Mythborn III_Dark Ascension Read online

  The blackness had now encircled the entire torc, and as everyone watched the metal disintegrated, falling like dust at Brianna’s feet. Her tattoos flashed and reconfigured themselves, becoming regular geometric patterns that resembled boxes with lines. Inside some of the boxes he could see strange glyphs, letters he did not recognize, and moving dots.

  When he looked at her eyes, however, he saw an emotion plain for anyone to understand: joy. He could tell she was fully in control of her body again as her face broke into a hesitant smile. Then she looked at him with tears in her eyes and said, “I’ll not betray you, Arek.”

  “Good.” He looked at Kisan then and said, “Anyone who does will find it to be the last thing she ever does.”

  Blade of the Morningstar

  It is strange, but there truly is

  someone in this world for everyone.

  - Toorval Singh, Memoirs of a Mercenary

  P

  reparations went quickly, with Furies hauling in the tomb within which Brianna had awakened. It was a testament to the weight of the large rectangular box that it took six of them, each standing at least three times the height of a man from Edyn. Arek watched as the dwarven woman gestured where she wanted the box placed.

  It was oblong, a little more than her height in length, and made of a dull gray metal that looked pitted with age. It had faded runes along the side etched in a dark maroon color, reminding Arek of dried blood. True to Lilyth’s word, the tomb itself was encrusted with mineral growth, broken off in places leaving a salt-like outline where it had once covered the metal.

  Brianna stood before the box and touched one of her tattoos—entats Arek reminded himself—and that symbol lit up on her forearm. A matching symbol appeared on the lid of the tomb, blinking white with its own light. Brianna then touched the tomb, and the entire lid slid sideways to reveal a white interior, also lit with a soft white glow.

  There was a man-shaped indentation, no doubt where she’d lain. Runes appeared at the top and bottom, mostly lit in green but some flashing amber and red. They indicated something undecipherable to Arek’s cursory glance, but Brianna’s reaction showed they were important. She looked over her shoulder at Arek and said, “Just a moment, it’s calibrating itself.”

  Arek understood that, as the masters often spent many careful moments making sure weights and measures were properly calibrated on their scales back home. He knew that very precise measurements were necessary to make real deductions, and could appreciate Brianna’s need for the same, but how the runes glowing on her tomb did this was a mystery.

  In a moment, all the symbols turned green. Brianna placed her palm on a panel at the foot of the tomb and it slid open. She reached in and withdrew a belt with a tube and a handle stuck into a pouch made to hold it. Kisan dashed forward and snatched the belt away.

  “I know what this is,” she said. “It’s a device that fires projectiles. The dwarves who attacked us used these to kill Thera and the lore father.” She held the belt away from Brianna, waiting for direction.

  “Is it a weapon?” Arek asked Brianna.

  The dwarven woman nodded, her eyes clear and without guile. “Yes. I’m no sword wielder and where we’re going sounds dangerous. I want to be able to defend myself.”

  To Kisan she added, “I don’t know these dwarves you faced, but I don’t mean anyone harm. I took an oath to never take a life, and to only defend myself in need. If any harm was meant, I would not have been so open about reaching for this with all of you watching.”

  Kisan held on to the belt, but her stance became less combative. “You understand that weapons like this were used to kill those we held dear?”

  Brianna slowly nodded. “I’m sorry for that, but I’m not a soldier. If you want me to go unarmed, I will.” This last thing she said to Arek, clearly letting him know his was the only decision that mattered to her.

  Arek thought it over, then said, “Give it to her. If she’d wanted to leave, she would already have done so, and she’s the only person I know for sure is not trying to kill me.” This last was directed at Kisan.

  Brianna held out her hand, waiting. Reluctantly, and only at Silbane’s nod, Kisan relinquished the weapon. Brianna belted it around her waist, using a black string to secure the pouch to her upper thigh. “We call this a gun. As Kisan said, it fires projectiles that can incapacitate or kill.”

  “I know,” was all Kisan said, the disgust in her voice obvious. However, to Arek’s ears, he also heard remorse; no doubt she was remembering the attack on the Isle. He realized then just how much he’d missed, how much had changed in their world while he was on his quest with his master.

  “I trust you,” Arek told Brianna, “but think about how this must feel to everyone else.”

  She nodded, then placed her palm on another panel, which slid aside. She withdrew a silver metal tube and a bunch of transparent squares. They looked like clear cloth, about the size of her hand, which she stuffed into a waiting pocket. Finally, she moved to the top of the tomb and the green numbers. “I’m just trying to get a sense of when . . . ”

  Her face turned white, and she sat back heavily. Then she grasped the side of the tomb and leaned forward, still looking at the glowing green runes. Heartbeats passed, and still she didn’t move. Finally, Arek went over, put a gloved hand on her shoulder, and asked, “What?”

  Brianna shook her head. “It can’t be.” She rubbed her eyes as if to change what she saw.

  “What can’t be?” he asked again, looking up quickly at the group.

  “Ten mil . . .” Brianna looked at the group, her eyes tracking across everyone until they finally rested upon Arek. To him, she said, “There must be a mistake.”

  “What?” asked Arek.

  Brianna’s face went from disbelief to its usual guarded look. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

  “How long?” demanded Kisan.

  The dwarven woman looked at her and then smiled and said, “I can’t say until I’ve confirmed it with an outside reading.”

  Arek tilted his head. “Outside?”

  Brianna nodded. “The stars. I can confirm things once I take a reading of the sky.”

  Arek nodded, knowing some less developed cultures taught that fates were tied to the stars. They worshipped the sun and moons as gods and gave themselves attributes based on when they were born. Of course, the masters of the Isle frowned on such superstition, teaching instead the science behind the path of planets around their star, but personally he couldn’t fault someone who still needed the reassurance of simple faith. He’d have to remember though to humor her quaint folklore. No sense in offending the one friend he had around here, no matter what she claimed the stars told her.

  “Leave her alone,” he said. “Once she knows she’ll tell us.”

  He saw the grateful glance that Brianna gave him there, and the flash of anger from Kisan. He’d started to care less about what the master thought, but her undercurrent of aggression wore on him. Only the presence of Silbane stayed his hand. If he could do what he wanted to . . . the thought led to a sudden whirlwind of visions of him possessing them all, turning them to his will.

  “Do you remember any more of where you come from?” Lilyth asked, as her eyes flicked from Arek back to Thoth.

  That jarred Arek back to the here and now. He looked at Lilyth, only to be answered with a soft smile and nod, as if she liked how he thought. He found himself wondering what he and Lilyth could accomplish together. Certainly ruling Edyn was not beyond their capabilities. The thought left an undeniable feeling, like a pleasant scent clinging to his skin, as if his destiny was something tangible, only a step away.

  Brianna shook her head. “It will take some time for my entats to fully heal me. Until then, everything is vague.”

  “Perhaps you should consider leaving Brianna here, with us,” Lilyth said. “She will be of little use to you and as she’s admitted, no soldier.”

  Arek looked at Yetteje, who gave an almost imperceptibl
e shake of her head.

  “You said you’re a healer,” he said to Brianna. “Do you remember how to do that?”

  Brianna nodded hesitantly. “I’d need to learn more about your kind—organs, physiology—but yes . . . I think I can do that.”

  It was enough for Arek, who said, “My father and mother may need a healer. So may Niall. She’s coming.”

  Lilyth was about to say something, but Thoth said, “Perhaps we should not force the issue now. As you reminded me, Arek must forge his own path.”

  The demon queen looked at him and nodded. “We will have to ensure everyone’s safety as best as we can.” She turned to Arek. “Are you still committed to breaching Avalyon?”

  Arek stood up and motioned everyone to gather. “Yes.”

  “Very well,” replied Lilyth, “I will deposit you at the location of the lens, which may or may not still be with your father.”

  To Yetteje and Kisan she added, “Remember what hangs in the balance, should Valarius survive.”

  Kisan shook her head with anger, clearly unwilling to be ordered by Lilyth, but Yetteje nodded slowly. Neither, however, looked as though they disagreed with the demon queen.

  Lilyth gestured and a gate opened. Both Silbane and Kisan transformed into their angelic forms. Arek couldn’t help but be impressed, their armor and wingblades looking keen and deadly. If he hadn’t already seen Orion and Helios, the new forms would have shocked him more. As impressed as he was, with it came an undeniable anger. If he’d truly Ascended, where were his armor and wings? The fact that he lacked of a second form crawled around inside his head like a millibite, laying little eggs of festering doubt.

  The two Watchers bowed to the keeper and then arranged themselves to the left and right of Arek’s masters, their silver and gold armor just as lethal and imposing. To Arek they resembled some kind of living embodiments of Silbane and Kisan’s personalities, except nothing about Kisan was really aurum. Behind them came the party consisting of Ash, who had replaced Tempest with a blade offered by the guards; followed by Yetteje with Valor; Brianna with one hand resting uncertainly on the handle of the thing she called a gun; and Arek. One of Lilyth’s guards approached with a weapon, but Arek waved him off. He’d always been more comfortable unarmed, and thus far it had served him well. As it was, the group seemed somehow more complete with them arrayed like this.

  The portal’s other side looked dark, as if it emptied into a small room. Lilyth said, “Be aware that I cannot gate you back. When used to anchor Avalyon, the lens will shatter but the island will become locked to Arcadia. You must find your own escape, or make your way back here where I can open a gate for you to Edyn.”

  She came and hugged Arek. “You are special, Arek. Do not falter, nor despair. What you do now will promise life for all our peoples. I’m so proud of you.”

  Arek thought of all the things he wanted to say. Finally, he settled on “Thank you.”

  She nodded, stroking his cheek. “Find your father and mother, then decide what’s best for them and your friends.”

  Arek gave her a quick nod and another hug. Yetteje grabbed his arm and pulled him gently to the opening. They clasped hands, then the party, with weapons ready, stepped into the darkness. The gate flashed once, and shut with a snap of displaced air behind them.

  * * * * *

  “We send them once more into the breach,” Thoth said sadly.

  Lilyth watched the gate close, ignoring the keeper, her thoughts on putting the next pieces in motion. “Summon Mithras, and bring me the Kinslayer,” she ordered her men.

  Thoth watched as the newly created Aeris lord came striding in, wreathed in yellow flames like a cloak. Hemendra of the Altan Wastes was now Mithras the Morningstar, Aeris lord and Fury of the Lady.

  “You will diminish yourself before me,” chastised Lilyth, knowing the merging of the barbarian would forever give Mithras a violent, unbridled streak, like a wild animal. She wished she could make a more direct lesson to teach this young god proper respect, but he was of no use to her broken, and his spirit would serve well in the wars to come, bringing Edyn to heel.

  Mithras breathed in, then brought his flames under control. The Aeris lord was still powerful and golden, shining like his namesake, the Morningstar. He bowed and went to one knee.

  “Command me, so I might find purpose,” he intoned.

  Lilyth waited until the guards had returned, carrying with them the sheathed Tempest. Even now she heard the blade sobbing.

  “Betrayed! Discarded! He will rue the day—”

  “Be silent, sister!” Lilyth warned, irritated that Tempest still had not grown up, even after all these years, still churlish and self-absorbed. The guards handed the blade to her and stepped back. The demon queen rose, walking down her dais until she stood before Mithras, immense even as he knelt.

  “Do you wish to live?” Lilyth asked.

  Mithras did not answer, somehow knowing she was not talking to him.

  It was Tempest who finally barked, “By your mercy, no! You, who call yourself sister, yet abandoning me just as they all do.”

  Lilyth said, “Very well,” and turned back to the throne.

  “Wait!” the blade said quickly. “I was angry, but meant no offense.”

  “You have not changed,” Lilyth said. “Still pining for one who left you. How far you’ve fallen, that one man could mean so much you’d wager your own sanity.”

  “He loved me!”

  “He left you. You were unhinged, demanding more and more until there was nothing left to give. This body you’ve chosen, a miserable sacrifice that meant nothing to anyone.”

  “He cared,” Tempest argued, a bit more weakly.

  “Keep telling yourself that,” replied the demon queen. “He died to be free of you. Think what kind of misery you inflict, for one to choose death over living with you.”

  The silence stretched behind that statement, until Tempest finally said, “I want to live.”

  “Then listen to my offer.” Lilyth waited, her sapphire eyes cool and distant. The birth of Tempest was so tangled with her own past it was hard to remember the goddess, happy and laughing, instead of the creature now inhabiting the blade, consumed with self-pity and need.

  “You will follow this man,” Lilyth said, pointing to Mithras.

  “I am the Kinslayer, reviled by all Aeris,” the blade replied. “Why would you do this?”

  “We are, after all, family. And I have my reasons.” She walked closer to Mithras and said, “Look upon the god I would have you bond with.” She turned and raised the blade before the Aeris lord.

  Heartbeats passed as the blade seemed to consider him, though no outward sign that she did so was visible. Finally, the blade meekly asked, “Is he worthy?”

  Lilyth nodded slowly. “More so than you. But you will take the Binding Oath and pledge yourself to him. In service you will find peace.”

  Mithras raised his head, his face looking up in rapture as Tempest flooded his mind. He turned to his queen, who inclined her head so he could speak.

  The Aeris lord said to Tempest, “We will bring ruin upon those who betrayed you.”

  Moments passed, then the blade finally said, “By the forge of my maker, I bind myself to Mithras as ally. My Oath as an Aeris lord, I will cause no harm to befall Mithras the Morningstar, either through my action or inaction.”

  Mithras repeated, “By the life given to me by the Lady, I bind myself to Tempest as ally. My Oath as an Aeris lord, I will cause no harm to befall Tempest the Kinslayer, either through my action or inaction.” He reached up and grasped the blade Lilyth had unsheathed, letting his blood run down the metal.

  Tempest absorbed the blood, turning golden in color, her form changing slightly in shape to a gleaming blade with a sun emblazoned upon the hilt forming the cross guard. Mithras rose and grasped her, his eyes bright.

  “She is beautiful,” he breathed, his eyes wide with wonder.

  Lilyth looked at them both, and
said, “I have a special mission for you, Morningstar.”

  Then she sent out a message to Alion Deft. It was silent, meant only for her. It was short, but with it rested the future of all of Lilyth’s people.

  Duncan’s Plight

  When you can show someone their fear

  held in your hands, you have true power.

  - Argus Rillaran, The Power of Deceit

  T

  he space they appeared in was dark, but the echoes made it seem bigger. Arek waited for his eyes to adjust, hearing the shuffle of his companions bounce off walls he couldn’t see.

  Silbane, Kisan, and the Watchers moved forward into the gloom and disappeared, no doubt their vision enhanced. Brianna’s eyes reflected like the silver of a cat’s. When she noticed Arek looking at her she said, “darklight,” as if that explained it. Still, she was sure-footed and Arek surmised she could see just as well as his masters.

  Ash cursed, hitting Arek from behind and then softly apologizing. He and Arek, it seemed, were stuck holding onto Brianna like blind men to find their way. Finally Yetteje solved the problem by drawing back on Valor slightly, causing a golden arrow to appear and lighting the room with its warm glow.

  They were in a chamber with a table on one end. To their shock, they were greeted by the sight of a man hanging suspended between two poles near the opposite wall. He appeared dead, his body torn by brutal lashings. Kisan changed form and went to the table, while Brianna and Arek went to look at the man. At some unspoken agreement, Silbane and the two Watchers took up guarding positions near Brianna and Arek.

  The man hung by his wrists, secured by two thorny vines. Dried blood from lashes that crisscrossed his entire body lay in such numbers there was no skin left unmarred. He was naked, torn, and tortured to such an extent Arek didn’t think he could possibly be alive. It was only when a pale eye opened that he fell back with a gasp.