Mythborn: Rise of the Adepts (23 page)

Walking over to the wide-eyed apprentice, Giridian said, “Her name is Tempest. Forged in the fires of Sovereign’s Fall, she has certain healing properties, though none know the exact extent of her power. We do know, however, that she can heal the wielder from grave injury.”

Silbane added, “Know she is powerful. If you touch her with a bare hand, I do not know what will happen, so keep your gloves on. It is doubtful you will be able to use her healing power because of this, but Tempest has other properties as well, such as lightness and anticipation.”

Arek looked at his master and asked, “It can think?”

With a smile, Silbane replied,
“She
can anticipate what you might do, and it won’t take very long to appreciate this particular benefit. I have seen the way you wield a blade, and she will be deadly in your hands. You are more than ready for her and if needed, I can tap her healing powers. Guard her well and she will guard you well.”

Arek took the blade in his gloved hand, obviously surprised at its lightness. Silbane knew it would feel slightly warm to the touch, almost alive. There was something else as well. He didn’t know exactly what it was, but giving the blade to Arek felt somehow ‘right.’

Looking at the smiling adepts in confusion, Arek blurted, “This is really mine?”

Giridian laughed, a deep sound that seemed to come right from his belly. “Of course, at least until you return.” The comment turned sour in the adept’s throat and he shot a hasty glance filled with remorse to Silbane, then continued awkwardly, “Remember, Arek, the greatest weapons are always forged through
sacrifice.
In Tempest’s case, legend has it a princess pledged her soul to an angel to save the life of her one true love, binding them together within this blade. Since that time, she protects her wielder from all harm... if one believes old legends. She won’t fight for you, but you won’t be fighting alone with her in your hand.”

Arek didn’t answer, but instead took hold of the leather strap and slung the sword diagonally across his back, securing it there for easy drawing. Then he bowed and moved to Silbane’s side. As he moved, Silbane noted the sword did not dangle or jostle about, as if it clung to him. It must have been an interesting feeling for his apprentice.

Still, Arek had not deigned to thank the adept for the blade, and Silbane made a mental note to deal with this later. He turned and said to Giridian, “A most fitting gift, Adept. Our thanks.”

“Of course, Master Silbane,” Giridian replied awkwardly. “My pleasure.”

Silbane nodded then stooped to get his things. He faced the lore father one last time, but there was little more to be said. Themun’s knowledge of the dangers he and Arek were about to face created an awkward distance between them, a distrust Silbane could feel, but could not understand. It served to make their goodbyes hollow sounding, stilted and out of place, especially for men who had been friends for so long.

Before an uncomfortable silence could fully take hold, Silbane raised a hand in a brief farewell, then turned and made his way to the gate leading out of the council’s demesne. Behind him came Arek, eyes downcast. The boy had not said a word since Giridian’s gift, and though Silbane couldn’t read his mood, it was clear his apprentice was both introspective and sullen.

Neither looked back, and Silbane couldn’t know this would be the last time he would see his friend. If he had, he might have enjoyed the rising sun with Themun for a moment longer, before venturing out into the dangers the world held for him and his young apprentice.

Instead, he walked for a distance in silence, until the dirt road curved away and they were no longer in sight of the gate, then he stopped. His mind went back to Arek’s behavior with Adept Giridian and he asked, “What bothers you, apprentice?”

Arek looked down, apparently not expecting his master to ask the question so directly. “You expect me to believe we’re going on a... secret mission.”

He stopped, confused. He had worried Arek would question the council’s orders or the safety of going, but never considered his apprentice would doubt they were on a mission entirely. “What do you mean?”

Arek turned and faced his master. “Tell me the truth. Are you getting me off the Isle because I am not worthy of testing, or because of what you claim I did to Piter? What happens? Am I taken and left somewhere?” His lips quavered at that, the fear they were indeed abandoning him into the world bringing unwanted tears to his eyes. “I don’t know what to believe, or who to trust.”

Silbane shook his head, never imagining his apprentice could think this way. Then he reminded himself of all that had happened: his test cancelled, Piter’s death. It may indeed seem to Arek that banishment was a real possibility. While he knew Arek and Piter had never been close, the full weight of having been involved in Piter’s death must only now be setting in. Without the ability to read Arek’s emotional state, Silbane had no way of knowing just how close he had come to his young apprentice’s exact fears.

“It was uncharacteristic of you to challenge the lore father last night,” Silbane said.

Arek looked at his master, then said carefully, “I am not sorry for that.”

“No, you aren’t, and that is acceptable. In life, one must not always count on others to look out for one’s own interests.”

Arek’s eyes narrowed as he thought about what his master had just said. “Then you will tell me why I am being sent? The
real
reason?”

A small, sad smile escaped Silbane’s lips. “We really
are
on a mission of vital importance. You are not being banished or punished. You have been selected to go with me.”

“Because of this new so-called ‘power’ I have to mask our presence?” Arek finished, doubt clear in his voice.

“Trust me when I say you are like a son to me,” Silbane said. “I will let no harm come to you.” He placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I promise.”

He saw a glimmer of hope in Arek’s eyes, like a small fire caught in a gale. Silbane meant to shelter that fire and see it blossom, succor it against the regret he felt at not speaking of the lore father’s belief that Arek’s touch might disrupt the Gate.
That
possibility and the sacrifice it might entail, was a bridge Silbane intended to cross when necessary, but only after ascertaining what was going on at Bara’cor. No need to worry his apprentice until he knew exactly what they faced. With that in mind, he changed his tact. “Arek,” he began, “do you know how we plan to get to Bara’cor?”

The question took Arek by surprise. “No, Master, I hadn’t given it much thought. Something quick, or our mission will be meaningless.”

Silbane nodded “Accurate and insightful, if obviously stated. We will be riding Rai’stahn.”

“What’s a ‘rye-stan’?” mumbled Arek, fidgeting with his pack, which threatened to come loose again.

“Rai’
stahn,”
Silbane emphasized, “is the name of a dragon.”

Turning, the adept continued down the road to the beach, whistling a soft tune. Arek stared after him open-mouthed for a moment before he realized he was fast being left behind. Grabbing his pack, he ran after his master, catching up with him quickly.

“Dragon!” Arek exclaimed.

“Did the lore father not make the need for urgency most plain? How else would we journey to land so quickly and still keep this Isle a secret?” Silbane stopped for a moment and said, “Look there.”

From their position above the beach, they could see well up and down the coastline. Arek knew this beach line and the rest of their Isle by heart, having played across its face for many years. Silbane pointed to where the beach slowly gave way to cliffs that reached almost to the water’s edge. These had been strictly forbidden to the apprentices, as the water and currents could easily kill someone who slipped and fell in, and apprentices spoke of a vague fear that overcame them as they approached the cliffs.

“We go there, to summon Rai’stahn,” Silbane explained, adding, “and hope he will do our bidding.”

When the boy had nothing further to say, Silbane resumed his pace, slowly making his way down to the sandy beach.

They walked this way for the better part of the morning, with the breeze gradually increasing as they neared the water. Along the way they passed the small homesteads and farms that dotted the Isle, providing sustenance to the inhabitants. As they looked out over the clear blue waters, they could see no other land, and could taste the salt in the thick sea air.

As the sun rose higher, so too did Arek’s mood, or so it seemed to Silbane.

“I acted like a child with Adept Giridian,” said the apprentice suddenly.

Silbane raised an eyebrow, then nodded. “I was a bit disappointed you didn’t thank him.” Silbane looked sidelong at Arek and continued, “But he was once an initiate on the eve of his test. Had his been cancelled, I doubt his behavior would have been any better than yours.”

Slowly the beach gave way to rocky ground and soon they stood near one of the large cliffs, a dark opening at its base resembling the black maw of some forgotten creature. Silbane paused, his eyes searching the deep gloom, he then sat down and made an impromptu camp.

“Why are we stopping?” Arek asked, looking hesitantly at the cave mouth. “Will Rai’stahn come here?”

“Silence. I must prepare.” Silbane closed his eyes and relaxed his breathing, opening his mind to his surroundings. As the sound of the waves crashing onto the rocks receded, he could feel the dragon, a pulsing node of power, deep in the caverns below. Before he began the summoning, he needed to speak with Arek. Opening his eyes, he looked at his apprentice, making sure he had his attention.

“Rai’stahn is a lord among his kind. He is ancient and powerful, as you shall soon see. It is important you understand this, for he sees us as fleeting wisps of life. Even I, with my extended years, am no more than a wink in time to him.”

Arek nodded hesitantly, then asked, “Is he dangerous?”

Silbane ignored that and said, “Do not speak unless he addresses you directly.” He rose, turning to the cave entrance. Looking back at his apprentice, he smiled and said, “It is not that I fear for you, only that Rai’stahn looks upon men as we look upon insects. I would not see him brush you aside as an annoyance, and I would be sore-pressed to stop him if he did. Do you understand?”

Arek nodded quickly, unable to hide his apprehension. As his master turned back to the cliff, Arek asked, “But what about you?”

Silbane continued looking straight ahead. “Rai’stahn owes a life debt to our lore father, and he is not one to forget a debt.”

Silbane picked his way up the rocky slope until he stood at the mouth of the entrance. He then closed his eyes and opened a path to the Way.

His form was quickly outlined in a thin, yellow flame that grew brightest at his head, then disappeared. Much like a flameskin, this would protect him from the aura of dragonfear surrounding Rai’stahn. He thought of including Arek in the spell’s effects, but was quite sure a spell cast on Arek would not work. As he thought on it more, it would serve the boy well to fully experience the majesty of a true dragon. Arek had followed his master up the slope to stand only a few yards behind Silbane.

“He comes,” Silbane said.

Arek took an involuntary step backward, his eyes darting to the cave mouth. A form took shape out of the darkness. As it emerged, it appeared to be a knight, except this one stood almost eight feet tall. Long black hair fell well below his shoulders. Plate armor as black as midnight encased his titanic body. Behind him, folded on his back, were a pair of immense black leather wings that rustled as he moved. His eyes shone golden in the afternoon sun.

The knight looked down at the two men and bared a smile revealing a row of fanged teeth. His voice rasped out, deep and ancient, “Who disturbs the Lord of this Isle?”

“Silbane, Master of the Way.” Silbane took a step forward, meeting the knight’s gaze. “I have come to ask for his lord’s aid.”

The knight’s golden orbs narrowed a bit, as if he were measuring Silbane, weighing his words with what his eyes revealed. In a moment, he spoke again, his deep voice echoing through the cave behind him. “Thou art remembered, friend Silbane.”

The powerful knight bowed once, fist to chest, before straightening. Silbane returned the bow, which brought a smile to the black knight’s face.

“You were ever well-mannered, mortal.” The knight took a step forward, scanning the horizon. His eyes fell for a moment on Arek, staring at him with an intensity suggesting more than idle curiosity.

Under that golden gaze, Silbane knew Arek would feel for the first time the power of this being, and surely realized that this was Rai’stahn. Dropping his eyes, his apprentice bowed quickly as Silbane had, going to his knee.

The moments beat by with agonizing slowness and Silbane could feel the dragonfear begin to build within his gut; and yet, for all its weight, it seemed to pass over and through him. It was like a cool breeze, a feeling that could find no purchase to anchor itself within him as his flameskin came to his protection.

The dragon-knight gestured to the sword on Arek’s back. “It carries thy blade, Tempest. What need has it of such a companion?”

“This is Arek, my apprentice. He carries the blade for his own protection,” answered the adept. Curious, he thought, Arek seemed to be immune to the dragonfear. Silbane made a mental note of that. True, the boy seemed frightened, but no more so than anyone else in seeing a gigantic, armored knight. Strange indeed, thought the adept, but given Arek’s strange Talent, not entirely unexpected.

A silence followed as the dragon returned to his scrutiny of the apprentice, his deep voice rasping out finally, “Come, let us speak of thy need.” With that, it strode past them and down the slope. Silbane turned and followed, Arek close behind.

The dragon-knight looked out over the deep blue of the sea and addressed Silbane again. “What task dost thou petition?”

“Safe passage to Bara’cor, my lord,” he replied simply.

Rai’stahn turned his sunlit gaze on the adept, measuring him. “What is thy purpose?”