The Sin War Box Set: Birthright, Scales of the Serpent, and The Veiled Prophet (13 page)

A sense of disquiet pervaded Uldyssian in his sleep. He felt as if some malevolent presence suddenly hovered over him, seeking his soul while he lay undefended.

His uneasiness became so great that Uldyssian started into waking. However, instead of some fiend such as had attacked the party, he looked up into Lylia’s perfect face. The noblewoman knelt at his side.

“Are you ill, my love?” she whispered.

“How long—how long have you been there?”

“I just returned. You looked so peaceful I did not wish to disturb you. I apologize if I did.”

Uldyssian frowned. Now that he was awake, the disquiet magnified…only it seemed to have something more to do with their surroundings.

“Lylia…” he muttered. “Go join the others by the fire. Go right now.”

“Why?” Her eyes widened. “What is the matter?”

“Just do it…” Rising swiftly, Uldyssian all but pushed the blond woman toward the center of the camp. As he did, he saw to his dismay that only Mendeln was present.

“Where’s Achilios?” he demanded of his brother. “Where’s Serry?”

“Achilios has gone hunting.” Mendeln glanced about. “I believe Serenthia should be nearby. She only went to gather a bit more wood—”

“I am sure that she will be back shortly,” interjected Lylia, attempting to calm the tall farmer. “There is no cause for concern, Uldyssian…”

But he felt otherwise. Something was close, very close. Something was—

There was a rustling sound from behind Mendeln. Startled, Uldyssian’s brother scurried toward the others.

Serenthia stepped into the campsite.

Uldyssian began to exhale…and then another, dark-haired figure joined the trader’s daughter. He was even taller than Uldyssian and, while slimmer, clearly very fit. The newcomer wore a kindly expression and his manner reminded Uldyssian in some ways of his father…but all that became moot as he realized just what garments the man wore.

They were those of a
cleric
of the Temple of the Triune. A high-ranking cleric, at that.

“Uldyssian,” Serenthia called. “I have a friend with me. His name is Malic and he wants to help.”

Uldyssian hid a frown. She of all people should have known how he would react to a cleric’s presence, especially after the chaos in Seram. True, Serenthia had always been something of a believer, but he had thought that behind her now. What was she thinking?

“I have come to offer the protection of the Triune,” Malic graciously added, spreading his gloved hands as if to show he carried no weapon. The flames of the campfire reflected brilliantly in his gaze, which fixed upon Uldyssian’s with an almost magnetic pull. “This child has told me of the terrible injustice perpetrated on you in the name of the Cathedral of Light. The Triune frowns on such monstrous behavior. We would keep you from threat from the agents of the Prophet…”

Despite everything that had happened to him, despite his deep abhorrence of Malic’s ilk, Uldyssian found himself half-wanting to listen to the man. There was just something understanding about the cleric. He seemed to feel the pain still buried deep in the farmer’s gut. Uldyssian opened his mouth to welcome the man to their camp—

But, at that moment, the fire
erupted,
briefly bursting to a height greater than that of the cleric. Malic instinctively pulled back from the wild flames…and as he did, he also tore his gaze from Uldyssian.

The farmer felt as if a blanket had been torn from over his head. It was as if he had been blind and could not
see
again…and only then did he understand that Malic had briefly
mesmerized
him.

“Serry!” Uldyssian roared, his rage immediately swelling. “Come to me! Hurry!”

There was a hesitation, as if at first she either did not hear him or for some reason could not obey. Then, with a violent shiver, the dark-tressed woman cried out and fled from Malic’s side. The cleric took a belated grab at her, then glared at Uldyssian.

And no sooner had Serenthia escaped than the camp filled with hooded and armored figures either on horseback or on foot. Uldyssian had seen their like before, seen them and been repulsed by them as he had by the Cathedral’s Inquisitors. “Peace Warders” they might call themselves, but the warriors of the Triune were no better than the cutthroats commanded by the unlamented Brother Mikelius. All they sought was control of the minds and souls of the people. Those who did not kneel to them—those like Uldyssian—they found ways to condemn.

In the blink of an eye, the farmer relived the calamity in Seram. He saw the hatred and heard once more the lies…

“No!” he growled at the oncoming figures. “Not again!”

The air rippled.

As if struck by an invisible hand, the Peace Warders went flying back in every direction. Two crashed against the nearby trees, striking so hard that they wrapped around the trunks like vines. Another warrior flew up several yards above the ground, disappearing in the foliage. The rest lay scattered and stunned around the outskirts of the campsite.

“Impressive,” declared Malic in the same fatherly voice. Unlike his minions, he stood untouched by whatever force had acted. “What you could be taught, with just a little conditioning. What you could be taught…” His eyes narrowed, once more the flames reflecting strong in them.

A heavy weight all but crushed Uldyssian to his hands and knees. He felt as if it would soon bury him in the hard soil. Every muscle strained, every vein pounded. His head seemed ready to explode. The farmer turned his gaze aside, but still could not break free of whatever spell the cleric cast. He saw that Mendeln and Serenthia suffered worse than him, for they were already flattened against the earth. Of Lylia, Uldyssian could see nothing, but the thought of her also fighting to live gave him at last the impetus to push himself up on one knee.

“A very strong will,” the robed figure remarked. “The master will savor breaking it further.”

The force pushing at Uldyssian amplified. This time, his face smashed into the ground. A sharp pain exploded from the bridge of his nose and he had no doubt that it was broken, for blood already began dripping from the nostrils.

“Bind him,” the cleric commanded. There was the scuffling of boots, Malic’s servants rushing to obey. “We have no need of the others.”

No need of the others
…

With a pain-racked shout, Uldyssian forced himself up into a crouch. His head pounded and his heart strained, but a sense of triumph filled him. He found himself standing before two very startled Peace Warders. Before the pair could recover, the son of Diomedes reached out and seized both men by the throat.

His fingers barely wrapped across, yet the cracking of bone was very audible. The Peace Warders twitched, then collapsed at his feet, their necks broken by something other than mere strength.

Despite Uldyssian’s resurgence, Malic appeared only mildly impressed. He glanced at the fire that had broken his mesmerism, then looked again at Uldyssian. “This could have been handled with so much more pleasantry, my child. There is a place for you in the Temple. The Primus has sensed your power and would welcome you as a son…”

“I want nothing to do with either you or him!”

“A shortsighted choice, my child. The future of this land, of all lands, is the Temple of the Triune. Those who do not see the light shall fall forever in darkness…”

But darkness was all that Uldyssian saw when he looked at the high priest. There was that surrounding Malic that by no manner could the harried farmer link to any noble “light.” In fact, Malic radiated a presence that repelled Uldyssian as nothing else ever had and he felt certain that it was the high priest’s nearness that had earlier forced him to waking.

The Peace Warders had quickly regrouped and now surrounded the area. Serenthia stood near Mendeln, who seemed lost in thought. Uldyssian finally located Lylia near his left. She appeared as calm as Malic, but her calm evidently came from confidence in her lover. The noblewoman’s face was filled with utter trust…trust in Uldyssian’s ability to save them.

Strengthened by that, he looked from her to his brother and the trader’s daughter before finally facing the cleric again. “I said I don’t want anything to do with the Temple. Leave
now
or else.”

“I truly regret the course you force me to, my child,” Malic returned, glancing past his quarry. “That the others must
suffer
more than they need to because of your recalcitrance is so sad.” The eyes narrowed dangerously. “So sad…and entirely your doing.”

The Peace Warders moved. At the same time, several pieces of burning wood leapt out of the fire. They fell to the ground just before Uldyssian, where they immediately grew longer and thicker. Flames still surrounded them, but did not appear to burn them any longer.

Now several times their original size, the gathered sticks took on a new shape…a shape that mocked that of a man. Two lengthier branches for legs, two shorter ones for arms, and the knob of a broken piece acting as the head.

It stood as tall as the farmer, a stick figure from nightmare. The knob turned toward Malic.

“Take him,” the cleric dispassionately ordered.

The fiery golem lunged at Uldyssian, its searing arms wrapping around his own in a hold worthy of a hangman’s noose.

The heat was unbearable. The flames all but blinded him. He shut his eyes, but the light of the fire seemed to cut right through the lids. Uldyssian gasped for air, but all he received for his efforts was a searing sensation throughout his lungs.

Yet, for all the agony, it should have been far worse. Uldyssian should have been burned to death by now, his flesh melted away and his bones blackened…

But Malic did not
want
him dead, Uldyssian slowly recalled. Malic wanted him pliable, a willing convert to bring before his master…the Primus. He might torture the farmer, might bring him to the edge of despair, but the high priest would not dare chance killing the one for whom he had been hunting.

That knowledge turned the struggle for Uldyssian. Doing his utmost to push the pain from his mind, he let out a defiant roar and tore himself free of the golem’s grip.

There was a sudden, intense chill, followed by a great clatter. Uldyssian shook. As his eyesight cleared, it was to see a pile of smoldering sticks in front of him, all that remained of Malic’s creation.

That was not all, though. As Uldyssian looked at his scorched arms, the burnt areas started
healing
. The skin quickly turned from a horrific black and crimson to a fresh pink unmarred by even a freckle. Even his garments no longer showed any sign of smoke, much less fire.

Uldyssian’s pleasure at overcoming the high priest’s latest trick faded as his fear for Lylia and the others once again overtook him. Unprotected, they could hardly have stood against the trained and bloodthirsty Peace Warders.

But all three were
untouched
. Warriors of the Triune did indeed surround them, but that was as much as the villains could manage. All else ended in futility. Uldyssian saw one blade come at his brother, only to bounce away several inches from its target. A Peace Warder sought to seize Achilios, only to nearly break his hands against the very air near the hunter’s neck. The same was the case for Serenthia, whose gaze at that moment caught his own.
She
understood, even if her attackers did not. Eyes round, Cyrus’s daughter nodded in acknowledgment to Uldyssian’s power.

And as for Lylia…the noblewoman stood just behind him, also under a furious but futile onslaught of weapons by the zealous servants of the Temple. She stood in their midst, her expression one of calm, of expectation, and, as with Serenthia, Lylia looked at Uldyssian with the understanding that he would keep her from harm.

It was enough to make him smile despite the circumstances, and that smile remained in place as he focused his attention on the cause of their troubles.

For the first time, Malic no longer smiled or even acted disinterested. A frown cut across his face and in his dark, dark eyes Uldyssian read a barely held fury. The high priest held in his gloved hands a small, jeweled box whose lid was turned so as to open toward his oafish adversary.

“You bring this upon yourself. The master will have you alive, if only it is your barely beating heart I present to him, my child.”

He opened the box.

Uldyssian instinctively flinched…only to see that the box merely contained three glittering gems. Despite the flickering light of the campfire and the distance between the two men, Uldyssian was somehow able to identify them individually as a blue, oval stone, a gold, rectangular one, and—largest of all—a teardrop-shaped white diamond. The manner in which the gems were situated also indicated that there should have been a fourth, but that slot was empty.

“Do you think to bribe me into becoming a convert?” he finally asked, curious.

In answer, Malic ran a finger over each stone. “No. I think to make you
beg
me to let you.”

Without warning, the Peace Warders abandoned their efforts, fleeing in the direction of the cleric. Malic paid them no mind, more interested in the open area between Uldyssian and him.