Mythborn

by Lakshman, V.

  A moment later, they were alone.

  Jesyn spun and hit Dragor on the shoulder. “Seriously, what’s the matter with you?”

  “Oww! I was trying to lighten the mood,” he offered lamely, for a moment feeling as if he were the student.

  “Stop! You’re acting rude, and I don’t have the energy to get in between you and Dazra all the time.”

  Dragor nodded, not sure exactly what to say. Then he motioned to a chair that looked more comfortable than the stools arranged around their table and moved over, sitting down. The furniture here was large enough for both of them to sit on, making him feel more like a child.

  “Do you need any help?”

  “No,” he replied, thinking she meant sitting in the chair. It was only after he’d taken his seat that he realized she meant help with communicating with the lore father. He gave her a chagrined smile then said, “No, I can create the bridge to Giridian.”

  He saw the concern on her face and remembered how he’d felt when Giridian had tried to access the lore father’s memories. He held out his hand and smiled, squeezing hers reassuringly. “Thanks, just stay nearby. Your presence is comforting.” It was only then that he realized Giridian must’ve done the same thing for him, and a sheepish look crept onto his face.

  He cleared his mind again and then reached out to the Way. He could feel the connection when it completed and the lore father was with him.

  Dragor! I take it you’re safe?

  Both Jesyn and I, and we’ve found the dwarves.

  The astonishment that flooded through their connection was unmistakable, so Dragor quickly corrected, Actually, they found us.

  He quickly went on to relate their travel north through Morninglight and Westbay. Their tracking of the assassins and eventual capture of one, only to be in turn “escorted” by Dazra and his people. Now they found themselves on the slopes of Dawnlight, preparing to enter the mountain in search of Armun. Dazra offered his help if they could combine their efforts and find out the fate of his missing people, as perhaps the two were linked. Finally, he asked if there was any help that could be provided, perhaps Tomas could join them as another adept would be welcome.

  There was silence from the lore father at first. Then, haltingly, Giridian shared the revelation of Thoth and the war between Lilyth and Sovereign. He shared Arek’s birthright and rescinding the termination order he’d given Kisan. He spoke of the Phoenix Stone lying deep in the Shattered Sea, requiring the Heart of the Phoenix to raise, and their lack of knowledge on exactly what the Heart was. He even shared with him the new candidates who had come to the isle, including Kimora, who looked to be a promising addition.

  Dragor smiled, then asked, And when can Tomas come? His power will be much needed for this effort into Dawnlight.

  The pause that followed felt uncomfortable, as if the lore father did not want to speak. Dragor’s eyes widened and he said out loud, “No…”

  He failed and left… still a Brown, correct? Dragor demanded, hoping.

  The silence from the other end told him it was far worse than that. His gaze flicked up to Jesyn and his eyes began to well up, so he squeezed them shut.

  When the lore father spoke, it was slow and heavy, as if the man dragged the weight of Tomas’s fate entirely on his own shoulders. He fought bravely and would not quit. In the end, I did not prepare him well enough.

  Dragor was quick to say, No, you can’t blame yourself.

  He could feel the lore father smile at that, but not with humor. Can’t I? Who then carries the blame for the fates of our students, if not me?

  Dragor received the lore father’s tacit agreement that they were free to do whatever they thought best to recover Armun, as that was the highest priority. They should also stay aware of any clues as to the nature of the Heart. Perhaps it was something the dwarves knew about? As their communication began to fade, Dragor received a burst of energy from the lore father, replenishing him greatly. Sudden clarity lifted the fog his mind had been under, something he’d not noticed until this welcomed gift.

  A final note, 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 breaking. 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 how to begin.

  Jesyn made it easy, perhaps suspecting something already. She said, “Tell me.”

  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. Something within her discerned the truth of Tomas’s fate. A hand went to her mouth, an unconscious gesture to stop from saying anything, 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 there, stroking her head, 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 barb 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

  They had traveled quickly, following the afterimage of the flash thought to be Arek, like a lodestone pointing unerringly at an unknown destination. Silbane was silent as he flew, his wings catching the air with consummate ease. Their skill continued to grow, an extension of some long forgotten instinct. Silbane felt as if he’d been meant to fly with the eddies and whorls of air, like brothers and sisters he’d not seen in a lifetime. Yet his muscles remembered them still.

  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 seen the flash they would have been truly lost. He’d decided there was no sense in raising worry though, especially since the detonation of that negative energy had been very real and easy to follow. Still, losing the current was concerning, leaving the master feeling its absence as a small knot of doubt coiling deep in his gut.

  He looked down and noted the white-knuckled grip of the firstmark on his arms. The man had still not taken to flight and despite his complacency, it was clear flying would be last on a long list of things he wanted to do. It was doubtful Ash would ever be someone who relished the freedom of the skies the way that Silbane and more clearly Kisan did. As if confirming his thoughts, she wheeled under and around him in a barrel roll, her black wings fully healed now and snapping out to catch air just above his position.

  “There!” he said, pointing.

  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 snapped open, depositing her soundlessly on the sand and gravel terrain. Silbane followed, landing with a soft whirl of dust and debris. He lowered Ash carefully and then changed to his smaller normal form. Kisan did the same, moving toward the edges of the ravine. Her inspection did not take very long.

  “You see this?”

  Silbane nodded, the track of someone sliding down the ravine face evident. The fact that new dirt had been kicked up and spread spoke to a fight at the base. It looked like a fight, with the bodies of half a dozen giant men spread about, arms and legs akimbo in 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, and that made Arek a likely suspect. Either that or something very strange was going on.

  “What do you think?” he asked Kisan. Her lifetime of hunting magehunters now seemed strangely apropos.

  “Defini
tely 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, as if sensing his insecurity, said, “Whatever happened, there doesn’t seem to be any sign of Arek.” She moved down amongst the massive bodies, inspecting the ground. “Tracks lead up that way. Assuming it’s 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 could 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 ‘s mind worked through what could be said. 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 something up 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, the pyramid is the obvious choice.”

  There was silence as each looked to the massive city rising some distance away. It dominated the skyline, making it an unavoidable point of attention. Finally, it was Kisan who said, “Let’s think this through. If Arek went to the city, we would be walking into Lilyth’s hands. The outcome is unclear but her troops certainly 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 the kids 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 a gate controlled by Lilyth.”

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

  Kisan arched an eyebrow. “Overwhelming violence.”

  For once, the master did not argue. Perhaps she was right, and force was the only way to gain their release. Certainly Lilyth did not want to see the full might of two Ascended wreaking havoc on her domain. Still, he reminded himself that despite their new powers, they had been no match for Anhur and his giants nor 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.

  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 that in this vast world we landed on the one island occupied by a person you know?” 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 sounded, “We are in danger!”

  The firstmark’s eyes widened. “What?” His short dagger had come into hand so quickly it seemed to appear from nowhere.

  Then it hit Silbane what had been amiss. These bodies… aside from the blackened skin, none showed any signs of injury. What unarmed combat left no marks? Broken bones, crushed joints, all where an expected outcome from lethal strikes yet none showed any damage.

  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 attack 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, his jaw tightening with determination.

  Before more could be said the creatures had risen, opening eyes that burned with a 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 threw her wingblades. The storm of keen, feather-like daggers flew unerringly at the nephilim, killing it in a dying scream as it dissipated into black mist. “Get it together!” she yelled again. “We don’t have the luxury of time!”

  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 his armor scored as it passed by but 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 the master did a small semicircle with that hand, looping his arm now on top of his opponent’s wrist. Then he held onto the hand and pushed down with his arm. The creature’s wrist snapped with a wet pop, but it did not seem to feel any pain.

  It swiped with its other clawed hand and Silbane ducked, and realized he’d just narrowly avoided getting his face clawed open. At that thought his helmet and visor closed, leaving only aV 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 blades. 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, enveloping him. Clawing the outside of the sphere was the last remaining nephilim trying to reach the firstmark with every ounce of energy it had. The beast was feral, almost hungry in the way it acted. It reached back with both arms to strike a crushing blow just as black fe
ather blades sliced through the creature, killing it instantly.

  Those blades that were left from Kisan’s throw flashed silver as they struck the shield Tempest had obviously erected to protect Ash and disappeared in white puffs of smoke of their own. 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 since time immemorial. 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.”

  To Silbane it was clear the blade had been talking to Ash, who in response had 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. Yet one who destroys the Way can also bring them forth.” She seemed to be talking to Silbane when she said, “Arek carried me faithfully, but in Arcadia he is the end of this world.”