Mythborn III: Dark Ascension (Fate of the Sovereign Book 3)

by V. Lakshman

  Just then Lilyth looked up, her gaze drawn to something far outside her walls. A small smile crept onto her face. “Perhaps more Watchers will not be necessary.”

  Thoth turned and saw the bright incandescence of two Ascended approaching along with a third that was less bright but still obvious, like three shining stars on the plains of Olympious. He breathed out, knowing things had just gotten much more complicated.

  “Don’t worry. They will be exactly what Arek needs to complete his task.”

  “And no matter the outcome, he and his friends will be trapped here in Arcadia,” Thoth said. “They’ll all die to achieve what you want.”

  Lilyth looked down, her gaze imperious. “What we want,” she said, her voice brooking no argument. “And do not be so melodramatic, Keeper . . . everybody dies.”

  * * * * *

  The figure of Piter stood quietly in a darkened corner of the room, his form nothing more than a black shadow. Black eyes without pupils glistened as he watched the two. A slow smile spread across his face, then without a sound he faded completely from sight.

  Bloom

  Sometimes I sit back and watch the sun set in Westbay.

  It’s a beautiful sight, like golden fire dipping into the ocean.

  The only better feeling I can recall, was falling in love.

  - Alain the Farflung, A Guide to Westbay

  A

  rek kissed me!

  The thought raced through Yetteje’s mind, bringing with it embarrassment and fear, but a small part of her kept going back to the memory. Oh, it had been nothing more than a desperate mashing of his mouth onto hers, nothing like the times she’d stolen private moments with a man or woman at the Tir Combat Academy.

  They were rough, smelled of sweat, grime, and more often than not, spirits, but they knew women and had been all too eager to help a young princess looking to defy her royal trappings. Even the women, though they smelled better, had taken on many of the mannerisms of their male counterparts. But they knew more.

  Despite her curiosity, Yetteje had never done anything with anyone to sully her family’s honor, and groping in the dark was nothing more than getting to know herself. Her small acts of defiance had been more dalliance than anything noteworthy.

  Arek’s kiss had been sweet in its unrefined surge of emotion. He was clearly drawn to her and Yetteje had to admit she liked his attention. He was comely, a proven warrior, and fearless in battle. A girl could do worse. She smiled privately at the thought.

  She had felt drained, though: a physical weariness that seemed to be passing. Hadn’t Arek said something about interfering with magic? Did that have anything to do with her growing awareness as she spent more time here in Arcadia? Yetteje stumbled once, her legs feeling rubbery and her sense of direction wrong. Her earlier ability to unerringly find her way seemed gone, and for the first time in a while she felt slow.

  They had not walked very far before they found a bench amongst the hedges and trees, a secluded spot that would’ve been romantic if not for the two giant Watchers and the dwarven woman looming over them. She’d asked Orion to remain behind, but the Aeris lord had answered her by flicking his glance between her and Arek, then ignoring her.

  So Yetteje had to hope that whatever happened, Arek would remain in control of himself before he embarrassed them both further. That thought brought a small flutter in her stomach, and at the same time a rumble of laughter from Orion. She snapped her eyes up, looking at him, but he merely raised an eyebrow, clearly confused by her sudden inspection. Whatever . . . men were idiots in any form, she reassured herself, winged or not.

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” Arek said. “What happened?”

  Had it only been a day ago? Time here was hard to judge and Yetteje was so blasted tired her brain felt fuzzy. The uncertainty of their party’s fate caused her to hesitate. She realized she’d been keeping them alive in her mind so she could go on, but she’d had no evidence to justify that. In actuality, the hole they fell through to open sky seemed unsurvivable, a thought she hadn’t allowed herself to consider until now.

  She started haltingly, telling Arek of their fight with Anhur and his giants, and the mistfrights who called Lilyth their master. Every now and then she’d pause, gathering her strength. She was starting to feel better physically by the time she got to the part where they fell, when she stopped, her voice choking up.

  It was Helios who spoke then, his burnt-orange armor glinting as he said, “Do not despair. You said they had wings like us and if they perished from falling, they would be the first bonded ever to have done so.” He ended that with a small laugh, and his rare mirth gave her strength.

  “Wings?” Arek asked. He looked confused by that.

  “Adepts can change form here, I guess. They look just like these two, except their armor is different.”

  Arek was silent, his pale eyes looking down as he digested that. Though she didn’t know him well, something gave her the impression he was uncomfortable. Yetteje completed the tale of her journey, telling him of her encounter with Thoth and of Tomas and Orion’s test.

  “It was amazing. A flash of light and Orion had to fight these creatures, like wolves but worse. That boy, he became something huge and awful.”

  “Tomas lost hope, else we would now be joined,” Orion said.

  At the mention of Tomas, Arek looked up, his eyes wide.

  “You tested with Tomas?” he asked Orion, his pale eyes narrowing. “Tomas of the Meridian Isle, a combat test to become Adept?”

  The Aeris lord took a knee so that he stood only slightly taller than Arek and said, “I did, and unlike Anala and Jesyn, we failed.”

  Arek looked back at her, and to Yetteje he seemed scared. His face had gone white. Then he looked back at Orion and asked, “What happened to Tomas?”

  Orion breathed out, the sound heavy with grief. “He succumbed to the darkness. I had to destroy him before he turned others into creatures . . . nephilim like himself.”

  Arek fell back, not realizing he’d come to his feet, painfully hitting the bench they were just sitting upon. He rubbed his face, then looked at Yetteje. “I . . . Tomas. He was my friend.”

  “Then this is a day of mourning for us both,” Orion replied. “The boy tried, but could not see the crux of the test.”

  “What? Pain? Embarrassment?” Arek’s words came out rapid fire, laced with hot anger, causing the Aeris lord to fall back on his haunches at its vehemence. “They put us up to these so-called tests without helping us to survive.”

  Orion bowed his head. “It is about sacrifice, Lord Arek.” He seemed about to say more, then he just hung his head, clearly overcome by the loss as well.

  Yetteje put a hand on Arek’s arm, pulling him back to her. “I saw Orion try to save him. He fought with courage and honor. Your friend . . . he couldn’t beat the things he created.”

  Arek looked at her with such anguish it pulled at her heart. Before she knew what she was doing, she grabbed and hugged him. “I’m sorry. I know what it’s like to lose someone.”

  “Carefu—” When it was clear no part of his skin was touching hers, he seemed to relax into the hug while everyone else remained silent.

  It was Arek who finally disengaged. “Thanks,” he said. “It’s just that I always thought Tomas and Jesyn would pass.”

  Helios smiled at that. “Then you have a reason to rejoice, for Anala and Jesyn are Ascended and now serve the Way.” He laughed. “Your faith in her was well-placed.”

  Arek was quiet, then asked, “You mean Jesyn is an Adept?”

  “Verily,” remarked Helios, clapping Orion on the shoulder, “as I remind my grieving companion here when he becomes too morose. Hope springs eternal as long as you have faith.”

  Yetteje did not miss the look of irritation that crossed Arek’s face, as if the news was not as welcome as he’d acted. Then he muttered, “I’m an Adept, too.”

  “Indeed?” asked Helios. “And who is your bonded part
ner?”

  Arek looked up, his gaze becoming hard. “I don’t bond with others. I don’t need to.”

  There was a moment, a heartbeat where Yetteje feared Helios would laugh again. Her skin began to crawl with the sudden feeling of immediate danger. She didn’t know why, but felt they walked a razor’s edge with Arek. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the dwarven woman backing up slowly.

  Helios must have felt it too. He stepped back and put a fist to chest and bowed. “As you say, Lord Arek. I do not question the power you wield.”

  She put a hand back on Arek’s sleeve, turning him to face her. “I have some questions that don’t have to do with Tomas, but I don’t want to upset you. It’s just that we may not have another chance to talk alone.”

  Arek didn’t see the look that passed between Helios and Orion then, but Yetteje did. She could almost imagine them both drawing blades. They had the same look when facing the nephilim at her rescue, the resolute look of battle-hardened warriors.

  Arek wiped his eyes on his sleeve and said, “Sure, it hasn’t quite hit me yet anyway.”

  She could feel the tension ease in the two Watchers and continued, “I felt drained when you kissed me. Weak in the knees, but not the good kind.” She tried to smile at that but another wave of vertigo hit her and she had to lean back and steady herself.

  Arek looked ashamed when he said, “My touch negates magic. It’s what I did to that door in Bara’cor, remember?”

  And Yetteje did remember, when their glowing clearing had been plunged into blackness. “Why didn’t your touch knock me out or . . . you know, the way you did with the door?”

  Arek shrugged. “Maybe there’s so much raw power here my body doesn’t need to take from you, or maybe it somehow knows when I don’t want to. Besides, you said you still felt weak.” He shrugged again, looking lost as his explanation wandered into silence.

  Seeing that, she nodded in agreement and took a different tack, asking, “What do you know about Lilyth?”

  “Where do I begin?” Arek laughed. At this, both Aeris lords leaned closer. “She claims she’s my mother. She’s at war with the archmage, Valarius Galadine, that’s clear. My assumption is that Thoth is neutral or you wouldn’t have been given audience here.”

  Orion scoffed. “Our presence is due to the princess’s irresistible charm. Without it, Thoth would doubtless have taken us in any direction opposite here. However, our safety is as you say,” the Watcher diffidently admitted. “The keeper’s aegis covers us, else we would have had to fight our way in and out.”

  It was Helios who then added, “Do not trust anything told to you by the Lady. Though she speaks with praise and consideration, her thirst for rule is no less than Highlord Valarius himself.”

  “And who is this?” inquired Yetteje, nodding at Brianna. It was curious to find Arek in league with the same folk that had attacked them in the underdark of Bara’cor.

  “Her name is Brianna. I don’t think she’s with the assassin that chased us. In fact, I’m not sure she’s with anyone. She didn’t even know what Dawnlight is.”

  Yetteje drew her head back in consternation. What dwarf wouldn’t know her own homeland, or at least their reputed homeland? She looked at Brianna and asked, “You’ve never heard of it?”

  The woman looked like she wanted to disappear into the tree next to her, but replied, “Most of what you’re talking about is a mystery to me.”

  One of the tattoos adorning Brianna’s skin changed then, moving a bit into a new shape. Yetteje’s eyes widened and she asked, “What are those?”

  Brianna looked down at her arm. “These are my entats. They let me understand you, and you me.”

  That was interesting. She looked at the entat that had changed and asked, “You don’t speak our language?”

  Brianna looked trapped, her eyes darting left and right as if she literally sought to escape the question by running. She hesitantly said, “I do now.”

  Yetteje waited but Brianna said nothing else, so she asked, “What is your trade?”

  Again that look, as if the woman didn’t want to answer. Finally she said, “I’m a healer . . .” her eyes grew distant and then she said, almost to herself, “at least, I was a healer.”

  “And you don’t know your own people?” asked Yetteje, feeling a bit frustrated at the dwarf’s reticence.

  Brianna must have felt the same. She dropped her gaze and said, “I do, but we call ourselves yewmins. It sounds strange to me when you call me a ‘dwarf,’ given your . . . umm, stature. Where I come from, the word ‘dwarf’ refers to someone smaller than I am.”

  Yewmins?

  Yetteje had never heard the strange word, but noticed many things about the woman that were also strange. For one, her clothes were finely stitched, everything evenly spaced and exact. Her boots were laced up the side, but not by strings. Instead, fine interlocking teeth of a type of metal sealed them around the middle of her calf. The soles were covered by a black material that was pliable yet hard enough to hold its own shape, unlike the leather soles of normal footwear, and again that fine stitching, evenly spaced and exact wherever it showed.

  Such craftsmanship was rare and while Yetteje couldn’t say she’d traveled all of Edyn, she’d seen examples of fine tannery and tailoring from all over the world as a princess of Tir. None, in her opinion, matched the quality of what Brianna wore.

  She didn’t comment on this but filed it away, not sure yet what to make of it. It was strange, but she didn’t get the sense the woman meant them any harm.

  Finally, she looked at Arek and asked, “You trust her?”

  Arek nodded. “She’s also not going anywhere with that collar on. These dwarves can evidently phase through rock.”

  Yetteje remembered the assassin under the floor when they’d been stuck in that supply room in Bara’cor. “After you left, we fought one that could move through stone like it was water!”

  “You’ve seen others like me?” Brianna asked, her expression going from resigned to animated.

  She looked almost hungry for an answer, so Yetteje replied, “One, but you’d not want to call him a friend. He was an assassin trying to kill us. But he could move through stone. Arek and I thought we killed him. Bara’cor sucked him into the stone, maybe it healed him? He reappeared, possessed by an Aeris calling himself Baalor.”

  “A powerful lord who fights for Lilyth. I have faced him before,” growled Orion.

  “You don’t look too much the worse for the wear,” commented Arek, “no matter what Lilyth says.”

  Helios smiled at that, clearly unable to resist saying something. “Ha! It took many days for Orion to walk again, many more before he could hold a weapon. Lucky I arrived, else we’d all be lacking his sparkling wit today.”

  Orion looked at Helios, his annoyance clear. Then he looked back and said, “I recall I gave as well as I got, but Hel is right.” His tone grew more serious. “It’s doubtful I’d be here if he’d not interceded on my behalf.”

  “Well, if it’s any consolation, Baalor would’ve killed us all. We only escaped because King Galadine challenged him to single combat.”

  At that, Arek spat, “Then that’s a bit of good news. That man deserves to die.”

  An incandescent rage turned Yetteje’s vision white with fury and before she could stop herself, she’d given him a stinging slap. Arek pulled his hand away from a red face in shock.

  “Don’t say that! I don’t care what he did to you! You don’t talk about him that way around me again!”

  Whether it was her anger, or the tears that sprang to her eyes, Arek did not respond except to slowly nod. Then he pulled away and hunched over, looking dejected, resting his elbows on his knees, hanging his head and thankfully remaining silent. Yetteje leaned back again, feeling the drain from that brief contact down her arm like a numb poison throbbing in time with her heartbeat.

  She wiped her face, clearing her eyes, then focused. Anger and fear were not the answer, and she
needed to remain objective. She took a breath, then two. Slowly, she let herself calm down, let peace in where before there had been only turmoil and rage.

  Finally, when she was ready, she said, “Hey, I’m sorry about what happened to you in Bara’cor. I know it wasn’t fair, but I’ve known King Bernal my entire life, and he’s a good man.”

  “How good could he be, doing what he did to an innocent prisoner?”

  Yetteje felt herself losing control again and clenched her hands in an effort to remain calm and centered. “I know he must have been really afraid for Bara’cor. I’m sure he regrets it.”

  Arek was quiet, looking at his hands. Then he slowly nodded but said, “I just can’t forget being tortured, Tej. It’s too much.” He was quiet a moment longer, then he looked up at her and asked, “Can we just drop it?”

  Yetteje could feel her heart soften and she nodded slowly, “Of course.”

  The relief on Arek’s face was palpable, and that somehow made him more endearing. She smiled once, then looked at everyone. “I’m sorry, but we need to stick together. Niall is still out there.”

  Arek’s gaze lingered a bit longer on her before he said, “Valarius controls the elves. They kill one another to open gates. It’s the only way I know to Avalyon.”

  “Aye, and it is more than just death,” Helios said. “Many elves have fallen to my blade within a henge, without a gate appearing. I do not know why. Perhaps something is wrong in the way I kill them.”

  The Watcher smiled. He seemed to have a knack for lightening the mood. Perhaps his name was somehow more than just a name, the sunshine being fundamental a part of who he was. Yetteje wondered about that and about his talent. She could see why Orion and he were friends.