Borne Rising

by Matthew Callahan

  Morella snickered again. The cruel smile on her face was made all the more sinister by the fiendish look in her eyes.

  “I’ll not lie about it, the Lightborne could’ve had it. They nearly did at first. It’s not only us that’ve not seen a true battle in some time, the Necrothanians suffer the same affliction. We didn’t even see a damn commander amongst their ranks. Their lookouts were inept and disposed of without a single alarm. Din’Dael gave the signal and the Lightborne unleashed hell.”

  Shyldd’s voice quieted a bit. When he spoke, his voice was thin. “Ages pass and so many things in this world stay the same. You forget. You don’t realize what you forget, because it’s forgotten. Somehow I’d forgotten what a wave of Lightborne looks like in a coordinated attack. The brilliant glare of fire. The clap of thunder. You couldn’t even hear the screams through the roar of it all.” His face grew pinched. “The smell, though. The memory of the smell never fades. Crackling sulfur and ozone and burnt flesh . . .” he trailed off. A moment later, he remembered himself and the words came again. The emotion was gone. What remained was a report. “For a minute, it looked like din’Dael’s plan was going to succeed. Then, the first counterattack happened.”

  Will glanced at Rienne. She was silent but he could tell that she was listening. Quennar, though, Quennar’s gaze was utterly vacant.

  “I still don’t know what twisted magic Valmont discovered that allowed him to create such creatures, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to accept it as reality. What emerged from the chaos was like a cloud of bone, spears or the like, propelled with such force that it took the Lightborne clear off their feet when they struck. One wave, one counter, that was it.”

  Shyldd turned his attention to Will. “Sheltered like that in the Sapholux, Noctis, how many times had death come to them? How many friends had they seen die at their feet?” He didn’t wait for Will to answer. “The screams of agony, the blood.” Shyldd shook his head. “I don’t know who it was who broke first, but the fear cascaded through the ranks. The assault ended almost as quickly as it had begun. Then the true Necrothanians—those damn reapers—were upon them, ripping and tearing. The Lightborne tried to run but . . . it was a slaughter.”

  “But din’Dael”—Will shook his head—“I’ve seen him fight. In the Shale, he leveled the entire army and barely batted an eye. He destroyed the whole damn prison! How did—” He stopped, remembering what din’Dael had told him of their power. Like a battery, it drains and needs time to recover.

  “Oh, he fought hard, make no mistake on that. He took down many of the bastards. Eventually, though, when he saw his own people dead and dying around him, he sounded the retreat. A few Necrothanians pursued, but the majority stayed in the camp. Whatever they’re guarding, they weren’t going to abandon it.”

  “How many? How many were lost?”

  Shyldd frowned. “You saw the tents, Noctis. There are not many and they are not full.”

  God dammit, Jero. Will closed his eyes and fought back the anger. “Why this place, then? Why camp here?”

  “Because from here, William, we can enter the cave system that the Necrothanian camp guards.” Cephora said matter-of-factly. “That is why you called for me, Shyldd, yes?”

  “It is indeed.”

  “What about the Lightborne?” Will asked. “What about everyone else?”

  Rienne’s eyes were hazy when she met his gaze. “Redemption, Noctis. We shall avenge the fallen and bring glory to their sacrifice.”

  Will stared, agape. They were the words of Jero din’Dael. His rhetoric. His fanaticism. “Rienne, no. You all need to get back to the Sapholux.”

  “We attack at first light.” Din’Dael sprang to his feet. He was smiling, arms extended. “Our people wish it, Noctis Thorne. They know that, together, you and I shall not lead them astray. Together, we can accomplish great things.”

  Before Will could speak, din’Dael dropped to a knee and retrieved something bundled at his feet. He raised it and allowed the cloth wrapping to fall away, grinning with wild eyes the whole time. He held the contents extended and beckoned for Will. “Come, Noctis Thorne. Together, let us destroy the Necrothanians.”

  He was holding Velier’s broken blade. Flint—the Shard of Night, a Relic of Antiquity.

  29

  Thorn of Night

  “Is that . . .” Morella’s eyes were wide. Cephora cursed and spun away, her agitation in stark contrast to her casual demeanor moments before. Morella placed a trembling hand on Will’s arm. “Will, tell me that that . . .”

  “You know this blade, Burner.” Din’Dael smiled at Will and stepped toward him. “You know what it is and where it came from. This is the way.”

  Flint. Will’s heart pounded in his chest. Gods, he’s giving me a Relic of Antiquity. He swallowed and tore his eyes from the sword to meet din’Dael’s. “What’s your plan, Jero?”

  “My goal today is the same as it has ever been, friend.” Din’Dael held the broken blade out, hilt extended toward Will. “The destruction of our enemies. Peace. You know this.”

  “William.” Cephora’s voice cut through the silence of the tent as she whirled back to face them. “Noctis! Do not do this thing.” She took a step toward din’Dael and the blade, her hands balled into fists. “The Relics are dangerous. Do not take that weapon.”

  Will kept his eyes fixed on din’Dael. His mentor was smiling gently. Nodding to him. Encouraging him. “Take it, Noctis Thorne. It is why I chose you, why I named you.”

  Thorn of night, wielding the Shard of Night. Of course. Will pulled out of Morella’s grasp. He felt her fingers dig into his skin, but he brushed them aside. Flint seemed to call to him. He approached din’Dael and the blade.

  “Will, don’t you dare.” Morella seethed, taking a step after him. “You don’t know what it will do to you. Give it to me. Let me study it first. We need to know what can happen.”

  But Will was already tuning her out. The blade captivated him; its history, its power, it called to him, inviting him. He reached out to grasp the hilt.

  “One last thing,” din’Dael said quickly. “I do hope your fangs still function.”

  Will didn’t have time to respond. His fingers closed upon the Relic. His key sprang to vibrant, terrible life. He screamed, the brutal power of the sword coursing into his body. At the same time, the key gripped him in a searing surge of electricity. His body shook in spasms of agony. Through the pain came a memory of the night his grandfather died. The night of the visions of the tunnel and the creature beneath. The night of roaring pain and agony when magic consumed him.

  He barely registered the dagger in din’Dael’s hand.

  The Revenant lunged and slashed at Will. The dagger cut into the wrist of the hand holding the Relic, scoring a deep gash that ran nearly to his elbow. Will’s fingers, spasming around the blade’s hilt, couldn’t release it. He was dimly aware of Cephora and Morella shouting, but he was too consumed by pain and surprise to react. Din’Dael kicked his legs out from under him and Will slammed to the ground. The room spun. His mentor knelt over him, predatory, and held his left hand to Will’s skull. The hand glowed an emerald green.

  “Cth’al naq faren. Hoq’narro q’en fel.”

  A rush of blazing fury emanated from din’Dael and poured into Will. He instinctively Flared, mounting a near-unconscious defense as the maddening storm of pain coursed through every inch of his body. Absently, he sought the flow of his blood fangs. He gasped as another surge of furious power erupted. Will scrambled for the flows and drew them toward him. His key was a cold storm of blazing fire. The blade in his hand, a lightning rod. Will cried out in defiance as the blood fangs’ power sought to staunch his blood.

  The tent erupted into flames. Will heard Morella’s angry shouts, heard scuffling, heard Cephora cursing. Of Rienne, Shyldd, and Quennar, he knew nothing. His whole being was consumed with the internal battle of din’Dael’s power tearing apart his body.

  Din’Dael’s eyes wer
e bleeding, but the manic smile never left his face. He fought to bring his face closer to Will’s and pulled him to his feet. Will struggled, but there was no use. Din’Dael breathed the words into his ear.

  “This, young friend, is where your life begins.”

  The combination of powers within Will erupted. Din’Dael was flung into the air like a child’s toy, tumbling before slamming into the snow. Will dropped to his knees, trembling, and collapsed to the ground. Steam rose from his body. The power rushing through him waned.

  Will gasped for air in the cold frost of the night. Each breath was a struggle. He went to lift his head and found his insides to be a furious twist of agony. Finally, he was able to turn his head enough to look at his arm. All traces of the wound were gone.

  Will coughed and sputtered, each movement sending new tremors of pain shooting through his body. His ears rang. He tried to swallow, but his throat didn’t seem to work.

  Then, Morella was there, her face a mask of pure rage as she scanned his eyes for signs of life. She placed her head to his chest and ran her fingers along his arm and down to the hand that gripped Flint. She tried to pry the blade from his fingers. “Dammit, let go,” she snarled.

  “I’m . . . fine,” he wheezed. Shock overtook Morella’s enraged face before rapidly changing to worry. She abandoned the sword and ran her hands over his face, pulling at him, raising his head. He winced and tried to draw back, but she wouldn’t let go.

  “You damn Casc,” she whispered as she kissed his forehead. “What the hell have you done?”

  “Something . . . painful.”

  Painful didn’t begin to cover it. This was neither physical nor mental pain; this was pain of his very being, of his soul. He grimaced as Morella cradled his head in her hands.

  “You’re alive.” Her voice was hollow and her eyes were vacant. “That’s what matters, Will. You’re alive.”

  “A surprise, to say the least.” Cephora and Shyldd approached. Cephora shook her head at Will. “That was foolish, Will. Exceedingly foolish.” Her eyes drifted, scanning the horizon. “Now, where is that other fool?”

  The throbbing of his body began to gradually ease. Will tapped the final vestiges of the blood fangs and let the magic do its work. It helped; he felt better. Not good, by any means, but better. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and raised his head.

  The tent was gone and many others had been knocked down by the blast. The Lightborne who were housed within, fewer than Will had imagined even on his worst guess, stood huddled, staring at the scene. Rienne was there, a hand on vacant-eyed Quennar’s shoulder. Jero din’Dael were nowhere to be seen. Those who looked on all bore the same distracted emptiness of Quennar and Rienne. Whatever this new intrigue, it did not seem to break them from their despair.

  “Aye, well. This changes things.” Shyldd appraised Will. “No offense, boy, but I didn’t think you had it in you.”

  “Had what in me?” Will managed to raise his left hand and rub his eyes. His right still gripped the sword. “The stupidity to trust a madman who’s as likely to kill you as he is to greet you?”

  “He wasn’t trying to kill you, Will.” Morella shook her head. “He was fighting to save you.”

  Will craned his neck and felt it crack, releasing some of the tension. “Morella, I think you must have been looking in a different tent.”

  “She’s not wrong, William,” Cephora said. “Bindings are . . . dangerous affairs.”

  “Bindings?” Will tried to open his right hand. Again, the fingers did not respond. A sense of panic came over him and he tried again, willing with all his might to move the fingers. After a moment, they began to open in a scream of pain. He gasped.

  “Not physical, William. Soul binding.” Cephora shook her head. “Din’Dael is a fool.”

  Soul binding? He dropped Flint to the ground and flexed his stiff fingers. “What, din’Dael and I are connected now?”

  Cephora snickered but it was Shyldd who responded. “No, Noctis. You and the blade are connected.”

  “He’s not dead, then?” came a weary voice. Everyone looked up as the crowd parted. A very bruised, very battered din’Dael approached. “That’s a pleasant surprise.”

  Morella spat on the ground at his approach. Cephora sniffed. “You could have killed him, Jero. You didn’t even give him a choice.”

  Din’Dael waved a dismissive hand and limped toward Will. “He knew what he was doing.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  Din’Dael didn’t seem to hear him. “And now, Noctis Thorne, we have a far better chance against our enemies.” The tall man smiled pleasantly while Morella groaned and rolled her eyes.

  “None of you are in any shape to fight anyone,” she growled at him. “A child could best you in your current state.” She turned back to Will. “Will, my love, listen to me. We need to leave right now. We need to get as far from here as we can. This is suicide. We have to go.” She leaned down and kissed him. “You need to recover and there is no way that this venture can succeed. Let’s go. Promise me, let’s go.”

  Will struggled to sit up. She was right, of course. She was protecting him. But when he saw the faces of those around him, the weary, beaten faces of those whom he had eaten with, trained with, bled with, he knew he couldn’t leave them. He briefly considered consulting Cephora, to ask the ancient Seeker what her thoughts were, but he stopped.

  The crowd of Lightborne trickled away. This is my decision. It’s like din’Dael always said. Will scanned the backs of the retreating, then raised weary eyes to Morella. “My people need me.”

  Her beautiful face distorted, her lips curling in a snarl. “Again. Again you don’t listen.” She shot out a hand and pointed at din’Dael. “Do you remember what happened the last time you ignored my warnings? Do you remember what you unleashed on the world?”

  “Morella, please.” Will held up a hand. “This time will be different. I swear.”

  She gave a spiteful laugh and shook her head. “Oh yes, I’m certain of that.”

  “It will be.” Will looked at her, then at din’Dael, Cephora, and Shyldd, before finally resting his eyes on Rienne. “This time, we control the outcome.” He glanced back to din’Dael. “Not a wildcard.”

  Shyldd chuckled. “Such confidence from one so young.”

  “He may surprise you yet,” Cephora muttered.

  Will hurt. He didn’t want to show it, didn’t want to admit it, but something inside him felt torn out. Every time din’Dael lays his damn hands on me . . . He looked up at the man and saw something of the old din’Dael in there. The strange need, the yearning for Will to understand something.

  How the hell do I help? His thoughts drifted to the surviving Lightborne, to the Seekers, to Morella. How do I save them? He found himself wishing for Madigan, someone to bounce idiotic ideas off until something solid came from them. But that’s not going to happen. He was here, now. The people here needed him. Now.

  “We can do this,” he said with as much confidence as he could muster. “I’ve got a plan.”

  All eyes fell to him.

  “What?” Morella snapped.

  Will’s fingers were stiff from where they’d gripped Flint. He flexed them and looked down. “I said I’ve got a plan.”

  “Gods, Will. You can’t be serious.” Morella stood tense and rigid. Will could see her fuming. “You’ve got a plan?”

  “Surprise, surprise,” Shyldd said, shaking his head. “Cephora, where do you find these people?”

  Cephora didn’t acknowledge Shyldd but kept her gaze fixed firmly on Will. He felt naked beneath her eyes as she scrutinized him, no doubt trying to determine what his plan might be. Yeah, if she figures it out, maybe she’ll be kind enough to fill me in on it as well.

  Din’Dael, however, clapped his hands and laughed. “Ever the inquisitive mind surprises. Ever the youthful delight. This is Noctis Thorne!”

  Everyone turned to stare at him. Even Will, who appreciated the brief distraction f
rom their attentions, was taken aback. “Yeah, well. Give me some time to get everything straight, alright?”

  “Light’s fall, Will,” Morella muttered, crossing her arms and leaning away from him. “You really are a fool.”

  Will shot her a look. He wasn’t going to take any of her attitude right now, not while he was still reeling from yet another of din’Dael’s damn enhancements. “Not everyone just turns tail and runs when others need our help.”

  The look of pure shock that crossed Morella’s face was nearly comical. Stealing the humor, however, was the look of spite and malice that replaced it. She glared at him then allowed her harsh gaze to drift to all those present. A sudden silence descended. Will braced himself for a slap. It never came. Wordlessly, she turned and walked away. She paused momentarily in front of din’Dael and Rienne, eyed them both, then spat before continuing. Will made no effort to follow.

  “You’ll hear about that one soon enough,” Cephora said when Morella was well out of earshot. Will thought he could trace a hint of amusement in her voice.

  “Only if we don’t all get slaughtered in the next few hours.” Will pushed himself to his feet. Shyldd stepped forward and stretched out a hand to help him, but Will waved him away. “Thanks, but I can manage.” He flicked his eyes at din’Dael. “I’ve been through worse.”

  Din’Dael burst into laughter. “Ah, Noctis. I knew you’d understand. You see it, don’t you?”

  “Jero. A word alone, if I may?” Will kept his voice neutral despite the frustration building inside his chest.

  “Certainly.” The Revenant grinned and cocked his head to the side. “Out. Everyone.”

  “Out of what, exactly?” Cephora said sardonically. “The cold, perhaps? You destroyed your tent, din’Dael.”

  Jero glanced around, apparently only now realizing that they were exposed to the elements. He snickered.

  “We’ll walk,” Will said quickly. His body was aching and his head still pounded. “I need to stretch my legs and get some blood moving.”