Mythborn (15 page)

“Our son is special,” she started slowly, her voice almost a whisper. Her eyes darted up to see if Duncan was listening, then she continued, “He was born here, and because of that something of this place infused him, like a changeling.”

“How did you survive the birth, or for that matter, the arrow from our king?”

Sonya looked away, her hands unconsciously covering the site of the wound. “You know I fell through the rift. Valarius’s elves found me. They delivered our son, and nurtured us back to health.”

“So Lilyth wasn’t lying when she said Val lives?”

“He’s powerful and has dedicated himself to destroying the Aeris.”

“What else is new? He’s a Galadine, and they seek war. Calling him arrogant is being—”

Sonya held up a hand, interrupting, and said, “You do not understand. He has
dedicated
himself… It is all he thinks of, the eradication of the Aeris. His obsession has become his faith, and faith here has power. Our son was born here, a place powerful in the Way. As a changeling, he has more power than you would believe. Valarius did something, something that changed Arek, made him even more powerful.” Sonya stopped, then added carefully, “Belief here begets reality. Val believed our son to be his weapon against the Aeris, and the boy was shaped by that faith. Something of the Galadines, their power, their hunger, is within our son.”

Duncan breathed out through his nose and closed his eyes. Rai’stahn had said as much, but his own consuming obsession had made it hard for him to focus on the dragon’s words at that time. Now they came back to him with a vengeance. Still, he could not give up his quest for her and asked, “Why don’t you want to be rescued?”

She did not answer his question, but instead insisted, “If Arek is killed here in Arcadia, it will not mean just his death.”

“What are you talking about?” he replied, now confused.

“Duncan, our son is a weapon. If he dies here, both our worlds will perish.”

Nephilim

Pride is the blood of the fallen ones,

Dark wings spread from shoulders that in life were smooth and unburdened.

-
          
Duncan Illrys, Remembrances

A
rek and Niall had been following the escort for what felt like the better part of the day, the sun’s slow crawl across the sky somehow out of step with how long it actually felt they had been walking, but still their only measure of time’s passage. They stood at the center of a double column, with wingblades serving as outriders ahead, behind, and to the flanks. These streaked by quickly, darts of blue-green color flashing in the bright sunshine with trails of dirt kicking up into lines of dust behind them. To Arek, they and their riders seemed like one object, swooping across the land like low flying birds of prey.

This world was different, so much so that Arek had a difficult time cataloguing it all. He knew his eidetic memory was fine, but that was more for anything written down. Scenery, especially new areas and places, were harder to remember. Most incredible were the islands floating in the sky. He’d seen the specks earlier, but it wasn’t until one loomed up over their horizon and then sailed overhead that the vast difference between here and Edyn hit him. Seeing it somehow made him feel small and insignificant.

“What are you thinking?” Niall said, looking at him with worried eyes.

Arek gestured with his chin to a copse of trees in the distance. “We’ve been making our way in this direction for some time now. Do the riders seem more anxious?”

Niall shook his head. “I’ve noticed more of them, though. What do you think it means?”

“Their patrols are switching from scouting to setting up a perimeter.” Arek said, pointing. He showed Niall where some of the scouts had stopped to hold a loose circle around the copse he’d indicated earlier. Then he said, “The henge Gabreyl mentioned.” To Niall’s inquisitive look, he shrugged and asked, “What else?”

“What’s a henge?” Niall asked quietly, his question directed discreetly to Arek alone.

“A circle of stone or wood set inside a depression,” Arek explained. He recited this by rote, his memory delivering the fact with reliable certainty. His training had prepared him for much outside the Isle, and now it showed.

Was royal training within the various combat schools as comprehensive? Somehow Arek doubted it, yet he said, “It’s good to ask. Some people don’t have the courage to say when they don’t know.”

“Father said I’d probably lose my kingdom over a math problem.”

Arek laughed at that, knowing his friend didn’t mean it as a joke, but it was funny nonetheless. Then he noticed that as he’d predicted, the riders had created a cordon around what could now be discerned as a circle of trees around what looked to be a basin in the ground.

“Yeah, but I know what they’re doing now,” Niall said, sounding as though he was trying to redeem himself.

Before Arek could respond, Gabreyl swooped in and landed lightly, his face set in a smile that seemed to want to convey that all was well. He fell in pace beside them and said, “We near our destination. The riders act as sentinels while we travel to Avalyon. The highlord will be most pleased to see you both.”

Arek looked around, then back at Gabreyl and asked, “Where is Sparrow?” He had not seen the rider since they had started their journey and though the sun indicated only a half day had passed he felt as if they had been walking for far longer.

The armored angel smiled and said, “Her duties require her and her team’s presence elsewhere, my lord.”

Silence reigned after that as the highlord’s seneschal either chose not to, or did not want to elaborate. Still, a thought ran through his mind. Why did he refer to Arek as “my lord,” but to Niall as, “Your Highness”?

It was not an issue with being slighted, but instead that Gabreyl assigned Niall a higher station despite the fact they were journeying to see Arek’s supposed father—the highlord. Arek wondered if that was Niall’s legitimacy as a Galadine, or something else. He thought about asking, but realized this might give their host insight into Arek’s thinking, an advantage he did not want to relinquish just yet. At least not before understanding the dangers of this land and exactly who he could trust.

When it was clear the angel would offer no more explanation about Sparrow, Arek changed tactics and asked, “You said we are not safe here. May I ask who opposes us?”

Gabreyl tilted a head, acknowledging the question, his smile never breaking, “Demons, my lord. We will face them before we depart this place.”

“Where do they come from?” asked Niall. It was not hard to see the thought of combat whittling away his confidence.

For some reason, his friend’s reaction rubbed Arek wrong. He wished Niall could see the intricate weave surrounding them, a tapestry made of danger. He seemed oblivious, asking questions as if that would somehow protect them from their enemies.

Arek was sure Gabreyl was no friend of theirs now. Why Niall, who had been the first to warn him, continued to solicit the angel’s opinion was perplexing, but perhaps the prince needed the assurance of the man.

Gabreyl answered in a slow and methodical way, as if speaking to a child, “The henge is a gate to Avalyon. You understand gates? The highlord uses—”

“A strategic weakness,” Arek interrupted, insulted at the assumption that they were somehow slow of mind, despite his earlier willingness to remain silent. The reason for the elves’ heightened awareness and anxiety was clear. The henge sat in a depression with the raised stonework affording those outside the circle better protection. The inside of the henge would be a difficult place to defend if attacked, an important distinction if defending this place became important. And it was likely the activation of the henge gate would attract attention.

The armored angel looked at Arek silently, then acceded with a slight bow, “I would call it a tactical opportunity, my lord.”

Arek responded, “And how do you plan on countering, Armsmark?”

Gabreyl gestured at the circle, where the elves had gathered in two concentric rings. The outside ring faced outward, and the inside ring faced the center of the henge. They knelt in position, removing a wooden shield from their backs. The shields had something carved into them, symbols of some sort that were illegible because of the distance. “Travel to Avalyon is guaranteed by our blood.”

“How?” Niall asked, apparently reacting to something in the tone of Gabreyl’s voice.

Gabreyl looked at them both and then smiled and said, “You misunderstand.” He let out a short whistle, and from farther down the column came a young man running up in a light sprint. His black hair was tied back, his face and arms marked with tattoos similar to Gabreyl’s own, except his created a sigil that looked like the number 696 shaped in a triangle. In fact he was almost twin to the angel, similarly armed and armored, though he bore no wings.

“Sorath, tell them your purpose,” said the angel.

He bowed to the Messenger then turned to Arek and said, “I open the henge, my lord.”

“Sorath will forge us a path to Avalyon.” Gabreyl bowed to the warrior, who returned the bow and stepped back, walking smoothly alongside them.

“What does that mean?” asked Arek.

Sorath looked to Gabreyl for permission to speak, then answered, “My blood opens the henge.”

“What?” Niall exclaimed. “You’re going to cut yourself?”

Sorath tilted his head, his expression quizzical, and then asked, “What better fate can a warrior serve, but to guarantee the safety of his brothers- and sisters-in-arms, Your Highness? I’m to be sacrificed.”

“See there,” offered Gabreyl pointing to the center of the henge and a table with a man-shaped indentation in it, “Sorath shall be given over to the henge.”

“You’ll die?” Niall continued, clearly unable to understand how someone could do such a thing.

“One of us always dies. It is how we keep Avalyon safe. I was honored to be chosen,” the young warrior answered, looking more the twin to Gabreyl as his face broke into a smile.

Niall turned to Arek, shaking his head. “What part did we misunderstand then?”

Gabreyl addressed them both saying, “Sorath will be rewarded. The highlord will bring him back from the abyss, for he is family. Each sacrifice makes him stronger.” He turned to the young warrior and added, “Perhaps at his rebirth he may earn his wings, as I did.”

Sorath bowed at that. “I would be honored, Your Grace.”

The convoy drew nearer, passing stationary sentinels perched on the backs of their mounts. They looked deadly, gazing outward, iridescent birds of war with one purpose only. At each passing the riders bowed, and Arek realized they were acknowledging Sorath as he passed, not him. Clearly these warriors valued sacrifice above all else, making them a dangerous foe to face in combat.

At that moment the inside ring of soldiers had finished whatever ritual they’d been performing and drove their shields into the earth. At impact, a blue-white wall of energy sprang up, connecting their brethren with each other. The energy field quickly encircled the area creating a barrier around the henge. The elves in the outer circle laid their shields face down, waiting.

Arek thought he could appreciate the elves strategy. The ring of energy could hold those enemies at bay, insuring those in the center could make their escape.

“And when the henge appears, so will the demons?” Niall asked no one in particular.

The angel nodded. “Yes, Your Highness. They are drawn to it like moths to flame.” He pointed and said, “Come, let us make haste. They hold open a corridor.”

Two elves of the inner circle had not yet driven their shields into the ground. This left a path to the center of the henge. No doubt they would close this behind them once Gabreyl and the party passed through.

A squad of riders detached themselves from their post and raced toward them. At first, Arek thought they meant to meet and escort them in, but their speed and course did not track directly to the three. It seemed strange until he looked at Gabreyl, whose eyes were focused on something in the direction the riders now raced.

“By the lady!” exclaimed Niall.

The outburst drew a look from Gabreyl that Arek would have sworn was anger. It was a flash of fire in his eyes, gone as quickly as it had appeared, but it had definitely been there. Then something connected, another missing piece of the puzzle falling into place.

Beside them, their escorts drew blades, the metal singing as it cleared scabbards. Sorath moved a step forward, placing himself between Niall and Arek and whatever they faced. He looked at Gabreyl, whose earlier anger had bled away leaving only grim lines etched on his face.

Arek understood with perfect clarity that whomever Gabreyl served, it was not Lilyth. A knot of dread formed in his stomach. He had to warn Niall and somehow make sense of this charade. Whether or not escape was the best choice at this moment was still, however, unclear.

Niall took a step back, saying, “Demons?”

Half a dozen or more appeared, stepping out of thin air to silently face them from a stone’s throw away. Each was armed with long stabbing spears and shields, deadly looking in their martial simplicity.

Arek’s eyes darted left and right, assessing their tactical position. Whether or not they were “demons,” these beings looked more like Gabreyl than the elves that served him. They had wings, but lacked the horns and the blue skin of the elves. They towered over the scene, standing at least the height of three men. Their presence further confused things with regards to Gabreyl’s allegiance and intentions. Arek kept his mind open, ready to take advantage of whatever unfolded.

He did not have long to wait before one of the beings stepped forward and said, “You overstep your bounds, Armsmark. Surrender your prisoners and we will allow your journey to continue.”

Gabreyl did not answer, but instead let out a musical whistle. The force of wingblades and their riders moved forward, leaving behind the elves who created the defensive ring of energy. These spread out like wings to either side of the armored angel, who replied, “They are not prisoners, but guests. And we decline your offer, as generous as it may be.”

The towering figure drove the butt of his spear into the earth and said, “Charity is often wasted on those with pride.” His massive head turned and he addressed them as a group. “Surrender and the Lady’s mercy will be given.”

“No,” said the highlord’s messenger, answering before either Niall or Arek could speak. His blade now sang out of its scabbard to join the rest, and the two groups faced each other, clearly at an impasse.

The towering figure of the angel opposing them held up a hand and then conferred with his companions. Arek could not help but notice even more of these gargantuan beings appearing, materializing out of thin air from every direction. The leader of these beings seemed to be in a heated discussion, which quickly ended with a sharp gesture from him pointing in the direction of the henge. His intent seemed obvious, even to Arek.

He took a step forward and said, “I offer resolution in the old ways, champion against champion.”

“And why would I agree?” Gabreyl asked.

“More of my brethren appear every moment. Your tactical advantage is gone. It is I who should be asking that question, yet I would spare us needless bloodshed.”