Mythborn: Rise of the Adepts (20 page)

“As much as you have about putting my apprentice in the middle of all this,” Silbane replied sarcastically, but appeared to regret it. Arek’s life hung on his ability to act with consideration. “No, but as long as he covers his bare flesh, nothing dangerous should happen.”

“You have another advantage: Arek’s ability to mask.”

“His mask? You think it will hide an aura as big as a dragon’s?

Themun nodded and replied, “We both know it can. Have Rai’stahn fly to another point far from you. When Arek’s masking wears off, he will become apparent to any who search.”

“And they will be looking in the wrong place,” Silbane said. “A cunning plan, almost as if you had given it prior thought.”

The lore father shrugged and said, “I would not have reached out to him without a plan.”

“So all I have to do is convince him to help us.”

“And if you don’t?”

“Then this will be a very short mission,” answered Silbane. “Rai’stahn will either help us, or kill us, and there is little I can do to stop him.”

T
HE
P
RINCESS

It is only when the sand quickens

Beneath you and you begin to sink,

That you know your true friends.

—Altan proverb

Y
etteje knew better than to dwell, but she couldn’t help it. The faces of her family kept coming to her mind. She remembered her mother, her hair shining black with pearls, her smile flashing white. She always had a laugh for her. Now, she was dead—or worse.

Her father had been a man of great wisdom. He had won the fortress of EvenSea through more than his strength of arms, but also his nobility and character. He had taught Yetteje that the measure of a person had to include their experience, education, and the philosophy by which they ruled. A kingdom should be left better by the Tir hand, not worse, and he lived up to that ideal.

Yetteje had rushed to the wall when she had heard the news and seen the horrible fate her father had suffered. The sight of her father, of the man she loved and respected so deeply, impaled on a spear, was more than she could take. Yet she could not get it out of her head.

Sobs took her again, but no tears accompanied them. In their place was the ache of a throat that had cried for hours through the night, the stabbing pain of lungs that had screamed and sobbed. Now all she wanted was to let this feeling of numbness overcome her. Drift away from all this pain, let her mind cocoon itself in the memories of nothing and sleep the sleep that let her forget.

However, something else grew in that space of emptiness... and it was not fear. It was a small flame, but a flame nonetheless, fueled by anger: anger that she would never speak with her father again, anger her family lay murdered by the Altan barbarians. She could feel it getting stronger, intensifying.

A tremor interrupted her thoughts, shaking the very walls and ground. She looked around in panic, wondering what new peril Bara’cor faced, but the shaking subsided quickly. Moments passed in silence and with nothing else amiss, she fell again into her dark misery.

Things had always come easily to the Princess of EvenSea, and her family had never wanted for anything. Between her time at court, the many social events and her own interests, nothing had interfered. She hadn’t imagined it could all be taken away so easily, like wind clearing the smoke and haze of an unappreciated life. Her last sixteen years of careless fun had been scattered to the winds.

Her eyes narrowed... Wind not only cleared smoke, it also fanned flames, and those who murdered her family would pay with their lives. She took a silent vow between herself and those she loved. Vengeance would be hers before her life ended.

“Are you all right?”

Yetteje started, not realizing someone had been standing at the entrance to her room. For a moment, her mind refused to focus on what her eyes were seeing, but then with a snap of clarity she was in the here and now.

“Niall... yes, no.” Her face screwed up and try as she might, she could not forget her father, impaled. “No, I’m not.”

Niall moved hesitantly into the room. It was obvious he didn’t want to be there, but he also didn’t want to leave his cousin alone. “I am so sorry. Your father was always so kind to me, and my aunt...” He trailed off miserably.

Tej nodded, but said nothing. Each moment seemed to go by both slowly and quickly, taking forever to pass, then impossible to forget. Finally she said, “You don’t have to worry. I’m not going to do anything stupid.”

“Like what?”

Tej looked up at her friend, as if seeing him for the first time. “Huh?”

Niall cocked his head to the side. “Stupid like try to attack the nomads by yourself? Or stupid like stay in this room?”

“What are you talking about?”

Niall looked in his friend’s eyes and said, “Tej, whatever it takes, whatever we have to do, I will help you avenge your family. You are not alone in this.”

Tears she didn’t know she had welled up in her eyes. She crossed her arms and hugged herself, but clamped down on the sadness threatening to overwhelm her. She would not lose control now... not ever again. When she looked up, the flame within her gave her strength and there was an intensity in her gaze that even Niall could see.

Without a word, Niall went to one knee and took Yetteje’s hand, intoning the oath his father had taken with Tej’s father. He said, “I hail you, Queen Tir of EvenSea, and pledge my arm and my life to aid you in times of need. You stand not alone, but always with your brothers of Bara’cor.”

“It is as it should be, Queen Tir.” King Bernal Galadine stood outside Yetteje’s room, along with the firstmark and the armsmark. “We come to pay our respects and fealty to you. I can think of no other I would call daughter. Hail, Queen of EvenSea.” Bernal went down on one knee and kissed the hand of Yetteje Tir. He looked up then and said, “My sister would wish no less. You stand not alone.”

Jebida stepped forward from behind the king, and he too went down on one knee. “My arm and my life I give to defend you in your times of need, Queen of EvenSea. You stand not alone.” He too kissed Yetteje’s hand, then moved back to make way for the armsmark.

Ash knelt in front of the young queen, who looked like nothing more than a tear-wracked sixteen-year-old girl. Breathing deeply he said, “Hail, Queen of EvenSea. Brighter days are ahead. The sun will shine on your seas again. You do not stand alone.” He kissed the girl’s hand, then waited.

Yetteje’s head sank to her chest, her heart breaking, her very being falling into a downward spiral of remorse and fear. Despite their offer of support, she
did
feel alone, and the thought terrified her. Who did she really have? What of her family, her home? As far as she knew, she might be all there was left of EvenSea, and
that
thought made her soul cry out for solace.

Then it happened. A strange feeling, as if an unseen force had entered the room. She could feel its presence, powerful but kind. Hands, warm and loving, embraced her. It was not a physical embrace, but one that seemed to envelop and succor her very being. It buoyed her up, and gave her strength to resist the pit of despair swirling through her thoughts.

She took a deep, shuddering breath, feeling her lungs fill with clean, fresh air. She swallowed past a knot in her throat, feeling it slowly unclench. The warmth of the unseen presence permeated her now, revitalizing her limbs with a tingle of power.

Yetteje’s head slowly came up, her amber eyes still shining but clear of tears. She rose, looking at the four lords of Bara’cor. She took another breath and felt it steady her more, the warmth washing away those feelings of hatred, vengeance, and despair within herself, giving her a moment’s respite. She focused again on those kneeling before her, and knew her duty lay in honoring their oaths as a royal heir should, not crying like a young girl.

“King Galadine, it is not fit for you to kneel before me. There will be many years before I am your equal. I am not the Queen of EvenSea.”

To the puzzled king’s look, she replied, “Your sister, my mother... may not yet be dead. I only know that the King of EvenSea has fallen. Until I know differently, I am still your humble servant and ward. I accept your pledge of kinship and offer you my own. My arm and my life, such as they are, are yours to command.”

She turned to Niall and said, “Prince of Bara’cor, you will always have my sword and my counsel at your side. Please rise and stand with me, as my cousin and my friend.”

She then addressed the firstmark and armsmark saying, “Rise, please. My arm and sword are yours. I am the queen of nothing and yet... EvenSea will rise again.”

As the men rose, Tej moved forward, embraced the king, and said, “My father...” Her voice cracked and almost broke, but she continued, “My father said to me he has never had a dearer friend than you. I thank you for that and for honoring me now. I know I am not alone.”

Journal Entry 4 (early)

That a simple request for aid could lead to this, and now I am here, but not as a hero.

Shall I be plainer? Very well, Rai’stahn betrayed me. I saved his people, who hid from the very nature of life around them in their caves, their holes in the dirt. They offered me a “vision,” as if I needed such charity, yet held themselves back from the bloody work, the warriors’ work.

Still, I cannot go so far as to say I do not understand. He did what he thought best, as did the rest. I must find a way to forgive them, but it is hard. Why do we hate those close to us more deeply than strangers? Perhaps because they betray our expectations of fairness, of justice? Nevertheless, I must forgive, for here hate is a terrible emotion, and terrible emotions give rise to terrible things.

Thoughts go to my brother. I hope he knows I did not falter or fail in the end. His need for assurance should be well-satisfied by our victory, which I do not doubt was achieved, thanks to me.

In the distance is what seems to be an abode. I make my way there, in hopes that there may be someone unaffiliated with the Aeris who can help me.

Those subjugated by the demon’s rule must exist and welcome a chance at freedom. All people of the known world split into factions, and I do not underestimate even the smallest creature’s ability to help...

S
HADOW
V
OICE

When taking the killing stroke,

Kill quickly and cleanly,

And do not mourn the dead.

They brought themselves before your blade.

—The Bladesman Codex

A
rek awoke to the strange sensation that something was wrong. There was a coldness to the room, a
forlornness,
if that was even possible. In the faint moonlight that streamed in from one tall window, he could see the other infirmary beds were empty.

A cool breeze from the ocean wafted through, but did not settle his unease. He quickly stifled an urge to ask who was there, but the sense of
wrongness
grew. Then the sound of footsteps came from the hallway; purposeful, not hesitant, as if the person knew his destination... and he was getting closer. A nameless fear gripped Arek, one that sent him back under the blankets in an infantile attempt at safety.

A figure in a hooded robe moved into the room as if materializing out of thin air. It glided toward him, pausing a few feet away. Arek couldn’t see under the hood, but he could feel the malevolence, the danger this person represented. For the first time in his life, he felt what someone meant when they talked about
evil.

Then the figure did something unexpected. It knelt and whispered, “I exist to serve.” The voice was familiar, though he had never heard anything quite like it. The figure reached with one hand and pulled back the hood concealing its identity, then slowly raised its face into the pale moonlight.

Arek sat dumbfounded, as what he saw and what he knew were in direct conflict. “You’re dead,” he stated dumbly.

“Astute as always, I see.” The mocking voice of Piter echoed softly across the chamber, floating around Arek as if he heard it both in his mind and with his ears.

Arek stuttered, “N-no, I mean the masters told me you are dead.”

Piter smiled a cold smile. “I
am
dead, Arek. You killed me.” Piter looked around. “I’m surprised you are surprised. I mean, don’t you remember the begging, the pleading?” He stared at Arek, as if measuring him, then a sudden understanding seemed to dawn in his eyes and he said, “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

The shade of Piter rose, laughing. “The most shameful moment of my short life and you don’t remember it!” He raised his arms to both sides and shook his head. “Is there no end to the indignities I must face?”

Arek said softly, “I’m dreaming this. Either that or you’re not dead and this is some sort of sick joke.”

Piter focused on Arek, his self-absorption gone. “Yes and all the adepts are in on it... does that make sense, you imbecile?” Piter stared at him a moment longer, then said, “They
are
plotting something, just not what you think.” He slowly walked over and sat down next to Arek on the bed. “I’ll enjoy watching the adepts sacrifice you.”