Mythborn

by Lakshman, V.

  Silbane tilted his head and said, “Do not fear. You know enough to find out, to carry on. I suspect the woman, Brianna, is important to understanding what’s happening.”

  “I don’t know who to trust. Even when I try my best, I fail.”

  “Do you know what Kisan told me once”? Silbane said, “She said you care too much what others think. Perhaps she had insight I did not.”

  Arek shrugged. “She never liked me.”

  Silbane raised an eyebrow at that and said, “On the contrary, she enjoyed training with you the most.” He was quiet for a moment, then he said, “Do not judge yourself too harshly. You’re simply a person, trying to do what he thinks is best. We can’t do more than that in our lives.”

  Arek shook his head, and something in him pushed up a thought he didn’t want to share. He blurted, “I want to hurt people who hurt me.”

  Silbane nodded and then stepped in and gave the boy a hug. “That’s normal.” He then held Arek back out at arm’s length, appraising him with a kind eye. “You’re no worse or better than anyone else, but unlike others, you now have the chance to make a difference. What you choose will determine the fate of everyone you know, and I have faith that I have guided you well. Do you accept that?”

  Arek’s eyes darted around—the scenery had changed. He stood in Avalyon but the vast throne room was empty. “What do you mean?” he croaked, feeling a sudden dread.

  “I have faith in you. I always have. Do you have faith in yourself?” Silbane repeated, smiling.

  His master’s eyes compelled him to answer and he said, “I think so.”

  “Tests come in many different forms. For some, it is combat, for others, it is understanding their own place in this world. We are each tested by what we fear to face, to see if we will make the sacrifice.” The master paused, then said, “I fear circumstances will put you now before the test of your life.”

  Arek paled a bit and then asked, “What?”

  “Kisan has it in her head to allow Valarius to take you. She thinks she can then kill Valarius and safeguard Edyn.”

  “She wants to kill me?” Arek asked. For some reason, the thought brought a small quivering of fear into his heart. It was odd. He’d faced Kisan many times before. With each contest the master had seemed less and less formidable. Perhaps it was the fact that this was not sparring but real combat that made him doubt, and the fact that he’d never beaten her.

  As if he could read Arek’s mind his master said, “Do not overestimate her, Arek. She will try to goad you, but in the end she has fears just as you do.”

  “Fears?” Arek asked incredulously. “I can’t imagine what she fears.”

  Silbane smiled and said, “Kisan fears love. See this, and you will prevail.” Silbane looked up into the air, “Is he acceptable, my lord?”

  There was a grinding noise, a sound as if the very earth shifted and a figure appeared behind Silbane, an armored angel in white edged in blue. The massive figure inclined its head, looking down at Arek, making him feel insignificant.

  “Perhaps,” it said, its deep voice reverberating within the chamber, vibrating Arek’s bones, “but if we bond, you cannot be saved.”

  Silbane nodded. “The circumstances of Arek’s birth can’t have been mere chance. Despite Valarius’s meddling, he’s still a changeling of the Way. We do not know what that will mean in the coming struggle, but I have done my part.” The master paused, his gaze lingering on Arek, then he finished, “Perhaps it was my destiny to bring him here, to this one place where the blackfire could be undone.”

  The being tilted its helm down farther, as if peering into the inner soul of the boy, and asked, “I have watched you through both Valarius and your master’s eyes, searching for your worth. Many years I’ve bided my time, waiting. What have you earned, by deed or thought, that was not given to you by another?”

  Arek looked at the figure for a moment, then dropped his head again. He thought about his life, of the things he’d done. Kisan was right, he did anger quickly, and forgave slowly. He saw things through the lens of his own needs. He knew there was a place within him, a place where he feared to look because of what he would find, a place where he could not excuse his actions. He couldn’t think of one good thing he’d done to deserve this, so he finally looked back up and said, “Nothing.”

  Silbane squeezed his shoulders and said, “And that, Arek, is your strength, your honesty. You have tried and failed more than I can remember, but each time, every time, you rose again to face the challenge, being true to yourself. Every blade has a sharp edge and a haft. Both are necessary for a weapon to be useful. You fear failure, but tell me truly, do you see the strength you gain when you control fear with honesty?”

  Arek paused, thinking. Had he ever given up? His perspective shifted and he saw himself as his master must see him, not as a constant disappointment but as a person who would dare until he succeeded. He’d never thought about that as any kind of virtue. It had only seemed to be the obvious and natural thing to do. Now he could see why his master had patiently tutored him, not for any special or hidden magical ability, but for the rarity of a pupil who would attempt to learn whatever he was taught. But what about the darkness?

  “Am I evil?” he asked in a small voice.

  Azrael breathed out in what sounded like a low laugh. “And what is that? That you disagree with others who label themselves ‘good’? If that’s the measure of character, everyone would be evil in someone’s eyes.”

  “There is a greater ruin that faces the world, one that we must help our people to survive. Not helping is your choice, but choose that path and you may condemn everyone you know and love to death. Perhaps all you care for stands before you, and without your master you have no purpose. If you wish, we will search for another. Think on that and decide what sacrifice your honesty demands you give.”

  Arek thought about the people he’d always expected to help as an Adept. He had never wanted anything else except to serve alongside his master and the rest of those on the Isle. He thought about Yetteje and the warmth in his heart at the memory of her face. He thought about the vast stretches of land he’d yet to see, populated by people he did not know. Even they deserved someone to help them.

  Silbane gave him a small pat on the arm and said, “Then do what you have always feared most.”

  Arek’s heart fluttered in panic, not admitting to himself he knew what Silbane was talking about. He looked between him and the giant Aeris Lord and said, “What do I fear?”

  “You have felt the truth,” Azrael said, “now you must act on it.”

  Arek thought about that, then looked at Silbane. “I don’t know.”

  His master smiled. “Yes you do. You know what you must do, and that fills you with dread. Do it, and you will gain your rightful place and truly Ascend with Azrael.”

  Arek breathed in, he thought about his life. Azrael had asked him what sacrifice he was willing to make to earn his place at Ascension. Silbane had said everyone was tested by what they feared most. Azrael had said he’d never earned anything not given to him. He didn’t fear combat, he never had. He raised his eyes which now glistened with tears. He knew what was needed, he’d always known, but now the words wouldn’t come.

  Azrael said, “And thus thou art truly measured.”

  Arek swallowed, then turned to Silbane and said, “Master… I must give you up, but it is hard. I can’t do it, and Kisan was right. I’ve only known you. You’re my friend, master, and—” he looked at him, his eyes shining—“father. How can I go on?”

  “You’re stronger than you believe. When you feel you are alone, know that I’m with you. Now, what do you decide?”

  Arek looked at the only man he could call a friend and choked out the words, “Master, I release you.”

  His master regarded him for a moment longer, then his faded blue eyes crinkled into a smile and he said, “You are my pupil no longer.”

  There was a silence, a moment where Arek
looked into himself. Then he breathed in and out, looking up at the shade. “Farewell…”

  Silbane looked up at Azrael and said, “Take care of him.”

  Arek looked at his own body and saw it changing. Black tendrils flowed out from the pores of his skin like a fine charcoal smoke. He could feel two others in the room, a dim awareness of Duncan and Brianna. They were all working furiously, unlocking something within him, something that uncurled under their care. It was like a seed long dried, now being slowly coaxed to unfold back to life with crystal blue water.

  He looked up just as his master lifted his hand, a blinding blue star shining on his fingertip. When that star touched him a detonation of power blinded him. Knowledge burst into him, or perhaps it was knowledge he’d always had finally being released. Regardless, the sudden deluge of information was overwhelming and he found he was on his knees looking down.

  “What was that?” he gasped.

  His master’s voice came from above, “We have been taught many things, Arek, not all of which have been true. My ability to give you some part of me was one of the things kept from us.”

  When Arek looked up in confusion, Silbane gave him a final hug, then held him at arm’s length and looked into his pale eyes. A moment passed before the master finally said, “Always give more than you take. It will give you power over those who would rule you.”

  Then the blackfire began to melt away, drawn out as if something fundamental within him had changed. His true power awakened from its dormancy, a bonding to the Way sounding through him in one clean and pure note. He looked up, tears of joy in his eyes, but Silbane was gone. He looked around frantically, feeling panic at his master’s departure, but then Azrael came forward to encircle him with his wings.

  “Come, Arek Illrys, son of Duncan and Sonya,” the archangel said, holding out a hand, “our work is not yet done. You’ve given away what you loved most and earned a place amongst us by that sacrifice. Let us bond and become greater through Ascension.”

  Arek reached out and took Azrael’s hand, and his world turned white.

  Regicide

  A determined soul will do more with a wooden blade

  than a fool with an armory.

  - Galadine House of Arms, Battle’s Focus

  Ash quickly recovered, shaking his head to clear it and then striking at Kisan with a double high low cut.

  The master turned back, blocking both strikes and shifting his blade away from her with a twist of her wrist.

  He countered quickly, cutting low and then reversing his blade into a stab at Kisan’s throat.

  The master tilted her head fractionally, letting the blade pass harmlessly over her shoulder. She spun, using her arm to knock Ash out of line even as her second blade cut a vicious arc.

  Ash grunted when the blade cut into his ribs, opening them up like a butcher’s blade. The bone stopped her stroke from biting deeper, but the cut burned and his breathing turned into a gasp of pain. He fell back, his weapon still pointed unerringly between her eyes despite the pain.

  Kisan smiled but said nothing. Her expression was one of curiosity, as if she did not see him as a person but rather a puzzle she’d solve with his death. Looking into her eyes he knew there would be no mercy offered or given, and for the first time he could feel the dread others must’ve felt when facing her. The thought made his mouth dry. Kisan was what he feared most: an opponent that did not offer one any dignity, not even something as simple as mere existence. He realized this was her strength, an objectification of her opponents. She didn’t fear him because he wasn’t a real person to her, just a problem. Something that needed to be erased.

  Ash spun, gritting his teeth as his open ribs bled through his tunic, then struck at her neck. He kicked backward then sent another slash to the same place, hoping she’d not see that coming.

  Kisan caught his strike on the back edge of one blade and slashed with the other. Ash danced back, narrowly avoiding another crippling cut. He pulled his arms in, using his right bicep to put pressure on the wound to his side. It was worse than he first thought. It became hard to breathe. When had she punctured his lung?

  “You’re bleeding inside,” the master said. “Drop your weapon and I’ll offer you a quick death, a warrior’s death.”

  Ash looked past Kisan at the group. Yetteje was down but moving, with Duncan and Brianna hunched over Arek, oblivious to anything happening out here, their eyes seemingly unfocused and dazed. His primary concern was the princess. His peripheral vision caught Valarius moving forward from one side while dark elves rushed in from the other. In moments they would be overrun.

  He looked back at Kisan and shrugged. “Everybody dies. Not everyone deserves to live.” Then he attacked with the ferocity of a man who knew every breath of time gave Yetteje a chance to retreat back to the portal and perhaps save herself. At least something good would come from his time in this accursed place.

  His blade slashed and cut in twirls of silver steel, driving Kisan back and forcing her to go on the defensive. When she riposte as he knew she would, Ash was ready. He moved in quickly, turning so the stab slid across his back instead of through him and then used his arm to loop and trap her own. He head-butted her, a blow that should have crippled the woman, but Kisan merely blinked once and then head-butted him back.

  Stars exploded in his vision and he felt the ground come up to slam him hard. The breath whooshed out and he could taste coppery blood. Still blinded, he acted on instinct, swinging his legs in a short semicircle to sweep any attempt at a quick rush while quickly regaining his feet. He blinked his eyes clear just as her blades came in a flurry of strikes and stabs.

  Now it was his turn to be forced back, looking for any opening over his blood-spattered nose. When it came it was only there for an instant, but Ash knew it was his one chance. He caught her blade, rode it in quickly, and stabbed. As his point entered her shoulder he felt something ice cold enter his gut.

  He looked down blankly as she slowly pulled her sword out of his stomach. His blade was still in her shoulder but he couldn’t find the strength to push it in any farther. Kisan’s forearm blurred and his blade shattered, falling from nerveless fingers. She tilted her head again in that strange way, like a predator looking at prey, but her eyes did not betray any feelings. Then she shouldered her way past the firstmark as he fell to his knees, holding his hands over a wound that pumped out blood in time with his heart. From the sound of her footsteps he knew she was heading directly for the group and the princess, and there was nothing he could do about it.

  * * * * *

  King Bernal Galadine had moved forward with a cohort of elves to reinforce the gate as more survivors came through. His forces held back the dark creatures, some looking like elves and others like the winged Aeris, still a few here and there made it through the portal. He hoped the elves on the other side caught them. Niall worked his side of the line, and knew Yevaine stood on the other side, standing by should she be needed. She had not yet noticed Niall, and he did not have the time to deal with it in the thick of battle. He could only thank the stars that his son lived, and it seemed so had a line of Galadine kings. He could recognize Gabreyl now, his features not so unlike those he’d seen in Bara’cor and dimly remembered from his childhood. His father had died early in life, and the king had never really known him. Seeing him here now, sacrificed to open the gate, filled him with sadness, a lost chance to speak with his father once again.

  A dark elf made its way clawing past the first shield and Bernal stabbed it through the mouth. It fell, only to be replaced by another. Something sounded then, a blast of white so pure it caused him to shield his eyes. Then the ground shook and his men fell into each other.

  “Retreat through the portal!” he called, watching as the men fell back under Kalindor and Niall’s direction. How they would close it was beyond him, but he caught Sparrow’s gaze as the scout leapt through and took position on the other side of the liquid-like shimmer. The platoon fell back
in orderly formation, using the gate’s opening as a natural chokepoint. Whatever happened, it would be up to him and these two cohorts of elves to hold the line on Bara’cor’s side.

  Then, without warning, the gate on this side went dull, darkening a bit. Bernal put his hand against it and it was hard, unyielding. He looked at Sparrow, who in turn gestured to the dead sacrifice of Malak. The man’s potent blood had worn out and the gate was sealed from this side. Bernal looked back, realizing that the same would happen if Ash and the rest didn’t hurry and make it through.

  He turned to Sparrow and said, “Give me options!”

  The elven scout looked out at the portal, then back at the king, and said, “Blood.”

  * * * * *

  A sudden blaze of whitefire blasted outward and Kisan was hurled back, falling amongst the debris, flung away from Arek’s body as if she were a leaf. She’d caught the brunt of the blow and lay there, semi-conscious.

  The nephilim too had been blasted away, but seeing the burst of energy, they slowly recovered and moved for Arek and his small group with hunger in their eyes. Behind them came a smiling Piter. Few elves were left in the great hall atop Avalyon, the majority having retreated through the gate to Bara’cor. Those still here had either fallen to the dark elves and now joined their ranks, or had been killed by Vengeance and fed him their energy.

  Ash had fallen into a fetal position, curling up as his lifeblood left him. He hoped he would die before the nephilim touched and took him. When that touch came, he struggled, only to find himself coming face to face with Orion. The Aeris Lord too had been mortally wounded by Kisan, but there was hope shining in his eyes as he grasped Ash’s hand in his own.

  “You are worthy,” Orion said weakly, “defending Yetteje and the rest at the cost of your own life.”

  Ash smiled. “A fine pair we make, dying here together.” He coughed once and blood spattered his lips.