The Myth of the Maker

by Bruce R Cordell

  A metallic mask set with a single ruby-red viewport covered the face of the creature advancing on him. Elaborate horns sprouted from its head behind the mask. He recognized it: a monitor. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. Monitors were what remained of qephilim who once served the Incarnation of Silence. When Silence disappeared, monitors remained. They were like ghosts haunting Ardeyn, watching all that happened in quiet, oversized contemplation. They disengaged from every other interaction, friendship, or cause. They didn’t intercede. And didn’t normally fight, preferring to flee violence so they could watch it from a safe distance. They waited for a sign from the Incarnation of Silence.

  Relief flooded him. It had surprised him, that was all. And a monitor wasn’t truly a match for War. It was probably already retreating. Once Jason’s vision completely cleared–

  The monitor wasn’t moving off. The single red eye on its mask was fixed on him. Under the influence of that all-seeing gaze, Jason discovered he was unable to call up the office of War and spawn duplicates.

  It wasn’t fair! Jason was just getting used to the abilities the partly re-powered Ring of War offered. To have those functions yanked away so precipitously sickened him.

  The creature charged. Jason swung his staff at its face. The monitor shifted, and he smashed down on one of its shoulders instead. Bone creaked, but the creature barely slowed. The monitor hit Jason like an avalanche, and swept him out of the tunnel and into the cold, crisp evening air, high on Mount Merid. He didn’t see the rocks on the path until he stumbled over them and fell. His head bounced off a boulder, and everything swam.

  Part of Jason – the part that was War – screamed internally. That some creature could get the jump on an Incarnation, let alone the Incarnation of War, was unthinkable. For his part, Jason realized he’d gotten cocky. War’s ring wasn’t fully recharged. And apparently, its power was still easily subverted.

  The monitor hit Jason while he was down, smashing him in the chest so hard he heard a rib crack, then snugging a wide arm around Jason’s neck in a stranglehold. Jason ceased straining after War’s abilities. If he wasn’t fully War again, at least he remained the Betrayer, damn it. And he could fight, dirty if need be. Determination made him growl. He bit the arm trying to squeeze his head off. Dry flesh tasting of dust and old leather filled his mouth.

  The pressure fell away. Jason leaped to his feet, careful to avoid pitching himself off the narrow path he’d followed up to the volcano’s summit. The last bits of cottony streamers departed his vision. He watched the monitor retreat to the tunnel entrance, blocking it. Its breath heaved and its shoulders shook, but its unwavering gaze never left Jason.

  “You’re Merid’s doorman?” Jason asked. “I thought she preferred other dragons as her servants.”

  The monitor remained silent.

  “Or maybe she doesn’t realize you’re up here, keeping guests from her parlor. You’ve been watching, haven’t you? You’ve seen me collecting Rings of the lost Incarnations. So you waited up here to keep the Ring of Silence safe. I’m right, aren’t I? Merid probably doesn’t even know she has such a valuable treasure. I bet I’d be doing her a favor if I told her she has a lackey for Silence watching–”

  The monitor thundered forward, easily covering the distance separating them. Jason was braced, but still went down when the bulk smashed into him. They rolled, and Jason lost his burning staff. The monitor’s horns gouged Jason’s sides. He elbowed the creature’s neck, trying to smash in its windpipe. The flesh was more like wood than skin and bone. But something crunched, so he brought his elbow down on it a few more times, snarling in satisfaction. A horn slashed him, deeper than before, but the hot whip of the laceration wasn’t enough to stop the memory of War, the Betrayer, or even Jason Cole.

  Unfortunately, they continued rolling. So instead of trying to crush the thing’s skull between his two straining hands, Jason let go, latching onto a thorn bush instead. Thorns cut deep gouges down his palms and forearms, but the bush’s roots held.

  The monitor realized its trajectory too late. It tried to grab Jason as it tumbled onward, but he kicked it. The creature flipped over the edge of the drop without a sound.

  Jason levered himself to his feet. His wounds stung, but without the monitor’s mystical eye on him, the residual power of War was returning, numbing him to pain and hurt. He walked to the edge and gazed down the mountainous drop.

  He spied the broken remains of the monitor. It’d bounced a few times on its way down, and had fetched up a few thousand feet below on an outcrop. It wasn’t getting up any time soon, if ever.

  Jason retrieved his staff. War’s power surged from the Ring on his finger, through his body, and into the implement, kindling its head to bonfire brightness.

  “Let’s try this again,” he said, facing the unguarded entrance. “Anyone else want to try and stop me from coming inside?”

  No takers appeared. He entered, ready for another ambush that failed to materialize. The passage quickly descended in tight spirals. In the light of his conjured flame, Jason saw the tunnel rock was striated with crazy jags of green and purple sediment. He wasn’t sure it made any kind of actual geological sense. Not that any of that mattered in Ardeyn. Everything in the realm was, at its core, fake.

  He considered the state of his plan as he moved downward. Stealing the Ring of Death from Queen Elandine had proved both easier, and harder, than he’d anticipated. If he hadn’t intervened, the queen and her Ring would’ve been kray-chow. That number of kray inside Ardeyn’s borders was beyond unusual, but then again, the Moon Door was known for being a place where the Rules were flimsy. Something to do with allowing mystical access to the realm of the dead. He shrugged away the irrelevancy.

  The other Ring he’d obtained since then hadn’t required nearly so much activity or risk to his life as finding Elandine had.

  Following the gentle pulse of his own awakening Ring, War had plucked the Ring of Commerce from the dusty collection of an antiquities dealer on the shores of Oceanus who had no sense of its true worth. With his own Ring of War, plus Commerce and Death, he needed just one more ring to bring his collection to four. Of course, he’d had another ring – Desire – for many years, but he’d had to sacrifice it in order to get the whole ball rolling in the first place. He was just glad he didn’t need all seven! Four Rings was the magic number required to regain entry into the Maker’s Hall.

  And Merid had the Ring of Silence.

  The tunnel finally emptied into a massive subterranean chamber lit by hundreds of torches. Jason was surprised to see the expansive space contained several human-sized wagons gathered around a lantern-lit caravanserai. A dragon’s head with gray plumage stretched above the walled courtyard, and Jason stopped moving.

  It hadn’t noticed him. He could hear the murmur of its speech from where he stood in shadow on the chamber’s periphery. It was bartering with unseen traders for water, amusements, and spices.

  He realized the gray wasn’t Merid. His spies reported that her plumage was iridescent with reds, golds, blues, and greens. The gray must be a servant. One of several who dealt with human agents who in turn scoured Ardeyn for treasures. This entire chamber was obviously merely a satellite room set aside for such interaction. It lay exterior to Merid’s actual lair, which must lay deeper.

  At least five other passages, all of them larger and more obvious than the one he’d used to gain entry, exited the cavern. As he considered which one to take, someone tapped him on the shoulder.

  Jason spun round, his staff whipping through the air with lethal velocity. He barely managed to stop himself before he brained the woman who’d somehow snuck up on him so completely. She wore iridescent robes of shifting color. Her eyes glittered with a vitality more than merely human. A smell like cinnamon and burnt oranges filled his nostrils. He knew instantly who she was. Apparently Merid did know how to shrink herself into a tunnel meant for humans: she could become human. The power to change form was a powe
r some dragons possessed.

  “Merid, greetings,” he said.

  “You know me, then,” she said. “And I certainly recognize you, Betrayer. Not that I needed to. Your scuffle with that interloper in my chimney was so loud it would’ve awakened me from a dead sleep.”

  Jason was prepared to try to take the Ring of Silence by force, if required. But he was caught off guard, literally. And Merid seemed in the mood to talk. Maybe even deal? Might as well give it a try, he thought.

  He bent at the waist and swept his arm in a formal bow. “I am War. I seek an audience, Great One, regarding a matter that could prove incredibly advantageous for both of us.”

  “So courteous. Which I admire, especially in someone I caught trying to sneak in.”

  “You were clever to catch me, Merid. And brave to do so alone, given my… reputation.”

  She laughed uproariously. He almost took offense. She said, “You’re confident! I appreciate that. And I enjoy an actual conversation from time to time. My servants and agents, whether human, dragon, or qephilim, are no fun. They believe that if they disagree with me, I’ll bite their heads off.”

  Jason nodded. He faced similar issues. Especially among his more brainy homunculi, since he did tend to murder them if they gave him too much lip. His clones weren’t really him, so it wasn’t really murder. If she did the same among her own, he couldn’t blame her.

  Merid touched his elbow and guided him toward the caravanserai. “I suggest we enjoy some strong coffee and smoke while we talk. What say you, Betrayer?”

  “Sounds wonderful.” He’d spent two months pursuing his plan since he’d returned from Earth. One more evening wasn’t going to derail him. They walked through an arched entrance in the caravanserai.

  In addition to several bright lanterns high on iron posts, the courtyard was decorated with colored lamps that hadn’t been visible from outside. A pig-like creature roasted over a kitchen fire, sending a magnificent odor of cooking pork into the air that almost made Jason forget why he was there.

  The gray-feathered dragon and the small huddle of humans around it looked up at their entrance. The humans didn’t noticeably react, but the gray dragon flinched. It at least knew who Merid was.

  “Please retire to your rooms and roosts,” Merid ordered. The gray repeated the request, and the humans obliged with only a token protest. They finally retreated to the various rooms dotting the courtyard’s inner wall. The dragon flew directly up into the darkness of the vast chamber. A couple of people shot him quizzical looks as they departed, but none voiced their questions.

  Merid walked Jason over to a large cabinet, where they gathered utensils, mugs, and a nargilah with two tubes. “Do you take smoke?”

  “I’ve been known to indulge.”

  After some choice cuts of the pig prepared over polenta in a spice sauce, a bowl of surprisingly exquisite tobacco, and iced coffee, Jason decided that Merid was truly a delightful conversationalist. Her reputation as one of the most terrifying creatures in the Daylands was obviously something she maintained as a front… though he detected an inner core of fire beneath her courteous exterior. The part of him that was War wondered what it would take to bring it to the surface. War anticipated testing himself against a dragon of the first brood. He blinked, and red dreams of tooth and sword retreated to the back of his mind.

  Jason inched forward slightly and said, “So, did you know a monitor was watching you?”

  Merid took another deep breath from the nargilah tube. She blew it out to create a smoke sculpture of a dragon in flight. She said, “Of course. It was doing only what its sad kind always do. Watching. Until it attacked you.” She said the last accusingly.

  “Unexpected,” he agreed.

  “I heard what you said to it. Perhaps you were right, and it hoped to safeguard something of great value.”

  There went that advantage. “So you know why I’m here. I’m hoping we can come to an arrangement.”

  “I’m not in the habit of distributing items from my collection. Each piece has its place. And the Ring of Silence, which I heard you name to the monitor, is one of my most cherished pieces. I well know what it is. I have it in a fabulous diorama.”

  War thundered, but Jason pushed thoughts of violence back. He said, “Hear me out. I can make this worth your while.”

  Merid looked at him with a skeptical tilt to her chin and eyebrow. “Go on,” she drawled.

  “I have recovered nearly all War’s strength,” he said, shading the truth. “Why? Because my Ring regained a measure of its ancient magic. It’s not the only Ring of Incarnation to do so. I’ve learned that the other Rings have regained a portion of their élan as well.”

  “Really?” The glitter in Merid’s eye went from joking to avaricious.

  “Of course,” he said quickly, “only heirs of the original Incarnations can unlock the power of the Rings. Which means that to most alive in Ardeyn today, they are merely baubles.” That was also true enough, though Jason actually suspected that anyone originally native to Earth could claim the power of a Ring of Incarnation. Thankfully, he was the only native of Earth he knew of still alive in all the Land of the Curse.

  The dragon said, “Immensely valuable baubles, all the same.”

  “If you can find the Incarnation of Silence or her heir, maybe. But trust me, Silence is long gone, and she left no heirs.”

  “She?”

  “I knew her secret name: Alice.” Jason gnawed his lip. He wasn’t sure if he should’ve volunteered that information. It was a gamble. He hoped Merid could sense that he was telling the truth, and not press the issue. He doubted that even a dragon as powerful as she knew the true nature of Ardeyn’s inception. The dragon presumably thought she was thousands of years old, just like all the Incarnations. Better she keep that belief. He didn’t know how she’d react if he let her in on Carter Morrison and his game-made-real.

  Merid said, “How odd. Alice, eh? Not that it matters any longer. When you betrayed the Maker, did you also slay this Alice, or as the rest of us called her, Silence? But what if some of her great, great grandchildren come asking after their lost trinket?”

  He hadn’t killed Silence, or any of the other Incarnations. Just that bastard Carter. Well, not even him, as Carter’s reappearance proved. Though Jason had certainly tried. He’d plunged the spiked end of his burning staff into the Maker from behind. Jason watched Carter die. After that, things got confusing. He didn’t really like to think about the considerable amount of time he’d lost. When he finally came back to himself, the power of War had left him, and the other Incarnations were missing. He wondered if they’d simply disintegrated. If so, he was lucky the same thing hadn’t happened to him. Of course, he’d been prepared, unlike the others. For years he tried to discover what’d actually happened to them, but finally grew tired of the search. If any remained alive, as he had in his reduced state, they were keeping their distance from him. The fact that so many Rings had turned up absent their owners suggested they were simply dead.

  Merid didn’t need to know any of that. So he shrugged and said, “Indirectly, I suppose I did kill her.”

  The dragon-in-woman-form nodded thoughtfully. “That band on your finger is presumably the Ring of War.”

  Jason raised his left hand and made a fist, displaying the red metal loop. He nodded, and couldn’t restrain allowing a brief smile to twitch across his lips.

  “I’m so happy for you,” Merid said. “So, what’s Silence’s Ring to you then? Unless you were lying, it won’t work for you. I can’t imagine War was an ‘heir’ of Silence by any stretch of the imagination.”

  He shrugged. “I have a different use for it in mind. As you know, the position of the Maker is vacant. What you may not know is that the Maker had a secret citadel, a place where he could rest his weary head after a long day screwing things up in Ardeyn. It’s called the Maker’s Hall. It contains potent spells and rituals that will grant me all that I need to fully empower my own Ring,
and become as I once was: War, in truth, and not merely in name.”

  “Don’t fancy being called the Betrayer until the end of time?”

  He ignored her jibe and continued, “Of course, the Maker’s Hall is sealed. It will open only to the Maker’s hand. Or, to one who holds any Four of the Seven.”

  Realization of what he implied burned in Merid’s eyes. She wasn’t slow. Which was why he needed to keep as close to the truth as possible, without revealing his entire plan. She’d probably object if she suspected he intended to step into the Maker’s role, using War merely as a stepping stone.

  “What’s in it for me, War?” He decided it was good sign that she’d addressed him by his old title, finally. She was beginning to believe.

  “When I enter the Maker’s Hall–”

  “When we enter the Maker’s Hall, you mean,” Merid interrupted.

  Jason considered a moment. Allowing Merid into the Hall would introduce complications. But he couldn’t put her off immediately, or their talk was at an end. He said, “We can work out those details, of course. What I’m actually offering you is one of the Rings of Incarnation. Enchanted so it would work for you. You could have your choice of them, except for the Ring of War, of course.” He chuckled.

  Merid sucked in a breath, and he knew he had her.

  “An Incarnation. That would be something.”

  He smiled and nodded.

  “And all I must do is give you the Ring of Silence?”

  “Lend it to me, if Silence is the Incarnation you wish to become.”

  Merid pondered. “Maybe. Though Lore or Desire could also prove diverting, each in their own way.” Telling her that Desire was lost in an inaccessible realm didn’t seem politic at that moment.

  “Do we have a deal?”

  “Yes, we have a deal,” she said. “Except for one wrinkle. Earlier today when I discovered War on the summit of the volcano, asking after the Ring of Silence, I grew concerned. So I sent it away for safekeeping until I could determine why you’d come.”

  “What do you mean?” His voice rumbled, but Merid didn’t so much as flinch.