Immortal Swordslinger 4

by Dante King

  “Then do it,” I challenged him breathlessly.

  “Ethan, you can’t,” Nydarth urged. “Fight!”

  Tymo's fingers tightened around my neck, and I just stared into his eyes.

  “You won’t,” I said. “Not if you really believe in everything you say you stand for.”

  He hesitated for a long second. “I will not simply lay down and die. My oath forbids it.”

  “So, you have a choice to make,” I gasped. “Kill me, or let me live. Because I won’t stop coming. Not until you give me what you know about what Jiven’s planning.”

  “I believe you,” Tymo said softly.

  His fingers vanished from my throat, and I caught myself with Flight before I could fall into the lava slide below. Indecision and guilt warred in Tymo's eyes as I rose to meet him again and reached deep within my Vigor channels. Our eyes met through the pouring rain, and the Archpriest’s shoulders sagged in a gesture of defeat.

  “Unbind me from my oath, Swordslinger,” Tymo whispered.

  A single tear slipped from his eye and coursed down his cheek.

  “Just tell me,” I managed to say. “Where is Jiven, and what is he planning?”

  “I cannot,” Tymo murmured, as if in a trance. “I must honor my oath. And you must honor your mantle. To seek out justice within the Seven Realms. To mete out your wrath upon the wicked and bring order to this plane.”

  He turned a pleading set of eyes to me. In that moment, they could have been Ultin’s. Begging for death but not without closure. Not without forgiveness from those whom he had wronged. I fought off the surge of sympathy and shook my head.

  “I won’t kill you, Tymo. Not until you give me what I need.”

  “Then I won’t give you a choice,” Tymo said quietly.

  Silver flame burst from his skin as he blazed toward me. But he’d adjusted his speed. It was slower, and his punch was sloppy. I ducked under the blow, kicked him in the gut, and propelled him up into the air. Tymo caught himself with ease, turned, and paused for just a second.

  “The Hierophant possesses the knowledge you seek!” Tymo shouted.

  The Archpriest hurtled down toward me like a comet of silver fire. I hurled myself sideways, through the air, but Tymo didn’t readjust. He plunged into the lava flow on the mountainside. I spun to find him, but his aura of silver fire had disappeared. Molten rock bubbled menacingly as it slid down toward the rivers at the base of the mountains. It would reach the water in seconds and destroy the foothills below it. If the lava compromised the river, then the farmers of Flametongue Valley would take years to recover.

  As much as I didn’t want to kill Tymo by closing off his exit from the lava, he had left me no choice. I couldn’t allow the lava to destroy the land.

  I leveled the Depthless Dream at the flow of lava and unleashed the full power of the Crashing Wave technique. The Zone’s Vigor bled into the attack as I fed my technique with the rain around me, and I turned a tidal wave into a gout of water so enormous that my whole body trembled at the force of channeling it. Steam boiled off the lava as I rapidly cooled the molten rock over the mountain, but I didn’t stop until the cherry-red glow of liquid stone vanished entirely.

  Rain rolled off the brand-new obsidian in rivulets.

  I’d just managed to terraform half a mountain and bury Tymo in its depths. There wasn’t a single way that he could have survived something like that. Even with his insane defenses against fire and heat, I’d encased whatever was left of his body in brand-new stone. Tymo's guilt had brought about his end. I knew he could have readjusted his flight path before he hit the flow of lava he had created.

  “It’s done,” Yono whispered.

  “You did it, Master!” Choshi shouted excitedly. “It’s finished!”

  “Not yet,” I said. “We have to find the Hierophant.”

  I flew through the Vigorous Zone and landed on the stairs to the monastery. The sound of my footsteps echoed through the hall, but I could barely hear it from the mix of voices in the back of my head.

  “Did you see the way Choshi triggered the landslide?” Yono asked, impressed.

  “I didn’t think you had it in you, little one,” Nydarth admitted. “But you are maturing rapidly in our Master’s hands. Your raw power is impressive, but you could still serve to improve in some areas.”

  I limped across the main hall and stepped behind the altar. I hadn’t taken the time to explore the monastery, but Tymo had spent most of his time in the shadowy space behind the altar before our lessons. Vigor boiled around the carving of Eresin and Myrdel, and the sensation sharpened as I walked carefully through the shadowy alcove.

  A single ornate door stood before me. Decorative representations of Eresin washed over it, and the gold etchings glinted in the soft candlelight of the altar. A heavy bar had been lifted in front of the door recently. I could still see the scratches along the polished black wall to either side of the door.

  I destroyed the primitive lock with a crushing strike from the Demure Rebirth.

  I pushed the door open, and the Immense Blades went silent at the sight.

  The Hierophant sat in a meditative position in the center of a wide pool of black fluid. Green streamers of energy whirled around him in strange, eldritch shapes, and the dull roar of whispered voices filled the room at my approach.

  “Unbound spirits,” Nydarth whispered.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The green tendrils of unbound spirits whirled around the Hierophant in a light-show of whispering voices. I took a step forward, and the spirits leapt to my body before I could stop them. I raised my hands, activated Sunlight Ichor, and drenched my skin with it. The sap seeped over me, but the streamers of spirit energy ignored my technique and latched onto the Immense Blades. The murmur of indistinct voices cut off abruptly, and I reached out with my mind to find Yono, Nydarth, and Choshi.

  All I could find was my own thoughts.

  I jerked in shock, but the Hierophant suddenly shifted. The ancient monk stood in a single, fluid motion. Black liquid dripped from his red robes, but it didn’t reek of the same corruption as the Broodmother. He turned to face me. Dark circles hung under his eyes, but the smallest smile touched his face.

  “Worry not, Swordslinger,” the Hierophant said. “The Immense Blades are merely in conversation at present. They are in no danger, and the spirits have seen to it that we are not interrupted. We have much to discuss.”

  I grappled with the implication of his words. I’d grown so used to the Immense Blades and their voices in my mind that their absence scared the hell out of me.

  The greenish lights curled away from my back and returned to the black pool in the center of the room. Darkness closed in around us for a moment, but candles flared into life a second later around the walls. I took a step back at the sight. Altars bore images of dragons, fought each other for room along the walls, and graven images of creatures I’d never seen before flickered in the dancing light of the candles.

  “Did they corrupt you?” I asked quietly.

  The Hierophant considered my question. “You have seen corruption before. Do I look to you to be possessed by some malevolent being?”

  His eyes sparkled with clarity as he spoke. I examined him closely, but the shrieking voice, madness-filled gaze, or aftermath of hate-filled violence was nowhere to be seen. The Hierophant looked exactly as I’d seen him on my first night in the monastery.

  I shook my head. “The Immense Blades told me that interrupting your meditations could unleash hell in the monastery. I figured it had something to do with possession. So, you’ll forgive my caution.”

  “Wise of you to listen to their counsel,” the Hierophant observed. “And, had you decided to step into this chamber without their presence, they may very well have been right. But you are safe for the moment.” A wry look crossed his face. “You look as if you’re about to burst from questions, Swordslinger. Ask them.”

  “What the hell did Tymo do to you?” I as
ked. “How did he manage to keep you here?”

  “Time works differently on other planes,” the Hierophant said. “I fully intended to continue your training myself, but alas, the spirits had much to warn me of. And deciphering their messages can take a rather long time. Very few enjoy the privilege of easy conversation with creatures of another plane as you do. Tymo simply encouraged me to seek out possibilities in our near future.”

  “Tymo is dead,” I told him.

  The Hierophant sighed. “Yes. The conflict of his oath within himself was too much to bear, and I believe you were the first to challenge him. We ascetics are trained in obedience first and foremost, and the brothers he sent out didn’t pause to question his motives. Even if it proved to be their undoing.”

  “Seems like a system that’s almost bound to fail,” I said.

  “To you, perhaps. But it has been our way of life for centuries. I must commend you, Swordslinger. Using the principles of Physical and Environmental Augmentation after such a short period of training is unprecedented. Even among our greatest students. While Tymo may have chosen to end his own life, you survived long enough to force him to confront his own loyalties.”

  “You saw that?” I asked in astonishment.

  “The spirits relayed it to me, yes.”

  “Did they tell you anything else that happened while you were asleep?”

  “Asleep?” The Hierophant raised an eyebrow at that but didn’t say anything to counter it. “They did speak of other things, yes.”

  “Jiven Wysaro,” I said instantly. “What did he want with Tymo?”

  “The Orb of Void,” the Hierophant said quietly. “A dangerous object that has lingered in the Seven Realms long before our time. A Dragon Spirit. A Vigorous Zone Core. An intelligent creature imprisoned within an ancient curse.”

  “I didn’t even know Void was an element,” I said.

  “The forbidden element, for a number of reasons. The sheer power of it corrupts almost all who come into contact with it,” the Hierophant explained. “Even my iron-willed brothers fell prey to it. The element dismisses the more tangible forces of nature and focuses its attention on far more powerful forces. Those of space and time.”

  My mind flashed back to my last day on Earth. I’d observed a Russian military leader use an Orb to rewind time. Nydarth had been there, too, but she’d never spoken of how she’d come to find herself on my home world. The Hierophant nodded at my astounded expression and gestured to the black pool of liquid behind him.

  “The Void Orb was the very same that brought you to the Seven Realms. We kept it here, within the spirit-chamber of the monastery. We believed it was safe here, but someone obviously used the Void Ord to bring you to this realm. Either that, or the Orb brought you here by its own power. It’s impossible to know. Even the spirits cannot tell which exact circumstances brought you to us.”

  “How did it end up here?” I asked.

  “The guardian of the relic gave it to us willingly. He knew its power, and his own discipline allowed him to master the element of Void without corruption or demonic influence. We kept it safe from the clutches of those who would use it for power, and it took us to another plane, away from Flametongue Valley.”

  “Until Tymo convinced you to return,” I pointed out.

  The Hierophant nodded. “Yes. Until then.”

  “How did you get it back, after I arrived? That was almost a year ago now.”

  “The Void element deals with time and space,” he reminded me. “To us, it could have left the chamber for a mere second. But to those on your plane, it could very well have been there for a century.”

  I grappled with the thought of a magic item with such incredible power.

  “And now Jiven has it,” I said finally. “He has access to all of that power.”

  “Jiven Wysaro is a narrow-minded individual,” the Hierophant said. “He is a true Straight Path practitioner, in philosophy if not in technique. The chaotic power of the demonic plane gives him the strength he needs, but he’s unlikely to discover the deeper secrets of the Orb.”

  “It doesn’t stop him being a threat,” I said.

  “No, it does not. But, as I said, he is narrow-minded. He only has a single goal in mind.”

  I stared at the ancient monk, and trepidation flooded my body in a freezing rush of sensation. “And you know what it is?”

  “I believe your past experience could very well help you find the answer yourself.”

  I recalled Jiven’s original attack at Radiant Dragon. He’d wanted to take over the guild and expand his province into the next. Xilarion had stopped him, of course, and Jiven had fled. But the snake had just been biding his time until he could get his hands on something that could level the playing field against Xilarion. Or anyone else who opposed him, no matter how powerful they were.

  This was bigger than just Wysaro Province or Flametongue Valley.

  Jiven wanted the entire Seven Realms.

  “He’s going after someone that can’t be beaten otherwise,” I said slowly.

  “Indeed. The same man who led your teachers, allies, and friends through war after war,” the Hierophant said quietly. “The man who holds the Seven Realms in balance and gave Jiven only a small portion of it, despite his military success.”

  “Holy shit,” I breathed. “He’s going after Emperor Talekon.”

  End of Book 4

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  About the Author

  Dante King is an author of Men’s Adventure fiction in various flavors. His books involve strong male protagonists who know what they want and do what’s required to get it.

  You can connect with him at DanteKingAuthor.com