Mythborn: Rise of the Adepts (77 page)

The mace struck again, barely missing Silbane and catching Kisan a glancing blow. Her flameskin erupted in an orange flash, protecting her from the worst of it, but hurling her to land near Yetteje, who scrambled over to her and cried, "They took Alyx!"

Kisan looked at the princess and the body that lay near, then rolled to her feet. "If I fall, do the same for me." She gave her a quick, reassuring smile, then sped back into the fray.

More black shapes entered the chamber, a ghostly audience, waiting for the chance to enter one of them should they succumb to Baalor’s might.

A second smash of the mace and Duncan and Silbane found themselves tossed into the air. Duncan fell in a heap, but Silbane twisted, landing lightly on the balls of his feet. They had numerous cuts from flying shards of stone, but were otherwise unhurt, an amazing piece of luck considering Duncan did not have the advantage of a protective flameskin.

Silbane looked at the other, who absentmindedly wiped blood from a cut on his forehead out of his eyes. "How did you kill them," Silbane asked, "in the old days?"

"We didn’t." Duncan blinked more blood away, then said, "We had warriors trained for this."

"Bladesmen," Silbane stated matter-of-factly. "Why am I not surprised?"

* * * * *

Ash moved in between strikes, knowing blocking the mace was impossible. He dove in and stabbed at the knee joint, a small opening in the ebonite. Tempest plunged in, but seemed to have little effect.

Baalor shrugged off the stabbing pain in his knee and kicked out, catching the firstmark on his shield arm. Pain exploded in Ash’s arm as he felt himself hurled away.

You must use me, beloved!

No!

You must. You cannot survive against Baalor without my help, and you withhold your own true might!

Ash looked around, dazed. The demon lord had turned to face the king and he couldn’t do anything about it.

What?
he asked.

You fight as if you have forgotten the old ways, my love. I
must
help.

Ash shook his head and rose to his feet.
No! I’ve seen how you help.

When you fall, I will do what I must.

The sword did not say anything else, but Ash could almost see her form, sullen and angry at what she thought was an obviously stupid idea. He realized he needed to fight and survive, or she would do something far worse to keep him alive.

* * * * *

The king watched the carnage, even as the demon warrior turned its lightning gaze toward him. They had to make it to the Gate! It was Niall’s only chance of rescue. He knew what he had to do and turned toward Silbane.

"Silbane!" he yelled. "You have to go!" The king motioned to the exit leading down to the cistern catacombs.

Silbane and Duncan moved in unison, striking the giant armored demon with fire and fist, while Kisan struck a third time, distracting Baalor as the other two made their way over to the king.

Silbane was the first there and said, "What are you talking about?"

The king looked at the armored demon and said, "We have to make it to the Gate, or Niall and Arek cannot be rescued."

"So you want to run?" Duncan sneered. "Did you not see before? He can follow us through the walls." He looked at the king with disgust. "The Golden Lion of Bara’cor..." he said, making the title sound like a curse. "Valorous to the very end."

The king looked at Duncan with sadness in his eyes, but addressed Silbane, "Go. Take the party and get to the Gate. I will surrender myself here."

Silbane looked at the king in shock, then said in a soft voice, "You’ll be killed, Bernal. What about your son?"

"This is the only way for the people of Bara’cor to survive. This is the only way for Niall to survive. I’ll not see him, but he
will
live. I trust you to that."

Silbane’s gaze did not waver. "We can defeat this thing."

The king smiled and said, "You don’t believe that."

He looked over the battlefield, watching Ash hack at the giant warrior, his blade sparking and bouncing off the ebonite armor, then roll as the mace clipped his shoulder. The firstmark went down, lightning crackling around his body.

"Stemmer is dead. He’ll kill you all, one by one, to get to me." Bernal looked back at Silbane and said, "If I surrender, he will stay here. It gives you the chance to gain the Gate."

Duncan and Silbane both stood still, not answering. A moment passed in silence. Then to the king it seemed they communicated something to Kisan, for the master suddenly grabbed Yetteje and sped towards them, dodging around the demon’s mace. The two zigzagged to his position while the demon turned back to Ash, who lay sprawled out on his back.

The king nodded to the group’s unspoken agreement, then yelled, "Baalor!"

The Aeris lord stopped, his arm upraised to smash down where Ash lay. The firstmark looked about in a daze, then slowly got to his feet and shuffled out of Baalor’s reach. He fumbled through the carnage, joining the rest of the group with an unspoken question in his eyes. His left arm hung useless.

"You claim to be honorable," said the king, addressing the Aeris lord.

"I claim nothing. My actions speak for themselves," intoned the giant. He turned and faced the king. "As do yours."

Bernal Galadine stepped forward. "I have no taste for dying without a challenge, and neither do you, it seems. I challenge you, then, to single combat. You will allow my companions to leave. They are of no concern to you."

Ash stepped forward, but was held back by Silbane. The firstmark exclaimed, "What? You’ll not survive!"

The king looked back, handing his bow to Ash, "Take Valor. Give it to Niall when you see him."

Ash ignored it, struggling to get past Silbane. The older master took the bow and said to the firstmark, "It is his son’s only chance."

"No!" said Ash. "There has to be another way!"

"I accept your challenge, King Galadine of Bara’cor," Baalor said with a slight bow. "The men of Bara’cor who still live will be allowed to leave its walls, as promised. Your companions may gain the Gate, should the Goddess allow it. If I fall, you will still turn yourself over to Lilyth’s forces, or your men will die." He bowed again, then stepped back to wait for the king to approach.

Ash then turned to plead to Kisan, who stood with Yetteje and said, "You can’t let him do this!"

Kisan looked at the king, then addressed Ash, "Baalor has accepted the king’s challenge, in exchange for the safe passage of everyone left in Bara’cor. We can now attempt the Gate and find Arek. What would you have us do?"

Bernal looked at Ash and asked, "Your duty lies with the king of Bara’cor, yes?"

Ash looked stricken and replied, "Of course, my liege."

"He has been captured and taken to another realm." Bernal met Ash’s eyes and said, "Rescue him, if you have any love for me."

Something happened then to Ash. He stopped struggling and collapsed in on himself. His body seemed to deflate in defeat. Safeguarding Niall was as much his duty as obeying the king. Now it all seemed to be conspiring to worm doubt and defeat into his every thought. He fell to one knee and crouched there, unsure what to do, while his dislocated shoulder and broken arm throbbing with each heartbeat.

Yetteje rushed forward and said to the king, "You don’t have to do this. If I could speak for Niall, he wouldn’t want to lose you."

Bernal smiled at the girl. "Your father expected me to defend you." He stroked her scarred cheek. "I choose my end. Most men are never given that chance."

Yetteje stepped back, tears in her eyes. She moved over and took the war bow from Silbane and in a choked voice said, "I’ll make sure Niall gets this."

Bernal put a callused finger under her chin and lifted it till their eyes met. He smiled then brought her into a hug, whispering, "Do not forget, your mother was a Galadine, and so are
you
."

When he released her, she fell back a step, but nodded. She would carry forward, for her family and for his.

Kisan came forward, put a hand on the king’s arm and squeezed. "I wish we had met earlier."

The king nodded. "Me too, Kisan."

"Do not worry for the princess. She will be under my wing."

Bernal smiled, then drew Azani, the steel ringing with a pure sound in the dust-filled space, as if the enchanted blade
was
eager, as Duncan had said. He unslung his shield, the golden lion of Bara’cor rampant on its face. It settled on his arm like an old friend, a companion he had known his entire life.

"Go, find Niall and your apprentice. Bring them safely home."

Kisan bowed once in respect. The group moved back, away from the king. The stairwell stood behind them, its black maw open like a mouth. Yetteje slung Valor across her back, its great recurved shape making her seem somehow smaller. She supported Ash, who looked battered and forlorn. Together, they made their way to the stairwell with Silbane in the lead, their eyes still on the king.

Duncan looked at this man, this father, then looked down, shaking his head. He turned to follow the group, but paused. He then turned back to the king and said, "I can make your end quick, less painful than Baalor will offer. It may be of some solace."

The king shook his head. "No, but tell my son my thoughts were of him."

Duncan did not move, watching the king as if drinking in the character of his soul. He looked at the runebow across Yetteje’s back and seemed to consider something. Then he snapped his fingers. A small sparkle erupted, then disappeared. The only acknowledgment was from Baalor, who grumbled, "It is sooth, but pointless."

Duncan looked at Baalor and said, "Perhaps."

"He will meet you," Baalor said, taking another step back, "one way or the other."

Duncan then turned his attention back to the king, his gaze becoming fragile as his tenuous link to sanity began to erode. "You may not thank me later," whispered the archmage, "but I wish someone had done the same for me once." Then a small giggle erupted and he leaned forward and confided, "She
waits
for me."

The king’s steady gaze met Duncan’s shifting and feverish one, as if the archmage thought he conveyed something real. He then watched as the man spun and headed for the stairwell, all the while shaking his head and muttering to himself.

In the short time he’d known Duncan, Bernal was convinced the man was mentally unbalanced. For all he knew, the archmage had just brittled his sword and shield. Duncan had hated Galadines for so long, it was doubtful he would have done anything beneficial. Still, he hoped the man would find some peace.

Then his eyes were drawn to Yetteje, who raised a small hand in farewell. He gave her a small wink and a smile, watching as she, too, turned to enter the black maw with Ash.

Bernal’s mind then turned to thoughts of his wife, Yevaine, waiting for him in Haven. He hoped she would not be angry at his decision for too long. Allowing his men safe passage and giving the team time to find Niall was the only decision he could make as king and father, but knowing her, she would never forgive him.

He smiled fondly at the thought, then turned and faced the giant warrior, sword and shield in hand. Stepping forward, Bernal raised his sword in salute to Baalor. "Come, Lord of Lightning. I need a partner for this dance."

P
LANEWALKERS

You should not fear forging ahead alone.

The world is vast and its wonders endless.

It begins the same way for everyone,

With one step, into the unknown.

Breathe deep and easy,

Let the sun fall warm on your faces.

Remember me, and I shall always be with you…

—Davyd Dreys, Notes to my Sons

S
ilbane's battle-weary eyes looked to the pyramid rising from the stone floor of the cavern. At its apex shone a cobalt sun, its radiance filling the room in a soft, flickering light. The entire chamber seethed with movement as black, sinuous shapes flowed in, around, and through each other. They looked to be the same living smoke Yetteje had fled from in fear, the same they had just faced in their fight against Baalor. He turned his attention back at the princess, his suspicions confirmed by the look on her face.

"What do we do now?" asked Ash. He cradled his arm, still broken and dislocated from the strike from Baalor’s mace.

"We move," said Silbane without looking at him. "The boys are still trapped. If we do not go for them no one will, and the king’s sacrifice will have meant nothing."

They hobbled forward, whittled away by Lilyth’s forces until only Silbane, Kisan, Duncan, Ash, and Yetteje were left. They were unsure if anyone else survived within Bara’cor’s walls, for they had not seen another living soul. Their flight here had been a mixture of mistfrights and death, punctuated by desperate moments of reorientation to avoid a literal dead end. The combat against Baalor mixed with the constant attacks from Lilyth’s forces had taken their toll and none were left unscathed.

Still, unlike the king and Alyx, they lived and their objective lay ahead: the Gate. It would lead them to Arek and Niall.

Silbane moved forward and the sinuous fog reacted, bending to either side. It took on feline forms, dozens at first, then hundreds, then more than they could count, lining up in a ghostly procession to either side of the Gate. The group limped forward, nearing the bottom of the pyramid. Lilyth’s phantom army offered no resistance.

Duncan took a step ahead, then turned to face the group, his eyes centering on Silbane. "Release me."

Silbane cocked his head. "What?"

"Release me, Silbane. I have acted in good faith, but we do not follow the same path."

Kisan stepped forward and snarled, "You’ve done nothing but act within your Oath." She turned to Silbane and said, "He can’t be trusted."

They all doubted this man’s sanity and feared his mercurial moods. The last thing they needed in the middle of Lilyth’s army was another enemy.

Silbane nodded, his eyes never leaving Duncan’s. "You tried to kill us."