Mythborn (65 page)

“I can’t believe this place is going to be gone,” whispered Arek.

“The nephilim are multiplying like a disease,” said Brianna. “If they continue it won’t be long before this realm is overrun.”

“Multiplicity,” Arek said, understanding clearly what Brianna meant. Silbane had shown him once how doubling a single grain of rice on a kingsboard would equal more rice held in an entire kingdom by the sixty-fourth square.

“It’s called, ‘exponentially’,” offered Yetteje, her tongue sounding thick in her mouth.

Arek smiled and asked, “Glad you could join us. Are you okay?”

The princess regarded them all, then said, “I feel tossed around and battered, everything hurts. What happened? These nephilim aren’t going to wait.”

“She’s right.” said Ash. “Do you think they’ll invade Edyn?”

Arek was quiet, considering all he’d heard. Then he looked at the others and said, “I wouldn’t bet on anything.” He looked out over the clouds and said, “Once they’ve consumed everything here…” he trailed off, his mind thinking of his master and Kisan again.

“They might die off,” Brianna completed for him, “like a disease that’s run its course.”

“Let’s hope so,” said Yetteje, sounding unconvinced. She moved closer to Arek.

Ash had Brianna secure Duncan first, then scooped her up so that he only had to manage her. She would look after the unconscious red mage.

Arek walked to the edge of the dome holding Silbane and made a crook in his arm for Yetteje. Once she was secure, he looked at Ash and nodded, then leapt into the dusk sky. His wings caught and held the air and he felt the heady rush of speed but none of the apprehension he’d felt when carried by either Rai’stahn or Helios. There was a difference, he noted, when one was in control of the flight rather than riding as passenger. He thought back to the dragon ride, marveling at just how far he’d come from that day as just an initiate.

He circled, then fell in place behind Ash as the firstmark leapt off the dome. Ash’s gaze was firmly fixed on the horizon, never looking down at the sea of clouds nor anything else below. Whether or not the man would ever truly appreciate the open skies was questionable, but at least here and now, he was not panicking. Arek smiled at that, wondering what awaited them at Brianna’s tomb.

“There,” yelled Brianna from Ash’s arms, pointing.

Arek followed her finger, then let the firstmark take the lead. They arrowed off in an echelon, hoping they could find a way out of Arcadia before this world was consumed, hoping they could find their way back home.

* * * * *

Alion Deft walked into the throne room as her troops fanned out looking for survivors. They found none. Elves were stabbed where they lay to insure they were truly dead, but Kisan’s body was left alone. She was Ascended, and as such protected even in death from possession by the Aeris she’d bonded with. Incurring
that
being’s wrath would endanger what looked to be an otherwise stunningly positive outcome for the Lady’s forces. Still, it was a shame to waste such flesh, the undead magehunter thought with regret.

She looked up and watched two winged Ascended dive out of sight. They carried at least two others, maybe more. Survivors, but not for long. One of her men came to report, and a smile spread across her ruined face.

“My lady,” she said into the air.

Lilyth’s face formed before her. “Yes?”

“Some escaped.”

“Do you know who?”

Alion motioned to her aide, who said something and pointed. The queensmark turned back to her Lady and said, “Judging by who is missing, only a few. We saw two Ascended fleeing. They have nowhere to go.” The undead magehunter said this without emotion, though her freedom still rested upon killing Duncan.

“And the rest?”

“The Galadine archangels and the elves of Avalyon are all dead. So is the master, Kisan Talaris. Also…” the magehunter paused, “Valarius’s body, or what’s left of it, has been found. The man looks beaten to death.”

The smile returned by Lilyth with that bit of news was almost worth losing Duncan.

Lilyth closed her eyes, breathing in deep, then she said, “Valarius… you’re sure?”

“Yes, Lady.”

Lilyth clasped her hands together and let out the breath she’d been holding. Then she looked at Alion and said, “Well done, Commander. Return immediately.”

Alion raised a hand, pausing the dismissal. “My lady?

“Yes,” Lilyth said, her gaze narrowing at Deft’s uncharacteristic initiative.

She met the demon-queen’s imperious gaze and said, “I ask permission to be released.”

Lilyth’s head tilted and she said, “The price was Duncan’s head. If you think I—”

“You misunderstand, my Lady,” Deft said simply. “I do not seek release from your service. I seek your leave to hunt the red mage, wherever he may attempt to flee.”

Lilyth had recovered from being interrupted, a calculating look on her face. Then she said, “We transition without you. You understand this?”

“I cannot rest until that man dies. If there is any justice in this world, he will return as my slave.”

Lilyth was quiet, her face revealing no emotion. For the first time in a very long time, Alion found herself hoping.

Finally, the Lady said, “You have my leave, Queensmark Deft. Pick however many Furies you need and go.” At that, the image of Lilyth vanished and a gate appeared, large enough for the remaining forces to depart. They in turn filed out quickly, transported instantly back to Olympious.

When the last Aeris had gone through, the queensmark turned to survey the throne room. It sat empty except for the bodies that still lay strewn about. Then she turned and with ten others she had pulled out of line as they marched past, made her way up to the dome. Soon, their black shapes winged after Arek and his party, hunters hunting prey while an entire world around them slowly died.

Olympious Eternal

Nowhere does self-deception and certainty of virtue reside but in a “just war.”

It allows with clear conscience and good intention,

Every depravity and abomination conceived

to be lawfully committed.

-
          
Argus Rillaran, The Power of Deceit

P
repare!” said Lilyth to those assembled.

Guards moved quickly to obey, closing doors and barring them. Aeris Lords dispatched themselves to all four corners of Lilyth’s pyramid, bringing every child of Edyn back within the walls of the citadel proper. Mistfrights and lesser Aeris were herded out while the main horde moved quickly to secure all tactical positions within.

It was not done in an instant, but the speed in which it was accomplished was impressive. Discipline reigned as Lilyth’s forces moved to secure her main stronghold and close all entrances leading out. Soon her citadel was sealed and barricaded against any outside force.

Lilyth turned to Mithras and said, “Prepare your legions. When we arrive, there will be confusion and carnage. We will restore order.”

Mithras smiled and put a fist to his chest, “As you command, my lady.” With that he spun and left the throne room, flanked by two Aeris Lords and Tempest still at his side.

Lilyth cleared her mind, the spell she was about to cast greater than any other she’d attempted. Much depended on securing Bara’cor behind the scintillating shield. Most thought it was meant to keep besiegers of Edyn out, and in truth its draining field did accomplish that. However, it served a much more critical function. It was an anchor, much like the lens given to Duncan but on a far vaster scale, and it had been in Edyn long enough to have soaked in the strength from that world’s sun and stored for this very moment. Now it could provide the energy for the titanic forces about to be unleashed.

Lilyth closed her eyes and before her appeared the fortress of Bara’cor, shimmering in the air. She raised her hands and an image of Olympious appeared, superimposed on the first image. Slowly, she bent her will and concentrated, and the walls of Olympious began to shimmer.

* * * * *

King Bernal Galadine looked up, his eyes searching the air. Something wasn’t right. The air had the aftertaste of metal, an acrid thing clawing to the back of his throat.

The elves had fallen back after the gate closed on the other end, its shimmering curtain between Bara’cor and Arcadia now opaque, cutting them off from whatever fate had befallen the firstmark. Now the hairs on his neck pricked up. A sound, a kind of vibration, thrummed just below his senses and that brought with it a sense of foreboding. He looked to Yevaine, the question plain in his eyes.

The queen looked around too, then said, “I don’t know.”

The memory of the fight against Mithras and his forces flooded his thoughts, the fact the Aeris had disappeared… Bernal’s eyes widened… downward. He looked at Sparrow and Kalindor and said, “We’ve got to move!”

Kalindor asked, “Where?”

The king pointed to the exit from this temple room and said, “We’ve got to go down, quickly!”

Sparrow looked at him, then at Niall. “You order this?”

When Niall had appeared on this side of the gate the elves had gone to knee as one, making it clear they followed him now, a fact Zedakai had confirmed by saying, “Valarius wanted it this way.”

The king watched as Niall took a step back, the focus of attention for two cohorts—almost a thousand elves. He looked at his son but did not want to usurp his command. He merely nodded and hoped the boy, no
man
, he corrected himself, would do the right thing.

His son gathered his courage, then said to Sparrow and Zedakai, “We follow my father. Move on his orders.”

Bernal began shouting and the elves quickly formed up. At his command he set a fast pace with Kalindor in the lead, heading as quickly as possible for the Giant’s Step. Bernal and the queen found themselves in the middle, with the queen’s men interspersed amongst the double columns.

“What do you think is happening?” asked Yevaine, her eyes still up at the cathedral ceiling. About half of the column had exited the pyramid room.

“Mithras said we’ve done everything the Lady wanted, and the Aeris who attacked us went downward. That worries me,” he answered on the run.

A groan sounded from above, deep within the rock of Bara’cor itself. A shudder passed through the fortress, as if the walls themselves were somehow moving or expanding.

“By the Lady,” whispered Bernal, not caring, “I think we’re in real trouble.”

* * * * *

Lilyth concentrated, bringing the two images closer together, forcing them to occupy the same space. Bara’cor trembled, its walls now being displaced by the sheer bulk of Olympious. From the outside Olympious grew luminous, like a city set afire by blue white starlight. It shimmered, and the rest of Arcadia seemed to hold its breath.

Then the city flashed once, an incandescent burst of star fire, and disappeared from the face of Arcadia...

…a moment…

… then two…

And it reappeared with a
whump
of displaced air inside the blue-white scintillating shield surrounding Bara’cor. It did not fall, it just appeared in Edyn, and for a moment in time the two fortresses occupied the same space.

Then a thunder crack sounded as Olympious replaced Bara’cor, blasting the dwarven fortress outward in a detonation of rubble and stone. The blasted rock hit the blue shield and piled up on the interior, forming a ring, a secondary outer wall of rubble and stone. The boom could be heard for leagues, causing people as far as Haven to look up at Land’s Edge Pass.

The demonlord Lilyth had returned, and nothing in Edyn would ever be the same again.

***

Bernal looked up just as more deafening cracks sounded throughout the fortress. It was a series of sharp blasts, like a giant snapping huge pieces of stone. Rocks began to tumble into the underdark, huge pieces of stone dislodged from the ceiling to come tumbling down with earth shattering force.

“Take cover!” screamed Kalindor down the line. The elves moved quickly, taking refuge wherever they could. Soon the individual pieces became a torrent of loose rock as the ceiling gave way, emptying tons of broken stone into the cavernous space below.

The king grabbed Yevaine and pushed her under a small ledge, pulling himself under with her. He scrambled to unbelt
Azani
and placed the blade and scabbard vertically in their ledge, hoping it could hold the roof in place. Then he looked for Niall but couldn’t see him anywhere. Dust began to billow up and the rock fall became a landslide, dumping an unbroken wall of dirt and sand down into the abyss like a waterfall made out of granite and stone.

It grew pitch black and Bernal felt Yevaine grab his arm and squeeze. He held her close, hoping they would survive, but the fact was they were being buried alive beneath their own fortress. Screams could be heard as elves were swept away, swallowed by the collapse of Land’s Edge. He pulled Yevaine close and said, “I’m sorry.”

He could sense her smile as she replied, “For what? You did all you could.” He felt her warm lips press to his face, kissing him softly as she found his mouth in the darkness.

Then the ground beneath them, once holding with the steadfastness of granite, began to tilt. He could feel it begin to slide into the blackness and scrambled up as the ledge separated, pulling his wife along with a strength lent by desperation. His upward progress was overcome by the speed at which the rock fell, and in that moment Bernal knew they both could not make it.

A hand grabbed his in a grip like a vise, strong, steady. He could feel it engulf his own, and somehow knew it was Niall.

“Father!” He heard the boy who had become more than a man scream, “You have to hold on!”

Bernal looked down, unable to see anything in the void. He could feel Yevaine lifeless, either rendered unconscious or worse by the last wave of rock fall. He cradled her under one arm and clutched with torn fingernails to his son’s wrist. The world itself had slid out from beneath them, but then he heard a soft moan. He shook his eyes clear of stone dust and pulled Yevaine in close, giving the gods thanks when he heard her breathe, then cough.

The sound galvanized him, bringing with it some preternatural power. He braced his legs on the precarious stone underneath and man-handled his wife’s limp form up to his son’s free arm. He could feel Niall take tentative hold of her just as the landslide paused, the pitch black abyss now plunged into an eerie silence punctuated by sharp slams that sounded like heavy bags being dropped from immense heights. Bernal realized with horror that these were people falling, impacting rock, dying.

“I don’t have a firm grip, hold on!” Niall said again, his deep voice somehow both familiar and strange as it echoed into the blackness. Other screams could be heard as occasional rocks and boulders continued to plunge down from above, taking the unfortunate with them and ending in the same sickening wet splat.

Bernal breathed out knowing Niall, even with his newfound strength, could not hold onto both of them without proper footing. A fresh landslide sounded coming from above, a rising crescendo howling into the underdark. The rock moved out from under him, growling like some beast finally let loose from its leash. There was only one thing left to do. He pulled hard and swung Niall’s grip into Yevaine, feeling his son begin to try and grab them both. He push Yevaine closer with his body and said fiercely, “Save them! You’re king now!”

Then he let go.

There was a brief moment, Niall’s fingers grasping for his own, but Bernal felt himself yanked away into the darkness by the open abyss below and the rush of rock, stone, and earth from above. The last thing he saw was a brief glimmer of light, the lightning flash of his blade somewhere above, revealing his son’s grief-stricken face.

Bernal screamed, “Galadine!” Then everything went black as the never-ending silence of oblivion reigned.