Mythborn: Rise of the Adepts (50 page)

"It is now you, who blaspheme! The gods do not forsake us! It is we who are their servants and it is our burden to spread their kindness upon our world."

Though Finnow’s retort had a tint of fanaticism, Giridian could see quite a few assembled adepts murmur their support. The crowd, it seemed, believed her more than they respected Valarius’s power.

Giridian had no idea that religious zeal so permeated the Old Lords. How had they believed their powers emanated from some divine source? He shook his head, his opinion of his ancestors changing radically from the wise and learned, to the realistic view that they too had their flaws. Still, he had never expected them to be so steeped in religious mysticism. The Way required no gods, only discipline and control.

He saw Valarius sigh, a weary look upon his face, "Over the ages these Aeris have been responsible for mass incursions into our world. They attack without reason and take those most precious to us." He looked introspective, as if remembering something personal, but his next words fell like a hammer hitting an anvil, "We must annihilate them, or face our own destruction."

Lore Father Damian stood and asked, "Your agents do you a disservice, Valarius—" he motioned to Dale, who bowed, with a chagrined look on his face—"Tell us plainly, what would you have us do?"

Valarius looked down, his expression one of consideration. Then he met the lore father’s gaze and said, "We open a gate to their plane and take the offensive. We use surprise and overwhelming force to eradicate them, once and for all."

The murmurs surrounding the chamber changed into cries of shock and horror. Even the lore father looked at the archmage as if he had lost his mind. He motioned for the room to quiet, then said, "Open a planar gate? Once done, it cannot be undone. What if you are wrong? They would invade! We are tasked to our limit just sealing the rifts we
know
of and still new ones appear. Yet you would have us open another path for their invasion?"

Valarius shook his head. "They are already amongst us. I feel their presence, like an unseen hand upon my own."

Finnow stepped forward again, "And what if you are right? If these Aeris
are
the basis of our magic, destroying them destroys the Way!"

Valarius nodded, "Is it not a small price to pay?"

Lore Father Damian’s gaze became steely. "We will not chance that," and before Valarius could reply he continued, "nor will we chance a planar gate."

Valarius met the lore father’s eyes and something unseen passed between them, an understanding of their positions. "I will do what I think is best for this land and her people."

Giridian listened as murmured shock whispered again through the crowd of assembled adepts. Shouts of "Warlord!" and "Traitor!" blurted out, echoing in the chamber, though those who uttered them quickly hid amongst a sea of unfriendly faces. He saw the lore father raise his arms for silence, which slowly came at his request.

"What
you
deem best, Prince Valarius? Your oath to us, to this Council precludes that. What you deem best... is for
us
to decide," stated the lore father. He had added Valarius’s title as a reminder of the crown he had voluntarily relinquished. "Surely you intend to stay within the restrictions of this council’s orders."

Valarius’s eyes scanned the assembled adepts, the torchlight reflected in dozens of unfriendly eyes, waiting for his next words.

To Giridian it looked like a mob, ready to attack, but held back by the power of this man. He shook his head at the sight of it and his attention returned to the tall archmage as he bowed, "As a Galadine, I remind you that these are my people too. Yet, I will abide by your restrictions." He slowly looked around the chamber till his eyes came to rest on the one called Finnow. To her he said, "My name, my true name heard upon the day I Ascended, is
Azrael."

Stunned silence followed Valarius’s revelation of the most sacrosanct information a mage could ever share. It was never to be uttered, held only between the master and the wind that gave it voice. To tell others was unheard of. It gave those who knew power over him.

Valarius smiled and looked down, nodding, "If you believe me to be a danger, Finnow, you now have the means to stop me." He paused for a moment, his face solemn. "We have no Divine Right, and knowing my name gives you no power over me or the Aeris. They will continue to come, until we are possessed and our way of life gone. Continue to delay, and you condemn us all to death."

* * * * *

The vision went dim, then faded to black.

He gave them his true name? Was Valarius mad? Then a cold logic settled over Giridian, the analytical part of his mind asking the next most logical question. If they knew his true name, why were they unable to stop him?

Could their true names really be unconnected to their power? If so, what did it mean? He had grown up believing the name he heard upon Ascension,
Artorius
, had been his birthright, a sign he had achieved something. Now that had been cast in doubt. How was he to find the truth?

Giridian needed more information, more facts to put the conversation he had witnessed into context. He decided to skip ahead to the time closer to the War, where Lilyth and her forces had attacked.

He plunged back into the void. At first, he flew as if he were the wind itself, the stars streaking past. Then slowly, his feeling of immense speed faded and he became mired in blackness. Each movement slowed as if he were submerged in a viscous fluid and the tiny stars sat steadily twinkling around him, as if bearing witness. His path forward had effectively been blocked by this unending blackness.

Then, in the distance, Giridian could see...
something.
It was a tiny point of light at first, flickering and wavering. It was so indistinct he blinked a few times to make sure it was no trick of his eyes, but it did not disappear. Instead, slowly the light grew.

Soon he could tell it was a figure, walking toward him. Then they were in front of each other. He stood looking up at a being made entirely of light. Its form was indistinct and though it did not shine brightly, Giridian found himself shielding his eyes.

The figure held up a hand and a chime sounded, piercing his mind like a spear that stabbed through his entire being. The chime began almost harmoniously, but ended in a harsh double chirp.

Slowly, the being of light condensed until it took on the form of a large man in robes. He smiled and said, "Lore Father Giridian Alacar, be well come. It is with joy we greet this meshing."

Giridian faltered and took a step back, not knowing quite what to say.

G
UARDIAN OF THE
W
AY

Do not teach a student before he is ready;

Train him until his body no longer fails,

Till discomfort is ignored.

Train him until he resists no more.

Only then can he accept the Way.

—Davyd Dreys, Notes to my Sons

M
eshing?"

"Ahh... our lexicon is incomplete and I am using the word in our language that is closest to yours. You are hearing that translation."

"But you are speaking my language."

The man smiled again. "You are
hearing
your language. There is a difference. Still, our hope is it will suffice." He looked away for a moment, then back at Giridian before continuing, "You have entered a library of sorts, an archive of knowledge. It was placed here to safeguard all learning."

"I know. The lore fathers’ memories and lives are here."

"Indeed, and much more." The area around them changed and Giridian found himself back in his Vaults, where he and Dragor had just been. Except now it was empty save for the two of them. The man gestured to a chair and took a seat himself. "Your journey here was not anticipated."

"Why?" he asked, looking around incredulously.

"You were not considered vital for unity, but as in many things, we predicted wrongly." The man smiled again, not unkindly.

Giridian took his seat slowly, the transformation of the black emptiness into his Vault so complete, the illusion so real, he could smell the leather and see dust in the air. This was power beyond anything he had seen done, except by Themun in saving the Isle. He cleared his throat and asked, "Your name, sir?"

"I am known as Thoth. I maintain these archives," he said, looking around him.

"Seems like a big job for one with so short a name," Giridian said warily, though a smile hid behind his eyes.

The man smiled back. "I believe you are making fun of me, Lore Father. We are both responsible for much the same thing."

Giridian let the surprise show on his face, "You are a lore father?"

"Similar, but closer in spirit to your duties as Keeper of the Vaults. You collect and preserve this storehouse of knowledge—" he took in the area in which they sat with a gesture—"I do much the same, but on a far vaster scale. I am Thoth, the Keeper."

"And you greet every new lore father who enters the Way?"

Thoth gave a friendly laugh, his hand clapping his knee. "I wish we had. If so, we may have avoided much difficulty. Unfortunately, we have jealously guarded much, kept information to ourselves, and now face the consequences." His face grew contemplative, then he leaned forward and said, "You understand the world faces grave danger."

Giridian pursed his lips and said, carefully, "Is there ever another type?"

The man’s eyes seemed to glint with humor at that, and Giridian found himself again marveling at the detail of the vision.

"Well said. Do you recognize this?" In the air floating next to the man appeared an intricately carved runestaff. It was black and made of a polished metal that was both strong and light. Giridian knew it immediately.

"It is Lore Father Themun’s runestaff. We could not find it after his passing..." His voice trailed off as the losses to the Isle came unbidden to the forefront of his mind.

"Be at ease, Lore Father. You can forestall much hardship by staying focused on the here and now. You see, you are to be invited into our Conclave, a group whose stewardship is the safety of this world."

"How is this different from our council?" Giridian scoffed.

"Our Conclave includes many who have been created for specific purposes. They are better suited to deal with certain situations, just as a bull is better than a hawk for certain things."

"And you want me to be a bull?"

The Keeper smiled again. "We want you to be much more than either." When the lore father didn’t interrupt with another question, he continued, "You see, something important has changed. But we cannot act in your world. That falls to your people, for you are the Will of the Way."

"So you want me to fix your mistake?" Giridian couldn’t help the frustration that came through in his voice.

Thoth shook his head. "You misunderstand me, so it is apparent I need to be clearer." He sat back, his gaze narrowing. "Our people are explorers. Ages ago we came to your shores, but an accident made our vessel unable to sail again, so we used it to build ourselves a new home, a new life."

"Not surprising. Much of the Shattered Sea was settled in this manner."

"Indeed, but our people brought something special and unique to your lands, something so wondrous the world would never be the same again. We brought the Way, and it infused every part of life with its energy and power."

Now Giridian found himself growing interested, for the emergence of the Way was still subject to myth and speculation.

"Much was lost in our escape—tools, vast amounts of knowledge—but we as a people survived. The Way saved us, it helped us shape the land to our needs. As we grew and multiplied, so too, did it grow in power."

Giridian nodded. "I think I understand."

The Keeper shook his head. "You do not. Untold millennia passed and the world moved on. We are today what the Way has made us, shaped by it and our beliefs into everything you see. Nothing can change that. We are also inextricably linked to the Way, so much so that our existence depends upon it. It gives rise to your powers, to every creature that lives on, above, or inside this world. It is the stuff everything you see is made of, save your people. You are still flesh, unchanged,
inviolate."

"You seem real enough," Giridian said, confused. "Are you, then, made of magic?"

"I am real, but only in here. This is Will of the Way. It is a kind of magic, one with a purpose, but certain things were allowed in the name of expediency."

The man paused, then said softly, "Normally, it would never have been so. When we first arrived, Guardians were in place to protect the Way from corruption, but we were so few. Hurt, sickened, dying, our survival was deemed more important. The Guardians were removed, put to sleep, and dispensation was given. Now, ages later, this is the result." He looked around the room, yet his expression seemed to include the entire world.

"Why are you telling me this? Did Themun know?"

Thoth seemed at first to be ignoring his question, replying, "The Conclave cannot sit idly by any longer, nor can cryptic direction suffice. We made a feeble attempt with Valarius, and frankly, made things worse. With Themun we also said too little, and he focused on bringing order to the chaos that reigned after the last war."

"The Aeris? Why do they attack us? Are they truly demons?"

Thoth looked uncomfortable, his gaze dropping to the floor as if searching for an answer. Then he looked up at Giridian and said, "You are one of a very few to be entrusted with this knowledge. It is not because you will misuse it, but because the knowing will intrinsically change you. We cannot predict the result, and that makes us wary."

"You’ll have to trust me if you expect my help."

Thoth nodded, thoughtful. Then he said carefully, "The Aeris
are
the Way. They are your dreams, hopes, and fears. They were a necessary part of your survival, but without the Guardians, they remain unchecked. The Conclave acted and sealed them within their own plane of existence. But..."