Mythborn (13 page)

The man did not move from his place, but asked, “Will I be who I am now? Will I remember?”

Lilyth paused, and it was here that Baalor knew the true judgment would come. The third and final test was at hand.

“You will become more than you can comprehend. Do you submit?”

The man raised himself to kneel before her, looking up without fear. “No.” He paused, took a deep breath as if tasting life for the last time, as if he knew the truth may kill him, and felt compelled to utter it anyway. “I will not submit… yet, I will serve you.”

Lilyth smiled and said, “You have shown truth, control, and now humility. I ask you this only once, for you still have a choice. Once it is done, you will be born again as a lord at my side, or you will be truly dead. Do you wish to continue?”

The man shrugged, “Everything dies, not everyone truly lives.” He then leaned back and rested on his haunches, waiting for whatever the Lady chose to do next.

“Mithras.” The word echoed out, magnifying until it filled the entire room with a resonance that became a deafening thrum, shaking Baalor’s very bones. The vibrations grew stronger, and knew the Dawnbreaker approached.

A golden glow appeared above the man, who in response looked up. It intensified, bathing him in a yellow pool of radiance. As the glow expanded, a spear of light stabbed up through the open top of Lilyth’s stronghold and through the spire at the very top, striking the blood red sky and painting it golden from beneath.

Then a column as bright as the sun itself struck back down that spear, engulfing the man in its incandescent brilliance. The man arched backward, his form disappearing as the light and heat intensified into a yellow-white sphere of power, as if the sun itself had come to rest upon him.

A moment later the sphere imploded, flashing into nothingness and leaving behind a black circular depression of superheated and charred stone, still glowing red. At its center knelt the figure of the man, motionless, his form smoking. His eyes opened, flashing yellow like the sun from which he had pulled everlasting life, then slowly turning to the white-blue radiance that marked one of Lilyth’s Aeris Lords.

“You have slumbered for far too long, Lord of the Sun” intoned the queen. “Rise, and take this sacrifice, this flesh, as your own. Your legend is not finished, your story not ended. You are the star of the morning, the sun that breaks dawn, and will bring my light back to our world.”

Lilyth looked to Baalor, kindly waiting for his nod. He gave it, loving his queen for her mercy and benevolence. Sacrificing Hemendra to possession had been necessary for this forging, an opportunity they could not overlook. Some part of the desert barbarian, as the Lady had promised, would survive within this new life. Some small part of what had made Hemendra would be kept within the Aeris who now took possession of his body.

She looked down and her eyes flashed a final time, blue and argent with power as her command boomed forth, shaking the very firmament of Arcadia as she finished the forging of a god as powerful as Baalor, a god worthy enough to take his place.

“Rise, Mithras the Morningstar. Thou art the Lightbringer and Dawnbreaker. Rise again and command my legions, for Edyn awaits its one true master.”

Westbay

Friends and lovers lie endlessly.

Seek out your enemy if you would know the truth…

-
          
Argus Rillaran, The Power of Deceit

W
ar had come to EvenSea, and if the rumors were right, the fortress itself lay in a smoking ruin, its arched gates collapsed across the Galadine’s March. More than one local prayed for the Lady’s mercy on the Tir family, hoping they had somehow escaped the barbarians surging from the deep desert.

The March had been blockaded immediately and Westbay’s militia had been put on full alert. Between them and the soldiers of EvenSea, who were stationed in the pass and the natural barrier of the mountains, a relative calm had been maintained in Westbay and Morninglight. Watching, one could believe Edyn was at peace.

The
Sunsetter Inn
had its usual evening crowd; a mix of travelers, local fishermen, store owners, and dockhands, washing down the day’s work with the inn’s nutty and bitter brew. Trade flourished across the cities dotting the inland sea as people and goods made their way north and south from this bustling port town, nestled on the western tip of EvenSea.

That was probably why no one paid particular attention to the slender figure who entered the Sunsetter and quietly took a seat. She was non-descript, but her vaguely exotic, gold-flecked eyes might have caused a second glance, if one were particularly attentive. Otherwise, eyes tended to flow over her like water on a leaf, never really pausing at her presence. It was a fact that suited Sai’ken perfectly, for she was no lady and attention was the last thing she wanted.

“Can I help ye miss?” said the woman behind the bar, dropping a napkin and a forked blade in front of the traveler.

“I—”

“To the might of EvenSea, rising again to glory!” toasted a soldier at a table to Sai’ken’s left. He sat with a few others, into his drinks and maybe just a bit louder than necessary. His declaration was met with quite a few hearty, and a few disinterested, “ayes” from around the room.

Sai’ken looked back at the bartender and added, “Ale, and something to eat, please.”

“Got some chicken left. From the size of ye, looks like a quarter will be enough.” She smiled in a good-natured way and placed a wooden mug of ale down, then left to get the meal.

Sai’ken grasped the mug and turned, taking stock of the room. So many people, she thought, and all so happily unaware. She smiled, sipping her drink, a bit envious of such blissful ignorance. She placed a hand on the wooden bar and leaned back, resting against the warm wood. To be out amongst the people of the world again!

For almost two hundred years Sai’ken had been kept isolated on the isle her father called their home. Oh, she’d enjoyed the occasional quest and schooling with the other dragons of the Conclave, but true freedom had been a carefully shielded dream she’d only recently dared to take.

Though Rai’stahn had never said it, she’d begun to understand that Sai’s were rare. So much so that when she’d suggested volunteering for this task, her father had forbade it immediately. Luckily, she’d determined he did not have all the facts and so had gone to the great dragon Rai’kesh to have a reasonable discussion. Her father had worried about her exposing herself, but finding Armun and the Phoenix Stone was paramount, and Sai’s were especially gifted at interacting with the prey inhabiting Edyn.

Neither task would be easy. Though her conversation with the new lore father had given her a place to start, following the Conclave’s orders concerning Armun put her at odds with not just one but two Adepts of the Way. Clearly Giridian had understood that, since he’d not volunteered more information than he had to, and who could fault him? Even now he may be telling them to prepare for her arrival. It was not a situation she took lightly. These adepts were potentially dangerous, especially to a young Sai without the benefit of the Rais’ more predatorial mindset.

What concerned her more was the fact that the last place she knew for certain Armun had been was inside the mountain itself. Given that it now was the home of Sovereign’s forces, she’d likely have to collaborate with the adepts to gain entry. The mountain was known for being less than hospitable to intruders. While she could mask herself for a time, Sovereign would eventually sense her. By then, she’d better have figured out a plan to achieve her primary objective.

Likely that when all was said and done, she’d have to neutralize one or both of the adepts, a fact she found particularly unpleasant given their allegiance to the Way. Still, she reminded herself, gardens needed tending and culling to grow. With a sigh and another sip of the inn’s ale, she quit her daydreaming, focusing instead on the task at hand. Time enough for dreams later, she semi-chastised herself.

The woman came back, plopping the plate down behind Sai’ken, who did not turn in response. The innkeeper stomped like a buffalo and eating was not Sai’ken’s purpose in ordering food. She’d found that many a person would be more willingly talk to someone over a meal, as food seemed to be what most of these prey created bonds around. The idea of sitting around a meal was a silly thing, but again these halflings were silly folk.

In fact, Sai’ken was astonished at just how elaborate meal time was, with social rituals, prayers, even sharing! It made no sense, but she reminded herself again, who knew how prey thought? Maybe their habits were a result of the fragile nature of their existence? To her continued amazement, sharing food seemed to be a signal to drop all pretense of defense, as meager as they were. Perhaps they thought it safer because of the size of their group? The behavior was both puzzling and useful, as this “safety in numbers” kind of addled reasoning opened opportunities to talk. And talk was something they certainly loved to do.

Sai’ken smiled at that and had she been in her true form, one would have seen razor sharp fangs in that smile. Instead, a diminutive girl looked over the group of people, marveling again at how easy they made it for the hunter, staying together like a herd of cows.

“Not to yer likin’?”

Nay, thought Sai’ken looking out at the tavern, thou art quite to mine liking. She then turned and reached for the bladed fork, stabbing a piece and eating it, still smiling. “No, just wondering what the latest news is.”

“Latest news? Unless yer from a cave the news is all about Bara’cor,” the woman said, revealing a gap-toothed smile. She leaned in close and added with a conspiratorial authority, “Sure we’ve heard EvenSea rises again, but they say the demon-queen is back and this time she’s taken King Galadine as her own. They’re consorts now…” she said with a knowing wink.

“She could do better,” Sai’ken replied in a disinterested way.

“Ha! I guess she could at that.” The woman looked around, then leaned in a bit more and said, “You heard about Lastpoint? They say there’s nuthin’ left. The Blue just swallowed her up like she was never there.” She said this as if trying to prove her sovereignty over gossip, waiting with baited breath for Sai’ken to say no, but the dragon in disguise disappointed her.

“Indeed? I’d heard the same, and worse,” returned Sai’ken, matching the woman’s tone.

“Worse! Tell me. If it’s good, your next drink is free.”

Sai’ken swallowed another sip, liking the taste, then said, “Heard dwarves have been showing themselves again.”

The woman screwed her eyebrows together, “Someone’s been pullin’ yer leg, or yer pullin’ mine. Tain’t no such thing!” The woman leaned back as if to leave, then turned back and said, “Dwarves you say… where?”

She saw the hunger in the woman’s eyes for news of any kind and tapped her mug on the bar. The woman’s eyes dropped down, then with a sigh she pulled a pitcher out and refilled it.

“Now tell auntie whatch’ya know, lass,” she said eagerly, like a child waiting for a treat.

Likely the war in the desert left few stragglers or reports. Survivors did not walk out of the desert every day, leaving the cities ringing it bereft of any real news. The problem was, these conversations always went the same way. No one really knew anything, and two adepts who did not want to be found were naturally hard to find.

It had been the same at Sunhold, Deeplook, Morninglight, and now so far, it seemed to be the same here in Westbay. Sai’ken was hoping for something and had thought up a new tactic to solicit it. It would take patience, and that meant putting up with this woman for just a bit longer.

“Maybe I heard there were dwarves in Bara’cor… and Dawnlight. Maybe even here?” She asked the last innocently enough, careful to avoid the “mayhap” on the tip of her tongue. The archaic but beautiful language the dragons used gave the halflings’ guttural tradespeech some elegance, but here it would only serve to bring suspicion she was high-born.

No one talked to high-borns, something Sai’ken learned from her first disastrous attempt at Lastpoint, a place seemingly bred to harbor many pirates and thieves. The woman was right. Sai’ken had held the town to its name, making her “last point” in a lurid declaration of the blood and bone out of its ignoble “citizens.” Needless to say, if word of this had already reached Westbay, she’d not be returning to Lastpoint any time soon.

“Ach, yer crazy. Dwarves at Bara’cor!” She looked over at the bartender to her left. “Derrik, open yer ears, boy! Mistress says there’s dwarves at Bara’cor.”

The boy just shrugged, his attention on filling his mug and serving the people in front of him. He risked a quick glance at them and then said, “Lots is going on at Bara’cor. That’d be true.”

The woman shook her head, wiping the counter with a rag she’d pulled from somewhere under the bar, and then she said to Sai’ken, “The boy is daft, son of my brother or he wouldn’t have a job. Better at watching grass grow if ya asks me.”

Sai’ken began to wonder if the whole lot of them weren’t a bit “daft,” as the woman had put it. As far as she could tell, though, the boy clearly knew his business. He didn’t dally, his focus stayed on his work, and more importantly he kept his patrons serviced. He also talked a lot less than this woman, who Sai’ken was beginning to regret having engaged.

“What? Don’t like the chicken?”

The dragon sighed, then speared another chunk and washed it down with ale. Cooked meat made her sick, but she forced herself, knowing it was part of the necessary courtesy to establish a rapport amongst these folk. Meals brought them bovinely together.

The woman wasn’t finished. “I’d believe dwarves at Dawnlight. Just the kinda place those vermin would inhabit. They’re dirt grubbers, ya know.” She said this with a fishwife’s authority, hand in the air as if she spoke the word of whatever gods she followed.

Sai’ken nodded vigorously, full of the dry chicken she had to fight to swallow. She finished it with her ale, wiping her mouth. “A man’ll be coming in. He’s my brother. I’d like to save this seat for him.”

“You’ll be payin’ first—”

“Of course,” Sai’ken cut her off with a coin thrust in front of the woman’s nose. “Will a silver imperial cover this, and lodging for him?” She waited, watching as the woman’s eyes went from the coin to her face, then up to the ceiling as she did a mock calculation in her head. A silver was more than enough, Sai’ken knew, but this woman seemed shrewd enough to not agree immediately. Perhaps they weren’t as simple as they acted.

“It’ll just cover it, and another ale if it pleases ya,” she offered, likely feeling guilty at taking triple the amount owed.

Sai’ken shook her head, “No, save it for him. He’s of the EvenSea militia. You’ll know him by his eyes. They’re like mine.” As she said this, she looked at the woman squarely for the first time. Her small gasp told Sai’ken she’d seen the yellow-gold irises, a detail she’d only made apparent now, and only to this woman. Then she dropped her gaze and turned to look at the door, “Now, please see to the room.”

She heard the woman stumble back a bit before retreating up the stairs, her composure gone. Sai’ken didn’t wait for her to return but instead walked past the table of boisterous soldiers, some of whom called to her to join them, and went out the door.

The area outside was crowded with people out for the evening. Orange lamplight flickered at storefronts and along the quay, and combined with the sound of water washing up the sand, it gave one the feeling of literally being by the sea, which wasn’t far from the truth. Sai’ken found a dark corner near one side of the entrance and changed form.

Now in her place stood a tall, broad-shouldered man wearing the aquamarine cloak and the single trident of EvenSea at clasp and collar. It marked him as an officer, and would help Sai’ken with the next part of her plan.

It had been clear in the other towns that one person asking the same questions only led to suspicion, and that could lead to another misunderstanding like at Lastpoint. She’d thought about it and realized that if more than one person asked the right questions, people’s suspicions never got aroused. Gossip was best found in small bits from lots of people, and never all at once. Luckily, everyone these people met tonight would be Sai’ken in different guises.

She made her way back into the Sunsetter, grabbing a seat near the one she’d just vacated. The woman was just clearing her old dishes when Sai’ken, now disguised as a militia man said, “Excuse me. My sister left me a message.”

The woman looked at him, her eyes tracking up and down, then said, “No one left no message, and that seat’s for payin’ customers.”