Mortals & Deities (22 page)

Arderi Cor did not remember how he had fallen onto his back. His mind remained wrapped in a cloud of agony and it did not want to focus. Looking up, he saw the large silver moon, Sainor, peeking past the edge of a building above. Distantly, pain tugged at his body. Yet, it was like the pain of someone else, and he merely an observer. His head felt stuffed with wool. Nearby, meat cooked—he could smell it on an open flame. He held something. Looking at his right hand, Dorochi waved into his blue-streaked vision. The shock that a black, charred hand held it jolted him upright.

Memory flooded back like a torrential rain. The Mah’Sukai advanced, lightning crackling from his hands. His eyes glowed an evil red, creating demons in the shadows of the alley.

By sheer force of will, Arderi stood. Pain became his reality now, and no longer that of another. He tried to grip his sword tight, and with horror, realized the reason he still held the blade was that it had seared into his flesh.

He knew he could not use the weapon. Knew as well if he turned to run, he would die before he reached the mouth of the alleyway. How stupid he had been to think he could defeat this monster. He was not a man! Nothing Human had eyes that glowed.

I will not die frozen by fear as I almost did with the Drakon! I will pay what needs be paid, if it means saving the Plane from this evil!

With a bellow, Arderi charged, flinging Dorochi at the Mah’Sukai. A torturous pain ripped up his arm as the burnt skin holding the sword to him tore away. He ignored it. He would live in the pain. Lightning sprang once more from the monster in the alley. It laced around the flying sword, sending the blade flipping away into the darkness.

Arderi did not pause in his headlong rush. With his left hand, he drew his dagger from its sheath and launched himself toward his death.

Alant Cor knew he had not hit his assailant with enough energy to kill him. Still, he felt that his strength had diminished from his use of the Essence. Anger and fear won the battle over exhaustion for now, and he continued to draw in more energy as he advanced on the fallen man. He saw by the remaining silver light of the moon that his bolt had ruined the man’s hand—it lay blackened and charred with wisps of smoke rising from it. Unbelievably, however, the man retained a grip on his sword.

More of a shock, the man stood. Alant could not see his face in the darkness of the alley. Still, he felt the hate from this man’s eyes. It radiated out of him. Whoever he was, he meant to kill at all cost, Alant was certain of that. Fear won over anger and Alant stopped his advance. He flinched when the man yelled and charged, flinging his blade at him. Alant released the energy he had gathered to deflect the thrown weapon. The lightning engulfed the blade and Alant lost sight of it—lost sight of everything except the man who rushed at him, a dagger in hand. Panicked, Alant backpedaled. He had nothing left, not even a knife to use in defense. In desperation, he tried to pull in more energy, though he knew he did not have the time.

The impact of the man when he slammed into Alant forced all the breath from his lungs. The two slammed onto the ground and slid in the wet muck of the alley. Alant focused on the man’s dagger as it thrust down, aiming for his eye.

Without reason, it stopped. Its razor sharp point quivering a few fingers width from plunging into his skull. It shook, and so did the man’s face, twisting in a torrent of rage and hate. Spit flew from the man’s mouth as he struggled to drive his dagger home.

Only then did Alant see that a hand grasped the man’s arm, halting it from landing its killing stroke.

A hand that seems too thin to have stopped such an attack.

Forcing herself to stand, the nausea of the bright light still pounding in her skull, Elith shook her head to clear it. The lifter was gone. The Mah’Sukai stood alone in the alleyway. She would have to remember that she now dealt with one who might be on the level of the gods themselves.

Certainly one more worthy than she!

Motion further down the alleyway caught her attention and she saw that the lifter was not gone, just on the ground some ten paces away from where he had stood. It surprised her to feel gladness that the Mah’Sukai lived. She wanted nothing more than to fulfill her mission and see him safe to the temple in Komar. Or mayhaps not. Her mind, still in turmoil, fought over what to do now that she had found him. Still, the sense of relief she felt over him being alive surprised her.

The putrid stench of burning flesh filled her nostrils and she knew the lifter was dead. So it shocked her when the man stood, sword still in hand. More so when the man yelled and charged the Mah’Sukai. She felt a strange sense of pride watching this man meet death so unafraid.

Few Humans seem to understand the true meaning of honor.

The man threw his sword, and the Mah’Sukai deflected it with a flick of his wrist. This time Elith was ready for the glow of energy that shot from the Mah’Sukai, averting her head and covering her eyes to protect her sensitive vision.

When she looked back to the two, she gasped. For the first time in her life, she could not believe what she saw. Instead of destroying the lifter, the Mah’Sukai seemed…afraid! The lifter charged, his ruined hand limp at his side, his left holding a long dagger. The man barreled into the Mah’Sukai and the two slammed down hard onto the ground.

Ripping herself from her shock, Elith leapt across the alley just as the lifter’s dagger thrust down to kill. Catching the man’s arm, they struggled for dominance. The dagger hovered a hair from driving into the Mah’Sukai’s wide, terror-filled eye.

Why does he not defend himself?

Adjusting her body, Elith pivoted. Twisting the lifter’s arm around, she flipped him over her back and sent him slamming into the pile of crates she had hidden behind.

Reaching behind her, she slipped the Ratave from its holster on her back and spun the small, one-foot onyx staff between her fingers as she watched the lifter struggle to stand. “
‘And those that fall short in this life, stealing and murdering and plundering, shall be condemned to walk the Plane of Mullsith. Their eyes plucked from their skulls and their skin burnt away only to be remade as they sleep. For all eternity shall they suffer at the hands of Bathane and his minions’.
” Spinning the Ratave, she willed it to lengthen. Before she finished reciting the prayer of the condemned, the staff reached its full two paces in length. She refrained from adding blades to the ends, at least for now.

Somehow, the lifter had retained a grip on his dagger and now held it out before him as he struggled to stand. That was good. She always felt a sense of guilt when killing an unarmed opponent. The lifter wiped a sleeve across his forehead to remove the grime from his eyes. “Kill me, if you must. Yet, do not think to hide your evil behind a prayer from the Book of the Twelve! If anyone here is to be condemned, it is you and that Mah’Sukai you protect!”

Sliding her left foot forward, she held her staff parallel to the ground as the lifter staggered toward her. She flinched when a voice spoke next to her.

“Arderi?”

Tremors of fear racked Alant Cor’s entire body as he stood. He had looked his death in the eye—or more precise, it had looked him in the eye with razor sharp finality. Yet, he still lived. His breath came in shaky rasps. He focused on the person who had saved his life. A thin form with a long braid of white hair.

A girl!

The man with the sword—dagger now—scrambled up from the broken crates he had crushed in his fall. Alant could not believe the man still held the will to fight.

What have I done to deserve this man’s wrath?

The girl spoke. He did not catch all the words, yet it sounded like a prayer of some kind—for all the sense that made! The man with the dagger stepped toward her, his courage astounding. “Kill me, if you must. Yet, do not think to hide your evil behind a prayer from the Book of the Twelve. If anyone here is to be condemned, it is you and that Mah’Sukai you protect!”

A chill raced down Alant’s spine, as if his spirit had just walked past the gates to the Aftermore. He could not have heard right. Still, that voice…

His shaking stopped and he stepped up next to the girl—she looked pale, almost gray in the moonlight—though he spared her little more than a glance. The man with the dagger held his full attention.

I know that voice!

“Arderi?”

It seemed to Alant that the girl flinched. The man with the dagger rounded on him, however. “How do you know my name!” A palpable panic shook the man’s voice.

“Arderi! It
is
you!” Alant took a step forward, then jumped back when his brother lashed out with his dagger, nearly cutting him from chin to groin. “Arderi! It is me! Alant!” Reaching up, he pulled his cowl back to expose his face. “Your brother.”

Arderi did not lower his weapon. Instead, he stood there shaking his head, a look of horror filling his eyes. Without warning, a black blur whistled through the darkness. With a hollow thwack, the dagger Arderi held shot from his hand and he screamed out in pain.

“Stop!” Throwing himself at his little brother, Alant flung his arms protectively around him as the strange girl spun in another attack. He felt the wind of her staff graze the hair that overlapped his ear. He was sure, had she wanted to, she could have cracked his skull open.

When nothing else happened, he glanced back at the girl, her anger apparent in her face as well as words. “It is not hers to question, great Mah’Sukai. Yet, why do you protect this man who only moments before tried to kill you?”

She is gray! And her eyes…

Now that he faced his rescuer, he reeled over how alien she appeared. Her gray skin and white hair resembled that of an Elmorian. Yet, she had the build of a Human. And though her eyes were shaped like a Human’s, not the big black ovals of an Elmorian, they were the color of silver and reflected light as a cat’s might. Even her pupils were elongated like that of a cat! “What…What are you?”

Planting the staff next to her, the girl stood up straight. “They call her Elith. She is here to help you.”

A groan pulled his attention behind him, and he barely caught his brother as Arderi collapsed to the ground. “Help me, then!” Faster than he would have thought possible, the strange gray girl moved. Together they rested Arderi onto the ground. Immediately, the Sight of the Essence fell upon Alant and he delved his brother’s wounds. The amount of pain Arderi must be experiencing was staggering. The worst lay in his right hand and arm. “Oh, brother! I am so sorry! I did not know it was you.”

Alant had never been skilled at healing, except, as he looked at his brother’s blackened hand, he noticed something. In the past, when he had learned healing from the Shapers in Mocley and Delmith on Hath’oolan, he had always felt they did it backward. Looking now at the injuries with this new Sight, he saw that the damage was not as complicated as his old instructors had taught. He wondered why he had never seen it before. It looked so simple now. Sitting down to become more comfortable for the long process of healing—these wounds would take aurns to heal, if not the rest of the night—he glanced up at the odd, gray girl who hovered over him. Turning his attention back to his task—he would deal with her after he mended Arderi’s injuries—he almost flung his brother’s hand away as the black, charred skin seemed to melt away with alacrity. As he watched, too stunned to even try and understand what he was doing, the blackened skin turned red, then back to a healthy pink. Skin erupted like a flower bursting into bloom to cover all of Arderi’s injuries. Only a few moments had passed, yet his brother’s hand looked as if it had never been hurt. In his excitement, he let his mind seek out other pains. A pulled tendon in Arderi’s left shoulder where his arm had been wrenched back, a nasty bump on his head from his fall after being thrown. A small bruise and cut on his shin. Even the soreness of his feet, as if his brother had been walking for days without end. Within moments, all were healed.

His brother flinched, then jerked away and scrambled back on all fours. A look of terror filled his eyes and he hurried to regain his feet. Alant let the Sight slip from him and the alleyway again appeared dim. Stumbling as he stood—he had not realized how tired he was—a helping hand steadied him. He cringed when he noticed it was the strange girl holding him up. Had he known for sure he could stand without her aid, he would have forcibly removed her hands.

Arderi’s mouth turned from shock to a grimace. He took a step toward the two, his eyes burning into the girl. “What have you done to my brother?”

Alant was unsure why his brother addressed the question to the gray girl. “No one has done anything to me, Arderi.” Catching the reflection of the red glow of his eyes off a small puddle in the alleyway, he sighed. “Well, I have changed, yet that was moons ago.” Using his free hand, he pushed the gray girl away, glad that when she released him he was able to stand on his own. Rubbing his arm, he took a step toward his brother and turned to the woman. “I have never seen her before now.”

Holding up an arm to ward off Alant, Arderi’s attention fell to his hand. He flexed his fingers as if unsure they were his. Some of the tension melted from him and his shoulders slumped. He seemed as exhausted as Alant felt. He looked up and the two locked eyes before Arderi broke the silence that had fallen. “How could you be the Mah’Sukai? Why would you do this? Why would you wish to destroy everything?”

It felt like his brother had hit him in the stomach. “Destroy everything? Arderi, what are you talking about?”

“You!” Arderi had regained some strength and now stood taller. “And I
will
stop you. I will not let you destroy all there is!” His voice lowered to almost a whisper. “I will not let you kill our family.”

Not liking the direction Arderi’s words were headed—his brother seemed much bigger than he remembered him—Alant held up both hands. “Nix, Arderi! You are confused. I am not going to
kill
anyone.” Reaching up, he indicated his eyes. “I have changed. Still, I am the same as when you last saw me. Why do you accuse me so?”

“You deny that you are the Mah’Sukai?” This came from the woman, and the brothers turned to face her as one.

Letting out a grunt, Alant shook his head. “I did not choose this! It was forced upon me.” He turned back to his brother. “I just left Hath’oolan not a moon gone.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the last of his coins. “Ma gave me the ta’narians you left. Who told you that I meant to kill our family?”

His brother seemed pained by the question. Glancing around, as if he now wished to avoid Alant, Arderi crossed the alley and picked up his sword. Burnt skin still wrapped the handle and he worked to peel some of it away. Alant tensed, thinking his brother meant to continue the fight, then let out a sigh of relief when Arderi slammed the sword into the sheath hanging from his hip.

As Arderi resumed his search—presumably for his dagger now—Alant walked over and stood before him. “Was it the Shapers?” He tried to keep his voice level. “Did they send you after me?”

This seemed to confuse Arderi and he whipped around to stare at Alant. “The Shapers? Why, by all the gods, would I do anything for them?”

“Why would you not?” Alant could not understand why the Shapers would want him dead. Still, Shapers had their own agendas, and he would not be surprised if they resorted to this if they came to the conclusion that they could not capture him. Though it would have pained him to know he had been betrayed by his former Sier.

“Because I am—” Arderi stood there, mouth hanging open, as if he did not know how to continue. Finally, he pointed at the girl. “What are you?”

“She is Elith.”

“She? You mean you?” Arderi’s voice held a command Alant had never heard before. His brother stood in a confident way Alant did not think he, himself, ever could. “I did not ask who you are. I asked what you are!” Arderi’s hand fell to the hilt of his sword. Alant realized his brother was unaware of his change in posture.

It was odd to realize that his brother looked as if he belonged with the sword. As if he really knew how to use it.

Brother, how is it you have come to know a sword well enough to not realize you grip it? Much has changed with you as well, it seems.