Mythborn: Rise of the Adepts

by Lakshman, V.

  That got their attention and soon the squad had created a shield wall with furniture and armed themselves with bow and sword, preparing to defend entry to this room from anyone who emerged. Alyx made sure they understood the firstmark and two others might return from a mission through that doorway. They would be a woman and man, and that missile fire be held to ensure they did not shoot a friendly target. The men picked were some of the best, and she and Ash had confidence they understood. She reported back to Ash that the portal was as secure as they could make it.

  The king inspected the men, then motioned to the firstmark to accompany him over to one side. "Good work. Jebida knew you were ready, long before this."

  "I never expected..." Ash didn’t know how to finish that sentence. He felt the overwhelming responsibility of leadership, more so now that his mentor was gone. It was so easy to lead, he mused, when you had someone above you. Now he had been promoted to firstmark and charged with the defense of Bara’cor. It fell to him and him alone to defend this portal and access to the stronghold. Should they be overrun, they would perish from the inside out.

  "I will do my duty," was all he could think to say.

  The king clasped the new firstmark on the shoulder and said, "Of that I have no doubt."

  Ash began to reply, but stopped in mid thought, his eyes searching the room. "Where are they?"

  The king looked at his new firstmark, not comprehending the question. "Who?"

  Ash pointed at the ground of the chamber, where the bodies of the assassins had lain. "Our attackers... where did they go?"

  The king then noticed what Ash meant. The bodies of Talis, Sevel, and Chandra were still in the room, now arranged neatly side by side, but of the men who attacked them, there was no sign. "Did anyone clear out the bodies of the attackers?" he said to the assembled room.

  Alyx answered, "Sire, when we came in, it was only you two and our fallen. I ordered my team to care for our own."

  "We need to find out what’s going on," said Ash. Bodies don’t just disappear.

  The king nodded and made his way to the door, followed by the firstmark. A half dozen more men approached from the hallway, clearly in mid run to this chamber.

  "My lord," said the first, "sounds have been heard from below the fortress. We have stationed men at every corridor and told everyone to stay in their quarters."

  "Sounds?" the king asked.

  "Aye, sire. Like animals, something wild." The guard clearly did not know how to elaborate more and Bernal decided against pushing for details he knew would get them nowhere.

  "Wise decision," he said instead, addressing the earlier statement about getting people sequestered, "watch for intruders. And bring me the guards that stood watch at the guest ward, where we held the boy, Arek."

  The guard saluted, fist to chest. "At once, sire." He sped off while two more took station at the room’s entrance.

  The remaining two fell in step behind the king, who looked at Ash And said, "We need to send out patrols to look for Niall."

  "And the princess," added Ash. "If Niall went with Arek, you can be sure Yetteje is not far behind."

  "That girl has a stubborn streak in her," the king grumbled, "much like her father did."

  "As many of royal blood," Ash replied with a smile.

  Bernal looked at the new firstmark, then broke into a smile that looked more like a grimace. "Aye, probably true." A serious look came to his eyes then, and his face said he was about to ask something uncomfortable. "I saw you hit with a dart, like Talis. He fell instantly. I hate to ask this but, why are you still alive?"

  Ash looked at his sword, Why indeed?

  At first, nothing happened. Tempest seemed dead in his hands, though he caught a faint feeling of reluctance. Then her voice sounded in his head, I intervened.

  How? Ash questioned.

  The sword seemed to hesitate again, then said, I took the lives of those who had fallen, to save yours, beloved.

  What?

  They would have passed anyway. I only took what they no longer needed. You must survive. It was said so matter-of-factly, so emotionlessly that Ash felt his body go numb.

  You killed them?

  They had passed beyond help... Tempest sounded petulant, but then her voice became firm and she said, I would kill everyone in this fortress to keep you safe.

  Guilt washed over Ash as he heard these words. He could feel the truth in them, and this horrified him more. He looked at the king, then back at the sword. He had to get rid of her or more would fall.

  No, beloved. I am yours now.

  Ash held the blade out and said, "Tempest healed me, but she took the lives of our men to do it."

  The king’s eyes widened and a look of horror washed over his regal features. "She... what?"

  Ash nodded, grief etched in his countenance. "She says they would have died anyway, but... how can I keep her?"

  You cannot be rid of me, beloved. I am yours.

  Ash tried to drop the blade, but as before in the king’s interview with Arek, his hand would not open. He used his other hand, but the blade clung as if it were a part of him. No matter what he tried, he could not let the blade go. He then sheathed her and tried to undo the buckle. It would not budge. "This is impossible." It seemed that so long as his intent was to let her go, she would not allow it.

  The king moved forward to assist, but Tempest said, If he touches me, I will kill him.

  Ash held up a hand. "Wait! She says she will kill you."

  The king stopped short, then backed away a step. "What can you do?"

  "I don’t know. I need to talk to one of the adepts. They may know something."

  Why do you hate me? Tempest said, sounding somehow both innocent and hurt.

  Just then, the guard returned with the two who had been stationed outside of Arek’s room. The king looked sympathetically at Ash, then turned to face the men.

  "Our guest left his room. Who was with him?" he asked.

  The more senior of the two shifted uncomfortably, then answered, "Your son and the Princess of EvenSea, sire."

  "And where did they go?"

  The man then stammered out, "B-beggin’ your pardon, sire, but the prince ordered us to step aside. He said the prisoner—our guest—complained of pain and he was taking him to the Healers Ward."

  "Clearly they didn't go there," offered Ash, his attention still on his blade.

  "Alert the men," the king commanded. "We are looking for my son, Princess Tir, or the boy Arek. I have reason to believe they are in the catacombs that lead under Bara’cor, near the cisterns. If any see them, hold them and send for me. I am going to the cisterns."

  "As you command, sire." The guards saluted and ran back to the stairwell that led to the wall. They would meet with the commander of the watch and relate the king’s orders.

  Just then, the ground shook again, heaving itself up as if something below the fortress stirred. Ash took two steps forward, then another, greater shockwave passed, knocking any unsecured items to the ground, including the king and the firstmark. A sound, like a low groan, came from somewhere deep beneath them.

  "We can’t wait for Jebida," the king said, "we need to go now."

  "You’re unarmed..." Ash turned to a guard and motioned, who unbuckled his blade to hand it over.

  "No need," said the king. "I’ll make a stop on the way. Keep your weapon."

  The man held it out for a second longer, but then, with a nod from Ash, withdrew it.

  "Are you sure?" asked Ash.

  "My father’s weapons wait for me." He turned to the guards still in the hallway. "Two of you come with us, the rest hold position here. When Jebida and the team come through, you send them to the Healers Ward."

  The king started to turn but stopped, a stricken look by Ash getting his attention. "What is it?"

  The new firstmark looked around, then shook his head, the facts clear. "I can’t go with you."

  "What?"

  "My king, these men
do not know these adepts. Only you and I know Kisan’s plan or identity. If Jebida does not return, these men will attempt to hold them until one of us can authorize their release. This can lead to ruin."

  The king was stunned. He dropped his head in shame, but when he looked back up, there was pride in his eyes. "You are correct, Firstmark. Station our defenders and remain. Make sure that when Jeb returns, he and any others are ushered as quickly as possible to the cisterns." The king’s eyes searched his friend’s and then he finished, "In this instance, I am a father first, a king second. I must go."

  "Of course, sire," the firstmark nodded. "I am sorry."

  The king shook his head, already turning, "You saw where the assassin was going. Bring reinforcements. We will descend through the left main stairwell." He smiled, then trotted off with three guards in tow.

  Ash watched his broad back leave, then made his way back into the room with the Finder’s portal. A part of him was secretly relieved. His distrust in Tempest and what she might do to the king or his men should Ash’s life be threatened had left him unsure for their safety.

  The men crouched behind various impromptu cover, bows ready and blades close by. The black doorway would be the killing ground, a natural choke point to concentrate their fire. He hoped Jebida would return with Kisan and Silbane. If not, it would mean they were dead and no one remained to close the portal against a nomad invasion. Either they would hold them here, or Bara’cor would be overrun from the inside out.

  ONE DIES, TWO LIVE

  Clean the blade quickly.

  Wash your palms thoroughly.

  Blood sticks, the last gasp of a dying man,

  To put his failure on your hands.

  —Kensei Tsao, The Lens of Blades

  Silbane sat in the tent where Scythe had left him, still bound by the magic of the red-robed mage. Though he had been unable to remove the torc blocking him from the Way, his body had continued to heal at an accelerated rate. Either this was due to some of his innate Talent, or the continuation of Scythe’s healing spell. In either case, he could feel most of the broken bones in his face and nose had knitted together correctly and he no longer felt on the verge of passing out.

  Now it was clear to him that on his first day of capture, he had been in a mental fugue due to his injuries, Scythe’s meddling, or both. It was obvious they had interrogated him, but he had been unable to understand this simple fact with the easy clarity he had now.

  He suspected Scythe’s spells were responsible, more so than the physical damage he’d suffered at the hands of the nomad warriors. The problem was, with the torc in place, he could not defend himself from more magical interrogation, regardless of his willpower. Getting the torc off was his first priority and to do this he needed to free his hands.

  He braced his feet under him and slid up the pole he rested against. He had made it a point to do this at regular intervals to keep his legs limber. Though his arms were secured, nothing prevented him from using his legs. His first thought when clarity had returned had been to kick and break the pole he stood secured to, but one look told him it would be impossible without access to the Way. The beam was just too thick.

  As he rose to stretch, he saw a flash come from behind him and the sound of air whooshing. The Finder! Arek must have used it, which would attract Scythe. They didn’t have much time.

  "I told you to wait in Bara’cor. Now we are in grave danger."

  Someone came up behind him and whispered, "It’s not Arek, old friend."

  * * * * *

  Kisan saw Silbane’s back stiffen in shock upon hearing her voice. His arms were clasped behind a pole, but there was no rope holding him there. It seemed Silbane just clasped his hands together voluntarily. Suspecting the cause, Kisan turned her Sight upon the other master.

  She could see that Silbane’s power to control his arms was locked by someone skilled in the Way. She should have been more shocked, but given what the lore father had told her and what she had recently seen, she took in this information matter-of-factly.

  Now the priority was releasing the locks upon Silbane. She concentrated and looked at the method used to neutralize the master’s control. It was not unlike many of the techniques she herself used on opponents during combat and very similar to what had been done to Two. She could see the points on Silbane’s spine where the locks held him immobile and smiled in satisfaction as they dissipated at her touch.

  Silbane’s arms came free and he spun. Kisan looked at him with a hint of a smile but sadness in her eyes. They clasped forearms in greeting and without wasting a moment Silbane grabbed the torc and pulled. Nothing happened. He looked stunned, then let go as Kisan moved in to inspect the torc.

  She pulled at it experimentally, but it seemed to grow warmer as she tugged. She turned her Sight upon it and said, "It responds to the Way and somehow uses our energy to stay locked. Ingenious."

  Silbane cursed and said, "How do we get this accursed thing off?"

  Kisan looked around, then her eyes fell upon the firstmark. She smiled and said, "Jebida, could you assist us?"

  The gruff firstmark came over and looked at the collar. What they wanted slowly dawned on him and he asked, "It’s magical?"

  Kisan nodded. "But you won’t feel a thing," she said with a small smile.

  Jebida scowled at the woman, then looked at Silbane. It was clear that much of the world still held a distaste for magic that ran deep, but without Silbane’s help they were doomed. Need was the mother of all things. He lightly touched the torc. With a small click, it unlatched!

  Jebida pulled the torc from Silbane’s neck and handed it to the master. "You’ll carry your own weight."

  Kisan sensed the Way surround Silbane, flooding his body with healing and awareness.

  "A lot has happened," she told Silbane. "You need to know." She closed her eyes and touched Silbane’s forehead, imparting in an instant what had happened to her since they saw each other last. However, she kept from him anything she had learned about Arek’s true nature, as the lore father had ordered.

  Kisan had become comfortable that the boy was dangerous and could not afford to have Silbane try to protect him. Furthermore, she couldn’t risk having to face the other master. Instead, she conveyed her regret at their argument, her flight with the assassins, Giridian’s news of the death of the lore father and Thera, the assault on Bara’cor and the plight of Arek, the attack of the assassins on the king, and her defense of the same.

  Grief visibly punched Silbane’s gut at the news confirming Themun and Thera’s deaths. He paused, then gave Kisan all the details of what had happened to him. He started with the journey to the Far’anthi Stone, then his argument with Rai’stahn, the great dragon’s death, and his own capture at the hands of Hemendra’s men, and finally the details of a red-robed mage called Scythe.

  Scythe held onto sanity by a very fragile thread and this made him an unpredictable foe. However, Silbane suspected he knew much about the Gate, his "life’s work," as he had called it.

  Most importantly, he shared his vision about General Valarius’s meeting with the Conclave of Dragons, given to him by Rai’stahn along with the gift of Sight. When he stopped, Kisan looked at him with a mixture of awe and a strange intensity.

  "What?" Silbane asked.

  Kisan didn’t reply. The vision was disturbing because the revelations contained within seemed eerily similar to the ones Giridian had with Thoth. She also realized only she had seen both visions and therefore had a unique perspective on the situation.

  Having shared thoughts, she knew where Silbane fell on the matter of Arek. Oh, it was true the master had some doubts about his apprentice, but had already faced grave danger once due to his paternal instinct for the boy.

  She, however, couldn’t allow herself such latitude. The new vision about the blackness Silbane saw filled her with dread. To her, the fact that he destroyed the Way was obvious and every mishap concerning Arek on the Isle supported this conclusion. Rai�
�stahn’s admonition portended to dire consequences should Silbane’s apprentice be allowed to live. It firmed her resolve to keep this information to herself until she could sort things out, but also gave her hope that if the order came to share this with Silbane, the information might compel him to lend his aid and not stand against them.

  She could not, however, trust Rai’stahn. Though they seemed to have aligned interests, she still did not know if this so-called Conclave had fed Silbane a true vision, or if it had been invented for his benefit. They had their own agenda, something that Lore Father Giridian clearly did not trust, and therefore neither did she.

  She looked at her old friend, feigning disbelief at the circumstances at the Far’anthi Stones, and said, "You faced Rai’stahn and lived? Impressive."

  She didn’t trust herself to say more, afraid Silbane would see through her easily. Still, they had suffered much loss over the past few days and rescuing Silbane felt right. She squeezed the other’s hand again, a reaffirmation of their common bond and friendship, based on their years together. She unrealistically hoped the situation with Arek would not come between them, and at the same time knew with certainty that it would.

  Then Silbane stepped around Kisan, faced the firstmark, and said, "Jebida, we can’t leave just yet."

  The firstmark was startled when this new mage used his name. "How did you...?"

  "I know everything she knows, a tactical advantage of sorts." He missed the chagrined look that flashed momentarily across Kisan’s face at the mention of "everything," his unwavering focus on the giant warrior instead. "Even the way you treated my apprentice." It came out detached, but the intensity in his gaze hinted at the anger brewing behind his eyes.

  Jebida took it in, then spat once and grunted, "Your skin. Risk it however you will. I’m not Ash and I don’t want or need your help. You are welcome to leave."