The Sin War Box Set: Birthright, Scales of the Serpent, and The Veiled Prophet (25 page)

His appeared fixed upon death.

He did not entirely mind that. Not anymore. In truth, Mendeln found himself more comfortable than at the beginning, so comfortable, in fact, that he could spend much time away from other people. The solitude and the shadows seemed to beckon him. There was someone watching over Uldyssian’s younger brother. He knew that now. Who it was had yet to be revealed. That stirred Mendeln’s curiosity in more ways than one. True, he wanted to know the other’s identity. However, Mendeln also found it interesting that he did not fear the answer.

And by all rights, he
should
have.

With his gradual understanding of things came changes. Mendeln had always dressed a bit more subdued than Uldyssian, but now he found he favored the colors of the calming night. He also noted how people treated him with more veneration, but also a little uncertainty. Everyone appeared to see the transformation slowly taking place, but the rest understood it even less than he did and likely assumed it had to do with his brother’s gift. Thinking that, they came to him for comfort concerning their lost leader and he told them what he believed. To his relief, most took his words to heart, even if they did not completely understand what he truly meant.

The shadows more and more became his companions. He began spending excessive time awake at night. It was at that point that Mendeln first started hearing the whispers. After two nights of listening, he finally became bold enough to try to follow them.

And, sure enough, they led directly to the cemetery.

This time, Mendeln did not hesitate to enter, despite the fact that there was no moon this eve, and no stars. He was not in the least afraid, for what lay before him was not the mysterious, endless place of his vision, but merely the final repository for the locals’ loved ones. As such, it was a location mostly of peace, of murmured thoughts and eternal dreams.

But there was something else, something far more ancient in the very center. The thing that stirred the whispers and enticed him forward.

Mendeln had noticed that his night vision had grown acute of late. In truth, he felt he saw almost as well now as he did during the day. Even Achilios could not have matched him.

He neared the area that felt the source. Here the whispers grew more pronounced. Most of them were from the graves nearby and they talked of their lives as if those lives continued to this very moment.

Must get the beans cooked, then the bread in the oven. The children need their shirts mended…

That mare’ll breed a fine colt, yes, indeed, then I can sell it once it’s old enough to Master Linius…

Poppy says not to go play by the river, but it sparkles and the fishes dance under it. I’ll just go and look a little and I’ll be real careful…

On and on they went. If Mendeln squinted, he even thought that he could see vague shapes above the graves, shapes resembling those whispering.

But while all this fascinated him, it was not the reason for his presence here at this time. That had to do with what lay at the heart of the cemetery. Yet when Uldyssian’s brother first looked there, it was to see nothing but an overgrown old stone with faded markings.

He leaned close. Disappointment filled him. The markings were in an old but legible script, not the ancient symbols for which he had hoped. Mendeln almost left, then, but suddenly recalled something else about his current location.

It was the very same place where, in his vision, the huge winged statue had stood.

That brought him back to the gravestone. With tentative fingers, he touched it where the name had been inscribed—

A tremendous force tossed him back more than a yard.

Mendeln landed against another stone, the collision jarring him. His vision blurred…

A huge, half-seen shape suddenly stood above the stone. It was nothing remotely human but neither did it seem anything demonic in nature. Shadow and starlight—starlight coming from somewhere other than the sky—formed what
was
visible. What Mendeln thought a long muzzle like that of a reptile turned his way.

You must stay with him…,
it intoned.
The brother reveals the secret of the sister and she will kill for it…

Mendeln’s vision finally cleared…and the shape vanished. All was as it had been before he had touched the stone.

Somehow, though, he knew that it was not the marker itself that had been summoned this…
whatever
it was…to him. No, the true source was buried
beneath
the grave there. The marker had merely acted as a conduit of sorts.

But what did it mean? Mendeln ran the words through his head.
You must stay with him…The brother reveals the secret of the sister and she will kill one for it…

“The brother? The sister?” None of it made any sense to him save that the shadow creature had warned him that death would come of some conflict between them. Oddly, this “death” disturbed Mendeln as none other had of late. It would cause even more terrible things to go into motion, he felt.

You must stay with him
…

He jerked to his feet. The key lay there. The warning could refer only to one person, for who else would Mendeln first think of other than his brother?

“Uldyssian!” He raced from the cemetery, urgency overwhelming his respect for his surroundings. Whatever the message spoke about would take place very, very soon.

If it had not already…

In the dark of night, the Cathedral was literally a gleaming beacon that welcomed all to it. No matter what time, there was always someone to greet a late-traveling pilgrim or lost soul. The Prophet had decreed it so, saying that the salvation of the masses could not cease merely because the day was over.

The Prophet could often be seen in those late hours, for Inarius did not require sleep. However, although he would have denied it, the angel did grow restive and so, unable to go out among the mortal throngs in his full glory and take flight, he instead paced the length and breadth of the spiraled edifice, sometimes appearing where his followers least expected it.

This night, the radiant youth stood at the top of the highest of the towers. From here, one could overlook the landscape for mile upon mile. It was as close as he could come to soaring through the sky.

Inarius was not afraid, but he was cautious. The game he played against Lucion required tact from both in order not to upset matters and reveal Sanctuary to his brethren. He felt more than adequate to handle the demon, even with Lucion able to summon all the might of the Burning Hells. After all, this world was
Inarius’s
creation. No one could take it away from him…not the demon, not her, and not even some simple farmer whose life span was less than the blink of an eye compared with his.

And they would all soon find that out.

Uldyssian heard the shouting just as he was building up the nerve to tell Lylia that she had to stay behind no matter what she desired. He had already failed twice this evening and the fact that both attempts had ended up in lovemaking had not assuaged his guilt much. Now, just as his breath and strength had finally returned and he had been determined not to fail a third time, what sounded like his brother’s voice echoed throughout Master Ethon’s house.

The people of Partha seemed to consider it Uldyssian’s now, but he planned to use it only for a day or two more…and even that with much guilt. Once he was gone, Lylia and the others were welcome to make it their own long enough to sort out their lives.

Unfortunately, it seemed that Mendeln needed sorting out immediately. Uldyssian rose from the bed to see what was the matter.

“Do not be long,” Lylia murmured, her tone seeking to entice him anew.

With a nod, he put some clothing on and stepped out…at which point he nearly collided with his brother.

“Uldyssian! Praise be! I feared the worst!”

Mendeln’s tension was contagious. “What? Is it Peace Warders or morlu? The Cathedral’s Inquisitors?”

“No! No!” Mendeln looked him up and down. “Uldyssian! You are well?”

“I am.” The older brother did not bother to mention his intentions just now. Mendeln could learn about them later. “Now, what’s this all about?”

“I feared…I thought…”

“What?”

With a look of chagrin, Mendeln shook his head. “Nothing. It was a nightmare, Uldyssian. Just a foolish nightmare…” His eyes glanced past his sibling, to where Uldyssian realized an unclothed Lylia could be partially seen in the bed. “I
am
sorry. Forgive me…I do not know what to think.”

Mulling it over, Uldyssian suggested, “You’ve been up all hours, Mendeln, day and night. That’s not good. You’ve helped me a lot in soothing the spirits of the Parthans after Master Ethon’s slaughter. I think you just need some rest.”

Uncertainty tinged his brother’s voice. “Perhaps…” Again, the eyes flickered past Uldyssian. “I am very sorry to have intruded…”

Before Uldyssian could say anything, Mendeln whirled and rushed off to his room.

Shutting the door behind him, Uldyssian returned to Lylia. She smiled languidly as he slipped in next to her.

“Your brother is all right?”

“He’s overexhausted.”

The blond woman ran soft fingers over his chest, toying with the hair. “And are you?”

“Not in the least,” Uldyssian returned, taking her in his arms. “Let me show you.”

Three hours passed. Three hours in which he had drunken deep of Lylia again. Three hours since they had lain side by side.

Three hours that now saw Uldyssian just finishing the saddling of his horse.

It was the only way to resolve the situation. No more thinking. No more explanations. After assuring himself that the noblewoman was asleep, he had cautiously risen and dressed. With soft footfalls that would have made Achilios proud, Uldyssian had then slipped out of the room and through the house. When he had come across the few guards on duty—they swearing to watch over him as they had their former employer—none saw him sneak past. They could not be faulted for that, however, for it seemed that Uldyssian’s gift worked for him without trouble this time. He wished the men to look the other way…and they had.

It was with growing guilt that Uldyssian rode quietly through the streets and, at last, out of Partha. The people were just beginning to understand what was happening to them. As recent as he was to his own abilities, the son of Diomedes knew that he understood them far more than anyone else did. Uldyssian was also the one responsible for their transformations. All
that
demanded he return to the town immediately and take responsibility.

But always weighing more heavily were the deaths. It was possible that he was making a terrible decision in abandoning everyone and riding to Kehjan himself, yet…

Uldyssian shook his head as he rode on. He could ill afford to think of any more “yets.”

The trees surrounded him like silent sentinels. The night seemed blacker than usual. Uldyssian tried to encourage his mount to a swifter pace, but the animal moved tentatively, almost as if it feared something lurking in the shadows.

The trail wound around a series of low hills. There was a well-traveled road leading from Partha to Kehjan, but Uldyssian wanted to make it less simple for anyone to follow him. Other than Achilios, who would understand his sudden departure, there were probably few who could track him. Taking a lesser trail would also guarantee less possible encounters with other travelers.

His belongings were meager, consisting mainly of the clothes on his back, a worn but workable sword, and a few bits of food he had managed to gather on his way out. His impulsive departure had given him little time to do much else. He had one sack of water—filled near the stables—but assumed that somewhere soon he would pass another source.

Thinking of the water sack, Uldyssian suddenly felt very thirsty. He tugged the pouch free from the saddle and drank his fill. The contents were a bit brackish, but tolerable.

As he swallowed the last, Uldyssian, eyeing the dark path ahead, considered his trek. The lowlands and Kehjan awaited to the east. The beginning of the jungle regions was not that far off; if he continued riding in his present direction, he would soon descend into the warmer climes. Cyrus had spoken in the past of the abrupt change that took place down there, almost as if some great mischievous spirit had divided up the world at whim, not planning. One day, Serenthia’s father had told him, you would be wearing a nice, sensible coat that kept you safe from the snow…and the next you would find yourself gasping in the sweltering heat, slapping bird-sized mosquitoes every step.

Uldyssian had never entirely believed the man’s tales, although some of the traders who had come to Seram
had
proven the exotic did exist in the east. There had been a handful over the years with the swarthy skin and long, narrow eyes which were supposedly predominant the farther into the jungles one went. Rumor had it that there were men darker yet, with flesh like coal. Others were supposed to be golden in color.

The mage clans were said to be filled with such strange races of men, and Kehjan itself was supposedly a melting pot. Lylia was proof of that, Master Ethon having even guessed just where her family would have been from. The very thought of approaching the vast city by himself suddenly proved very daunting to the simple farmer. He wished that he could have at least been accompanied by the noblewoman—who knew Kehjan best—yet she was also the one he least wanted near him should trouble arise. The fear that something terrible might befall her had been the most driving reason for his abrupt flight.

Her face filled his mind. Perhaps one day they would be able to reunite, but not after Uldyssian made certain that it was safe to do so. Yet, Lylia would always be with him, even if only in his memories and his heart—

“Uldyssian…” came a soft voice suddenly. “My love…”

He dropped the water sack, then twisted in the saddle. Behind him, to his disbelieving eyes, was the noblewoman herself. She was completely dressed and riding a large, dark steed that he did not recall.

“Lylia! What’re you doing here?”

Her smile alone began melting his resolve. “I’ve come to be with you, naturally.”

“You should’ve stayed in Partha,” he insisted, trying to gather his strength. “I left you with the others for your own sake…”

She urged the huge mount forward. “You may leave the others, but you can never leave me, Uldyssian. I began this with you and I will end this with you.”

He was touched by her dedication and wanted to take her in his arms, but recalled the evils of Malic. If she stayed at his side, Lylia would forever be a target of men such as the high priest…or, worse, their masters. No matter how much he yearned for her, Uldyssian had to let her go.

“No, Lylia. It has to end here for us. I don’t want you hurt. I don’t want you dead.”

“But you saw what I managed against Malic and think how powerful
he
was! I can defend myself, my love, especially from those who would separate us!”

It was a powerful argument, Uldyssian himself having been hard-pressed against the servant of the Primus. Still, he understood from his own abilities that Lylia might very well have been merely lucky, that next time she could discover herself entirely defenseless against some murderous foe.

The thought of what would happen then was all he needed to regain his determination completely. “No, Lylia. I can’t afford to think like that. If anything would happen to you, it would be too much! You’ve got to go back. No argument. Stay with the others, but don’t consider coming after me again.”

Instead of obeying, the blond woman dismounted. “I will not go. I will follow you wherever you ride.”

“Lylia—”

She left her horse behind, not at all concerned, it seemed, that it could wander off. Stretching her arms to Uldyssian, Lylia continued, “Come hold me once more. Kiss me once more. Prove to me that you can leave me behind. Perhaps, if you say you can, I might reconsider.”

Although he knew that it was foolish to do so, Uldyssian also dismounted. Just one hug and kiss. It would give him something to remember. He would still insist that she return to the town. He would not weaken in any way.

But as she melted into his arms, as her lips found his, Uldyssian’s will drained away again. What if Lylia
did
ride after him? Would she not be more likely in harm’s way searching for him rather than being at his side? Surely, with how he was learning to control his gifts, he could keep her safe…

A shiver suddenly coursed through him as the kiss continued. Eyes closing, Uldyssian pulled back. A momentary weakness overcame him and it was all he could do to stand.

“Uldyssian! Are you ill?”

Almost as quickly as it had vanished, his strength returned. He shook his head. Opening his eyes revealed his vision to be blurred. Uldyssian blinked several times, trying to restore it.

“I think…I think it’s passing,” he muttered. A vague shape that had to be Lylia began to coalesce in front of him. Uldyssian frowned as she took on more definition. Something was wrong. She seemed different, almost as if—

He managed to stifle a shout, but could not keep from stumbling farther away from her. Without meaning to, the son of Diomedes collided with his mount.

The animal turned. Uldyssian heard it snort, then the horse began to shy away, as if it, too, saw something unsettling.

“What is it?” Lylia asked anxiously. “Uldyssian! What is it?”

He could not tell her, for he was not certain himself.

What stood before him was no longer the blond noblewoman. Rather, it was taller and hideously scaled, with a mass of fiery quills for hair, quills that ran down the spine to…to a reptilian tail ending in savage barbs. Where the delicate hands had been were now clawed fingers—four, not five. Worse, the feet were like hooves, yet splayed, too.

The body was unclad and, although monstrous, still very, very female. The lush curves enticed, drawing his eyes despite his dismay. But most horrific of all was that, when he looked up into the face—the face with its burning orbs that had no pupils and teeth designed for shredding—he could still see the features that he recognized as that of the woman he loved.

“Are you ill?” the creature asked in her voice, a black, forked tongue darting in and out with each word.

It was and was not the image from his nightmare and, for a moment, Uldyssian prayed that he had been asleep the entire time. Yet, sense told him that this was reality…and that what he saw of Lylia was no illusion.

“What—what
are
you?”

“I am your Lylia!” she declared, sounding confused and slightly irritated. “What else could I be?” Her tail slapped the earth angrily.

His eyes shifted to it, then quickly back to her face. However, she noted his reaction and her expression grew more terrible.

A word escaped Lylia before she could stop her self.
“Lucion…”

“Lucion? What does he have to do with this?” asked Uldyssian, trying desperately to make sense of things.

“It is obviously a spell of the Primus! He has transformed me into this!” Lylia reached for him, imploring, “Only your love can save me!”

He started toward her…and then some instinct bade him hold back. Uldyssian recalled how she had glanced back at the tail with little surprise, as if its being there was a perfectly natural thing.

A great pit opened up in his stomach. He shook his head, trying vehemently to reject what he was beginning to believe. This could not be happening! There had to be an explanation. Lylia could not be…
this
.

“Uldyssian!” the demonic figure beseeched. “Please! Hold me! I am frightened by your coldness! My love, only you can restore me!”

“Lylia…” Again, he stepped toward…and again his instinct was to retreat a moment later. Uldyssian stared closely at her, noting minute details that seemed to show a comfort, a familiarity, with her current form.