Mythborn (58 page)

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 face 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.”

The man sounded almost hungry and Arek tried again to summon the blackfire, but whatever he did soaked downward and into the blackwood beneath him. He didn’t know what to do, but Yetteje came to mind and his eyes grew heavy.

Valarius leaned in and said in a voice pitched so that only their party could hear, “Why do you think our weapons eradicate the Aeris?” He smiled and then added conspiratorially, “Because we believe they will, and
that
is the Aeris’ weakness. They become what we believe. Join us, and I will teach you how to defend Edyn from the demon-queen and her lies.”

“Join you?” cried Silbane. “After you’ve attacked us?” He moved forward but Valarius held up a hand and Silbane felt himself lifted off the floor. Without any purchase, he could not move.

Valarius looked at the rest and said, “Do not attempt me. I’m not as weak as Duncan, a puerile and miserable dog of a man. If you think we are cut of the same cloth because ‘archmage’ was a title we shared, know that I have survived where none other has. I will eradicate you with less than a thought, and think nothing of it later.”

Helios and Orion had staggered over to kneel on either side of Arek and Brianna, carefully checking her wound as much as they could, shielding them both with their wings. Arek felt something cool pressed onto his forearm, probably by Brianna, but he couldn’t tell. She tried to say something but it came out a mumble.

Then his mind cleared and he realized he’d been shot. Somehow Brianna had managed to affix a patch to his skin, but the bolt was still there. His mind had regained enough clarity to know what had happened. This part of Avalyon, Arek’s thoughts finally pieced together, must be like him—a place that absorbed the Way. Before he did anything else, he looked at Helios and said, “Put a patch on her.”

He dimly saw Helios comply, pulling another patch from Brianna’s pocket and slapping it onto her neck. He hoped it would be enough because he didn’t know how the metal tube worked. He waited, shaking in anger and frustration, one hand still clutching at his stomach and trying to staunch the bleeding. “You’re not allowed to die on me,” he whispered fiercely to Brianna, “we’re not done yet.”

That they’d been betrayed by Lilyth and sent here to die was certain now. The only logical reason would be that his presence here on Avalyon was necessary. Wait! How could Valarius possess him, unless… Arek’s eyes traveled up the archmage’s form. When all else is proven false, whatever is left must be true. If Valarius could possess Arek, that could only mean he was Aeris and needed a body to leave Arcadia. Lilyth must’ve known this, and perhaps sought the death of Arek and Valarius. The simple expediency and ruthlessness of her plan made him shake his head in disbelief.

That the two Watchers had been sent to their deaths might mean Thoth had also been part of the duplicity, just as Valarius claimed.

A sudden flash of light from the gate drew everyone’s attention. A lone elf stood there, blood spattered and beaten, but her eyes burned with clear intent. She looked around uncomprehendingly at first, until she spotted the highlord. In a voice pitched for all to hear she said, “We succeeded! A Galadine holds the line. Align the gate. Bara’cor calls for our aid!”

Valarius gestured and Silbane dropped from the air as black wood erupted from the floor, engulfing the small party and quickly winding around their ankles and legs, pulling everyone down to prostrate like supplicants. Silbane was the last to be captured, chopping and shattering wood as he tried to make his way to Valarius, but not quickly enough to matter. Soon, he too fell heavily onto his side. Arek was in no shape to do much except lay on his back and feel the blackwood slowly cover his limbs, winding around him like an obsidian cocoon. Blood flowed out of him with each pump of his heart and his vision started to grow darker.

“Gabreyl,” Valarius said, “it is time.”

Arek turned his head and saw the archangel that had accompanied them land lightly near the opening of the gate, which now boiled red like a liquid surface made of blood.

“You know I’ve loved you the most,” Valarius said to a kneeling Gabreyl, stroking his face.

The archangel smiled up at the highlord and replied, “I am honored to serve my people as sacrifice.”

The party could only watch helplessly as Valarius drew a blade and in one quick motion slice cleanly through the archangel’s neck. A flash of power, and Gabreyl’s wound drooled ichor into the waiting pattern on the floor. That pattern lit with fire and led to the gate itself, and when that fire touched the gate, a silent implosion took place. Arek felt it down to his very bones.

When the flash ended they saw figures huddled on the other side with a lone body kneeling before the gate, obviously dead. A man detached himself, no doubt having noticed the change and stepped through the clear, liquid-like wall that separated them.

Arek blinked once, recognizing King Galadine of Bara’cor, then his fading awareness was pulled by a hand squeezing his leg. He barely heard Niall scream, “Father!”

He looked down and was amazed to see the clear eyes of his own father looking back at him, mostly healed. Blood still caked his face and neck, but it was dried blood on whole skin. Beneath the loose collar of his robe the patch glowed a soft green, just as Brianna had promised, and the man
was
healing. The red mage let out a small laugh filled with pain, a wild glint in his eyes. One word was forced out, driven by torture and misery.

“Vengeance!” Duncan’s command, now freed as the torc had fallen away, echoed with power across the domed room.

The air flashed and in the space between the highlord and Arek’s captured party a monstrosity made of blood, flesh, and bone appeared, a juggernaut of carnage, pain, and death. It stood slowly, its bone shards glistening with the promise of ripping flesh and crushing bone.

Duncan looked up at his blood gholem and said, “Kill every fucking elf you see.”

Vengeance

Hell hath never dismissed a morsel so savory

as the sweet taste of true cold revenge.

-
          
Jebida Naserith, Should I Fall

T
he blood gholem let out a scream of rage and hunger, then waded into the elves, slamming and slashing with spurs that ripped through flesh and crushed bone. It was a juggernaut made out of misery and pain and brutally inflicted the same. Elven bodies flew like ragdolls, broken and bleeding, and with each strike the gholem grew stronger. Bone armor grew to cover exposed flesh, the spurs along its fists and arms lengthened. It was a terrifying thing to behold, a towering behemoth created to kill.

Then like a bough breaking, the hall erupted with the screams of battle joined.

Valarius looked in Duncan’s direction with murder in his eyes. Before he could do anything the gholem smashed the ground, cracking the blackwood near the elven highlord. Valarius stumbled back and screamed, “Niall! Take the cohort through before the gate closes! We will reinforce you!”

Niall nodded, then moved forward. Discipline reigned as the elves not defending Valarius or engaging Vengeance ran for the gate in a column four abreast. They passed the King of Bara’cor, who had emerged from the other side at Sparrow’s heraldic call. He watched silently in amazement as five hundred elves began to stream through the portal quickly at a clipped double march to reinforce his position.

Then the king’s eyes strayed down the long column line to finally come to rest on Niall, who could tell his father didn’t recognize him. A flutter in his stomach made him hesitate, but only for a moment. Then he ran forward and said, “Father!”

His father stumbled back a step, his eyes widening as he looked up and down, drinking in the sight of the winged warrior before him, then he asked, “Niall?” He looked lost and for a moment Niall wondered what would happen, but the king’s eyes softened and then he said with a small smile, “You’ve grown, and I’m going to catch the lady’s…” he caught himself, “the wrath of your mother. You’d better think of something good to say.”

Niall smiled back, then hugged his father fiercely. Tears came to his eyes. The sight of him, and hearing his mother was safe, was almost too much to bear. Then he stepped back and wiped his face. “Of course, we’ll reinforce Bara’cor and then send a messenger to Haven.”

The king arched an eyebrow. “Oh, I think it’ll be before that.” The king looked meaningfully at the gate then back at his son. “You’d better think of something quick.”

Niall turned to the gate, realizing what his father meant. Mother was here, oh gods!

Trepidation quickly tempered his excitement as the reality of what he’d have to explain hit him. He was about to say something when elves behind them shouted. Vengeance had pushed forward, laying waste to the phalanx protecting their backs, decimating the front ranks. The creature quickly approached Niall and his column.

Niall’s blade cleared its scabbard with the pure peal of fine steel. Zedakai strode forward with another group of elves and joined Niall and his father. He looked back at the king and said, “A fine son you’ve provided for our line, King Bernal. Your father would have been proud.” Zedakai’s gaze went quickly to the body of Gabreyl, still kneeling in death. “Very proud.”

The king followed his gaze, but clearly did not connect what the elven king was saying. Niall rested a hand on his father’s shoulder, noting the strangeness he felt in looking down at a man who’d always loomed over him and said, “This is our great grandfather five generations removed, Zedakai Galadine. Also here are Mikal, Israfel, Ureyl, and…” Niall paused and looked at the dead elf near the gate, “Gabreyl.”

The ancient pater of the Galadine kings gave Bernal a short nod, then drew his blade and said, “Let’s do what we do best.” He then fell into line next to Niall, screaming to the elves to reform just as Vengeance struck.

Niall could feel the strong arm of his father on his right and Zedakai on his left, and though the sights and sounds of elves being smashed and killed by this monstrosity they faced would have normally paralyzed him with fear, a smile found its way onto his face. He couldn’t think of a time he’d been happier in his entire life.

* * * * *

Elsewhere in the room, Duncan had managed to blast away part of the blackwood weakened by his blood gholem’s attack. The creature absorbed energy from living things, giving it an edge against the draw of the nether wood, but only so long as it kept killing. The gholem had another effect, weakening the wood to Duncan’s magic, letting him use a bit more of the Way. He pulled himself out of the floor’s grasp and made his way over to Arek. The boy did not look good, his skin pale with blood loss and the blackwood entwining his wrists and ankles and growing farther up his legs and arms. Inspecting it, he could not see a way to free the boy without attacking the wood itself and perhaps harming his son further.

Duncan caught a glimpse of a phalanx of elves pushing through to try to overwhelm the creature and he smiled. That would never work, but it seemed Valarius was using this to keep the creature contained. The highlord gestured, commanding the blackwood itself, and spikes shot up from the floor, piercing the gholem repeatedly. One went through a leg, anchoring it while more stabbed through its body. The phalanx, now led by a winged elf attacked, chopping at the bone and flesh, sure the creature had been stopped by their highlord.

To their misfortune the gholem screamed with rage and twisted its massive trunk, shattering the shards impaling it. It then grabbed an elf and used it like a mace, clubbing others around it in a grotesque show of force. More blood flowed and the gholem’s healing pushed any remaining shards of blackwood out. The creature dropped its head and charged for Valarius, intent on smashing the archmage into a pulp.

It had become clear none could cast an offensive spell within this blackwood hall Valarius had devised, but the highlord still held command of the blackwood. He spread his hands, fingers up and more wood shards stabbed up through the gholem’s legs by the hundreds, slowing it down by their sheer numbers. The creature smashed through them, only to be attacked by two winged elves coming to their highlord’s aid.

A sound—a single tone—pierced his ear. The patch on the dwarven woman had gone red, with a line racing across its face. Compared to his own, which glowed green and showed a line that jumped in time with his heartbeat, it was clear she was nearly dead.

Some memory of his treatment while suspended by the wood gholems prompted him to lean over and grab the metal tube that half lay in the woman’s hand. He pushed the open end into her patch and heard a hiss. He couldn’t remove the bolt or she’d bleed out, so he hoped the magic of the patch would be enough to keep her alive as it had for him. Something made the woman’s entire body jump, a sudden jerking spasm that subsided a moment later and the patch turned amber. The line jumped erratically. He turned his attention back to the battle, knowing he was at the limit of what he could do for either Arek or the dwarven woman who had saved him.

His gholem stood, a hundred razor-like shards of blackwood piercing its body, holding it in place. Before it could turn and rip itself free, Valarius pulled his hands apart and the blackwood exploded. Pieces of blood gholem rained in every direction, no part bigger than a finger. The blackwood had been destroyed in a sizable area to achieve this, causing a ripple effect across the entire great hall.

Then the blackwood holding the party let go. It pulled away like a living liquid and sank back into the obsidian floor. Duncan looked down then placed his hands on Arek, skin to skin. Perhaps the boy’s ability to draw energy would help him survive, and if that were true, Duncan would gladly give it. At the contact he felt the world tilt, a dizzying sense of vertigo, and he found his head now lying next to Arek’s own. The boy’s eyes were closed, but Duncan focused, trying to memorize every part of his son’s face as his world slowly went dim.

* * * * *

Silbane stood slowly, every move lethargic and heavy. He looked at Yetteje, Orion, and Helios and said, “Take to the air, perhaps without touching the ground. You’ll be drained less.” The two Watchers nodded and leapt up, their motions desperate and tired. He then turned to Yetteje and asked, “Does Valor work?”

The princess drew back on the string and a faint arrow appeared, nothing like what had happened before. She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“You’ve trained with a blade?”

Yetteje nodded and said, “Tir Combat Academy.”

Silbane nodded and picked up the sword Valarius had dropped and tossed it to her. “Then let’s do this the old fashioned way.” He winked at the princess and said, “Look after Arek, I’ve had enough of this.” Then he shot off for the nexus of battle.

He raced past an elf, killing it with a strike to the throat. Six more fell to wingblades that rained down from above, carving a path for him to the archmage. He looked up in silent thanks to Orion and Helios, who now flew cover for him, thinning the elven ranks before they could overwhelm his forward progress with sheer numbers. His energy was low but not gone. He knew he could conserve it if he stayed in this form and bring his training to bear.

He jumped over another warrior and picked up a spear. Rolling, he threw it behind him, knowing without looking it had gone through the elf’s neck. There was only one way to free them and that was to kill the Galadine archmage. Silbane’s eyes narrowed as he ducked under a sword slash and killed the elf behind the sword wielder with a hardened fist to the sternum, then spun and kicked the elf with the sword in the back of the head. Both dropped like puppets on strings, shattered and dead.

More wingblades fell as Orion and Helios cut a path for him to the archmage. He was almost there when a voice in his head said,
Stop!

Kisan!
Silbane spun just in time to dive out of the way of one of her wingblades, aimed directly at the small of his back.

She landed between Valarius and Silbane and changed form. “You’re going to let him take Arek.”

Silbane cocked his head at that and said, “What?”

Valarius must have overheard this—he smiled and ordered, “Reinforce Niall. Take a second cohort through. Quickly.”

Kisan’s eyes flicked behind her, then she mindspoke, Valarius takes Arek and becomes mortal. Then we take him out.

“No,” Silbane answered, too drained to attempt to mindspeak as Kisan had. She’d spent less time on the blackwood and was still at almost full strength. “We don’t know he can even be killed.”

Agreed, Duncan mindspoke to them both. Don’t be foolish. With Arek’s powers he can’t be stopped.

You’re both blind,
she responded, her gaze turning emotionless and dead.

Then she looked at Valarius and said, “Take Arek, he’s yours. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Silbane didn’t wait but exploded into action, using the little bit of energy he had left to get past Kisan. He didn’t have time to piece together what had changed in Kisan’s mind, but her betrayal did not surprise him. Some part of him had been ready for it since coming here, and he only wished it had happened when their tactical positions were more equal. But then, he reminded himself, that would not be Kisan.

The kick that intercepted him would have killed another, but he’d faced her many times before. He ducked, twisting under her and then striking with his elbow. She crossed her arms and took the strike, her mouth curled into a half smile.

“You’re weak, and getting weaker,” she whispered, almost as if the idea of killing excited her somehow.

Silbane ignored her, using her cross block’s momentum to strike quickly with a punch to her kidney, followed by another elbow, but this one to her knee as he quickly dropped under her counter. She leapt up over the knee strike but the small huff of escaping air told him his kidney punch had connected. The question was, how long could he keep this up? And why wasn’t she getting tired?

Kisan then said, “You’re protecting murderers. I
will
go through you to save Edyn.”

Silbane merely nodded, knowing he was in for the fight of his life.

* * * * *

Duncan saw Valarius advancing and let go of Arek. He couldn’t afford to give the boy any more energy until the archmage had been dealt with. He gestured and summoned a shield wall above their small area. His stores had been vast, much more so than these fighting masters, but he’d given a good portion of it to Arek in an effort to keep him alive. He could tell it had helped, but not enough, and with the tide turning against them he couldn’t keep doing that and defend them. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the pieces of his blood gholem congealing, slowly drawing back together and reforming. It would revive, but probably not in time to make a difference.

He cast a thought out to Silbane,
You have to end her, quickly.

“I’m trying,” the master managed to say as he ducked under another strike and then stumbled back as Kisan changed form. A dozen wingblades flew at him, forcing Silbane to change to shield himself with his wings, draining him further.

Then Orion and Helios were there, intercepting the black armored Kisan before she closed in on the beleaguered master. But all were drained and it didn’t take a combat expert to see the outcome was inevitable. Kisan was still strong and would not stop until they were all dead. Duncan felt his hope fading.