Mythborn III: Dark Ascension (Fate of the Sovereign Book 3)

by V. Lakshman

  The silence that followed was uncomfortable. Dragor knew the lore father was composing himself. Then he received Giridian’s tacit agreement that they were free to do whatever they thought best to recover Armun, as that was the highest priority.

  As their communication began to fade, Dragor received a burst of energy from the lore father, replenishing him greatly. Sudden clarity flooded him as his body absorbed the much needed gift.

  A final caution, said the lore father. We were approached by a dragon—

  The lore father’s voice became faint before vanishing entirely. Strange.

  Dragor looked up, the connection gone. What would have caused that? he wondered. Then he saw Jesyn’s eyes, and the lost communication with the lore father was forgotten. Tomas. He wondered where to begin.

  Jesyn said, “Just tell me.” She seemed already to know the news of her partner was bad.

  Dragor nodded, then pulled her into an embrace. “I’m so sorry.”

  “He didn’t pass?” She pushed back, as if wanting a verbal confirmation. Then something happened. Maybe it was his own expression or his inability to explain. She discerned the truth.

  Her hand went to her mouth, as if uttering the words would make her worst fears come true. But there was no denying the truth. Her body shook as a sob broke through. Then another, and finally her control broke as she buried her face back in his shoulder, her grief palpable.

  Dragor sat stroking her hair, hoping they could find a way to achieve everything the lore father had asked without losing any more of their precious children.

  Dark Blood

  A thorn left untended can work its way under the skin.

  The careful application of a blade’s point

  can pull it out and prevent infection.

  - Keren Dahl, Shornhelm Survivor’s Guide

  S

  ilbane and his party traveled quickly, following like a lodestone the afterimage of the flash they thought might be Arek. Silbane was silent as he flew, his wings catching the air with consummate ease. Both masters’ skills continued to grow. Silbane found flying was like a dance he’d learned and forgotten as a child, recalling it instantly years later when the music began. His dance with air felt like it was part of him.

  Aside from the flash, the Way no longer flowed toward some unseen point. He hadn’t updated anyone since setting their course. If he’d not marked the location of the flash, they’d be truly lost. He’d decided there was no sense in raising worry, especially since the detonation of negative energy had been very real and easy to follow. Still, losing the current concerned him, its absence a small knot of doubt coiling deep in his gut, stealing some of his pleasure at being airborne.

  He looked down and noticed the white-knuckled grip of the firstmark. The man hadn’t taken to flight yet. Silbane doubted Ash would be someone who relished the skies even if he had his own wings. As if to prove her joy, Kisan wheeled under and around him in a barrel roll, her black wings fully healed now and snapping out to catch air just above him.

  For now, Silbane would have to put up with the firstmark’s sudden panicked gasps and the death grip on his arms. “There!” he said, pointing at a disturbance on the ground.

  Kisan followed his finger and then dived, her target a section of the ravine they’d been following. Just as she reached the ground, her wings sweeping, depositing her soundlessly on the stony terrain as her wingbeats sent two curlicues of spinning leaves spiraling up and away. Silbane followed. He lowered Ash carefully, then changed to his normal form.

  He and Kisan were hit with the lethargy and pain paid for assuming their war forms, but somehow to Silbane, it seemed to be less onerous than before. Kisan shrugged, as if the physical action threw off her malaise. Then she moved toward the edges of the ravine. Her inspection didn’t take very long.

  “Pretty work on most. One or two sloppy kills.” She looked at Silbane. “This didn’t happen very long ago.”

  Silbane nodded, the bodies of half a dozen giant men spread about, arms and legs akimbo in recent death. Their skin was black, so black it seemed to suck in the light. Yet there was no obvious sign of blood, which meant these men had been felled by someone without weapons, making Arek an obvious suspect. Either that, or something even stranger was going on. Normally he’d dismiss the latter, but here . . . one could never know.

  “Anything else?” he asked Kisan. Her lifetime of hunting magehunters now seemed apropos.

  “Definitely a struggle, likely unarmed.” Her comment echoed Silbane’s earlier thought. “You’re sure this is the spot?”

  Silbane nodded. “This is the epicenter of the flash I saw.” He looked at the scene, still feeling something wasn’t quite right. His attention was drawn back to the blackened bodies. It was not just their color that made them strange, but he couldn’t quite place what else was amiss.

  Kisan must’ve felt his insecurity. She said, “Whatever happened, there isn’t any sign of Arek.” She moved amongst the massive bodies, inspecting the ground. “Tracks lead up that way. Assuming it is Arek, he’s probably making his way to that pyramid in the distance,” she said, pointing with her chin. Behind her lay a forearm of one of the fallen, almost as long from elbow to wrist as she was tall.

  Silbane was quiet, thinking. In addition to combat, the boy had survival training, and though they were in a new world he worried less about Arek than he did his own party. Why was that? Was it the strange guardedness he saw in Kisan, or the despondency he sensed in Ash? Their emotions would be a liability in this realm.

  “What do we do?” Ash asked. “Where did they go?”

  Kisan asked Silbane, “Where does the Way lead us now?”

  Silbane worked through what he knew. The fact that there was no current leading them brought his earlier worries to the forefront. He searched the skies, trying again to pick up any indication that the Way flowed toward some point, but there was nothing. In fact, if anything could be said, it seemed it all flowed to this very spot. His unease increased as he tried to reconcile all the various unconnected bits of information.

  “You don’t see it,” Kisan said, and it was not a question.

  Silbane shook his head. “Since the detonation the flow has stopped. I can’t tell if it’s due to that or something else, but I was hoping to pick up something here. So far everything seems to be centering on this spot.”

  Ash stepped forward. “You mean you don’t know where to go?”

  Silbane shrugged, “Firstmark, everything flows here. I don’t know why. Aside from that, I agree with Kisan. The pyramid is the obvious choice.”

  There was silence as each looked to the massive city rising some distance away. It dominated the skyline.

  Finally, it was Kisan who, in a surprisingly collaborative way, said, “Let’s think this through. If Arek went to the city, we’d be walking into Lilyth’s hands. Her response is predictable. Her troops seemed willing to kill us in our last encounter. I wouldn’t count on being welcomed.”

  Ash was quiet, looking deep in thought. Silbane nodded for Kisan to continue.

  She ticked off another finger, “Recovering Arek and Niall is only part of our problem. We have to get out of here, and it may be the only way back to Edyn is through the Gate under Bara’cor, a Gate controlled by Lilyth.”

  “You’re suggesting bargaining with her,” Silbane said. “What do we offer?”

  Kisan arched an eyebrow. “Overwhelming violence.”

  Silbane let out a small, involuntary laugh. Something we’re exceedingly good at. For once, he didn’t argue. Perhaps she’s right and violence is the only way. Certainly Lilyth didn’t want to see the full might of two Ascended wreaking havoc in her domain.

  Still, he reminded himself that despite their new powers, they’d been no match for Anhur and his giants with the mistfrights that accompanied them, and Lilyth would certainly have more powerful minions at her disposal in her capital city. Kisan may be right, but only if their force was applied tactically.
<
br />   Just then Ash said, “What if we asked for help?”

  “From who?” Kisan countered.

  Ash looked at each of them before replying, “It seems the dead are here. You saw your apprentice. What if there were others who could help us?”

  “Consider that we may not have actually seen Piter,” Silbane said, holding up a hand.

  Kisan whirled at that, confronting Silbane. “You don’t trust your own eyes?”

  Silbane shook his head. “What are the chances in this vast world that we landed on the one island occupied by the one person you most want to see?” A flash of uncertainty crossed Kisan’s face at that, and he continued, “At least consider it could be our minds playing tricks on us. Here, what we believe comes true.” He was about to say more when something caught his eye. Had the arm behind Kisan moved?

  Ash was about to answer when Tempest’s voice shouted out loud, “We are in danger!”

  The firstmark’s eyes widened. “What?”

  His short dagger leapt into his hand. Silbane noted that when the man was acting instinctively, his training was nearly on par with theirs. Good to know.

  A groan sounded from the figure behind Kisan, who flashed into her larger armored form, equal in size and mass to the creature slowly rousing.

  “What’s the plan?” she demanded, talking over her shoulder to Silbane while her ebonite wings came to wrap protectively around her in a combat stance.

  The master flashed into his Ascended form as well, a white angel surveying the scene. These things were stirring to life, and though they looked like the giants they had faced earlier, they had wings. If they sought to flee there would be no escape in flight.

  “Kill them!” shouted Tempest. “They are nephilim! Do not let them touch your skin, beloved.”

  “You heard?” asked Ash, his gaze steely and calm, measuring distance to the nearest of these things, which was slowly rising.

  “Your dagger will do nothing, beloved. Draw me!” urged Tempest.

  “No!” Ash said, both his jaw and grip on the dagger tightening with determination.

  Before more could be said the creatures had risen, opening eyes that burned with a fierce blue fire. One opened its mouth and a groan issued forth that sounded forlorn. It raised a hand, clawing toward Kisan who was the closest of the three.

  The younger master cursed at the lack of direction from Silbane, then spread her wings and snapped them at the nearest foe. The storm of keen, feather-like blades flew unerringly at the nephilim, which uttered a dying scream as it dissipated into black mist.

  “Get it together!” she yelled again. “Make a decision!” It was unclear whether she was talking to Ash about drawing Tempest or to Silbane, but her shout galvanized action.

  Silbane moved quickly, ducking under the nephilim that clawed at his back with black razor nails. He could feel it score his armor as it passed, but he ignored it. He planted his foot and cut with his lead wing, slicing another nephilim from waist up to its shoulder. It, too, disappeared in a flash of black mist.

  Something grabbed his armored forearm. Without thinking he did a small semicircle with that hand, looping his arm on top of his opponent’s wrist. He used his leverage to snap the creature’s wrist with a wet pop, but it didn’t seem to feel any pain.

  It swiped with its other clawed hand and Silbane ducked, realizing he’d just narrowly avoided getting his face clawed open. At that thought his helmet and visor closed, leaving only a V for his eyes to see through. It was just in time—something hit his helm hard enough to make his ears ring.

  He ducked low and swept out with a leg and the razor edge of his wing, feeling it bite into two things he assumed were nephilim. When he looked his guess was confirmed as more black smoke dissipated into the air around him. He took stock again, trying to locate his comrades.

  Kisan was off to his right. She put her gauntleted fist through a nephilim’s mouth, then spun, drew, and cut through another with her black double blade. Both disappeared in a flash of mist and screams.

  Then to his left Tempest screamed, “Draw me!”

  He turned and saw Ash surrounded by a shining glow, a sphere of energy coruscating emerald to azure, emanating from Tempest. Clawing the outside of the sphere was the last remaining nephilim, trying desperately to reach the firstmark. The beast was feral, almost hungry in the way it acted. It reached back with both arms, preparing a crushing blow just as black feather blades sliced through it.

  As they passed through the resulting black mist, Kisan’s blades struck Tempest’s shield and disappeared in white puffs of smoke. Tempest is proof against our weapons too, thought Silbane. Only when all the nephilim were gone did the emerald blue bubble surrounding the firstmark fade.

  “Getting tired of saving you, Firstmark,” commented Kisan dryly. Ash may not have been able to tell, but Silbane knew she’d meant it as a joke.

  “You didn’t save him, I did! You should have drawn me,” muttered Tempest petulantly. Maybe she knew Kisan was joking too, but she didn’t seem to like it.

  “What were they?” Ash asked.

  “How would he know?” demanded Tempest.

  Silbane nodded slowly. “She’s right. What are these nephilim?”

  Tempest seemed almost eager now to be acknowledged, perhaps Ash’s silence making her more open to talking to others. “They are a scourge, a disease known to the Aeris from the dawn of time itself. They are despair and hunger, and turn any flesh they touch into one of them.”

  “Yet you wanted to be drawn and used,” Silbane asked. “Wouldn’t you also be turned?”

  Tempest laughed. “Like your armor, I am proof against possession. No mere nephilim can harm me . . . but you, beloved, you would be lost forever.”

  In response, Ash slammed his dagger back into its belt sheath. The firstmark still would not acknowledge the blade on his back.

  However, Ash’s next question came out hesitantly, as if he wanted to know the answer but would not ask Tempest directly. He asked Silbane, “What causes these creatures to be here?”

  Tempest replied, “They are the remnants of despair and death. The used, forgotten, and refuse of your world, create them.”

  “They’d have overrun your world by now, if that were true,” Kisan said, her eyes still scanning for any new threats.

  “They almost did, their existence a pestilence, a gangrenous disease. But we understood the danger. No one, be they Aeris, Watcher, or Fury, will stay their hand against these dark ones.”

  The blade was quiet for a moment, then perhaps in an attempt to get back into Ash’s good graces, said, “Yet one who destroys the Way can also bring them forth.” She seemed somehow ashamed but also genuinely afraid when she softly added, “Arek carried me faithfully, so I wish not to betray him, but here he is the end of this world.”

  Silbane stepped forward at that, his helmet and visor snapping open and collapsing back into his armor. “What do you mean?”

  “Do not be obtuse,” muttered Tempest, clearly not liking him, but needing to be needed. In the end, her need won out. “The nature of Arek is to spread the destruction of the Way. You know this from the Far’anthi Stone.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Silbane. He didn’t want to address her claim about Arek at the Far’anthi Stone yet, not without feeling more comfortable with Kisan’s agenda. He wouldn’t know the truth until he saw the boy for himself, and arguing with the blade would only lead to divisiveness within the group. Silbane was not in the mood.

  “I have already chosen my path and will survive any remaking of the world,” said the blade dispassionately. “I am already legend, for good or ill.”

  Silbane looked at Kisan, his eyebrows knit in consternation at Tempest’s answer. Then he said, “We need to find Arek quickly.”

  Kisan didn’t reply right away. She looked at the pyramid in the far distance, then after a moment of silence said, “Has the flow reappeared with the deaths of these things?”

/>   Silbane was surprised by the question, but then saw what Kisan’s keen mind had deduced. Perhaps these creatures pulled on the Way just as Arek did, which meant with them gone the current might have reestablished itself.

  He turned his attention back to the skies, using his dragonsight. The subtle flow, directionless for so long, had in fact returned!

  He squinted and saw it moving inexorably toward Lilyth’s domain. A small smile crooked his mouth. His appreciation for Kisan’s insight went up a notch, though he knew he shouldn’t be surprised. Tactically, no one thought more clearly, but what would normally have been a point of pride now turned into a knot of worry.

  Ash must have become better at reading his face. “You see the path,” the firstmark said.

  Silbane nodded, offering his arm for the man to climb aboard, which Ash reluctantly did. Standing back up, Silbane looked Kisan in the eye. “You and I need to clear the air before we engage Lilyth.”

  Kisan arched an eyebrow at him and asked, “What makes you think we aren’t? Let’s find Arek and get out of here.” She didn’t wait for him to reply, but vaulted up into the sky with a beat of her black-bladed wings.

  “She’s about as blunt as a thorn,” commented Ash quietly, watching Kisan become a speck in the blue sky.

  “You have no idea, Firstmark,” Silbane replied.

  Once Keeper

  When two sides negotiate,

  agreements are often reached through compromise.

  Each gives and neither gets truly what they want.

  A better deal is when you never split the difference.

  - Argus Rillaran, The Power of Deceit

  L

  ilyth looked at the assembled people within her throne room and said, “Arek, can you give Yetteje a tour of the garden? It will give you time to share your adventures. The princess looks lightheaded and could probably use some air.”

  “I’d rather stay here with you,” said Arek, but Yetteje did appear on the verge of collapse. Then, with a look of sudden realization in his eyes, he said, “I touched her.”