Read Mythborn: Rise of the Adepts Online
Authors: V. Lakshman
Anala’s form became potent with power, glowing softly at first, but quickly becoming a dazzling star of white, silver, and blue. She gave her the life-force that flowed so strongly and deeply within her, within the Way. The incandescent star that was Anala became part of Jesyn, who still knelt on the floor, head bowed and lifeless. As the elementals knelt in reverence, Anala became one with Jesyn and that light faded like a song’s last note.
A moment passed, then two. Something happened then, a change that snapped Jesyn into the here and now, a change she could feel deep in her very bones. She arched up and a gasp tore out of her. She drew in air as if she could gain sustenance from the entire room in one tortured lungful, her form blazing blue and white.
She could feel her strength magnify. It was as if something had settled over her and become part of her, a feeling of comfort and strength. It wrapped around her, holding her within its ethereal arms. Liquid power incarnate, a pure note of the Way sounded and she felt the cool wash of healing and rejuvenation flood through her entire body.
Her wounds began to heal, burns disappeared, ribs and bones reknit, hair and skin re-grew, and her fears vanished. She breathed in a painless lungful of cool, clean air, and could feel the Way permeate every part of her being.
She had heard the name,
Anala
. Was that her true name, whispered on the wind? Before she could ask, the water elemental stepped forward and bowed to her, saying, "We cannot be destroyed, for we are the Way, as are you." The elemental looked to its brethren and nodded.
Earth then stepped forward and said, "There are more worlds than this and you are a defender of the Way, in all its forms. Do not forsake your duty."
"You have earned your flameskin and more," the fire elemental continued. "You may bring it forth whenever needed. Become one with the Way and it will shine with light as unblemished as the sun. Its purity will reflect your mastery. We pledge you shall never be without it, or Anala of the Fire. You are one now."
The air elemental stepped forward and said, "None outside this square can see or hear us. They are not privy to your Ascension, only the outcome. Do not share what you learn here with anyone. Mastery must always be earned through
self-sacrifice
."
All four elementals bowed again, palms to foreheads, and said, "Welcome and rejoice. Through sacrifice, you Ascend to a new life." With that, they vanished and the four elemental walls disappeared in a flash of power and sound.
At first, the room seemed black, pitched in darkness. Then Jesyn realized she still knelt with her head in her hands. She looked up, a stunned expression on her face. How had she been healed? Her fingers ran nervously up, touching her face and hair as if to confirm what she already knew. She had been healed and was truly whole. The act left her smiling and shaking.
Dragor stood before her, looking at his former student with pride. Her face was clear of pain, her wounds healed. She radiated strength and might. He could see she was now connected to the Way more deeply than ever before, save for one final detail, her Oath.
He moved forward, picked her up and hugged her, saying what was in his heart. "You are well met, Jesyn Shornhelm. I am so proud of you."
Lore Father Giridian also stepped forward and bowed. "Welcome to a new life. You have succeeded where many fail, but I never doubted your resolve." His face became a little harder when he said, "You understand now why we cannot tell you of the test?"
"If you had, I would never have passed," Jesyn replied. "I had to truly believe in myself." Something in her knew this to be true, just as she would have failed if she had given up and succumbed to the pain.
"If you had known you would be healed in the end, would you have hesitated?" asked Giridian. "Would your
sacrifice
have been honestly and truly given?"
She shook her head, no, though the details of her healing were still unclear. The
only
way to become a true adept was to triumph without assistance, on her own merits, with her own hard-earned skills. One had to be willing to sacrifice everything and understand their place within and as a part of the Way. Defeating the elementals did not matter. Giving up, not fighting till the very end, did.
Now she felt the benevolence, the embrace of something far more powerful than herself. It conveyed a sense of pride in her perseverance, an acknowledgment that she had offered every last breath and in return had risen whole and new. She knew her spirit had truly been tested and like a blade forged in an incandescent fire, she had emerged tempered, finer, stronger.
She lived because she had been willing to die, and her conviction in herself never wavered. She walked through death’s door as Jesyn Shornhelm and returned as something more. She sighed, a happy sound this time, one the others could appreciate, for they too, had given everything of themselves to stand here with her.
Lore Father Giridian nodded and said, "Then let us complete your Ascension and take the oath, so you may add your voice to our council as a true Adept of the Way." He said this with a smile, but behind it ran a discordant tenor.
Jesyn stepped forward and took a knee. She knew the words of the oath by heart, something every initiate memorized as they dreamed of one day earning the Black.
She looked up at the lore father and said, "By the blood of my forefathers, I take this Binding Oath of Fealty to the land and her people. I will not cause harm, either through my action or inaction, without just reason, for I am the shield of the weak, the blade of the helpless, the healer of the sick, and the spirit of the Way. I pledge myself to the service of these duties and obedience to the will of this council."
Lore Father Giridian’s tone became more serious as he spoke. "I hear and accept your Oath of Fealty. Arise, Jesyn Shornhelm, for thou art now a full and true Adept of the Way."
An intense yellow flash occurred then, Binding Jesyn to the words she had just spoken. She could feel her body begin to attune itself to the land and its need. It was a feeling of oneness she would soon share with every other adept and master on the Isle and suddenly whatever had been missing, whatever felt somehow amiss, was gone.
The Way cleared her senses, and for the first time, she saw the world the way the other adepts did. Every motion, every detail, was magnified. She drank it in, reveling in the newfound precision that coursed through her body and mind. By comparison, her earlier skills now seemed ungainly and rough, like a child’s drawing. Upon completing the oath, she had truly Ascended, her potential had been realized, and her options were becoming limitless.
"Your training and discipline gives you faith in yourself. Never forget, this is the basis of your power," said the lore father. He looked at her for a moment then laid a gentle hand on her shoulder and said, "I hate to greet you with this, Adept Jesyn, but you Ascend at a perilous time. Come, we have much to speak of regarding this council, events in the world, and your friend, Arek."
B
LACKFIRE
Perception comes from an open mind,
Power from focus,
Speed from a relaxed body.
Perception, power, and speed,
When applied properly, promote damage.
—The Bladesman Codex
A
rek moved quickly to intercept the assassin, his mind clear and his breathing even. Unlike facing the dragon, Rai’stahn, he felt no fear this time, nor had he for the entire time he’d been within Bara’cor. It was as if his very proximity to the Gate had infused him with a kind of preternatural strength and confidence. That or the dragon’s aura had somehow negatively influenced him. Arek didn't know, but whatever the cause, every detail seemed magnified and slowed. He could dissect the combat in pieces, feel each heartbeat pass by in detail, and see
everything.
On his left, Niall had imperceptibly shifted his weight back, giving their attacker a slight advantage. On his right, he saw Tej’s fingers tighten on her grip, readying herself for the point of engagement. He could feel the air shift as his attacker moved toward Niall, lengthening his distance from Tej.
Arek knew a small increase in speed and a slight shift to his left would bring him to the assassin before the assassin could reach Niall. The problem was his foot. Though almost healed, it still felt like a piece of meat tied to his ankle. It was sluggish and did not move with the training and efficiency the rest of his body enjoyed.
To his right ran Tej, her short sword ready. She had chosen a path to bring her up and beside the man. Perfect, thought Arek. She, at least, seemed to know what she was doing.
When the assassin turned and charged, Arek was not at all surprised. It was smart, as the assassin would face two of them, instead of all three. Niall would have to scramble forward to attack at the same time and would never make it, his inexperience hard to hide. Arek appreciated the speed in which the assassin had discarded any idea of attacking a lone victim, dropping it as soon as the strategy proved untenable.
Arek anticipated the assassin’s moves like a player at Kings and smiled at the man’s overconfidence. He decreased his speed toward the man in black, easing the pressure on his lame foot. The move caused a gap large enough that his attacker would have to choose one of the three, instead of two. Arek knew that momentum mattered and the assassin’s instincts would drive him to continue his assault directly toward him. No doubt, by now the man had identified him as the leader. Killing him would make the other two easy prey.
He was not wrong. The man in black did not hesitate, nor try to accommodate the shift in targets. It was a true testament to his training, but an error nonetheless. Arek had counted on it to pull the attacker into a one-on-one confrontation with him, keeping both Tej and Niall safe.
At the very last possible moment, Arek jumped and tucked, somersaulting over the head of his surprised assailant. As he did, he punched downward, striking his opponent’s head. His fist exploded in pain. By the Lady, he thought, the man feels like stone! He landed in a heap, his injured foot unable to manage the impact and weight.
* * * * *
Prime watched, more than a little impressed when the kid shifted the engagement to his own terms.
So, he’s had some training.
He spun in place and moved toward his prone opponent when he felt a searing pain in his head. His stone skin began to dissolve from the strike, leaving it unprotected. He knew nulls were said to negate magic, but he had never heard of one with such virulent powers. He cursed these abominations, then turned his attention back to Arek.
* * * * *
It was a mistake.
Yetteje had seen the man spin and realized he had dismissed her. She first thought Arek had been showing off, but now realized the purpose behind his vault. He had taken the assassin’s attention off of her.
Arek had said not to attack singly unless they had an opening, and this was a
big
opening. She ran forward and braced her hand behind the pommel of her blade, the other on the hilt, and stabbed the man in his open back.
The blade sparked and began to skitter, but she clenched her teeth and focused. There was a sudden flash of light and it sank halfway in. Her hands and wrists exploded in pain and shock and she lost her grip, stumbling painfully against the man’s granite skin. Like Arek, she had not expected it to be so hard. She pushed off, remembering that sudden flash and suddenly felt drained, as if her body had given something of itself to the strike.
The man spun with an open backhand that blurred as it traveled, striking Yetteje in the jaw and flinging her backward. She had managed to begin a duck and roll so the force of the blow did not kill her. Instead, she hit the ground hard, barely able to focus her eyes. Her jaw made a strange clicking sound when she tried to move it, bringing tears of pain to her eyes.
* * * * *
As Prime turned on the fallen girl, he felt three sharp impacts on his head and neck. The null was attacking again, and at each point of impact he saw his stone armor fall away, shedding at the boy’s touch like bark from a rotted log.
What power did this boy command, to overcome even Bara'cor's might?
He pivoted in place and blocked two of the punches, satisfied by the look of pain that flashed across the boy’s eyes, then struck the boy once in the midsection, then twice to the head and chest. The kid flew backward and landed near the prince’s feet, rolling and coming to his knees smoothly.
Prime knew the boy would have been killed had his hands still been gloved in granite, but the shieldrock had fallen away at the null’s touch. Bara’cor then came back to his aid and his armor began to reform. Under his mask, his face broke into a smile. The Galadine whelp had still not moved. Time for him to die.
* * * * *
Niall stood transfixed by the scene, still unable to attack. They moved so
fast
—and now the assassin advanced on him. He backed up, holding out a hand, and shouted, "Wait, stop! Why?" He meant to sound authoritative, but the words came out in a high, gibbering rush combined with a healthy note of fear. The sound of his own voice disgusted him.
The assassin didn’t answer, instead raising two thin blades. He drew his arms back and in a lightning motion, slung the daggers at the Galadine heir.
* * * * *
A very different thing happened to Arek with each strike he landed. His body felt a kick of energy, a surge of power that brought him unsteadily to his knees, feeling light-headed but still stronger than before.
Arek could see the blades flying at Niall with deadly accuracy, but didn’t know what to do. Because of his combat sense, the scene played out in agonizing slow motion. Still, he thought, he might be able to intercept
one
of the blades. He snapped himself from his knees to a wobbling stand, putting himself in the path of the lead blade, his hands moving to block the assassin’s knife.
The scene froze, with Arek’s hand not an inch from one dagger. The other dagger was only a foot behind the first, both hanging in the air with death glinting on their points.