Mythborn (46 page)

“A powerful lord who fights for Lilyth. I have faced him before,” growled Orion.

“You don’t look too worse for the wear,” commented Arek, “no matter what Lilyth says.”

Helios smiled at that . “Ha! It took many days for Orion to walk again, many more before he could hold a weapon. Lucky I arrived, or you’d be talking to a better, more powerful companion than this sad one standing beside me now.”

Orion looked at Helios, his annoyance clear. Then he looked back and said, “I recall I gave as well as I got, but Hel is right.” His tone grew more serious. “It’s doubtful I’d be here if he’d not interceded on my behalf.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, Baalor would’ve killed all of us. We only escaped because King Galadine challenged him to single combat.”

At that, Arek spat, “Then that’s a bit of good news. That man deserves to die.”

An incandescent rage turned Yetteje’s vision white with fury and before she could stop herself, she’d given him a stinging slap. “Don’t say that!” Arek pulled his hand away from a red face in shock. “I don’t care what he did to you! You don’t talk about him that way around me again!”

Whether it was her anger, or the tears that had come unbidden to her eyes, Arek did not respond except to slowly nod. Then he pulled away and hunched over, looking dejected, resting his elbows on his knees, hanging his head and thankfully remaining silent. Yetteje leaned back again, feeling the drain from that brief contact down her arm like a numb poison, a throbbing in time with her heart.

She wiped her face, clearing her eyes, then focused. Anger and fear were not the answer, and she needed to remain objective. She took a breath, then two. Slowly, she let herself calm down, let peace in where before there had been only turmoil and rage.

Finally, when she was ready, she said, “Hey, I’m sorry about what happened to you at Bara’cor. I know it wasn’t fair, but I’ve known King Bernal my entire life and if you trust me at all, know he’s a
good
man.”

Arek was quiet, looking at his hands. Then he slowly nodded but said, “I don’t think I can just forget being tortured.” He was quiet a moment longer, then he looked up at her and asked, “Can we just drop it?”

Yetteje could feel her heart soften and she nodded slowly, “Of course.” The relief on Arek’s face was palpable, and that somehow made him more endearing. She smiled once, then looked at everyone. “I’m sorry, we need to stick together. Niall is still out there.”

Arek’s gaze lingered a bit longer on her before he said, “Valarius controls the elves. They kill each other to open gates. It’s the only way I know to Avalyon.”

”Aye, and it’s more than just a simple key,” Helios said. “Many elves have fallen to my blade within a henge without a gate appearing. Perhaps something is wrong in the way I kill them.” The Watcher smiled at that. He seemed to have a knack for lightening the mood. Perhaps his name was somehow more than just a name, but a part of who he was. Yetteje wondered about that and about his talent. She could see why Orion kept him around.

“There is another thing to note,” Orion said to Yetteje. “You said you faced Baalor in possession of a builder’s body. Did you see him fall?”

She was quiet, reliving her last goodbye to the man who had been like her own father. That thought reminded her of her reason for coming to Lilyth, and she refocused herself. Then she raised her head and took a breath. “No. We left before the outcome.”

Orion looked uncomfortable when he said, “Then we must assume Baalor was victorious, and Lilyth now has a builder’s body in her possession.”

“Is that important?” asked Arek.

“I do not know,” admitted Orion, “but she has sought one for many lifetimes. That she’s getting something she wants should fill us with dread.”

Yetteje thought about this, risking a look at Brianna, but the dwarven woman seemed lost in thought, barely listening to their conversation. She looked back at Arek and said, “I heard Lilyth say she was your mother. I tell you I doubt this because someone has to remain objective. Now you’re telling me an archmage from our past is alive? A Galadine?”

“And Niall is with him,” Arek said.

“Yes…” Yetteje sank back again, thinking through what her cousin would likely do. Niall was influenced enough by stories of glory and honor to be taken in by what he would see has a family legend, but to what end? Was Valarius truly their enemy, or a potential ally? She readjusted her thinking, now having to consider how to rescue Niall if he didn’t want to go. His allegiance to his family was unbreakable, an honorable trait the entire Galadine line shared. Normally, she applauded it. Right now, it might prove to be a liability.

“What runs through your mind, little cat?” rumbled Orion.

Yetteje looked up at the massive Watcher, her amber eyes regaining some of their glow. “We came here to rescue Niall and Arek. We have Arek, now we have to get Niall.”

Helios laughed again. “She insisted we breach Olympious, home to a Celestial who kills Watchers. Her next orders are even simpler. Find and enter Avalyon, a place infested with the warforged elves who like nothing better than to kill Aeris on sight!” He looked around before addressing an imaginary crowd assembled before them. “Come, give us a challenge worthy of our mettle. This is too easy.”

“Silence,” Orion said wearily. He looked at Yetteje, his eyes softening as he searched her face. “I’ll go wherever you lead, but Hel is right. No one breaches Avalyon, and getting out will be even harder.”

From behind them came the sound of rushing air as a gate opened and Lilyth stepped out, flanked by Thoth. She looked at each of them, her eyes searching for something. They finally fell upon Arek and she said, “Valarius holds those who are dearer to you than you know. Perhaps we can find a way to help each other, my son.”

Living Legends

Be humble in the face of skill, be grateful for your fame.

These are given by others.

Beware of conceit, for you are its only gardener .

-
          
Jebida Naserith, Should I Fall

N
iall followed the yeoman, making his way quickly from the royal chambers he’d been occupying to obey the summons of the highlord. Grand-uncle Valarius was here and alive! He couldn’t believe it, or the pride he felt at being a descendent of such an illustrious figure from Edyn’s war-torn history. It was one thing to read about him, quite another to walk next to the man and hear him actually speak.

His power was obvious, and Niall had always been taught that people fear the powerful. It was no wonder history had so maligned him, branding him a traitor. Now, he secretly hoped, with his voice to endorse the correct history of Edyn, perhaps uncle Valarius would receive the hero’s welcome he deserved and the stain upon the Galadine name would be removed.

He tugged at the collar of the new tunic he wore, a stiff black fabric emblazoned with the golden lion of his father’s house. It felt more like leather armor than clothes, but Niall thanked the gods for the bath and fresh linens. He wore matching black leather leggings and boots, and had a proper blade strapped to his belt. All in all, he felt every part the prince again for the very first time in what felt like forever.

His escort moved quickly, taking him up tunnels of wood. They seemed to have purposely picked a route to avoid any open air vistas, likely protecting him from his own vertigo. Niall was happy enough at that, not having to look out over the dizzying expanse between trunks and the drop into empty space. After a few switchbacks they exited on a level somewhere within the expanse of Avalyon, but Niall was so disoriented he really had no idea where he was in relation to where he had just been.

The lead elf motioned for him to enter a room as the rest took station outside. Niall thanked him with a nod, then entered the chamber. It was dark and felt vast, as he could not see the other side. The glowing orbs used in Avalyon in place of torches only illuminated a short area around the entrance.

As he entered, more orbs came to life, their soft yellow light revealing a man hung by his arms from two posts. He was not quite kneeling, the length of the vines holding his arms stopping just short of allowing his knees to touch the floor. It was clear that he had been tortured. Lash marks crisscrossed his body in such numbers it was difficult to see any place left untouched. The man was being flayed alive, assuming he still lived. He was so motionless it was hard to tell.

“A traitor amongst us.”

He spun at the voice, seeing his grand-uncle step out of the shadows on his left. He nodded in greeting, his eyes drawn back to the suspended man. “What did he do?”

“He plotted against our family, murdering fathers, mothers… even children. Anyone bearing the Galadine name.” Valarius moved closer, putting a warm hand on Niall’s shoulder and gently steering them both closer to the man. A slight movement from an arm told him the prisoner was still alive. Then the man’s head lolled to one side, and a pale eye opened to look at them.

His other eye was swollen shut, and his split lip still bled. So much damage had been done that the man’s face looked lopsided. He wore a magehunter’s collar sitting snugly around his neck. Though magehunting had been outlawed by his father, the collars were still a familiar sight at Bara’cor.

“Who is he?” Niall asked, his voice hushed. Unlike the specific damage done to Arek to suss out information, this was gratuitous in its violence. He was surprised the man was still alive, but his uncle said he had good reason. Curiosity overcame his revulsion and Niall stepped forward again to get a closer look. This was the only other person from Edyn he’d seen here besides Arek.

“Duncan Illrys, who betrayed me at Sovereign’s Fall and murdered my brother.”

Niall turned to Valarius in surprise, and said, “King Mikal took his own life.”

“So the stories say.” Valarius smiled and stepped forward, inspecting Duncan. “Would you care to refute my accusation to the boy?” he asked his prisoner. When there was no answer, he turned back to Niall and asked, “What should we do with him?”

Although nothing actually changed, Niall felt the man come to attention at the sound of his name. He looked past his grand-uncle and said, “I don’t know.”

“Come now, you’re a crowned prince of Bara’cor. Surely you have learned the laws concerning crime and punishment,” urged the elven highlord.

Niall nodded, then said hesitatingly, “Regicide… is punishable by slow death.”

Valarius smiled and gestured, and two vines bristling with thorns whipped out from the posts, scoring the man’s back and front. The man screamed as torn flesh bled from fresh wounds. The strikes took whatever little strength the man had left and he collapsed, head down, hanging from his arms.

“It will take many days for him to succumb, perhaps weeks.” The highlord looked back at Duncan and smiled. Then he moved back to Niall and said, “Come, let us—”

“Your father!” the man gasped. “Bernal Galadine’s final thoughts were upon you.”

Niall spun, his eyes wide. “What did you say?”

The man managed to raise his head slightly, looking from under a bloody brow with one good eye. “I stood with him in Bara’cor.”

“Lies,” Valarius said, gesturing, and the whips came back, snapping across the man’s back and driving him back down to his knees.

“Wait!” Niall said, looking back at Valarius. “I would hear what he has to say.”

Screams continued as the thorn vines continued their ugly work, ripping flesh from the man’s back, exposing bone and ribs. Then something in Valarius’s demeanor changed, and he raised a hand. The whipping stopped, and now all he heard were Duncan’s retching sobs.

Niall turned back and said, “Prove it.”

A giggle emerged, a strange laughter edged with madness. The man looked up again, his one pale eye wide and catching the light with a maniacal glint. Then the man’s demeanor changed, as if another took his place, and his expression turned into something more normal, albeit still disfigured. In a voice filled with pain, Duncan said, “The king gave his bow, Valor…”

“The bow is known to all of Edyn,” Valarius said, and he began to raise his hand.

“Wait, Uncle,” Niall pleaded, “I must know.” He didn’t wait for Valarius to answer but turned and went to kneel in front of Duncan, hoping his close proximity would stay his grand-uncle’s whips. “Gave his bow…?” he urged.

The man raised his head again and said, “To Princess Yetteje, to give to you.”

Niall fell back, stunned. “He’s telling the truth.”

“Perhaps,” Valarius said, “but what can you do? You do not have the power to help your father and by now Lilyth and her forces have overrun Bara’cor. It is doubtful anyone has survived.”

“You don’t know that,” Niall said, turning to face Valarius. “And my father is tougher than anyone I know.”

“And still, how can you help him?”

Niall got up and went over to Valarius, his mind seizing the most obvious choice. “You could help. You could send elves to combat Lilyth’s forces.”

“I cannot spare myself nor my warforged,” Valarius said. “They’re needed here. Of elves I have plenty, but they need a leader.”

Niall looked down, his mind working furiously. Then it hit him and he looked up, a smile on his face. “Let me! I can lead them back to Bara’cor to help my father!”

His grand-uncle put his arm around his shoulders and began gently guiding him to the door. “Let us discuss your idea.”

“Follow him and your life will be shorter than mine,” Duncan said, his voice clear.

Valarius stopped and turned, and Niall was sure he would kill the man right then, but he did not. Instead, he said, “Know that you have helped my cause immensely. Consider my offer and for the sake of Sonya, I will let you live.” He gestured and the vines reduced their taut pull, letting Duncan settle his weight upon his knees. Then the highlord stepped back out into the hallway with Niall and shut the door. The last thing Niall saw was the man, his bloody back heaving as sobs wracked his tortured body.

“You’ll let him live?” Niall asked as they walked away from Duncan’s prison.

“No,” Valarius said, “But hope keeps men alive longer than despair. It must be meted out in even quantities or his crime and punishment cannot be delivered to its fullest extent.”

Niall looked at his grand-uncle, admiring the discipline by which he ruled. No emotion, no hesitancy. In many ways he reminded Niall of his father. Then that thought brought the urgency of his father’s plight to the forefront and he blurted, “We have to hurry. Every moment we waste means more people at Bara’cor die.”

Valarius looked at him again, a strange expression Niall could not decipher on his face. He stopped and laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Niall, it pains me to say what I must. I fear the path you’ve so eloquently outlined cannot be done.”

“Why?” he demanded. Nothing would stop him from saving his father. He could already picture flooding back into Bara’cor with a thousand elves behind him.

“The elves will only follow those of Galadine blood who also carry the touch of the warforged. You’ve seen the other archangels?” At Niall’s nod he continued, “They’re more powerful than the elves, with wings and magic to protect them from the Aeris.”

“So send one with us,” Niall pleaded. He couldn’t abandon his father to these demons. The look on Valarius’s face told Niall he was about to be rejected but the words still hit him like a hammer.

“I cannot.”

“Why?” he demanded again.

The highlord looked away, then when he looked back there was compassion in his eyes, but it was edged with discipline. He said, “I wage a brutal war here in Arcadia. While I have the troops, I have only six archangels to count upon as my commanders. Bara’cor has no strategic value, and while I mourn the loss of a Galadine in any realm, I cannot pull my commanders from the field to save your father.” He was quiet, then added, “Ask yourself, what would your father do if he stood in my place?”

Niall looked down, falling into despair. “He’d maintain his strategy.”

Valarius nodded. “I wish there were another way… perhaps…”

“What?” demanded Niall, new hope surging into his heart. He would not be denied when he was so close to finding a way to help Bara’cor.

Valarius seemed to measure him with his eyes before hesitantly saying, “Would you be willing to sacrifice the life you have to save your father?”

“What do you mean?” asked Niall, confused by the question.

“My elves will only follow an archangel. Those of Galadine blood can be warforged and join our ranks. If you were willing, you could offer yourself to our cause.”

“You mean become like Gabreyl?”

“No, Niall, you’re a
living
Galadine. What you would become would be far more powerful than one of my archangels. With that power you could help wage our war against the Aeris, but more importantly, I could send you back to Bara’cor with a legion of elves at your command. Enough to save the fortress and perhaps more.”

“Save Bara’cor?” Niall whispered. His mind couldn’t help but see himself, winged and armored, at the head of six thousand elves. It was the stuff of legends, and he would prove himself in the eyes of his father. He could imagine himself bringing safety and security to the people of Bara’cor. He could correct the mistake in history as he proudly presented Valarius to the Imperial Council in Haven to demand their apology. His mother would be so proud of his sacrifice, the selfless son who gave everything for the hope of saving his family and people.

He looked at his grand-uncle, then a thought crept in that made him look down at his feet in shame. He didn’t want to say it but the thought of wings compelled him. He didn’t meet his grand-uncle’s eyes when he admitted, “I’m… I fear heights.” The moment the words were uttered he hated he’d said them at all, feeling childlike and miserable in front of the greatest archmage Edyn had ever known.

Valarius smiled, and in a conspiratorial voice he leaned forward and said, “Niall, when we are finished, I promise you’ll fear nothing again.”