Mythborn: Rise of the Adepts (65 page)

It was the king, ever pragmatic, who shook Ash out of his doubt and said, "Assemble the men. We have to protect this portal for Jeb, and find my son." The fact the king seemed so sure the firstmark would return helped Ash keep focused.

Ash turned from the king and addressed the watch through Sergeant Stemmer, who had reported back to duty. They respected her as an experienced soldier and leader, a woman who could defend the ground she stood upon. The men stationed themselves in an arc around the portal entrance, but their movements were slow and disorganized by the site of such magic. Their wonder and awe at an eldritch black door was washed away by their gruff sergeant, who barked out, "I swear by the Lady if you can’t hold a single door, I’ll push you through myself and you’ll do it from the other side!"

That got their attention and soon the squad had created a shield wall with furniture and armed themselves with bow and sword, preparing to defend entry to this room from anyone who emerged. Alyx made sure they understood the firstmark and two others might return from a mission through that doorway. They would be a woman and man, and that missile fire be held to ensure they did not shoot a friendly target. The men picked were some of the best, and she and Ash had confidence they understood. She reported back to Ash that the portal was as secure as they could make it.

The king inspected the men, then motioned to the firstmark to accompany him over to one side. "Good work. Jebida knew you were ready, long before this."

"I never expected..." Ash didn’t know how to finish that sentence. He felt the overwhelming responsibility of leadership, more so now that his mentor was gone. It was so easy to lead, he mused, when you had someone above you. Now he had been promoted to firstmark and charged with the defense of Bara’cor. It fell to him and him alone to defend this portal and access to the stronghold. Should they be overrun, they would perish from the inside out.

"I will do my duty," was all he could think to say.

The king clasped the new firstmark on the shoulder and said, "Of that I have no doubt."

Ash began to reply, but stopped in mid thought, his eyes searching the room. "Where are they?"

The king looked at his new firstmark, not comprehending the question. "Who?"

Ash pointed at the ground of the chamber, where the bodies of the assassins had lain. "Our attackers... where did they go?"

The king then noticed what Ash meant. The bodies of Talis, Sevel, and Chandra were still in the room, now arranged neatly side by side, but of the men who attacked them, there was no sign. "Did anyone clear out the bodies of the attackers?" he said to the assembled room.

Alyx answered, "Sire, when we came in, it was only you two and our fallen. I ordered my team to care for our own."

"We need to find out what’s going on," said Ash. Bodies don’t just disappear.

The king nodded and made his way to the door, followed by the firstmark. A half dozen more men approached from the hallway, clearly in mid run to this chamber.

"My lord," said the first, "sounds have been heard from below the fortress. We have stationed men at every corridor and told everyone to stay in their quarters."

"Sounds?" the king asked.

"Aye, sire. Like animals, something wild." The guard clearly did not know how to elaborate more and Bernal decided against pushing for details he knew would get them nowhere.

"Wise decision," he said instead, addressing the earlier statement about getting people sequestered, "watch for intruders. And bring me the guards that stood watch at the guest ward, where we held the boy, Arek."

The guard saluted, fist to chest. "At once, sire." He sped off while two more took station at the room’s entrance.

The remaining two fell in step behind the king, who looked at Ash And said, "We need to send out patrols to look for Niall."

"And the princess," added Ash. "If Niall went with Arek, you can be sure Yetteje is not far behind."

"That girl has a stubborn streak in her," the king grumbled, "much like her father did."

"As many of royal blood," Ash replied with a smile.

Bernal looked at the new firstmark, then broke into a smile that looked more like a grimace. "Aye, probably true." A serious look came to his eyes then, and his face said he was about to ask something uncomfortable. "I saw you hit with a dart, like Talis. He fell instantly. I hate to ask this but, why are you still alive?"

Ash looked at his sword,
Why indeed?

At first, nothing happened. Tempest seemed dead in his hands, though he caught a faint feeling of reluctance. Then her voice sounded in his head,
I intervened.

How?
Ash questioned.

The sword seemed to hesitate again, then said,
I took the lives of those who had fallen, to save yours, beloved.

What?

They would have passed anyway. I only took what they no longer needed. You
must
survive.
It was said so matter-of-factly, so emotionlessly that Ash felt his body go numb.

You killed them?

They had passed beyond help...
Tempest sounded petulant, but then her voice became firm and she said,
I would kill everyone in this fortress to keep you safe.

Guilt washed over Ash as he heard these words. He could feel the truth in them, and this horrified him more. He looked at the king, then back at the sword. He had to get rid of her or more would fall.

No, beloved. I am yours now.

Ash held the blade out and said, "Tempest healed me, but she took the lives of our men to do it."

The king’s eyes widened and a look of horror washed over his regal features. "She... what?"

Ash nodded, grief etched in his countenance. "She says they would have died anyway, but... how can I keep her?"

You cannot be rid of me, beloved. I am yours.

Ash tried to drop the blade, but as before in the king’s interview with Arek, his hand would not open. He used his other hand, but the blade clung as if it were a part of him. No matter what he tried, he could not let the blade go. He then sheathed her and tried to undo the buckle. It would not budge. "This is impossible." It seemed that so long as his intent was to let her go, she would not allow it.

The king moved forward to assist, but Tempest said,
If he touches me, I will kill him.

Ash held up a hand. "Wait! She says she will kill you."

The king stopped short, then backed away a step. "What can you do?"

"I don’t know. I need to talk to one of the adepts. They may know something."

Why do you hate me?
Tempest said, sounding somehow both innocent and hurt.

Just then, the guard returned with the two who had been stationed outside of Arek’s room. The king looked sympathetically at Ash, then turned to face the men.

"Our guest left his room. Who was with him?" he asked.

The more senior of the two shifted uncomfortably, then answered, "Your son and the Princess of EvenSea, sire."

"And where did they go?"

The man then stammered out, "B-beggin’ your pardon, sire, but the prince ordered us to step aside. He said the prisoner—our
guest
—complained of pain and he was taking him to the Healers Ward."

"Clearly they didn't go there," offered Ash, his attention still on his blade.

"Alert the men," the king commanded. "We are looking for my son, Princess Tir, or the boy Arek. I have reason to believe they are in the catacombs that lead under Bara’cor, near the cisterns. If any see them, hold them and send for me. I am going to the cisterns."

"As you command, sire." The guards saluted and ran back to the stairwell that led to the wall. They would meet with the commander of the watch and relate the king’s orders.

Just then, the ground shook again, heaving itself up as if something below the fortress stirred. Ash took two steps forward, then another, greater shockwave passed, knocking any unsecured items to the ground, including the king and the firstmark. A sound, like a low groan, came from somewhere deep beneath them.

"We can’t wait for Jebida," the king said, "we need to go now."

"You’re unarmed..." Ash turned to a guard and motioned, who unbuckled his blade to hand it over.

"No need," said the king. "I’ll make a stop on the way. Keep your weapon."

The man held it out for a second longer, but then, with a nod from Ash, withdrew it.

"Are you sure?" asked Ash.

"My father’s weapons wait for me." He turned to the guards still in the hallway. "Two of you come with us, the rest hold position here. When Jebida and the team come through, you send them to the Healers Ward."

The king started to turn but stopped, a stricken look by Ash getting his attention. "What is it?"

The new firstmark looked around, then shook his head, the facts clear. "I can’t go with you."

"What?"

"My king, these men do not know these adepts. Only you and I know Kisan’s plan or identity. If Jebida does not return, these men will attempt to hold them until one of us can authorize their release. This can lead to ruin."

The king was stunned. He dropped his head in shame, but when he looked back up, there was pride in his eyes. "You are correct, Firstmark. Station our defenders and remain. Make sure that when Jeb returns, he and any others are ushered as quickly as possible to the cisterns." The king’s eyes searched his friend’s and then he finished, "In this instance, I am a father first, a king second. I
must
go."

"Of course, sire," the firstmark nodded. "I am sorry."

The king shook his head, already turning, "You saw where the assassin was going. Bring reinforcements. We will descend through the left main stairwell." He smiled, then trotted off with three guards in tow.

Ash watched his broad back leave, then made his way back into the room with the Finder’s portal. A part of him was secretly relieved. His distrust in Tempest and what she might do to the king or his men should Ash’s life be threatened had left him unsure for their safety.

The men crouched behind various impromptu cover, bows ready and blades close by. The black doorway would be the killing ground, a natural choke point to concentrate their fire. He hoped Jebida would return with Kisan and Silbane. If not, it would mean they were dead and no one remained to close the portal against a nomad invasion. Either they would hold them here, or Bara’cor would be overrun from the inside out.

O
NE
D
IES
, T
WO
L
IVE

Clean the blade quickly.

Wash your palms thoroughly.

Blood sticks, the last gasp of a dying man,

To put his failure on your hands.

—Kensei Tsao, The Lens of Blades

S
ilbane sat in the tent where Scythe had left him, still bound by the magic of the red-robed mage. Though he had been unable to remove the torc blocking him from the Way, his body had continued to heal at an accelerated rate. Either this was due to some of his innate Talent, or the continuation of Scythe’s healing spell. In either case, he could feel most of the broken bones in his face and nose had knitted together correctly and he no longer felt on the verge of passing out.

Now it was clear to him that on his first day of capture, he had been in a mental fugue due to his injuries, Scythe’s meddling, or both. It was obvious they had interrogated him, but he had been unable to understand this simple fact with the easy clarity he had now.

He suspected Scythe’s spells were responsible, more so than the physical damage he’d suffered at the hands of the nomad warriors. The problem was, with the torc in place, he could not defend himself from more magical interrogation, regardless of his willpower. Getting the torc off was his first priority and to do this he needed to free his hands.

He braced his feet under him and slid up the pole he rested against. He had made it a point to do this at regular intervals to keep his legs limber. Though his arms were secured, nothing prevented him from using his legs. His first thought when clarity had returned had been to kick and break the pole he stood secured to, but one look told him it would be impossible without access to the Way. The beam was just too thick.

As he rose to stretch, he saw a flash come from behind him and the sound of air whooshing. The Finder! Arek must have used it, which would attract Scythe. They didn’t have much time.

"I told you to wait in Bara’cor. Now we are in grave danger."

Someone came up behind him and whispered, "It’s not Arek, old friend."

* * * * *

Kisan saw Silbane’s back stiffen in shock upon hearing her voice. His arms were clasped behind a pole, but there was no rope holding him there. It seemed Silbane just clasped his hands together voluntarily. Suspecting the cause, Kisan turned her Sight upon the other master.

She could see that Silbane’s power to control his arms was locked by someone skilled in the Way. She should have been more shocked, but given what the lore father had told her and what she had recently seen, she took in this information matter-of-factly.

Now the priority was releasing the locks upon Silbane. She concentrated and looked at the method used to neutralize the master’s control. It was not unlike many of the techniques she herself used on opponents during combat and very similar to what had been done to Two. She could see the points on Silbane’s spine where the locks held him immobile and smiled in satisfaction as they dissipated at her touch.

Silbane’s arms came free and he spun. Kisan looked at him with a hint of a smile but sadness in her eyes. They clasped forearms in greeting and without wasting a moment Silbane grabbed the torc and pulled. Nothing happened. He looked stunned, then let go as Kisan moved in to inspect the torc.

She pulled at it experimentally, but it seemed to grow warmer as she tugged. She turned her Sight upon it and said, "It responds to the Way and somehow uses our energy to stay locked. Ingenious."

Silbane cursed and said, "How do we get this accursed thing off?"