by Lakshman, V.
Silbane watched the creature a moment longer, then nodded. “And is that why you hate me?”
“Hate you?” The others paused as Tempest answered, “To hate means one must care first.”
Silbane pursed his lips, then looked at the blade and said, “If I have given offense, it was unintentional. Please forgive me.”
There seemed to be no reply, but the firstmark looked up at Silbane and said, “Let’s give it some time.”
Silbane nodded slowly. “Okay, but we need to move.”
“Agreed,” replied the firstmark, “we’ll follow you and—” he turned to the group—“we need to guard our thoughts. According to Tempest what we think has effect on us here, understand?”
Silbane stood, brushing himself off. “I do.”
“I don’t!” replied Yetteje, her voice edged with fear. “We’re not supposed to worry?”
Kisan came over and gently took the young princess by the arms. “You were the first to say we’ll find Arek and Niall and bravely join us through the portal. Now we’re here. Do not despair.”
Their eyes met and through his gift Silbane saw some of Kisan’s strength flow into the girl, imbuing her with fortitude that led to calmness. Her breathing relaxed, and she hefted the bow a few times, reassuring herself. Then her amber eyes met Kisan’s own and she smiled. “It’s just so much has happened.”
“I know, but this is a long run, not a sprint. You must gird yourself. We have to keep going.” She directed the last of her statement to Silbane, who caught her meaning.
He focused his Sight, and could again see the Way flowing toward twin peaks in the distance, like a dust storm made up of pinpoints of light. It did not obscure his vision, yet the particles were everywhere. “Let’s move.”
Tempest chose then to say, “Mistfrights and worse will appear, drawn to my beloved as moths to flame.”
“Can we protect ourselves?” Yetteje asked. “I mean… I saw Alyx fall to them. It wasn’t pretty.” Seeing possession had an immediacy that could not be conveyed in words.
Silbane knew the outcome of compliancy and his next words held real weight. “If we can’t, we won’t survive.” He regretted saying it the moment it was out of his mouth. He didn’t need to look to know she’d stopped, her eyes wide now with fear.
Ash came to the rescue saying, “You’ve trained with the TCA, House Galadine’s toughest opponents. I know you can do it.”
A moment passed, then a bit more before Yetteje responded with a small nod. “I’m sorry, Kisan is right. We need to find Niall and Arek.”
Kisan smiled in return, giving Yetteje a small shake before addressing Silbane. “Nice job. Lead on.”
The party of four readied themselves and then started to move, Silbane in the lead. Making their way through the forest was an exercise in ease for some, effort for others. For Silbane and Kisan, the path was clear and the terrain did not seem to hinder them. For Yetteje, she found her steps buoyed, as if the very ground gave her a bounce.
Ash, however, had the worst of it. Though the forest floor seemed flat and unobstructed, hidden roots, small dips, and irregular terrain threatened to twist his legs out from under him. It was almost as if the land itself tried to slow him down, but for what purpose remained unclear.
At the trip of the fourth hole that seemed to appear from nowhere, Ash stopped and cursed, “I’ll break an ankle like this.” They stood in a clearing of trees, a path through the forest still showing the way to theV-shaped peaks Silbane had identified earlier.
“It is my fault, beloved, for the land has no love for me. Yet we must keep moving,” came Tempest’s soft reply.
“Did you notice that?” It was Yetteje that asked the question.
Silbane responded, “What?”
The princess looked around, then back at the elder master before saying, “Everything gets clearer when we stop. Like the world comes more into focus.” She stomped and the ground and remarked, “The ground feels flexible under my feet when I move, but now feels steady and hard. Why?”
The voice of the blade said, “Your thoughts, little one, for you are favored here. But we must not tarry.”
“We create solidity around us?” Silbane replied. “Fascinating.”
“Logical… how much do you pay attention to your surroundings when you move, rather than where your foot will be placed next?” Kisan turned to Ash and said, “And how often do we believe the land hates us, that we are troublesome? Here, it becomes what you fear.”
“Is this what you meant?” Ash asked Tempest. His question was clearly borne from frustration, and he took to looking at the ground and muttering under his breath.
Silbane looked at the group, thinking. He made eye contact with Kisan, using their familiarity rather than mindspeak or voice, asking her to be silent. Then he came before Ash and said, “I can make your way easier.”
“How?” asked the firstmark, still looking at the ground with disgust. It seemed his boots had already sunk a bit more than anyone else’s, as if he stood in his own personal quicksand.
“A spell,” Silbane said, his statement causing the firstmark to look up. “I can enchant your boots, if you and Tempest will trust me.”
“We should make haste,” Tempest urged, an edge of fear in her voice.
Her concern began to infect the group, but most of all, Silbane, who wondered at her sudden desire to move. What did she know?
Then the firstmark spread his arms and said, “Fine. I’ve never been against magic, and this is intolerable.” His feet were buried to his ankles. He looked at his blade, and Silbane imagined he had told Tempest to allow him to cast his spell.
At the firstmark’s nod, Silbane knelt. He placed his hands over the boots and called on the Way. A small flash occurred and then disappeared just as quickly. “Done.”
Ash looked down, then took a tentative step forward, and his foot came resting on hard ground. He took another step or two and found the ground unyielding and supportive. He looked up, astonishment spreading his face in a smile. “Thank you.”
“Of course, firstmark.” Silbane turned and walked back to the lead, a private smile on his face.
What spell was that? Kisan mindspoke to him privately with a laugh.
Nothing, but if he believes… It seems that’s all that matters here.
They started to move when another voice piped into both their heads, I heard you!
Silbane and Kisan spun, looking at the wide-eyed princess, who was clearly in shock. “I heard you… the spell is fake?” Yetteje looked at both of them, not realizing she had spoken this last aloud.
“What?” Ash looked at everyone, realizing that what Silbane had done had been nothing more than a false palliative, a way to convince him and his blade that his boots had been ensorcelled. His feet sank into the ground. He looked down in misery.
Silbane rolled his eyes but Kisan let out a small laugh. Then she turned to Yetteje and remarked, “How is it that you heard us?”
“Better question,” Silbane said, looking directly at Yetteje, “how do you feel?” He knew something of the Way flowed through the girl, something he saw clearly since her feline alter presence had been revealed. Given her Galadine heritage, the fact that she could command the unseen forces of the world to some extent without training did not surprise him.
However, the act of mindspeaking would normally drain someone unused to it. A simple statement between he and Kisan was bearable by the masters, but Yetteje should be feeling something more noticeable. The girl shook her head no, which caused his interest to rise. In fact, even he didn’t feel the normal drain of using mindspeak. Curious.
“They’ve found us.” The statement came from Tempest, followed by a sudden silence that blanketed the area. They had grown so accustomed to the small sounds of the forest that this stillness filled them with dread and left no time for Silbane to follow up his question to the princess.
The two masters moved to either side of the party, which closed ra
nks despite having no idea what direction the threat came from. “Who?” asked Silbane, searching their clearing for any sign of pursuers.
“Draw me, beloved. At least we shall see our end together.”
Her tone was mournful, so much so that it seemed to give life to Ash’s hand. Despite what Silbane knew was a real fear on the firstmark’s part about using the blade, Ash drew Tempest from her sheath. “You’re not very confident.”
Her gem lit in a flash of emerald, casting its pure light around them. In that light her meaning became clear. Dark shapes surrounded them, hundreds, all with glowing yellow eyes. They rose from the ground like mist, featureless and yet real in a dark and terrible way. Silbane knew them from his childhood, as he knew Yetteje did from Bara’cor. Mistfrights. Each watched silently, unmoving, as if waiting for something, or someone.
“We are well met, my lord.”
Silbane turned to the voice and beheld a giant step from the thin air, his form wavering into solid reality. He was blue, with even bluer eyes glowing from beneath white brows under a bronze barbute topped with four black feathers. His arms were massive, encircled with some bronze colored metal, the same at his wrists and belt. A simple bronze cuirass and faulds, and boots of the same metal completed his defensive garb. In his hands he held a long spear, ending in a razor sharp leaf head. Appearing behind him were a dozen more men, slightly smaller, but similarly attired.
“And you are?” Silbane asked.
“I am, Anhur.” The being bowed, hand first to forehead, then sweeping out as he rose. “And I ask you to step aside from the Kinslayer.”
The greeting reminded Silbane of Baalor, the Stormlord. This giant was, it seemed, one of the Furies Tempest had mentioned.
“I’ll drink your blood before you take him,” Tempest warned.
Anhur seemed to take this in, but did not respond. Instead he looked back at Silbane and said, “We wish neither you nor Lady Artymis harm, but Lady Lilyth has ordered your companions be brought to her.” He then turned his attention back to Tempest and said with obvious relish, “The Kinslayer, of course, is ours.”
Silbane heard Kisan’s sharp intake of breath, but did not let it distract him. “I’m afraid I can’t step aside. They’re under my protection.” Then an idea occurred and he asked, “If you’re going to Lady Lilyth, why not let us accompany you?”
The blue giant tilted his helmed head, considering. Then said, “I have no orders concerning you, my lord, but would agree if the Kinslayer is turned over to us.”
“No!” Tempest roared in fury. Her green gem flashed even brighter, pushing the entire crowd of dark shapes back and causing the giant and his men to raise their arms to shield their eyes. But it was short-lived. The weapon seemed to grow tired and lose luster, as if exhausted. “I won’t let you take either of us.”
As her light dimmed, Anhur said, “Do you still yearn to feed on your own kind, sister?”
Silbane intervened, worried what Tempest may do if cornered. “If we separate them, she could kill him. Why not let them travel together?”
The giant seemed to consider this too, and replied, “As I said, I have no orders concerning you, but all may accompany us. However, the Kinslayer must be surrendered. She will face judgment for her actions. If you refuse, you cast your lot in with her.”
At that, Silbane realized what the giant meant. They would kill everyone and then do whatever they wished with Tempest. It was intolerable, and he felt his own anger rise again. In an instant, he called on the Way to ignite his flameskin and could feel Kisan do the same.
A sudden detonation of white—an explosion of power that left Silbane dazed. When his vision cleared, it seemed the giant had shrunk. Anhur and he were now eye to eye, until he looked around and saw the truth. The ghost-like mistfrights were no taller than his leg, and the clearing seemed small by comparison.
White armor edged in deep blue encompassed him, and he had no doubt taken on the aspect of the being he’d seen earlier. Kisan stood next to him, encased in black armor edged in red. The two war angels faced Anhur and his men, who had fallen back and brought their weapons up to the ready.
“My lord!” Anhur said in surprise mixed with awe. “We thought you dead.”
Silbane moved forward and the giant retreated a step. “Dead?”
Anhur nodded, though his weapon did not move to a less offensive posture. “We knew of the Ascension of Lady Artymis,” he said with a nod to Kisan, “and that you, too, were clearly Ascended, but we thought you lost.”
Silbane rose to his full height, feeling every minute detail of the armor encasing him as if it were alive. He could feel air against its skin, on each blade of his wings, could even flex them individually as if he had been born knowing how. His gaze met Anhur’s own, who stood ready with his company of giants, and took a calculated guess. “You would face Azrael in combat?”
The Fury hefted his spear, which began to glow. “I would never have believed today would be our day, and we do not wish to take your lives. Yet you must also know that Lady Lilyth will do far worse to us if we fail to bring the Kinslayer to justice. Like you, we live for battle.”
Kisan stepped forward. “Then today you die, Lord Anhur.”
“Perhaps,” Anhur said with a shrug, “but it is said everything dies.” He stepped into line with his men and bowed with his helm. “We will let Fate decide.”
There was a short horn blast, a signal from the line of Furies. They locked shields and advanced with a shout, a single bark sounding their determination. Then, from behind and on all sides as one, the crowd of mistfrights gushed forth in a deluge of black fur and yellow eyes, smashing into the four like a tidal wave made of claws and teeth.
For a moment the bright light of Tempest flared in a burst of pure emerald before it was buried by the onrush of creatures screaming with hunger. Silbane had only a moment to see Ash and Yetteje standing alone and small near their legs before the wash of enemies swallowed and buried them all under a black sea of bodies.
Princes
Never trust those who give you something for free.
Assume what they receive
far exceeds what they gave in value.
- Argus Rillaran, The Power of Deceit
The cold of transition was shocking and sudden, and then just as suddenly it was gone. Arek and Niall stepped into a warm breeze, heavy with the smell of spring grass and bright sunshine. The sound of birds could be heard coming from some distance away, but nothing stirred that spoke of habitation or people.
Squinting, the new adept looked over a verdant expanse flowing down the hill upon which he stood. The horizon was a clean, distinct line, an intense slash separating the vivid green from the wholesome blue of the sky above. Shapes in that sky appeared almost like floating islands, if that idea wasn’t absurd. It lent a surreal nature to the place, and Arek surmised this was only the first of many things likely different between this realm and his.
Arek closed his eyes, feeling the world suffuse him with energy. He took a deep breath, then another, and then looked around. With each breath the colors grew brighter and more distinct. The very air seemed to hum with something, a vibrancy he could not quite put his finger on. Then he knew what it was.
Power.
It fell upon him like the sunlight itself, permeating his skin, soaking into his very bones and warming them from the inside. It was a feeling of “rightness,” of sustenance he could not gain from food or drink, and the energy it brought with it gave him a boundless joy and excitement. He looked back at Niall, a smile already lighting his face. He grew even stronger.
“What happened?” Niall asked, groggy. He seemed to be coming out of whatever fugue state Lilyth had imposed. He rubbed his face as if clearing away cobwebs, then his features went from confusion to wary alertness and he looked around quickly. “Where are we?”
Arek smiled and said, “We’re in Lilyth’s world.” It was hard to hide the exuberance in his voice.
“What?�
�� Niall exclaimed, clearly aghast at the thought. “Why?”
“You don’t remember?” Arek looked at him in confusion. “You said you trusted me.”
Niall nodded. “I do, but the last thing I remember was standing with Tej, looking up at you climbing the pyramid. How did we get here?”
Before Arek could answer, a deep voice came from behind them. “Stand easy. We greet you in peace.”
They spun at the voice and were shocked to see a company of blue-skinned beings, silently regarding them. How long they’d been standing there was uncertain, but their stance mimicked the very earth and trees around them, natural and steady.
They seemed as much a part of the world as a blade of grass or limb and leaf. Each had horns curling up from their foreheads like rams, and a circular sigil burned into their flesh on their shoulders, chest, and brow. They were armed, but held their weapons in relaxed hands.
At their head was a taller blue-skinned figure in armor. A winged helm sat atop his head like a crown, and caught the sunlight in a flash of yellow fire. His silver armor was magnificent, shining like a knight from a tale, yet this was overshadowed by the most remarkable thing about him—he looked like an angel.
Wings grew out of his back, spreading and enveloping him like a mantle of power. Each shining feather ended in a knife-edge, keen and razor sharp. It was glorious and beautiful, and at the same time dangerous and deadly. Arek could not believe he had not noticed this man and the blue-skinned creatures with him before this. It was as if they had appeared out of thin air.
The figure removed his helm, revealing a hornless head of black hair that fell framing a square-jawed face. Flawless blue-skin stretched over high cheekbones and an aquiline nose, marred only by circular sigils burned into the center of his brow and down each cheek. For some reason he looked familiar, a face he’d seen before but couldn’t place.