Mortals & Deities

by Maxwell Alexander Drake

I am tired of being the hunted animal!

  After a few more turns, he found himself on a street almost void of people. Spying what he sought, Alant darted into a deserted alleyway. Letting the Sight of the Essence fall upon him—or this new Sight, he did not know why he still tried to differentiate it from what he had learned as a Shaper—he began gathering in the energy Strands that hung in the air around him. Flexing his hands, a few wisps of blue-white energy crackled between his fingers.

  He may have a sword. Yet, he will find that I am not as helpless as I appear.

  Slipping down a narrow side alley that paralleled the one the Mah’Sukai had taken, Elith placed a hand and a foot on either wall and scurried up the three stories between the buildings to the roof. Grasping the ledge, she swung up, crouching in a night too brightly lit by the large silver moon, Sainor, for her comfort. Wrapping her Shadow Cloak around her, she swept her gaze over the rooftops and strained her ears for any signs of movement or sound that would tell her she was not alone.

  Letting a moment pass to ensure her privacy, she darted down the row of buildings, jumping the small gaps she came upon without pause. She held no fear of losing her quarry. Ever since she had found him—or more appropriately, been shown him by that strange old hag—the Mah’Sukai was a ball of tingling sensations in the back of her skull. If she closed her eyes, she thought she could still see him. The old hag’s words welled up in the back of her mind and troubled her. She had spent her entire life preparing to seek out and capture a Mah’Sukai, then deliver him to the Father. It was her purpose. Yet, between her bouts with madness and the strange woman telling her she had to follow the Mah’Sukai, not hinder him, she no longer saw the path she was meant to walk.

  Crossing the roofs, Elith raced ahead of the Mah’Sukai and flattened herself out on an edge to peer down into the alley below. The Mah’Sukai picked up his pace. He still clutched his cloak around him, his hood pulled forward to hide his face, yet his strides came longer now. Not quite running, yet he strode along at a more brisk pace than he carried while on the wider streets of the city. And walk he did. She had followed him for the last several aurns, and all he did was meander—as if he had no destination. Then, less than half an aurn gone and without reason, he changed his pattern. His path became erratic. He made sudden turns down streets, doubling back upon himself, crisscrossing the poorer area of this city like a drunken madman.

  Almost as if he was searching for someplace. Or running from something.

  Motion down the alleyway caught her eye and the hairs on the back of her neck bristled. Shifting for a better look, she watched a second man slink down the edge of the alleyway. Hugging the wall, this man moved at the half trot, half creep of a man who did not wish to be seen. Moonlight glinting off naked steel as the man drew his sword drove her to action. Rolling sideways, she fell into a gap between two buildings just grasping the roof’s edge with one hand. Holding on long enough to slow her descent, she bounced from one wall to the other in a barely controlled free fall, landing without a sound behind a stack of crates. Within moments, the Mah’Sukai passed by her. He came so close, she could have reached out and grabbed the edge of the cloak he still clutched around himself. He appeared oblivious to the danger that stalked him. Yet, her job was to see him back to the Revered Father in Komar—or, mayhaps, to aid him on his own journey.

  Either way, She is not about to let a common city lifter take his life.

  Reaching up, she slid a jet-black throwing knife from its sheath on her shoulder.

  Palms slick with sweat, Arderi Cor adjusted his grip on Dorochi’s hilt.

  Calm down! You can do this.

  Slinking down the dark alley, the Mah’Sukai not more than twenty paces ahead of him, Arderi left the protection of the wall and moved forward. His stomach, twisting into a knot, sent the taste of bile rising to the back of his throat. He must do this. He knew he had to kill this man. This monster. The fate of the entire Plane rested on his shoulders. He could not let his family be slaughtered like sheep by a power-hungry madman. Blinking to clear a drop of perspiration from his eye, he sped up. Closing the distance at a silent jog, Arderi pushed all thoughts away. He did not want to come to terms with what he planned to do. With Dorochi held tight in both hands before him, gleaming in the silver moonlight of Sainor, he tensed. The man—that is what he was, just a man—the man in the brown cloak continued down the alleyway, as if he did not care that he was about to be murdered.

  Nix! This is not Murder!

  Or was it? The man had done nothing—did not even look dangerous. Arderi’s breath came in gulps as he closed upon the Mah’Sukai. Bringing up Master Rine’s words, he sought strength in them—tried to find some solace for what he was about to do. That by killing this man, he would save his brothers and sisters. His parents. Everyone he knew. It could not have taken more than a moment or two for Arderi to close the distance, yet this seemed like an eternity. Less than five paces separated them now. He had come to kill. And now this man, this Mah’Sukai—this monster—walked right in front of him. He felt numb, as if the entire Plane was spinning around him. Raising Dorochi, muscles tightening to the point of snapping, Arderi sprinted forward, abandoning stealth to close and strike before his target discovered that death was upon him. He stopped thinking about what he was doing. It was right and just and—

  His mind boiled with so much turmoil that he did not notice when the Mah’Sukai spun to face him. A blinding light, brighter than a thousand suns, lanced into his eyes.

  Pain engulfed his body.

  Alant Cor heard the man with the sword following him into the alleyway. Terror bit at him. Threatened to seize control and force him to run screaming for his life. He could not draw attention to himself, however. Whatever this man wanted, Alant would not be murdered in some back alley like a helpless child! The soft steps of the man in the almost silent space between the buildings rang loud in his ears, enhanced as they were with him holding the Sight. Reaching out with his mind, he aligned the Strands of the Essence—the ones he now knew represented energy—and pulled them into himself. At least, he felt he brought them into himself. He still did not fully understand this new Sight of the Essence. Power crackled between his fingertips. He needed more. He did not know how he knew this, yet he knew he did not have enough to do what he wanted.

  I need to kill this man! Whoever he is, I will not die in some back alley.

  The footsteps dogged him. Fear coursed over him like a splash of cold water as the footsteps grew louder. The man with the sword came running at him. Alant knew he would die in this filthy alleyway if he did not act now.

  Spinning, drawing in as much energy as he could, Alant released what he had. The energy lashed out from his fingertips, combining at a spot just in front of him. A blinding light lit the alley, yet Alant was too afraid to look away. The energy, like a bolt of white-blue lightning, struck the man’s outstretched sword and lanced up the blade. The smell of burning flesh filled Alant’s nostrils once his bolt of energy struck his attacker. The blinding bolt picked the man up and tossed him backward like a child’s playdoll. A blur of black, like a bat swooping out of the night sky, flittered through Alant’s now blue-streaked vision. A thud off to his right said that if it was a bat, the small creature had smashed into the wall of the building next to him.

  Funny that his mind would center on such an odd fact during this. Still, even with the distraction, Alant reached out and started to draw in the energy that floated around him—sparks arched between his fingertips as he did.

  His vision was still streaked with the jagged remnants of his energy bolt, yet he could see the red glow of his eyes reflected off the wet paverstones. He took a step closer to the man with the sword. The man who had tried to kill him. Pulling in still more energy, he took another step forward.

  Now this man dies!

  The lifter sped up his steps, sword raised high. With a quick flick of her wris
t, her heavy bladed throwing dagger left her fingertips. It would hit the side of the man’s head, in the soft spot just in front of his ear. The gods willing, the man’s death would be quick and painless.

  The thought stabbed at her.

  Why should she wish this man’s death to be painless?

  Just as the blade left her hand, the alleyway exploded with light. Flinging up an arm did no good. The light seared into her head and she stumbled. Hand whipping out to steady herself, the box she leaned on slid forward and she fell to the wet ground. On hands and knees, she wretched. Panting like a whipped dog, she fought to retain consciousness.

  She will not fail here! She is too near her goal!

  Arderi Cor did not remember how he had fallen onto his back. His mind remained wrapped in a cloud of agony and it did not want to focus. Looking up, he saw the large silver moon, Sainor, peeking past the edge of a building above. Distantly, pain tugged at his body. Yet, it was like the pain of someone else, and he merely an observer. His head felt stuffed with wool. Nearby, meat cooked—he could smell it on an open flame. He held something. Looking at his right hand, Dorochi waved into his blue-streaked vision. The shock that a black, charred hand held it jolted him upright.

  Memory flooded back like a torrential rain. The Mah’Sukai advanced, lightning crackling from his hands. His eyes glowed an evil red, creating demons in the shadows of the alley.

  By sheer force of will, Arderi stood. Pain became his reality now, and no longer that of another. He tried to grip his sword tight, and with horror, realized the reason he still held the blade was that it had seared into his flesh.

  He knew he could not use the weapon. Knew as well if he turned to run, he would die before he reached the mouth of the alleyway. How stupid he had been to think he could defeat this monster. He was not a man! Nothing Human had eyes that glowed.

  I will not die frozen by fear as I almost did with the Drakon! I will pay what needs be paid, if it means saving the Plane from this evil!

  With a bellow, Arderi charged, flinging Dorochi at the Mah’Sukai. A torturous pain ripped up his arm as the burnt skin holding the sword to him tore away. He ignored it. He would live in the pain. Lightning sprang once more from the monster in the alley. It laced around the flying sword, sending the blade flipping away into the darkness.

  Arderi did not pause in his headlong rush. With his left hand, he drew his dagger from its sheath and launched himself toward his death.

  Alant Cor knew he had not hit his assailant with enough energy to kill him. Still, he felt that his strength had diminished from his use of the Essence. Anger and fear won the battle over exhaustion for now, and he continued to draw in more energy as he advanced on the fallen man. He saw by the remaining silver light of the moon that his bolt had ruined the man’s hand—it lay blackened and charred with wisps of smoke rising from it. Unbelievably, however, the man retained a grip on his sword.

  More of a shock, the man stood. Alant could not see his face in the darkness of the alley. Still, he felt the hate from this man’s eyes. It radiated out of him. Whoever he was, he meant to kill at all cost, Alant was certain of that. Fear won over anger and Alant stopped his advance. He flinched when the man yelled and charged, flinging his blade at him. Alant released the energy he had gathered to deflect the thrown weapon. The lightning engulfed the blade and Alant lost sight of it—lost sight of everything except the man who rushed at him, a dagger in hand. Panicked, Alant backpedaled. He had nothing left, not even a knife to use in defense. In desperation, he tried to pull in more energy, though he knew he did not have the time.

  The impact of the man when he slammed into Alant forced all the breath from his lungs. The two slammed onto the ground and slid in the wet muck of the alley. Alant focused on the man’s dagger as it thrust down, aiming for his eye.

  Without reason, it stopped. Its razor sharp point quivering a few fingers width from plunging into his skull. It shook, and so did the man’s face, twisting in a torrent of rage and hate. Spit flew from the man’s mouth as he struggled to drive his dagger home.

  Only then did Alant see that a hand grasped the man’s arm, halting it from landing its killing stroke.

  A hand that seems too thin to have stopped such an attack.

  Forcing herself to stand, the nausea of the bright light still pounding in her skull, Elith shook her head to clear it. The lifter was gone. The Mah’Sukai stood alone in the alleyway. She would have to remember that she now dealt with one who might be on the level of the gods themselves.

  Certainly one more worthy than she!

  Motion further down the alleyway caught her attention and she saw that the lifter was not gone, just on the ground some ten paces away from where he had stood. It surprised her to feel gladness that the Mah’Sukai lived. She wanted nothing more than to fulfill her mission and see him safe to the temple in Komar. Or mayhaps not. Her mind, still in turmoil, fought over what to do now that she had found him. Still, the sense of relief she felt over him being alive surprised her.

  The putrid stench of burning flesh filled her nostrils and she knew the lifter was dead. So it shocked her when the man stood, sword still in hand. More so when the man yelled and charged the Mah’Sukai. She felt a strange sense of pride watching this man meet death so unafraid.

  Few Humans seem to understand the true meaning of honor.

  The man threw his sword, and the Mah’Sukai deflected it with a flick of his wrist. This time Elith was ready for the glow of energy that shot from the Mah’Sukai, averting her head and covering her eyes to protect her sensitive vision.

  When she looked back to the two, she gasped. For the first time in her life, she could not believe what she saw. Instead of destroying the lifter, the Mah’Sukai seemed…afraid! The lifter charged, his ruined hand limp at his side, his left holding a long dagger. The man barreled into the Mah’Sukai and the two slammed down hard onto the ground.

  Ripping herself from her shock, Elith leapt across the alley just as the lifter’s dagger thrust down to kill. Catching the man’s arm, they struggled for dominance. The dagger hovered a hair from driving into the Mah’Sukai’s wide, terror-filled eye.

  Why does he not defend himself?

  Adjusting her body, Elith pivoted. Twisting the lifter’s arm around, she flipped him over her back and sent him slamming into the pile of crates she had hidden behind.

  Reaching behind her, she slipped the Ratave from its holster on her back and spun the small, one-foot onyx staff between her fingers as she watched the lifter struggle to stand. “‘And those that fall short in this life, stealing and murdering and plundering, shall be condemned to walk the Plane of Mullsith. Their eyes plucked from their skulls and their skin burnt away only to be remade as they sleep. For all eternity shall they suffer at the hands of Bathane and his minions’.” Spinning the Ratave, she willed it to lengthen. Before she finished reciting the prayer of the condemned, the staff reached its full two paces in length. She refrained from adding blades to the ends, at least for now.

  Somehow, the lifter had retained a grip on his dagger and now held it out before him as he struggled to stand. That was good. She always felt a sense of guilt when killing an unarmed opponent. The lifter wiped a sleeve across his forehead to remove the grime from his eyes. “Kill me, if you must. Yet, do not think to hide your evil behind a prayer from the Book of the Twelve! If anyone here is to be condemned, it is you and that Mah’Sukai you protect!”

  Sliding her left foot forward, she held her staff parallel to the ground as the lifter staggered toward her. She flinched when a voice spoke next to her.

  “Arderi?”

  Tremors of fear racked Alant Cor’s entire body as he stood. He had looked his death in the eye—or more precise, it had looked him in the eye with razor sharp finality. Yet, he still lived. His breath came in shaky rasps. He focused on the person who had saved his life. A thin form with a long braid
of white hair.

  A girl!

  The man with the sword—dagger now—scrambled up from the broken crates he had crushed in his fall. Alant could not believe the man still held the will to fight.

  What have I done to deserve this man’s wrath?

  The girl spoke. He did not catch all the words, yet it sounded like a prayer of some kind—for all the sense that made! The man with the dagger stepped toward her, his courage astounding. “Kill me, if you must. Yet, do not think to hide your evil behind a prayer from the Book of the Twelve. If anyone here is to be condemned, it is you and that Mah’Sukai you protect!”

  A chill raced down Alant’s spine, as if his spirit had just walked past the gates to the Aftermore. He could not have heard right. Still, that voice…

  His shaking stopped and he stepped up next to the girl—she looked pale, almost gray in the moonlight—though he spared her little more than a glance. The man with the dagger held his full attention.

  I know that voice!

  “Arderi?”

  It seemed to Alant that the girl flinched. The man with the dagger rounded on him, however. “How do you know my name!” A palpable panic shook the man’s voice.

  “Arderi! It is you!” Alant took a step forward, then jumped back when his brother lashed out with his dagger, nearly cutting him from chin to groin. “Arderi! It is me! Alant!” Reaching up, he pulled his cowl back to expose his face. “Your brother.”

  Arderi did not lower his weapon. Instead, he stood there shaking his head, a look of horror filling his eyes. Without warning, a black blur whistled through the darkness. With a hollow thwack, the dagger Arderi held shot from his hand and he screamed out in pain.

  “Stop!” Throwing himself at his little brother, Alant flung his arms protectively around him as the strange girl spun in another attack. He felt the wind of her staff graze the hair that overlapped his ear. He was sure, had she wanted to, she could have cracked his skull open.