Mythborn: Rise of the Adepts

by Lakshman, V.

  "Doubtful. You’ve not seen my father fight. If we—" he stopped, then corrected himself—"if you and Yetteje can kill him, my father will be just fine." Niall sheathed his sword.

  The floor of the chamber began to crumble, turning into sand under the dead man, and he began sinking into the stone.

  "What’s going on?" exclaimed Yetteje, scrambling back.

  "Stand clear," Arek said. "I don’t know, but it’s speeding up."

  Indeed, even as the small group of companions looked on, the man disappeared under the stone, which then hardened back to normal. Yetteje moved up and poked it with her foot, but the stone was unyielding.

  "What do you think happened?" she asked no one in particular.

  Niall said, "If it was a builder, it’s said they have a friendship with rock. Maybe Bara’cor is doing something it only does for them."

  "Great," said Yetteje, looking around, "the fortress is alive too."

  Arek looked at his friends, then at the pyramid and the sapphire sun blazing at its apex. Its blue aura permeated his skin, warming him from within. He could almost feel himself growing in power, as if he were absorbing sustenance directly from the blue light’s coronal discharge. "I need to go up there," he said.

  "Why?" asked Yetteje, the tone of her question leaving no doubt the idea of going up to a flaming sun was clearly ridiculous.

  Arek looked at the other two and realized the time had come for him to offer some sort of explanation, even a brief one, so he said, "I have always had the power to disrupt magic. My master brought me on this mission because of it."

  He looked back at the sun, glowing with its azure flames, and said, "My master searched for a gate between our world and another, one controlled by the demon Lilyth. I think this is it."

  Both Niall and Yetteje looked shocked at Arek’s revelation, then Niall said, "You’re joking."

  "No," Arek replied, "but if I touch the Gate, I think I can disrupt it, closing it forever." It was a simple statement supported by facts Arek had put together from various things he had seen or heard from the council, his master, and his encounters with Piter's shade.

  Arek could now see he was a tool to the lore father, nothing more. He had probably decided to close the Gate with Arek’s power, and the only way he could be sure was to make Arek touched it, willingly or unwillingly. So his master had been sent to carry out those orders.

  His master’s hasty explanation and apology back at the Far’anthi Stone hinted he had been disobeying those orders, though why he had obeyed them at all was still suspect. Piter had essentially told him so when they had stood upon the dunes. They would use his power and sacrifice him.

  His master had tried to send him away for this very reason. Rai’stahn had tried to kill him, and in that moment something insidious in what Piter had said caused him to flee. Still, he had not felt afraid when he dove for the Stone, only focused on Piter’s instructions. Why was that?

  His eyebrows drew together as he thought. He had run to the Far’anthi Stone and had somehow managed to activate it. That action had dropped him into this predicament and left him alone to confront the Gate.

  A cold anger grew at being used in this way. He spiraled into it, forgetting Silbane had tried to save him by sending him away. It was as if another force slowly bent his thoughts in on themselves, consuming him with feelings of betrayal and injustice. His eyes began to darken in anticipation of violence. Then he breathed out and they cleared, pale blue and normal, and the feelings vanished as suddenly as they had come.

  "So there’s no weapon?" said Yetteje, the hurt from Arek’s betrayal in her voice. "My family remains unavenged?" Her stance and demeanor conveyed her rising anger at what she thought was duplicity.

  Arek looked at her with a start, then snapped, "Grow up, closing this Gate is important for the world."

  Then the scene froze and Piter appeared again, looking comparatively happy. He stood at the base of the pyramid and beckoned to Arek. "You are as smart as a dog, at least."

  Arek walked forward, facing the shade, and said, "Shut up, Piter. They used me. All of them, and that includes you."

  "Perhaps," answered the shade. "Though there was nothing but death for you without me, remember? I saved you when Silbane could not."

  Arek quieted at this, his doubt of the council and Piter’s condemnation of his master difficult to ignore. He licked his lips and asked, "You mentioned Sovereign. Tell me, what is it?"

  The shade smiled and nodded. "Smarter than a dog. The Sovereign guides this world. And there is more. You are necessary to free the Aeris."

  "Aeris? Necessary? How? Is this truly a rift between our worlds?"

  Piter nodded and said, "You can set things right."

  "You did not answer my question, shade. What is the Sovereign, and how does it guide our world?"

  The shade of Piter looked contemplative, then his head cocked to one side as if he were listening to something. After a moment, he said, "The Sovereign guides your hand, even now. Do not falter, imbecile."

  The scene snapped back and Arek caught himself as the very space around him seemed to vibrate.

  "It happened again, didn’t it?" asked Yetteje.

  "What?" Arek snapped at her again. Given the Isle’s betrayal and Piter’s annoying tendency to leave when most inconvenient, he was left with little patience for everything right now, least of all not getting answers. Still, how was she able to perceive these moments where time stopped for him?

  "I felt it too. Something skipped, like when your helm is hit hard," Niall offered, getting in between them.

  Arek shook his head, frustrated by everything. He didn’t understand the circumstances by which he had his moments, but it seemed strange all three of them could sense it. He looked back up at the pyramid. The council be damned, he thought, I can save the world. He looked at his companions and said, "If I touch that thing up there, I can stop something terrible from happening. I need you both to trust me."

  A moment passed as all three looked at each other, then at the pyramid. To Niall, Arek had defended them, risking his life to combat the assassin. He could have run, but didn’t. Instead, he had stood with them facing the same danger, risking his own life.

  However, it was Yetteje who spoke first. "I trusted you to lead us to a weapon, something I could use for... justice."

  Arek held his hands open, beseeching her to listen. "Look, I’m sorry for being short earlier, but you wanted revenge. I never promised that. I did say coming here would be important. Closing this rift will help Bara’cor."

  "Tej, come on," Niall said. "We’ll find another way, but Arek needs to do this now."

  "Why is he even bothering to ask? We couldn’t stop him even if we wanted to," Yetteje stated, matter-of-factly. "He’s just asking because he’s scared and knows this is wrong."

  "That’s not true," said Arek, his mind in turmoil, "why say such a thing?" He could feel the truth of her words, however, even as he asked the question.

  Yetteje knew it too and turned to face Arek, hands on her hips, "You’re so sure you can close this Gate? What if it opens?"

  "That won’t happen. I disrupt magic, I can’t do anything else."

  Yetteje advanced and poked him in the chest, "Really? What was that black flame you created? Was that nothing?"

  Arek shook his head. "You don’t understand. I can close this Gate. I know it. You have to trust me."

  "Why? Because you say so?" She looked at Niall in exasperation and said, "You’re a Galadine, by the Lady! Your family has stood as guardians of Edyn since who can remember? Now you’ll just let him go up there?" She paused, then asked them both, "What if you’re wrong? Who else but the three of us even knows a Gate lies under Bara’cor?"

  Arek scoffed. "You don’t know what you’re talking about. The council and my master thought this was the way. I can still succeed."

  "And the glory will be mine!" Yetteje finished. "I can hear it, even when you don’t say it."

 
Niall walked up to Yetteje and said, "Leave it. How do you know what he is doing isn’t self-sacrifice? He stood by us when he could have run. That was not for glory."

  Yetteje looked at Niall, then at Arek, and a moment passed. Then she said, "You are idiots, both of you." With that, she turned away. "Let him go. He doesn’t need us and we can’t stop him."

  Niall watched her retreat, a hurt look on his face. Then he let loose a sigh, shaking his head, and walked back to Arek. Looking up at him from under his brow he cracked a small smile and gripped his shoulder. "She’s hurt and angry, but doesn’t mean it. You saved our lives, so I trust you. Go ahead, we’ll keep watch down here."

  They locked eyes, an unspoken bond between them, then Arek nodded and walked to the pyramid. Niall moved in behind him, taking station at the lowest step. Yetteje moved away, her stance making her anger plain for anyone to see.

  Arek started up the pyramid. The steps passed under his feet as the dark sun’s brilliance grew. The blue-white radiance cast scintillating shadows, but no heat. It flowed through him, stoking an inner furnace until it burned with the brightness of a star. To Arek it felt as if he had been caressed by power incarnate. Below, he could see his friends anxiously looking up at him, then back at the entrance, as if they expected another assassin to appear.

  Arek knew there would be no more interruptions. The shade of Piter, while avoiding some of his questions, had said he could set things right. That rang true in his ears and he believed it. He had always known he was special, somehow destined for greatness. He wished the other adepts and students could be here now so they could see this and know it too. He was free of the shame; no stupid tests to measure his failure, no doubt from his instructors, no jests made at his expense by his fellow students.

  He recalled the dreams of conquest he’d had at the dunes near the Far’anthi Tower when holding Tempest. That place seemed an eternity away and yet, even then he knew he was here for a reason. He smiled, and that smile came from the knowledge that now, for the first time since coming to the Isle and starting his apprenticeship, he was finally important.

  The portal stood before him, its light and fire ethereal but still blinding. Arek took a deep breath and raised his ungloved hands. Then he reached out hesitantly. This was going to save the world, and cement his place as its savior. This was the reason his master had risked their lives. This was the reason Piter had appeared to tell him he was the one destined to close the Gate. He was an adept now and about to fulfill his destiny.

  Arek’s resolve crystallized and he thrust his hand forward, into the portal. A detonation of black fire occurred, power coursing through the connection and into his body. It burned inward through every pore, every fiber of his being, consumed by his dark aura. It filled him with raw power, energy that for a moment seemed to outshine the sun. The entire fortress heaved as if a giant moved beneath the ground and from deep within him came a sigh of ecstasy, given voice by the same wind he imagined would whisper his true name.

  He took a breath and could feel a knot of power within him unravel, its energy expanding in waves. The ground heaved again, the very earth shaking in response. Something had come undone, unlocked, he could feel it uncurl, like space itself unfolding. He drew another breath, filled with power, then heard the wind’s call.

  "Arek."

  The voice was female and beautiful, yet it whispered his name, not some hidden eldritch appellation of power. He opened his eyes, now shining black, and looked into the radiance surrounding him. In that place of light he saw a woman walking slowly toward him.

  She was tall, regal, with skin the softest blue. Her black hair was tied up into an intricate weave, held in place by a silver circlet. Her body stood draped in silver chainmail, accented by sapphire gemstones. For a moment he thought he saw enormous wings behind her, but as she stepped into the light the illusion disappeared. She reached out a gloved hand and delicately stroked Arek’s face.

  "It is with happiness that I greet you." Her voice was soothing, luxurious, and soft. Her cerulean eyes danced with joy as she looked down upon Arek. "You are the salvation of our world."

  Arek looked at this goddess, this being that had come to life before him. He couldn’t believe it. His dreams of power, of conquest, of importance, seemed to pale before the reality she represented. She was more immediate, more real than any dream he’d ever had. She stood before him and he felt himself small in her presence, a supplicant under her imperious gaze.

  He looked up at her and whispered, "Who are you?"

  She reached down and carefully raised him from a kneel he had not realized he had fallen to, saying, "I am Lilyth, Celestial of the Aeris, and the Lady of Flame. I have been called Sacmys, Kore, and a thousand other names, for I am the Eye of the Sun and Eternal."

  Arek was confused. The Gate was supposed to have shut. Did she say, the Lady? What happened? As if in answer, dozens of shades appeared, all people from his past. Did this mean they had all perished? Impossible! They stood silent, watching him like statues paying homage to the swathe of death that had followed in his wake.

  His mind rebelled at the sheer number of dead now surrounding him. He could see Adept Thera at their lead, and worse, dozens of children! In front of them came the only other person he had seen killed, Sargin, whole now, who stepped forward and bowed. Arek took a step back at the sight of him, his mind overwhelmed by the magnitude of death that had occurred over just a few short days.

  "You have accomplished the impossible, Master," Sargin said in a gruff voice, still filled with hate.

  When Arek didn’t say anything, the shade Sargin continued, "For you, the Aeris have waited."

  Arek shook his head, then looked back at the goddess before him. "Who... am I?" he asked.

  "Arek," Lilyth said with compassion in her eyes, "you are my son."

  Journal Entry 22

  Forgive me the delays in writing, though you do not perceive the passage of time between these sentences. For me, more weeks have passed, and they have been busy.

  Malak has grown to fulfill the role of my defender. I have bestowed upon him the title, firstmark, for being the first to take up the shield I had marked with protective runes that night when he came to my defense. Now his role is to protect my castle and the surrounding environs.

  My firstmark speaks of building a stronghold that will allow me to work in peace. He was also the first imp to speak, though to look at him now, one does not see the tiny creature that used to hide within my cocoon. I cannot bring myself to call him and his kin "imps" any longer. That word does not suffice and they have earned another name for their service.

  I think I shall call them "elf" or "elves," a play on his very first word, and homage to our own children’s tales. And they are useful! Unlike those creatures, my elves are mythborn and war-forged.

  I saw a flash and a rift open and close, not too far off. I send my elves to investigate. We will see a new order brought to this world, with me as its ruler.

  BERNAL’S QUEST

  When you are ready,

  Give your offspring over to training by another.

  No father can strike with the force,

  Necessary to breed expertise,

  And with his love,

  Condemns his child to an early grave.

  —Davyd Dreys, Notes to my Sons

  Even as Ash made ready his final preparations at the portal, the king angled his way toward the main council chamber, where the Far’anthi Stones were located. He turned down corridors, noting patrols at each intersection, then finally into the hallway that led to the chamber itself.

  As he neared, he could see a group of guards inspecting the area. He came up on the ranking soldier and asked, "What happened here?" A booted foot stuck out from the chamber doorway.

  "Four dead, sire. Don’t know who killed them, but it was done quick. Knife thrust to the throat or heart," answered the man-at-arms. "We’ll clean this up and station more men."

  "Put every man within
sight of at least two others. If someone goes missing, raise the alarm," the king said.

  The man-at-arms saluted and went to see to the king’s orders.

  Bernal sighed, then moved into the room. The bodies of four of his guards lay in pools of their own blood, and a sadness fell upon him at their sacrifice. These were the men Kisan had spoken of. However, like the missing attackers in his own encounter, the body of the man Kisan said she’d killed was nowhere to be seen. The adept didn’t seem to be the type to make things up, which left the king with an unshakeable sense of foreboding.

  Without wasting any time, he crossed the chamber, making his way to a wall holding a sword and shield. Approaching the ancient weapons, he reached up and took down the Galadine blade, known as Azani, double-edged, straight, and keen. He grabbed the matching scabbard and in a single smooth motion sheathed it. He then strapped the shield across his back, its golden lion rampant on its black face, framed by lightning. That accomplished, he walked over to the table and scooped up Valor and a quiver of arrows.

  He looked at his men with steel in his eyes. He carried with him now the weapons of his father and it filled him with a sense of purpose like nothing else had. "Down the stairwell. We head for the cisterns."

  "Aye, sire." The men didn’t hesitate, but made their way out of the room and into the halls. As they exited, a group of guards turned the corner and hailed the king.

  "Sire, a message from the watch commander," a lieutenant said, saluting.

  "Go ahead," said the king.

  "There are reports of things in the lower levels," he said sheepishly.

  "Things?" asked the king.

  "Creatures, sire. They attack at first sight, and... they are like smoke. Our weapons pass right through them." The lieutenant looked down, uncertain if his report made any sense. "I wish we knew more, but men have already gone missing."

  The king pursed his lips, thinking. Infiltration of the fortress would have to be done through the water induction channels. The ancient cisterns and waterways that snaked under Bara’cor created hundreds of forgotten passages. Given that the remaining assassin had been making his way there, the king knew this should be his destination as well.