Mythborn (6 page)

“What choice do we have?” replied the prince of Bara’cor as if completing Arek’s earlier thought. Niall continued, “We can’t just wander around.”

Arek pursed his lips, his eyes running over these “elves” assembled as their escort. Despite the claim that this area was not safe, Gabreyl seemed unwilling to rush them along without their consent. That made him cautious. Arek was aware the man in armor had skillfully avoided answering any questions too directly.

He thought about it a moment longer, then nodded and said, “Very well, you may escort us, but please provide us your station, sir, so that we may address you properly.”

Gabreyl bowed once and said, “Armsmark Gabreyl, Your Grace… the highlord’s messenger.”

Archmage

It is said a man is only as smart

As a woman half his age plus seven years.

A simple thing to remember in conversation

Harder still when your life is at stake…

-
          
Alain the Farflung, A Guide to Westbay

T
he pain of transition was welcome, a sharp reminder that he was still alive. Duncan appeared where he’d expected, the invitation from Lilyth depositing him almost at her doorstep. He stood some thousand paces from her castle, a white structure that rose out of the ground like daggers pointing at the sky.

He took stock of his surroundings. The smell of pine and a cool crispness permeating the air marked the season as Spring. The sky was lit orange by a sun that looked larger than the one he was used to. The analytical part of his mind immediately wondered if he was still on Edyn, or some other world connected by Lilyth’s Gate.

It likely did not matter, as getting home was not a matter of distance but of his own perseverance. Almost there, he thought with a clarity he found refreshing. It was as if his time on Edyn had been a fugue, a mental lassitude Lilyth’s realm cleared away. He was seeing things now with a crystal acuteness that extended as much to his thinking as it did to his vision. The world before him was unambiguous in its reality, defined by sharp edges and clear outcomes. Suddenly choice had relevance, consequences had meaning.

Before he could spend much more time appreciating this simple fact, two figures detached themselves from the castle’s wall, like gargoyles come to life. They flew toward him, angling downward to land lightly. Then one stepped forward and said, “Greetings, Lord Scythe. Welcome to Olympious. The Lady will see you now.”

Duncan nodded, his pale eyes drinking in their details. They looked like twins, bearing bronze colored breastplates, greaves, and blades. Their features were essentially like his, except for the fact that their skin seemed to be made of a white stone, like marble. They waited patiently, evidently for his word of approval.

“Lead on,” he gestured.

The two bowed, and began walking to what could only be the main gates. Neither looked back, as if assured that he would follow. Duncan did, knowing his first task in finding Sonya would be to face the Lady. And, he knew, she would not have brought him here if their deal was done. There was something more she wanted, and he would have to play his hand carefully.

It was not long before he was crossing a bridge that led to the main pyramid-shaped spire, the sunlight shining through the parapets to paint alternating stripes of orange and shadow on the white bridge’s deck. Normally a bridge without anchor points below would need to be suspended, yet he noted no cables or lines. Curious, for it bespoke a level of magic used that exceeded that found in Edyn. Regardless, the bridge and castle were beautiful to behold.

Something blue caught his eye and when Duncan moved to look, he was surprised to see this castle’s “moat” was actually a chasm that fell past dark walls to blue sky below. They were floating!

He looked back up and saw what he’d missed before, mainly because he’d not expected to see it, the sky dotted with small shapes. Were these islands like Lilyth’s, each floating in the serene firmament? None looked nearly as large, but that might have been a matter of perspective and distance.

As Duncan neared the main entrance guards snapped to attention and he was handed off to two others who led him inside. These fell in ahead and behind, silent but implacable, like living statues leading him inward and up.

Lilyth’s castle was more than a simple stronghold, it was made up of multiple spires and surrounded by a small city that rose like a stepped pyramid. Each level up led to a single spire of white, a needle that pointed to the sky. Everywhere he looked, he saw people milling about, and children running around under the watchful eyes of their parents and city guards.

The soldier in the lead motioned and they turned to enter an open courtyard, following a paved road that led in an orderly fashion around Lilyth’s city. What he’d taken for the main spire had, in fact, been merely an entrance in the outermost wall. Concentric rings circled the castle grounds, each “ring” a living space filled with markets, houses, and more children accompanied by their parents. Life here did not seem so different from a city in his own world, yet something nagged him, like a book that did not close because a page had folded upon itself. It was just enough to keep him cautious and alert.

In moments, they had entered a thoroughfare that was wider and more ostentatiously decorated. It sloped upward, bisecting the rings and cutting a line directly to the center of the palatial grounds. His escorts picked up their pace as the speed of those around them became faster.

Soon, they stood in front of massive doors flanked by winged guards, the wings a sign Duncan had begun to associate with being Aeris. No doubt a preferred method of travel in a world of floating islands. At some unheard signal, the guards opened the doors and backed away with a bow.

“Be welcome and enter,” Lilyth’s voice echoed out clearly. The room was filled with courtesans and other folk, and even more children. They ran in between the legs of adults, scurrying about like mice at play. Clearly whatever laws the demon-queen enforced, she did not impose any limits on where children were allowed to play.

He took a step in and looked around, unable to identify Lilyth, for the throne seat was empty. Looking to his right he caught his first glimpse of the Lady through her royal retinue, standing near an open arch by herself. Her aura of power was unmistakable, bringing a certain coldness to her beauty. While that did not surprise him, her blue skin did. Wherever bare skin showed from beneath her simple silver gown, he saw a soft blue that seemed to shimmer with its own light.

Her form was lithe and tall, though not quite as tall as he. The curve of her back ended in a long, delicate neck, and a face framed by dark hair swept up her head into a small mountain of curls. Her large eyes shone from a heart-shaped face, deceptively young for a demonlord reputed to be many centuries old. When she turned those eyes upon him they glowed blue, but he wasn’t sure if it was magic or just the light from the setting sun.

She leaned casually on the stonework, gazing at the world spread out before her. On the other side was a vast stretch of land, so vast that Duncan could not see its end. He realized with a surprise that they were in the spire, so high that looking down gave him vertigo, though he had no fear of heights. The immense lands of Lilyth fell away from the city and downward, continuing the pyramidal slope until it hit a vast flat plain that continued for as far as the eye could see. He had not recalled climbing stairs of any type, yet the vista spread outside the arch was a silent testament to the fact that he was indeed overlooking her lands from a vantage high above the ground proper.

He bowed and said, “My lady.” A calmness had descended over him, so unlike his near frenzied state inside Bara’cor. Another byproduct of Lilyth’s power? he wondered. Perhaps, yet his purpose had not wavered, and in a voice laced with deadly intensity he asked, “Where is she?”

Lilyth looked at him, her gaze casually straying from the red gold sky to appraise him through half-lidded eyes. “Welcome to Arcadia, Lore Father, home of the Aeris. We meet at the moment when small actions have great meaning.”

Her voice was filled with a kind of melancholy, as if the simple words of welcome had drained from her any interest she might have had for discourse. He found himself moved to sadness, though he did not know why.

She traced a single finger on the rough stone of the sill upon which she sat, then rose slowly, moving away from the arched window. Her blue skin caught the light in such a way that it seemed almost iridescent, changing from its deep blue to a color tinged with an almost aqua green. She smiled softly, revealing perfect white teeth, and said, “We are both blacksmiths, you and I.”

Duncan moved closer to the window and the spot she’d just vacated, his eyes searching the verdant landscape. Her unwillingness to be straightforward irked him, but not so much that he wasn’t willing to be pleasant. “How so?”

“We shape that which needs shaping.” She paused as some children ran across her path, her face still set with that same soft smile that hinted of sadness, though the sight of the children brought a glimmer of something happier. “We forge flesh, readying it for battle.”

Duncan scoffed, not taking his eyes from the world of Arcadia stretched out before him. “I don’t care. Do what you will with Edyn, but return me my wife. It is only for her that I bargained. I have no interest in your war.”

“Really?”

The shock of the voice coming from so close behind his ear caused him to spin in surprise. Lilyth stood there, silently regarding him with eyes so deep blue they called to one’s mind the sky at sunset. He found himself unable to speak, his mind able to focus only on her proximity. It took more than a moment for him to gather his wits. Yet it was not desire that muddled his thoughts, rather her closeness felt like a violation.

Lilyth smiled and said, “Even now my world infuses you with health, sharpens your thoughts, lends you fortitude. You see my beneficence, and know of the war between us and Sovereign, a war you’ve made clear you don’t care about. Tell me, what will he do, Lore Father?”

When Duncan didn’t respond she continued, “Sovereign will kill every last man, woman, and child on Arcadia and Edyn. When our worlds die, where will you and your family hide?” She said this casually, her eyes moving over his tall form in a way that made his skin crawl.

He gathered his composure and replied, “And your answer is better? Possess them all?”

Lilyth shrugged. “Ascension, possession, is there a difference? It is only a matter of who looks out from behind your eyes. That you are Ascended means one of Thoth’s feeble Watchers has been possessed. From Lord Scythe’s point of view, are you not the possessor?”

Duncan felt himself at a loss for words, her logic forcing him to reassess his perspective. Then he shook his head, refusing to let a demon’s lie open a small crack in a door that would lead him to question his own deeds. “I don’t care,” he repeated. “Where is she?”

Lilyth closed her eyes and took a breath, then said, “Lore Father, I have stayed Sovereign’s hand or his first course of action would have been to execute all the people of Edyn. Kill the dreamers and the dreams die, too. Then the world will be remade.”

“Stayed his hand? What do you mean?” he said, looking around at the room, drinking in details like a dry sponge thrown in water. Perhaps she spoke the truth, that her world was healing him. He didn’t know enough to believe her, but with his mind now strangely sharp, many questions crowded to be given voice. He thought for a moment, then ignored what he’d asked earlier and raised the most important one first. “Why does Sovereign seek to remake the world?”

Lilyth bent her head, and it seemed she was really considering how to answer. She raised her eyes then and said, “Sovereign believes the world is broken, imperfect. We are a bad dream, nothing more than a nightfright. When the sleeper wakes, the nightfright is gone.” She paused then said, “Sovereign will survive the remaking of the world but we, your people
and
mine, will be gone.”

Duncan blinked, his thinking still clear, and asked, “How can you stop something you claim is so powerful?”

Lilyth gestured, and Duncan’s eyes were drawn to the children running around the throne room under the watchful eyes of their parents. Wait… children? He’d seen children upon entering the palace grounds, in the marketplace, even here in the royal chamber. His mind was whirling. He’d seen children
everywhere
.

He stumbled back and sat down on a ledge near the sill, a hand to his head. Were these people really parents? He took another look and realized that while each watched with loving care and earnest, they did not interact as birthers would, but more like… guardians.

Then the history of Edyn hit him like a hammer and he found it hard to breathe. “You took them,” he said, the accusation coming out as a gasp. “The children who disappear from the land, taken by demons.” He looked up at her as if daring her to deny it.

She did not. Instead, she sat down next to him and took his hands in her own, “Lore Father, these children are the only reason Sovereign has not wiped out your people.”

Too much… it was too much to take. His mind rebelled against the sheer number of children he’d seen in just his short walk, a walk he now knew had been engineered for his own benefit. If she could whisk him to her castle through a Gate, why have him walk anywhere, if not to see this? She had paraded him through a city built by her actions, trying to justify her choice to kidnap, capture, or worse.

He looked at her, his pale eyes meeting her own deep blue ones, and asked, “How many?”

Lilyth looked down, then back at the archmage and said, “These children are special. Just as the Galadines, Illrys, and others like you. The blood of the first families to walk upon Edyn is
special
. Sovereign cannot reach them here, nor can he remake Edyn without them. He does not have the power while the Aeris live, for we draw upon the Way. He too must use the Way, he
must
to remake the world. As long as we exist, he cannot draw upon the power he needs, and he cannot remake the world if it means harming those who carry the blood of the first families. It is a stalemate, of sorts.”