Mythborn (67 page)

He smiled and called upon the storms again. Dark clouds formed, heavy with wet mist. They could not be contained within this space and began flowing along the corridors, filtering into every nook and cranny. Soon the underground passageways of this one section was filled, dark and wet. Baalor used the practicality of the dwarves against them, the fact that they kept their vital areas independent of each other. It was a fine tactic against others who could phase through rock. It was poor against any change in the air.

Baalor concentrated, then breathed in. His breath did not stop, breathing in every ounce of air there was. He knew the only escape they’d have was out of this corridor and he relished each moment waiting for it. In phase, they could breathe just as he could. But his purpose was not to choke them, rather to make them flee.

The lack of air in the corridors had its desired outcome. Everyone fled to the rocks around them where they could breathe. Most moved to posts higher up, no doubt to report. Baalor smiled, then looked down at the chamber of the homestone.

It was not far off, sitting within a hexagonal chamber that was fed with dozens of pipes radiating outward to join a network of similar ones woven throughout the mountain like some enormous circulatory system. Baalor descended, entering the room quickly.

There were two guards there, who he blasted with lightning. Their charred forms fell, clearly never expecting an attack here and certainly not by one of their own. In fact, he found it puzzling just how much easier these dwarves were to kill than Sovereign’s black clad assassins. These did not seem well versed in combat at all. Perhaps their choice to isolate themselves within phase had dulled their martial preparedness? In any account, these dwarves were nothing compared to those of the Dawnlight in Edyn.

The Stormlord moved into the chamber proper and spied the homestone, a large vertical piece of metal surrounded by glowing bars that held some sort of liquid. At the bottom lay a panel adorned with a pad of unfamiliar symbols and a few dials. Lilyth had been very specific about how to manipulate this pad, so he set to work.

First he pulled two levers that opened the protective cover of the panel. Then he set the dials to a particular symbol each. Finally, he pressed the pad’s symbols in the order his queen had made him memorize. Then he replaced the dials back at their original positions and hit a button to one side that glowed red.

The glowing tubes alternated flashing on and off in a barely discernable pattern. There was a subtle vibration, a feeling of solidity, as if his weight had somehow increased, and then it was gone. All the tubes returned to their normal color and the panel’s button glowed green.

Outside, the mountain of Dawnlight shimmered in phase, then it solidified into the realm of Arcadia, becoming one with their world. The dwarves within the mountain, along with their city in phase, had been transported to and fixed within Arcadia.

Baalor knew what would come next. He held onto the tubes casually, waiting for the inevitable. When it came, it came with a sudden and overwhelming force of dwarves bursting in from every wall of the chamber. They flooded in, weapons ready, their purpose clear. They could not know that Baalor had no intention of fighting them.

Instead, the Stormlord whispered, “My eternal love, Lady,” and then channeled all his power through the tubes and into the homestone itself.

The resulting blast, constricted by this small space and magnified by the surrounding materials, became a seismic detonation that eradicated the chamber and created a spherical hole in the mountain more than a thousand paces across. The blast created cracks racing up and through the bedrock, through chambers above and across fault lines. Nothing could withstand such a massive explosion. The empty space Baalor created collapsed, causing everything above to crumble downward. It was a sinkhole, except in this case it was the mountain itself that disintegrated, taking the dwarven city within it to its ruin.

Of Baalor and any of those who’d entered the homestone chamber to stop him, there was nothing left.

* * * * *

“He did it,” Lilyth said breathlessly, the simple statement belied the immensity of the task the Stormlord had achieved. The realignment of the homestone had corrected the phase shift, putting the phased Dawnlight back into Arcadia. Its subsequent destruction had sealed their fate.…

Mithras looked at the Lady and said, “Dazra’s people?”

“Marooned in Arcadia with no way back, left in a world about to be overrun by nephilim.” Her face slowly broke into a smile, though her mind continued to work through all the loose ends that needed tying.

“The elves that entered my temple below should have been trapped and crushed. Take whatever men you need to insure none survive.”

“At once, my lady,” said Mithras, bowing fist to chest. He walked out followed by a small contingent of guards, leaving Lilyth alone with her thoughts.

She wandered over to one of the arched windows encircling her private throne room, now feeling empty and bigger with no one around, and sat down on her favorite sill, hugging herself. She missed Baalor, her confidante and second. He would know the right thing to say now that victory was so close at hand. Instead, she felt the silence weigh in on her, as oppressive in its own way as a room full of sound.

“Kalika,” she said into the air.

The air shimmered and out of that haze walked a beautiful woman, her skin so dark blue it looked almost black. She came forward with head bowed, each step making a delicate jingle as small bells on her anklets bounced into each other.

“My lady, how may I serve?” she said in a voice that was harmoniously pitched.

“You’re the instrument of change, Kali. Of your many gifts, I love that about you most.”

“You are too kind,” Kalika said, bowing her head.

“Change is upon us, for we walk again amongst those who worship us as gods and goddesses,” Lilyth said, looking over the lands spread out before her. “As such, we must shine with a divine light incontestable by mortals.” She turned her attention back to the one she’d named a goddess and said, “You will organize our people, create a celestial hierarchy we will decree to the mortals from here, atop Olympious.”

The demon-queen looked out of the arched windows encircling her throne room, seeing the ocean of sand known as the Altan Wastes before her on one side and fertile valleys that spread out below Lands Drop on the other.

Kalika stepped forward and said, “Forgive me, Lady, but I must ask. Will not the mortals resort to their own form of worship? Is that not inevitable?”

Lilyth’s gaze drank in the world, so different than Arcadia’s verdant green fields and sunlit mountains. The sky was so vast and empty, not a single island floated by. It was harsher, the sun smaller and whiter. It was a world bleached of color and life, a world she would have to learn to love. Still, she’d achieved something that had started eons ago as a dream. Now they were only a few steps away from Unification, a chance to correct Sovereign’s mistakes and set themselves on the right path.

“Nothing is inevitable if the people are taught what to believe. We will never be under the yoke of their faith again,” Lilyth said, breathing in the warm air.

“Of course, Lady.” The goddess moved up closer to Lilyth and looked out over the world, her eyes widening at the sight of it, so alien and different. “I miss home,” she said in a small voice.

Lilyth pulled her into a soft embrace, rubbing her arms to console her. “We
are
home, Kali.”

Then she let go and rose, meeting Kalika’s eyes with her own. “We will rule Edyn with virtue and dignity, as it was always meant to be. This is our world, and no one will ever make us leave.”

The Better Part of Valor

Perhaps we are nonce but a small fish below a mighty shark,

living on its cast off detritus and offal.

Its vast shadow moves over us and we swallow

whatever drops our way from above.

-
          
Duncan Illrys, Remembrances

T
hey’d moved quickly through the corridor when suddenly Tarin stopped. She looked down at the stone, then back at Jesyn and the team, her eyes wide.

“Someone’s here,” the healer said, looking around. She could feel it, a presence the stone of this corridor said was more than one could see. Perhaps it had followed them from the other chamber, a phantasm tracking their group from the beginning. Whatever it was, it was with them now and very real, even if it was invisible.

Before she could move a figure appeared out of thin air. To her shock, it was the adept, Dragor. She looked at him in confusion, not sure how he could be here.

The elder adept moved quickly, pushing Tarin against a wall with a force that belied his size and placed himself in front of Jesyn. His expression however to her looked desperate. “My doppelganger saw Dazra’s team ambushed. Their
entats
were disabled. It’s only a matter of time before they get here too.”

“What?” exclaimed Tarin. She looked at them both and then touched her jaw. “They’re silent. We’ve got to get out of here. Hit your transition
entat
.”

“What?” asked Jesyn. She looked at Dragor in confusion, “How are you here?”

“Stop acting like a student, you know the answer,” exclaimed Dragor. “You’ve got to get out of here.”

“What about you? How did you survive the phase through rock?” she demanded.

Dragor smiled. “You didn’t feel me holding onto you?” He grew serious and said, “Jesyn, listen. You can’t stay. They’re going to disable your
entats
any moment and you’ll be trapped—” he looked around—“all of you.”

Tarin moved forward and touched Jesyn’s wrist. “Remember Arcimedis.” Before Jesyn could do anything the healer had activated her phase shift.

“Wait—” Jesyn disappeared in a flash of white. Right behind her was Halp, who also flashed into nothingness.

The tunnel lights flickered and Tarin’s
entats
disappeared. She could feel them go somnolent, like a part of her going to sleep. She turned to Dragor and said, “I misjudged you.”

“For abandoning Dazra?” the adept asked softly, his eyes scanning the walls and ceiling with apprehension.

“Dazra can take care of himself… we should not have threatened you with Jesyn’s life. It was unnecessary,” Tarin admitted. “All I can see is stone, my
entats
are gone.”

“Welcome to my world,” he replied with a smile. “From how the attack came before, I don’t think running will make a difference anyway.”

“If it’s guardians and I’m without my kinship to stone,” she said, and her face felt numb, “it’s hopeless. I can’t withstand them. But you might still escape.”

“Where to?” he replied, placing a hand on her arm. “I’d grown rather fond of the idea of a one-way mission.”

Tarin smiled back, then let the silence grow. She could imagine the guardians coming, phasing through the rock and surrounding them.

“You know it’s likely Sai’ken betrayed us,” Dragor said softly into the air.

The dwarven healer didn’t answer. When the guardians came it was right through the rock, grabbing them both in fists as large as their bodies. She did her best not to scream, and failed.

* * * * *

Jesyn appeared on a rocky outcropping under a blazing orange sun. She was halfway up the slopes of Dawnlight mountain, at least that’s what she thought. A moment later Halp appeared, looking around as his axe came up protectively, a subconscious gesture Jesyn could easily read and appreciate. Entering someplace unknown had that effect on most people.

She turned and was shocked to see the mountain she’d expected to be at her back gone. The rocky outcropping she stood upon was a spired landing that had held itself together as much of whatever surrounded it had collapsed into a sinkhole below.

Sudden vertigo gripped her as she realized their weight might collapse their fragile spire too. She motioned to Halp to get lower and spread his weight out. The dwarf did so, slowly inching his way down the stairs that met a landing jutting out from what looked to be the rim of a crater. Actually, she realized, the sinkhole made it look like a crater, but the outside was actually an escarpment.

A massive landslide had moved much of the mountain’s peak down the sides, shearing the top of Dawnlight, if that’s where they were, into a volcanic-looking hole. She looked down the slopes and realized anyone caught below would have been crushed and likely killed.

They made the landing safely and leaned against a wall, looking at the land spread out before them. The sight took Jesyn’s breath away. They sat on a floating island high above a sea of clouds. Hundreds of similar islands could be seen dotting the skies above and below them. An orange sun, larger and warmer than she was used to, hung in the sky like a sign of a never-ending summer. Long shadows were thrown out behind them and she had to put her hand up to shield her eyes from the glare.

“Where are we?” she asked softly.

Halp looked around, then down at his arm. His
entats
had glimmered and come back to life, and with it his connection to the mountain itself seemed to be reawakening. Jesyn watched, silent as his eyes flitted back and forth. Then he looked up and said, “Arcadia.”

Jesyn’s vision was filled with strange symbols, hundreds, perhaps thousands. Most were red and silent, but some blinked yellow and a very few blinked green. They were all littered in and under the ground below the mountain and on its slopes.

“Survivors,” Halp whispered, falling back against the rock face. He looked stunned, as if even saying the word had taken something precious out of him.

Jesyn shook her head and said, “You’ve got to pull it together. Survivors, of what? What is this place?”

Halp looked at her, tears now in his eyes. He said something, his arms taking in the whole mountain in a gesture, but no sound came out.

“What?”

“M…my home, my family.” Halp looked around, clearly unable to understand how something so catastrophic could have struck his people.

Jesyn looked around too, aghast at the destruction she saw. Her vision continued to filter out red symbols, she assumed because they were beyond saving. There were many still alive, scattered about haphazardly, like the mountain itself had exploded and sent its citizens in all directions.

She took a breath and grabbed Halp’s arm. “Come on, we’ve got to save who we can.” Together, they stumbled down another partial stairwell and into the ruins below.

Around them the sky darkened as an island passed in front of the sun like a cloud, plunging her area into a strange twilight. Jesyn looked up, the beams of this new sun shining like
godslight
and framing the floating island from behind. She didn’t know what to think, only that she was undoubtedly very, very far from home.