, Serenthia suspected that it was better to run rather than fight.

  But she was not going to make it. The gap was still too far away. Just below, the horrific mouth opened wide, filling her view. Serenthia smelled decay, and the fact that she could smell anything at all added to her fear that she was not safe from harm.

  She wished she had her spear. With the weapon, she would have at least had the ghost of a chance. Serenthia’s desire was so intense that she could almost feel the spear in her hand—

  And suddenly, she realized that she held it.

  It was not actually the spear, Serenthia saw, but rather a magical representation her mind had created. Nevertheless, it gave her hope. Readying it, she aimed for the center of the creature’s cavernous maw, not hard to do, considering how wide the mouth was now.

  It all but had her. The teeth gnashed eagerly. Serenthia threw, knowing that her entire will had to go into this last desperate attempt.

  The gleaming spear vanished deep into the beast. Serenthia then imagined the weapon burning with fire hot enough to melt rock and, therefore, the insides of this nightmarish thing.

  The wormlike beast let out a gargling sound. Its body glowed like hot coals.

  It exploded.

  Bits of the monster flew through Serenthia, who instinctively sought to protect herself. Ichor rained down, then dissipated.

  Although she had destroyed her attacker, Serenthia’s first thought was to flee. Yet she had
barely started to withdraw, when it occurred to her that there had to be more going on here than a simple den for a monstrous beast. Studying her surroundings better, the raven-tressed woman reaffirmed her belief that she was no longer in Sanctuary. However much that disturbed her, it also came to her mind that Achilios also might have discovered this “passage” and investigated it. That might be why Serenthia had not been able to trace him thus far. If she left without making sure that he was not here…

  Decision made, she flew down the passage. As she did, she could not help but glance more and more at what passed for its walls. Inspecting closely, Serenthia discovered that they were not even completely solid but actually like black pitch that constantly dripped.

  Then, up ahead, there came a disconcerting light, a light as crimson as blood. Serenthia slowed, suddenly uncertain about going any farther.

  Once again, it was Serenthia’s deep love for Achilios that drove her on toward the monstrous light. Had she had any true flesh, it would have crawled from fear and disgust. Whatever lay ahead radiated an evil so strong that even Lilith paled by comparison.

  It was all Serenthia could do to push herself to the end of the passage. Once there, she peered into the light, trying to focus on what lay within it.

  And what she saw made the slaughter of the Kehjani merchants and mages insignificant by comparison. Her courage finally broke. Serenthia wanted nothing more than to return to the relative safety of her own body. With all the will she could muster, she strained to escape the magical passage and what lay at the other end.

  There was a tingling sensation when Serenthia finally passed through the gap. But even when the grasslands once again filled her view, she did not slow. Serenthia did not look back once, fearing that in doing so, she would find creatures more monstrous than the worm giving chase.

  She returned at last to her body.

  Serenthia jolted up, her eyes already wide. She quickly spun around, certain that fiends loomed all about her. When she found nothing, the frantic woman immediately raced back to where she had left Uldyssian.

  He was still there, still standing and watching the grasslands. At any other time, Serenthia would have been touched by his determination, for it was obvious that he continued to hope to find some trace of Achilios out there. However, what she had seen outweighed even her concern for the man she loved.

  It was all Serenthia could do to keep from shouting as she neared Uldyssian. He turned as she arrived, his expression telling her that he sensed her tremendous anxiety.

  “Serry!” The son of Diomedes took hold of her arm. “What is it? A bad dream about Achilios?”

  Naturally, that would be his first thought when she came running so. Serenthia shook her head.

  “No!” she gasped. Then, thinking better, Serenthia lowered her voice to a whisper. “No. Uldyssian…no dream. I—I went out there to look…to look for Achilios—”

  “What?” It was clear to her that he was doing all that he could to keep from raising his own voice. Uldyssian understood exactly what Serenthia had done in order to search for the archer, and his fury was understandable. “You should’ve told me first! No! You shouldn’t have tried anything at all! What would have happened if—”

  “Uldyssian, hush! Listen to me! You need to hear what I found!”

  “Why? Was Achilios…was he—”

  “No…though I pray that he didn’t run across it and fall victim to the guardian!” Serenthia gazed down, lost in that horrible thought. What if Achilios had discovered the magical gap and had entered? What if she had not noticed any trace of him, but he had been there, a prisoner, all the time?

  “Serry! Serry!” Uldyssian forced her to focus on him again. “Come back! Now, tell me. Tell me what’s shaken you.”

  “It’s…” Taking a deep breath, she tried once more. “It’s…horrifying!”

  With that, the story came spilling out of her. The sensation that something was amiss, the discovery of the magical gap, her decision to investigate it, and what happened when she did.

  Uldyssian was stunned…and even more furious than ever. “You should’ve turned right back!”

  “Listen! There’s more. So much more. Listen!” Serenthia described the beast guarding the way and how she had managed to destroy it. Uldyssian’s brow rose at this, but he refrained from interrupting. “And then…and then I reached the end of the passage and saw them…all of them! An endless sea of them. So horrific. So terrifying!”

  She became caught up in the nightmarish vision again. The grotesque, fiendish faces. The macabre, chilling forms. The incredible aura of evil…

  “Serry!” Uldyssian shook her by the shoulders. “What did you see?”

  The merchant’s daughter steeled herself. In a low, steady voice, she managed. “I saw…I saw into what could only be what Rathma called the Burning Hells, Uldyssian! The passage in the grasslands leads out of our world and into wherever they must exist!”

  He opened his mouth in what surely would have been a denial of her words, then shut it tight. Uldyssian nodded grimly. They had all dealt with demons long enough. A magical gateway to the infernal realms was no longer a stretch of the imagination.

  Seeing that Uldyssian would not argue, Serenthia forced herself to tell him the worst yet. “They were there. They were there. Thousands and thousands of them! Maybe more. I don’t know—their numbers looked endless.”

  “Who, Serry? Who?”

  Her eyes grew wide as saucers as she continued to envision their ranks. “An army…an army of demons. And they can only be getting ready to march on Sanctuary!”

  Eighteen

  Not for a moment had Achilios hesitated to go out and scout for his friends. His existence—if he could even call this miserable suffering through which he went that—was expendable. It was important for the others to survive…for Serenthia to survive.

  With Uldyssian so distracted, it had been simple for the hunter to slip away from where he had been lurking. The tall grass hid him well, and the soft ground eliminated whatever unlikely sound his boots might make.

  As ever, he kept an arrow ready. The quiver was filled with more. That was the only useful gift that the angel Tyrael had given him, a never-ending supply of sharp and, in some manner, magical arrows. Achilios wished that he could show his gratitude to the treacherous angel—to both angels who had used him—by managing to fire a few into whatever served as their hearts.

  But, for now, he cared only that the bolts would prove of use against whatever might lurk out here.

  And there was certainly something hidden in the grasslands. Inarius would have planned some trick by which to wear Uldyssian down before any true confrontation. At least, that was the impression Achilios had of the Prophet.

  He was long gone from the encampment by this point, but thus far the only thing he had discovered was the disconcerting lack of any wildlife whatsoever. It was not just that Achilios had run across no rabbits, cats, or other large animals, but there were also no birds or, judging by the complete silence, even one insect. The creatures of the grasslands had found it prudent to flee, and that did not bode well.

  There was also hardly anything that could even be called a breeze anymore. What had existed when Achilios had first set out had lessened more and more as he progressed, to the point where only his trained eyes could see the barely perceptible movement of the grass.

  Achilios hesitated. For the first time, he noticed that some of the grass ahead was weaving contrary to others. No wind could cause that.

  He raised the bow, suspicious that the odd movement meant that something moved low through the grass. Out here, it might be an animal as powerful as one of the jungle cats, but Achilios doubted it. Most animals fled his presence, acutely aware of the wrongness inherent in him.

  But if it was not an animal, he could think of only one thing, a demon of some sort.

  Standing as still as a rock, Achilios waited. The grass continued to weave in its odd fashion, but nothing emerged.r />
  Finally growing impatient, the hunter took a step forward. Instantly, he noted some more agitated movement from the nearest plants. Again, Achilios paused, bow ready to fire.

  And again, he was disappointed. Achilios had heard as a child an expression the patience of the dead, but he found it held no truth when it came to him. There were limits to even the hunter’s will, and he had reached those limits long ago. Indeed, if anything, being dead had made him more impatient than he had been in life.

  Still keeping the bow steady, Achilios finally trod forward. To his surprise, the spot where he expected something to be hiding revealed nothing. No animal. No demon. It was almost as if the grass moved of its own accord.

  Frowning, the blond archer scratched a dirt-flaked cheek. His instincts—and possibly what passed for his edyrem abilities—were as strong as if he were still breathing, and they insisted that something was amiss. Yet whatever it was he could not discover.

  That it was night bothered him less than it did Mendeln or Uldyssian. Even as a youth, Achilios had always had exceptional night vision. Undead, it had heightened. He surveyed the area meticulously, seeking some hint of the threat he felt certain surrounded him.

  A small, dark form buried in the grass to his left caught his attention. Setting the bow next to him—but keeping his fingers close to it—Achilios used his free hand to tug at the object. The grass was thickly wound around it, so tangled, in fact, that he nearly tore apart what he was trying to retrieve.

  Frustrated, Achilios pulled his hand from the bow and grabbed his knife. The grass proved stubborn to cut, but he finally did.

  The mangled thing had once been a black bird. The body had nearly been crushed to a pulp, and some of the grass had wound so tightly around the body that the head and wings had nearly been severed.

  Achilios judged its death to have been no more than a day. Had there been the usual flies about, the body would have been in worse shape. As it was, it unnerved him that nothing had thus far come to feed on the carrion. He turned the avian over, trying to decide just what had killed it. Other than the tightly wound grass blades, there was no evidence of anything that would have left injury.