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

by V. Lakshman

  The demon queen’s smile at that bit of news was almost worth losing Duncan.

  Lilyth closed her eyes, breathing in deep, then she said, “Valarius . . . you’re sure?”

  “Yes, Lady.”

  Lilyth clasped her hands together and let out the breath she’d been holding. Then she looked at Alion and said, “Well done, Commander. Return immediately.”

  Alion raised a hand, resisting the order. “My lady?”

  “Yes,” Lilyth said, her gaze narrowing, no doubt at Deft’s uncharacteristic initiative.

  Deft met the demon queen’s imperious gaze and said, “I ask permission to be released.”

  Lilyth’s head tilted and she said, “The price was Duncan’s head. If you think I—”

  “You misunderstand, my Lady,” Deft said simply. “I do not seek release from your service. I seek your leave to hunt the red mage, wherever he may attempt to flee.”

  Lilyth had recovered from being interrupted, a calculating look on her face. Then she said, “We transition without you. You understand this?”

  “I cannot rest until that man dies. If there is any justice, he will return as my slave.”

  Lilyth was quiet, her face revealing no emotion. For the first time in a very long time, Alion found herself hoping.

  Finally, the Lady said, “You have my leave, Queensmark Deft. Pick however many Furies you need and go. When you are ready, go to Zafir’s gate. I will arrange your transition to Edyn.”

  At that, the image of Lilyth vanished and a gate appeared, large enough for the remaining forces to depart. They filed out quickly, transported instantly back to Olympious.

  When the last Aeris had gone through, the queensmark turned to survey the throne room. It sat empty except for the bodies that still lay strewn about. Then she turned and with ten others she had pulled out of line as they marched past, made her way up to the dome.

  Soon, their black shapes winged after Arek and his party, hunters after prey, while the world around them slowly died.

  Olympious Eternal

  Nowhere does certainty of virtue reside more, than in a, “just war.”

  It allows with clear conscience and good intention,

  every depravity and abomination conceived

  to be committed under the Law.

  Argus Rillaran, The Power of Deceit

  P

  repare!” ordered Lilyth.

  Guards quickly closed doors and barred them. Aeris lords dispatched themselves to the four corners of Lilyth’s pyramid, bringing every child of Edyn back within the walls of the citadel proper. Mistfrights and lesser Aeris were herded out while the main horde moved quickly to secure all tactical positions within.

  It was not done in an instant, but discipline reigned. Those that had a place in the halls of Olympious knew so beforehand, and did not tarry outside the city proper when Lilyth’s summons came. Soon, her citadel was sealed and barricaded.

  “Prepare the legions,” Lilyth told Mithras. “When we arrive, there will be confusion and carnage. We will restore order.”

  Mithras smiled and put a fist to his chest.

  “As you command, my Lady.” With that he spun and left the throne room, flanked by two Aeris lords, and Tempest still at his side.

  Lilyth cleared her mind. The spell she was about to cast was greater in scope than any other she’d attempted. Much depended on securing Bara’cor behind the scintillating shield. Most thought her attack on the other fortresses had been part of an invasion, and in some respects that was true. The red mage’s job had been to channel everyone to Bara’cor, by ridding her of the other three gates buried under each castle.

  Bara’cor wasn’t her end goal, insomuch as the fortress itself was immaterial. However, the power of the spell she was about to cast needed to be contained. She knew there was some variance when transporting people between worlds, as Arek and Niall had found out firsthand.

  When she thought about what she was about to do, the centuries of planning and careful thought, her heart trembled with worry. Still, Baalor had been right, and if he accomplished his mission, she and her people might finally have a chance at life. The key had always been the shield surrounding the fortress. It was not, as most thought, to keep people out. It was much more than that.

  The shield was an anchor, much like the lens given to Duncan, but on a far grander scale. It had been in Edyn long enough to have soaked in the strength from that world’s sun, storing it for this moment. Now it could provide the energy for the titanic forces about to be unleashed.

  Lilyth closed her eyes and before her appeared the fortress of Bara’cor, shimmering in the air. She raised her hands and an image of Olympious appeared, superimposed on the first image. Slowly, she bent her will and concentrated, and the walls of Olympious began to shimmer.

  * * * * *

  King Bernal Galadine looked up, his eyes searching the air. Something wasn’t right. The air had the aftertaste of metal, a tang clawing at the back of his throat. The elves had fallen back after the gate closed on the other end, its shimmering curtain between Bara’cor and Arcadia now opaque, cutting them off from whatever fate had befallen the firstmark. The hairs on the back of his neck pricked up. A sound, a vibration, thrummed just below his five senses. He looked to Yevaine, the question plain in his eyes.

  The queen looked around too. “I don’t know,” she said,

  The memory of the fight against Mithras and his forces flooded Bernal’s thoughts. The fact the Aeris had disappeared . . . Bernal’s eyes widened . . . downward. He looked at Sparrow and Kalindor and said, “We’ve got to move!”

  Kalindor asked, “Where?”

  Bernal pointed to the exit from the temple and said, “We’ve got to go down, quickly!”

  Sparrow looked at him, then at Niall. “You order this?”

  When Niall had appeared on this side of the gate, the elves had gone to a knee as one, making it clear they followed him now. Zedakai had confirmed it by merely saying, “Valarius wanted it this way.”

  Bernal watched as Niall took a step back, the focus of the attention of two cohorts—almost a thousand elves. He did not want to usurp his son’s command. He merely nodded and hoped the boy—no man, he corrected himself—would do the right thing.

  Niall gathered his courage, then said to Sparrow and Zedakai, “We follow my father, for he has the most experience here in Edyn. Move on his orders.”

  Bernal began shouting, his battlefield voice cutting through idle chatter and gaining everyone’s attention. Under his direction the elves quickly formed up. At his command they set a fast pace with Kalindor in the lead, heading as quickly as possible for the Giant’s Step. Bernal and the queen found themselves in the middle, with the queen’s men interspersed amongst the double columns.

  “What do you think is happening?” asked Yevaine, her eyes still up at the cathedral ceiling. About half of the column had exited the pyramid room.

  “Mithras said we’ve done everything the Lady wanted and the Aeris who attacked us went downward. That worries me,” he answered on the run.

  A groan sounded from above, deep within the rock of Bara’cor itself. A shudder passed through the fortress, as if the walls themselves were somehow moving or expanding.

  “By the Lady,” whispered Bernal, no longer caring about the curse. “I think we’re in real trouble.”

  * * * * *

  Lilyth concentrated, bringing the two images closer together, forcing them to occupy the same space. Bara’cor trembled, its walls now being displaced by the sheer bulk of Olympious. From the outside Olympious grew luminous, like a city set afire by blue-white starlight. It shimmered, and the rest of Arcadia seemed to hold its breath.

  Then the city flashed once, an incandescent burst of star fire, and disappeared from the face of Arcadia.

  . . . A moment passed . . .

  . . . then two . . .

  and it reappeared with a whump of displaced air inside the blue-white scintillating shield surroundin
g Bara’cor. It did not fall. It just appeared in Edyn, and for a moment in time the two fortresses occupied the same space.

  Then a thunderous crack sounded as Olympious replaced Bara’cor, blasting the dwarven fortress outward in a mighty detonation of rubble and stone. The demolished rock hit the blue shield and piled up on the interior, forming a ring, a secondary outer wall of rubble more than a stone’s throw thick.

  The boom could be heard for leagues, causing people as far as Haven to look up at Land’s Edge Pass, fear in their eyes. A mushroom cloud greeted their gaze, rising above the top of the pass, so big it blotted out the sun.

  The demonlord Lilyth had returned, and nothing in Edyn would ever be the same.

  * * * * *

  Bernal looked up just as more deafening cracks sounded throughout the fortress. It was a series of sharp blasts, like a giant snapping huge pieces of stone. Rocks began to tumble into the underdark, huge pieces of stone dislodged from the ceiling to come tumbling down with earth shattering force.

  “Take cover!” screamed Kalindor down the line. The elves moved quickly, taking refuge wherever they could. Soon the individual pieces became a torrent of loose rock as the ceiling gave way, emptying tons of broken stone into the cavernous space below.

  The king grabbed Yevaine and pushed her under a small ledge, pulling himself under with her. He scrambled to unbelt Azani and placed the blade and scabbard vertically in their ledge, hoping it could hold their tiny “roof” in place. Then he looked for Niall but couldn’t see him anywhere. Dust began to billow up and the rock fall became a landslide, dumping an unbroken wall of dirt and sand down into the abyss like a waterfall made of granite and stone.

  It grew pitch black and Bernal felt Yevaine grab his arm and squeeze. He held her close, hoping they would survive, but the fact was they were being buried alive beneath their own fortress. Screams could be heard as elves were swept away, swallowed by the collapse of Land’s Edge.

  He pulled Yevaine close and said, “I’m sorry.”

  He could sense her smile as she replied, “For what? You did all you could.” He felt her warm lips press to his face, kissing him softly as she found his mouth in the darkness.

  Then the ground beneath them, once holding with the steadfastness of the earth itself, began to tilt. He could feel it begin to slide into the blackness and scrambled up as the ledge separated, pulling his wife along with a strength lent by desperation. His upward progress was overcome by the speed at which the rock fell, and in that moment Bernal knew they both could not make it.

  A hand grabbed his in a grip like a vise, strong, steady. He could feel it engulf his own, and somehow knew it was Niall.

  “Father!” His son, who had become more than just a man, screamed, “You have to hold on!”

  Bernal looked down, unable to see anything in the void. He could feel Yevaine lifeless, rendered unconscious or worse by the last wave of rock fall. He cradled her under one arm and clutched with torn fingernails to his son’s wrist. The world itself had slid out from beneath them, but then he heard a soft moan. He shook his eyes clear of stone dust and pulled Yevaine in close, giving the gods thanks when he heard her breathe, then cough.

  The sound galvanized him, bringing with it some preternatural power. He braced his legs on the precarious stone below and manhandled his wife’s limp form up to his son’s free arm. He could feel Niall take tentative hold of her just as the landslide paused, the pitch black abyss now plunged into an eerie silence punctuated by sharp slams that sounded like heavy bags being dropped from immense heights. Bernal realized with horror that these were people falling, hitting rock, dying.

  “I don’t have a firm grip, hold on!” Niall said again, his deep voice somehow both familiar and strange as it echoed into the blackness. Other screams could be heard as occasional rocks and boulders continued to plunge down from above, taking the unfortunate with them and ending in the same sickening, wet splat.

  Bernal breathed out knowing Niall, even with his newfound strength, could not hold onto both of them without proper footing. A fresh landslide sounded from above, a rising crescendo howling into the underdark. The rock moved out from under him, growling like some beast finally let loose from its leash. There was only one thing left to do.

  He pulled hard and swung Niall’s grip into Yevaine, feeling his son begin to try and grab them both. He push Yevaine closer with his body and said fiercely, “Save them!”

  Then he let go.

  There was a brief moment, Niall’s fingers grasping for his own, but Bernal launched himself into the rush of rock, stone, and earth from above, letting it carry him into the open abyss below. The last thing he saw was a brief glimmer of light, the lightning flash of his blade somewhere above, revealing his son’s grief-stricken face.

  Bernal screamed, “Niall!”

  Then everything went black.

  Baalor’s Dawnlight

  A good cause can be tarnished with ignoble acts.

  A bad cause can be legend with self-sacrifice.

  In the end your cause will be measured

  by how you fought, as much as by why.

  Galadine House of Arms, Battle’s Focus

  B

  aalor was resting in the rock of the mountain, watching with his stonesight as dwarven builders went about their duties using tunnels, but more often phasing through the rock itself to achieve chambers hidden within. Unlike the rings above, there were no tunnels at this depth, and why would they need one? The easiest way to shield things of worth would be to place it where no one but a builder could reach.

  Mithras has succeeded. Proceed with your mission.

  The message came from Lilyth. He was clear to move.

  Sovereign had made a critical error in sending his assassins into Bara’cor. Now Baalor had the means to remove Dawnlight’s phasing and fix it to one place. But that would take careful and methodical searching for something he’d never seen before, Dawnlight’s homestone.

  My Lady, thank you for this chance, he replied.

  You are my most dear. I will miss you. Make legend, and you will be mythborn again.

  Baalor did not have to reply. He knew the stakes. While Lilyth had worked on the plan for Avalyon, he had been surveilling the mountain itself.

  The network of intersecting tunnels were methodically laid out in concentric rings with spokes, almost like wheels within wheels. The central shaft had more rings attached vertically, each laid out the same way but going deeper into the mountain.

  In between each were chambers, some accessible by tunnels and some not. Baalor had ignored those that were joined because of simple logic. It was doubtful one would put something as important as a homestone in an open chamber accessible by those who could not phase.

  Though he was hidden within rock, he was not safe. Soldiers regularly patrolled the dense mountain, both in the open corridors and inside the stone. He was confident of his ability to defeat them, but raising an alarm in the wrong place would potentially pit him against thousands.

  What an epic story would be told of Baalor, the Lord of Storms, if he were to succeed! And, he reminded himself with a sigh, what ignobility would rest at his feet if these mortals defeated him. Truly the outcome would change his fundamental venerability forever. As the Lady had often cautioned him, hubris led to nothing. Beneficence, pain, and loss; these were the only things people worshipped or feared. It was the only thing that would bring him back once his deed was done.

  Had he mistfrights, he could possess the guards. He didn’t, and possession was an option only when strategically valuable, such as the death of his current host. Contrary to what the people of Edyn thought, the more powerful the Aeris, the less ability they had to switch bodies. The easiest way for him was to get himself killed.

  It would not do to have the mountain come alive around him before he’d gotten deeper. Dawnlight itself would help the dwarves find an enemy. Had infiltration been easy, the Lady would’ve ordered it done long ago, so he’d bee
n careful and methodical as he continued his search for the perfect place to set up a good distraction.

  So far nothing had been worthy of his attention. He’d surmised that what he wanted was deep in the mountain and therefore descended through the rock. As he’d expected, the number of patrols increased as he went down. This made it difficult to progress, as guards patrolled the area like swimmers in a port of war. But shortly after entering the mountain he’d had an idea.

  He waited until he saw a guard standing by himself. The man was at his post, a corridor that ended in one of the lower spokes. He knew these dwarves could hear things passing through the stone just like most other people could with things in the air. Therefore he was careful, approaching slowly and when it seemed the man was lightly dozing.

  Baalor’s hands reached through the rock and grasped the man’s throat. He whirled, pulling the Stormlord right out of the rock to fall tumbling! Baalor took the fall, rolling easily but sprawling out to look inept. He got up and rushed the guard, who by now had drawn a weapon.

  The storm god felt the pommel of the weapon hit the back of his head. Not enough, he thought. He reached up and punched the man in the face, then drew his own sword, needing to escalate things.

  The man’s eyes widened, perhaps a realization that what might have been a prank amongst friends to scare him had suddenly turned into a real fight for his life. Baalor smiled, then swung a slow and lazy strike at the man’s head. The man ducked and countered, then stabbed with his eyes closed.

  Baalor sighed, then stepped into the blade. It sank through his throat and emerged from the back of this neck. Blood spurted and the last thing Baalor heard through his corporeal ears was the shameful sound of his opponent’s sudden sob.