Mythborn (5 page)

At that, Silbane realized what the giant meant. They would kill everyone and then do whatever they wished with Tempest. It was intolerable, and he felt his own anger rise again. In an instant, he called on the Way to ignite his flameskin and could feel Kisan do the same.

A sudden detonation of white—an explosion of power that left Silbane dazed. When his vision cleared, it seemed the giant had shrunk. Anhur and he were now eye to eye, until he looked around and saw the truth. The ghost-like mistfrights were no taller than his leg, and the clearing seemed small by comparison.

White armor edged in deep blue encompassed him, and he had no doubt taken on the aspect of the being he’d seen earlier. Kisan stood next to him, encased in black armor edged in red. The two war angels faced Anhur and his men, who had fallen back and brought their weapons up to the ready.

“My lord!” Anhur said in surprise mixed with awe. “We thought you dead.”

Silbane moved forward and the giant retreated a step. “Dead?”

Anhur nodded, though his weapon did not move to a less offensive posture. “We knew of the Ascension of Lady Artymis,” he said with a nod to Kisan, “and that you, too, were clearly Ascended, but we thought you lost.”

Silbane rose to his full height, feeling every minute detail of the armor encasing him as if it were alive. He could feel air against its skin, on each blade of his wings, could even flex them individually as if he had been born knowing how. His gaze met Anhur’s own, who stood ready with his company of giants, and took a calculated guess. “You would face Azrael in combat?”

The Fury hefted his spear, which began to glow. “I would never have believed today would be our day, and we do not wish to take your lives. Yet you must also know that Lady Lilyth will do far worse to us if we fail to bring the Kinslayer to justice. Like you, we live for battle.”

Kisan stepped forward. “Then today you die, Lord Anhur.”

“Perhaps,” Anhur said with a shrug, “but it is said everything dies.” He stepped into line with his men and bowed with his helm. “We will let Fate decide.”

There was a short horn blast, a signal from the line of Furies. They locked shields and advanced with a shout, a single bark sounding their determination. Then, from behind and on all sides as one, the crowd of mistfrights gushed forth in a deluge of black fur and yellow eyes, smashing into the four like a tidal wave made of claws and teeth.

For a moment the bright light of Tempest flared in a burst of pure emerald before it was buried by the onrush of creatures screaming with hunger. Silbane had only a moment to see Ash and Yetteje standing alone and small near their legs before the wash of enemies swallowed and buried them all under a black sea of bodies.

Princes

Never trust those who give you something for free.

Assume what they receive

far exceeds what they gave in value.

-
          
Argus Rillaran, The Power of Deceit

T
he cold of transition was shocking and sudden, and then just as suddenly it was gone. Arek and Niall stepped into a warm breeze, heavy with the smell of spring grass and bright sunshine. The sound of birds could be heard coming from some distance away, but nothing stirred that spoke of habitation or people.

Squinting, the new adept looked over a verdant expanse flowing down the hill upon which he stood. The horizon was a clean, distinct line, an intense slash separating the vivid green from the wholesome blue of the sky above. Shapes in that sky appeared almost like floating islands, if that idea wasn’t absurd. It lent a surreal nature to the place, and Arek surmised this was only the first of many things likely different between this realm and his.

Arek closed his eyes, feeling the world suffuse him with energy. He took a deep breath, then another, and then looked around. With each breath the colors grew brighter and more distinct. The very air seemed to hum with something, a vibrancy he could not quite put his finger on. Then he knew what it was.

Power.

It fell upon him like the sunlight itself, permeating his skin, soaking into his very bones and warming them from the inside. It was a feeling of “rightness,” of sustenance he could not gain from food or drink, and the energy it brought with it gave him a boundless joy and excitement. He looked back at Niall, a smile already lighting his face. He grew even stronger.

“What happened?” Niall asked, groggy. He seemed to be coming out of whatever fugue state Lilyth had imposed. He rubbed his face as if clearing away cobwebs, then his features went from confusion to wary alertness and he looked around quickly. “Where are we?”

Arek smiled and said, “We’re in Lilyth’s world.” It was hard to hide the exuberance in his voice.

“What?” Niall exclaimed, clearly aghast at the thought. “Why?”

“You don’t remember?” Arek looked at him in confusion. “You said you trusted me.”

Niall nodded. “I do, but the last thing I remember was standing with Tej, looking up at you climbing the pyramid. How did we get here?”

Before Arek could answer, a deep voice came from behind them. “Stand easy. We greet you in peace.”

They spun at the voice and were shocked to see a company of blue-skinned beings, silently regarding them. How long they’d been standing there was uncertain, but their stance mimicked the very earth and trees around them, natural and steady.

They seemed as much a part of the world as a blade of grass or limb and leaf. Each had horns curling up from their foreheads like rams, and a circular sigil burned into their flesh on their shoulders, chest, and brow. They were armed, but held their weapons in relaxed hands.

At their head was a taller blue-skinned figure in armor. A winged helm sat atop his head like a crown, and caught the sunlight in a flash of yellow fire. His silver armor was magnificent, shining like a knight from a tale, yet this was overshadowed by the most remarkable thing about him—he looked like an angel.

Wings grew out of his back, spreading and enveloping him like a mantle of power. Each shining feather ended in a knife-edge, keen and razor sharp. It was glorious and beautiful, and at the same time dangerous and deadly. Arek could not believe he had not noticed this man and the blue-skinned creatures with him before this. It was as if they had appeared out of thin air.

The figure removed his helm, revealing a hornless head of black hair that fell framing a square-jawed face. Flawless blue-skin stretched over high cheekbones and an aquiline nose, marred only by circular sigils burned into the center of his brow and down each cheek. For some reason he looked familiar, a face he’d seen before but couldn’t place.

The figure took the helm and handed it to a waiting yeoman, then stepped forward, smiling. “I greet you, Lord Arek. Your arrival has been a cause for eager anticipation, and celebration.” He stepped back and bowed, looking at Arek from the tops of his amber eyes.

Arek looked at the man with confusion. “You’re with Lilyth?”

The man smiled, a flash of white teeth. “We serve what is best for our people, and you are most important to that end.” The man paused and turned back to his yeoman to whisper something. The blue warrior bowed and ran off, his sprint barely leaving a trace or sound.

Arek began to feel these “men,” whatever they were, lived in complete harmony with their environment. Their steps did not disturb even a blade of grass. Then he felt Niall grab his arm, pulling him closer.

“Don’t trust him.”

“Why?” Arek whispered back.

“Don’t tell him who—”

The man turned back, interrupting whatever Niall would have said, and explained, “Forgive me, but we must make haste. We are your escort.”

He then seemed to notice Niall and turned to address him with a formal bow. “It is a great honor to meet one of the old blood, Prince Galadine.”

Before Arek could say anything Niall answered, “You know me, too?”

The man paused, his eyes flitting to Niall’s hands before answering, “Of course, Your Grace. We have been instructed to escort both of you to Lord Arek’s father.”

Shock brought silence to both of them, but Arek spoke first. “My father?”

The man in armor nodded. “He has been most eager to meet you, but until now circumstances have made your reunion all but impossible.”

“Circumstances?” asked Niall.

The man looked rueful when he answered, “The war has exacted much from our forces. Guaranteeing your safety was paramount and required immense forbearance. Your father is most patient to have let his love for you wait this long.”

Arek felt confused and asked, “War? Lilyth said there’s no war in her realm.”

An uncomfortable silence grew as the man seemed to be searching for an answer. He finally said simply, “You did not appear within her lands. There is danger, and we must make haste.” He looked to his men and issued commands in a language neither of the boys understood. The blue-skinned warriors moved quickly into formation.

When they had assembled, the man turned back and said to Niall, “Your Grace, may I beg your favor?”

Confusion ran across Niall’s features, but he nodded for the man to continue.

“Many envoys were dispatched at the news of your arrival. Whoever greeted you first was to send back proof of your identity, something specific to you. Upon confirmation, soldiers will be sent to protect our passage.”

“Proof?” replied Niall. “What kind of proof?”

The man in silver flexed his wings, a smooth motion that started and ended with the casualness one would use to move an offending lock out of one’s eyes. It was this very casualness that made the gesture seem inhuman, causing both Arek and Niall to take a step back. He tilted his head and gestured to Niall’s hands, still smiling.

The prince looked down, at first not understanding. Then he noticed the glint of his signet ring, and asked, “My ring?”

“I can appreciate your confusion, Your Highness, but in a realm where thoughts are reality—” he raised his hand and a sparkle of air coalesced into a flute filled with an amber colored drink—“the highlord must be certain he’s sending his forces to the right place.”

He took a long swallow then tossed the glass into the air where it disappeared into a scintillating cloud of particles. “Your signet is something unique to you, and difficult to conjure because of its exactness. It is more than a simple aperitif.”

Arek could feel Niall look at him, clearly hoping he had an answer to this strange angel’s demands, but said nothing. The cloud of particles still held his attention. They dispersed quickly, but for a moment swooped and dived like a flock of birds or a swarm of insects. Why would these particles have intelligence? The young adept thought for a moment, then looked at the man and asked, “What is your name, sir?”

The man bowed. “I am Gabreyl, and I promise Prince Galadine’s ring will be returned safely to him. It is the highlord’s greatest wish that you come to no harm whilst under his aegis.” He bowed again, his wings curving around his shoulders to drape him in a regal argent cloak.

Though there was nothing about this man that made Arek trust him, he also understood they were alone and at the mercy of Lilyth’s forces. Better to be aligned with them than not, he thought, rationalizing it as simple expediency. He turned to Niall and said, “If this land is dangerous, it might be prudent to have soldiers with us.”

“Do I know you, sir?” Niall asked the angel.

Gabreyl smiled and said, “Perhaps. Do I remind you of someone?”

Niall seemed to consider that for a moment, then shook his head. “I can’t place it but you seem familiar in some way.”

Arek looked at his friend in surprise, having thought the same thing only a moment before. Perhaps the prince was more astute than he’d given him credit for. His regard for Niall’s attention to detail went up a notch.

“Here.” Niall slipped the ring off his finger and handed it to Gabreyl.

The messenger took it gingerly then made a strange sound, almost a whistle. The sound echoed out, becoming louder. As if in answer a deeper whistle similar to Gabreyl’s echoed back. Whatever made that sound, however, was
big
.

Gabreyl turned back to the two young men and said, “A wingblade has been summoned. They are fearsome to behold, but mean you no harm.”

The approaching sound grew louder, a
whump whump
of stomping feet running at a fast clip. Even as the two young men watched, the crowd of soldiers parted and a rider on what could only be described as a giant running bird appeared. The rider was horned and tattooed the same as the rest of the blue-skinned warriors.

It was the bird however that caused both Arek and Niall to hold their breath in shock. The wingblade stood almost nine feet tall from the ground to its majestic crest. It was resplendent in iridescent colors that shifted from a deep cerulean blue to a bright turquoise, depending on the angle from which it was seen. Arek thought it strangely colorful in an already vivid landscape, something a predator would likely appreciate.

As if hearing his thoughts, Gabreyl said, “Wingblades have no natural predators. In addition to their speed, they are armed.” He gestured to the bird’s feet, which revealed wicked crescent-shaped talons, each adorning a toe. It was clear the bird could disembowel a man with one slash.

It turned its black eyes on the pair, blinking as its rider reached down. Gabreyl handed over the ring and said something else in that strange, almost musical sounding tongue. The rider nodded then turned and kicked the bird into motion. It shot off in a blur, almost faster than the eye could see. Another rider joined her. Soon they were out of sight.

“Sparrow will ensure your ring is properly delivered.” He smiled and motioned to his men again, who promptly fell back into formation.

“Is that the bird’s name, or the rider’s?” Niall asked.

Gabreyl didn’t look back but he laughed and said, “The rider’s. She has been riding since she could climb onto a saddle. Nothing will stop her.”

“How far does she have to go?” Niall asked.

Gabreyl smiled and said, “No farther than we do, Your Highness. She makes her way to a henge not too distant, along with her sacrifice. From there to Avalyon is only a step.” He looked at his men and then back at the two young lords. “As I said before, we must make haste. May I give the order?”

Arek nodded slowly, not understanding the context of the word “sacrifice” just used, but nonetheless feeling it sounded somehow ominous. He also wondered if they truly had any choice. He did not know where Lilyth’s realm started or ended and wandering the countryside, beautiful or not, seemed counterproductive. Better they had these blue-skinned “men” escort them, especially if they meant to take him to his father. At that, a thought occurred and he turned to Gabreyl and asked, “What do you call yourselves?”

“They are the seed of your father’s work, born from his blood and indomitable will, bound to protect and serve all those of his House,” Gabreyl said with a smile. “They name themselves ‘elves,’ and serve your father faithfully as defenders of his realm.”

Arek didn’t miss a beat and asked, “And you don’t count yourself amongst them?”

Gabreyl tilted his head as if acknowledging Arek’s insight and offered, “Though I share kinship with these elves, I am bound by more than flesh to my House, my lord.”

“Who’s my father?” Arek asked directly.

“Ah, I regret I cannot answer that yet, my lord. Your father has asked that he be the one to properly introduce himself.”

Niall addressed Gabreyl then, saying, “That doesn’t seem right.”

The winged man in armor bowed and replied, “Nevertheless, I am under very specific orders. May we continue this discussion as we make our way to the highlord’s abode? I promise all your questions will be answered, but we are in danger if we linger here too long.”

Arek turned to Niall. “What do you think?”