Mythborn

by Lakshman, V.

  She’d closed her eyes the moment they’d entered the rock. Now she didn’t have the courage to open them, fearing the sand would scour her eyeballs from her head. But the fact that it was already passing through her eyelids and across her eyes made her realize how obtuse she was being. She cautiously opened one and then both eyes. She could see!

  Not as clearly as one could in air, but the world seemed made of a soft, ruddy glow gathering into orange-lit passageways and tunnels crisscrossing throughout the mountain. It looked to be a central shaft with spokes that radiated outward, with circular tunnels at regular intervals joining each spoke, like rings within rings. She marveled at the sight, and how far down it went. In truth, she now saw they had barely scratched the surface of Dawnlight, and she wondered with some chagrin if they’d only stuck to the open air passageways because of her.

  A tap on her arm and Tarin pointed to a corridor below them, unoccupied. She looked back and could see the passageway they’d left and committed that distance to memory. It would take her some time, but soon the measurements would start to make sense. She noted a bright flash above the area they’d left, and watched as Tarin pointed to specks within the mountain moving in that direction.

  “That star is Sai’ken,” Tarin’s disembodied voice said in her ear, “and those things moving are the ancient guardians of Dawnlight.”

  Impossible, she thought. For them to be visible inside such a vast space they’d have to be enormous! She looked up at the small star shining bright and was suddenly worried for Sai’ken. For all their vaunted lethality, she knew very little about dragons and found it hard to believe the mountain wouldn’t send something capable of dealing with a young dragon intruding upon its domain.

  Sai’ken’s light looked so small and fragile and these guardians moved at her unerringly, like sharks scenting blood.

  Blackwood

  We never expect to meet someone like us.

  When we do, it often doesn’t rise

  to the level of our expectations.

  - Duncan Illrys, Remembrances

  The party took advantage of the distraction and flew up and at the circle of blue sky cut out of the domed roof like a blue moon. As they burst into sunlight, Arek realized with dismay that they had not exited Avalyon, only entered a vast hall lined with pennants and what looked like statues arranged in concentric rings. It was a domed throne room sitting at the very top of the city. Set on one end was the raised dais and seats for what could only be the highlord and his consort, and the other had a large gate similar to the one under Bara’cor that Arek and Niall had used. Arek pointed but Silbane had already begun to dive for that structure, followed by the rest. Wings flared and the group found themselves standing on a floor made of black wood so polished it looked like marble.

  Silbane set Brianna and the unconscious Duncan down. The instant Arek’s feet touched the ground a wave of dizziness, a queasy giddiness, washed through him. His master staggered over to one side, his hands on his knees. A quick glance at the others said all were similarly affected.

  Brianna dashed to Duncan’s side, checking him with concern on her face. “He’s not responding as quickly as he should.” Then her eyes fell upon the torc encircling Duncan’s neck, almost hidden under the blood and damage, and she cursed in surprise. “I didn’t see this.” She looked around helplessly, then turned to Arek and said, “Take this off of him or he’s going to die.”

  Arek nodded, knowing if the torc was anything like the one Brianna had worn, it would block Duncan from the Way, and perhaps also Brianna’s healing magic. He moved over carefully, vertigo now replacing the earlier nausea, and took a closer look at his father and the healing patch. It glowed a soft amber color, pulsing erratically. Could that be his heartbeat?

  “It should be green with a steady pulse,” Brianna said.

  Arek met her eyes and saw no deceit in them. “Thank you, no matter what happens.” He reached down and touched the torc on Duncan’s neck. At first nothing happened. Tendrils of blackfire, like smoke, flowed downward and into the black wood beneath them instead of the torc. Like an almost dried ink spill, it began to spread under the coppery metal, but so slowly. What was going on?

  Orion then said to the party, “I, too, am drained.” The Watcher had sank to one knee and looked at the group with concern, Helios in much the same posture behind him only looking more miserable. “Our forms are the Way incarnate. This should not be happening here in Arcadia.”

  “Valarius,” Arek whispered, pointing to the statue in the phoenix armor. “He’s done something.” Then he looked at Silbane and said, “How do we open the gate?”

  Silbane flicked a glance at Brianna, who shook her head and said, “Duncan needs to wake up.”

  The master’s eyes narrowed, peering about the room, then he said, “It’s strange. The Way here is dampened, as if the entire place was acting like some sort of sponge, soaking it up.”

  The master turned back to Arek and said, “We wait here for Kisan. Hopefully she was able to recover the firstmark and return. When she arrives and Duncan awakens, we find Niall and get out.”

  Yetteje’s voice grabbed his attention. “This a gallery of some sort, a tribute to Valarius?” the princess asked to no one in particular. Arek looked around and saw why she thought so. From the air the statues seemed small and insignificant. At ground level they spread throughout the chamber in rows upon rows of elven soldiers, each carved exquisitely out of some sort of deep brown wood.

  At the center of the room not far from where they stood was a pair of men, one tall dressed in light armor with a phoenix carved into the chest, the other of equal height but much bigger, with wings that looked bladed like the Watchers’ or Silbane’s own. Behind them stood six smaller angelic elves, their wings crossed over their bodies and their heads bowed. These statues looked to be made of some marble, the sheen and detail extraordinary. Another explosion rocked the hall, shaking the ground beneath their feet.

  Yetteje caught her balance, then moved closer to the two tall men, inspecting their detail with fascination. Arek watched as she finished looking at the first, then moved over to the second. Then something happened. She stepped back and then stumbled.

  “Arek,” she screamed, “it’s a trap!”

  Had the head of the winged figure moved, looking down at Yetteje? As if confirming his worst fears, the statues of Valarius and the other angelic elves wavered, their marble facade disappearing in a rippling wave. The eight figures advanced, living and dangerously real. Arek shifted quickly into a combat stance when Yetteje screamed, calling upon his blackfire, but nothing happened. He gasped in pain as the cut on his shoulder reopened. That drew his eyebrows together in dread. Since they’d been here his healing had been much quicker, the abundance of the Way regenerating him with an efficacy that had been a sublime buoy to his spirit. Now that, along with his blackfire it seemed, was either gone or dampened by whatever his master had seen.

  Not good, Arek thought, his mouth dry. Silbane maneuvered himself slowly between where he stood and the tall man who now strode forward to meet them.

  “Surrender, and I will allow you all to go free,” said the first man, who could only be Valarius Galadine. “You can continue the fight to protect Edyn and her people.”

  Before Silbane could reply, Yetteje said in a half whisper, half gasp, “Niall… what have you done?”

  Arek followed her gaze past Valarius to the winged warrior standing right behind him. The man moved forward with Valarius and his features were more visible. Wait, that face… though Arek had only spent a few days with Niall he recognized him easily. He’d come to think of the prince of Bara’cor as a friend, and the eyes of the warrior who stood across from them could only be that same person.

  The man answered in a voice eerily similar to the one he remembered, but deeper, older. “Tej, I’m what I was always supposed to be.”

  “What?” yelled Yetteje. “What about your father and mother?”

  “
I did this for them,” replied Niall. “I’ll lead these men back to Bara’cor and defend it from Lilyth’s forces. Together, my grand-uncle, my father, and I will change the world.” He moved forward one step and extended a hand. “You can join us.”

  Arek couldn’t take his eyes off of Niall. The prince had changed. He was taller, bigger, his skin had a light sheen of blue and as they had all seen, armored and winged. His wings were made of the same deadly razors as found on the Ascended. He also radiated power, though when standing next to Valarius that power was overshadowed by the presence of this archmage who had stepped right out of legend.

  Arek turned his attention to the highlord, noting the wolf-like amber eyes and parchment-white skin. They both looked like elves, but nevertheless the mark of Galadine blood ran true and neither could be mistaken for anything else but part of that detested royal family. He’d been tortured and maimed by the Galadines, and now his father hung a thread’s pull away from death because of the very same people. Arek could not help but get angry at the treatment they’d suffered at their hands.

  Yetteje shook her head slowly, her misery plain for anyone to see. “No,” she said, “I can’t join you. You need to come home with us.”

  Valarius was quick to respond and addressed the entire group. “Do not so blithely cast away our offer, for Lilyth is coming. Even now her forces prepare to invade Edyn.” He turned his attention back to Yetteje and said, “The Galadine blood flows strongly within you. You can rebuild EvenSea, rescue your people, and bring order and peace to your lands.”

  Silbane stepped forward. “What have you done? You’ve changed the Way, altered it here somehow.”

  “You can See?” asked Valarius. Another explosion rocked the ground upon which they stood. When the tremors subsided he said, “You have been given the gift of Sight?” To Silbane’s hesitant nod the archmage said, “Then you have been given a lie, an attempt by the Conclave and dragons to mislead you to ruin.”

  Valarius took a step forward and said, “Yet I have turned their meddling into something of worth. Behold—” and he looked at Arek—“My Sight has let me create the weapon needed to destroy the Aeris. Had Sonya’s meddling not taken him from me, I would have destroyed them long ago.” He smiled and said, “Now he has been brought back by a desperate demon thinking to turn my own flesh and blood against me.”

  “I’m not your son,” Arek snarled.

  “No? Who brought you into this world, consecrated and blessed?” Valarius asked. Before Arek could answer, the archmage turned back to Silbane. “Did you think you could come against me with your Aeris brothers and I would not be prepared? Lilyth has played her hand, ineptly and without consideration for your lives. I offer you a true alliance, but only if you stand against these demons of Arcadia.”

  “Lilyth does not seek your death,” replied Orion simply. From his knees he was almost at Valarius’s eye level. “We Watchers have always held ourselves neutral, but even we see it is your aggression that drives this ‘war.’ ”

  Valarius raised an eyebrow and asked, “Then who invades Avalyon now, holds Bara’cor at siege, and soon after will take Dawnlight? Perhaps Watcher, Lilyth, and Thoth have deemed you a necessary sacrifice in this peaceful ‘un-war’ they wage?” As if punctuating the archmage’s statement, another explosion shook the floor, sending tremors through the blackwood.

  A sickening sense of dread formed in the pit of his stomach. Had Lilyth so effortlessly maneuvered them here under the guise of saving Duncan? Then why had she not attacked when Duncan first appeared? Why wait for him and his companions unless getting Arek here somehow furthered her plans. His mind began calculating furiously, but his master was first to respond.

  “Dawnlight?” asked Silbane, “the lost city of the dwarves?”

  Valarius nodded and replied, “She will possess every soul living within that mountain and return to Edyn with an army ten thousand strong. Join us. Help us defend Edyn from her rule.”

  To Arek, his master looked like he was going to be sick. Into that pause Valarius spoke again, asking, “Why did I arm the magehunters? The charge of fratricide can be laid at my feet, but have you asked why? You have been gifted the dragon-given Sight, what did you See?”

  Silbane looked up and said, “I saw you petition for aid from the Conclave, aid that was rejected. Instead, they gave you the gift of Sight.”

  Valarius shook his head. “Then you were shown only enough to send you blindly after me, or to destroy the one chance we have for victory.” The archmage looked pointedly at Arek. Then he looked back and said, “Ask me what I Saw.”

  Arek knew a rhetorical question when he heard one and was not surprised his master didn’t answer. Valarius seemed to appreciate that as well. He said, “I saw the death of the Way. We multiply upon Edyn like locusts, squandering our birthright. Each soul is using up the Way with wishes and dreams, giving life to Arcadia, who in turn fights for life and freedom from the capricious nature of our beliefs.”

  Valarius spread his arms, taking in the whole of Avalyon, and said, “The Way is powerful, but it is not infinite in its largess. It is like all the grains of sand upon Edyn. To one man it is more than he can use. To a world, it is nothing but cantrips, superstition, and myth, less than we can appreciate. Soon there will be so many of us that each person’s birthright will be nothing more than a single grain, or less. We will tell our children of the times when elves, dragons, and fairies walked the world. We will lose that which makes us special. If we are to guide our people only a few of us can remain, and for that I sent death amongst those with Talent.”

  Valarius paused, looking remorseful. When he looked back up, his eyes glistened with tears. “I hated, that is true. I felt betrayed by the very people I loved. Yet as the years passed I realized something the dragons did not want me to See, that I would create a world in which the Way never died, a world I was destined to rule. To do that, choices had to be made. The magehunters were not an instrument of revenge, rather they were the least terrible choice out of many terrible choices left to me.

  “You have been fed half-truths by scheming dragons like Rai’stahn and representatives of the Conclave like Thoth. They seek to destroy me because I can stop what’s to come. Do not be misled, for Lilyth is the master of lies. If you cherish the life we have, the magnificence of the Way, join with me as Niall has and I will give you the truth of these things.”

  Arek’s mind swam at the revelation. Could Valarius have been acting for the good of Edyn, for the good of her people? Was the death of the Way inevitable? He understood the analogy of grains of sand, and for that reason he didn’t trust himself to answer anything yet, but something in what the archmage said rang true in his heart.

  Silence reigned, with no weapons from the angels arrayed before them being drawn. The dead gaze of hundreds of wooden elven effigies arrayed throughout the hall made this place seem almost sanctified, a temple dedicated to the truth of the archmage’s vision. Time itself seemed to slow, as if Valarius was content to let them think through what he’d offered without forcing their hand.

  Slowly, however, Silbane seemed to recover and then met Valarius’s gaze. “You and Lilyth are perfect for each other, waging an endless war between yourselves. But you’ll no longer use us as pawns to further your ends. We are taking our children and leaving this place. Whatever else happens is on your head.”

  Valarius sighed and said, “Only my honor and faith in you holds these men from killing everyone where they stand. Your prowess is undeniable, but even you cannot fathom the power I wield in this place. Submit, or die with your friends. Whatever happens to them is on your head.”

  Heartbeats went by, a silence that seemed to stretch from one end of the hall to the other. Finally, Silbane spread his arms and implored, “Valarius, I will gladly surrender if you get Arek safely out of here. He cannot die in this world, or it will mean the end for us all. You must know that.”

  The archmage stood silent, then as Arek watched, his fa
ce somehow grew more serious and he said, “Is that what Lilyth told you?” He paused, and when Silbane didn’t answer he continued, “I made Arek in my image, an avatar designed by my hand, destined to give me freedom from this accursed place so I could defend Edyn again. The light of life shines within him because of me. Do you not think I prepared a counter to the very gift I gave him?”

  Silbane shook his head. “You can’t harm him with magic. You know that.”

  Valarius’s eyes narrowed and he nodded. “I do.”

  Something caused Arek’s head to turn. He heard a hiss and felt a punch in his gut. It knocked the wind out of him and he fell down heavily. He tried to rise but it was hard, harder than it should be—his legs wouldn’t work properly, pushing ineffectually at the slick black ground. He managed to lever himself up and looked uncomprehendingly down at blood welling up from something buried in his stomach. What is this? he wondered numbly, unable to connect what had just happened.

  Brianna was at his side, yanking open his light armor and underclothes to inspect the wound. She looked at Arek and said, “Relax, you’ll be—” then she spasmed once, her eyes wide and pitched forward, a bolt appearing as if by magic buried deep in her back. Slowly, she crawled off of Arek and curled into a fetal position, her eyes still open.

  Valarius’s deep voice quickly said, “Hold!” He stepped forward with a hand upraised. The entire hall rippled, and what were once wooden statues became living elves. Clearly Silbane had not seen this with his vision, for Arek heard him dimly say, “By the gods…”

  “By my hand,” Valarius corrected. “His mother sought to protect him from his one weakness.” Arek watched in a daze as Valarius gestured up at the now living crossbowmen, “Mundane weapons, simple wood—” the highlord drew a blade and dropped it clattering on the ground—“simple steel. Now as his light dims, I will replace it with my own.”