The Sin War Box Set: Birthright, Scales of the Serpent, and The Veiled Prophet (33 page)

Still, it was not his decision to make. “The choice is yours, Serry—Serenthia.”

She did not hesitate. “He would prefer to be buried, to be a part of the jungle, if not a forest.”

Mendeln smiled grimly. “I know just the place…”

The brothers carried Achilios themselves, with only Cyrus’s daughter following. When Romus and a few others sought to come, Uldyssian forbade them. This was a personal matter.

He allowed Mendeln to lead. After some trekking through the thick underbrush, Uldyssian’s brother paused at a lush region nearby which could be heard a rushing stream. Tall, thick, and healthy trees surrounded the area. Uldyssian felt a sense of calm pervading the area and immediately approved of it. Serenthia, too, acknowledged Mendeln’s choice as the correct one.

With tools borrowed from the Parthans, the pair dug the grave. Uldyssian considered seeing what he could do with his abilities rather than his hands, then thought how Achilios deserved more effort than that. The ground was soft and surprisingly easy to remove. They soon had a hole deep enough to make certain that no scavengers would dig the body out.

After gently depositing the hunter within and filling up the site, the sons of Diomedes and Serenthia stood in silence. No words were said, for words were inadequate for moments such as this, at least to them. Their souls spoke to the lost one, each bidding him farewell in their own way.

It was Serenthia who finally broke the spell, the dark-tressed woman suddenly turning to Uldyssian and crying in his arms. He held her much the way he had held his little sister during her last days. Mendeln politely turned his face away, at the same time muttering some final message to Achilios.

And then…it was over.

It took the Parthans the rest of the day to deal with their own dead. Uldyssian and the others attended, naturally. The deaths all struck him hard, but worst were the ones he knew.

Despite his attempt to save her, Uldyssian found out that Bartha was yet among the victims. Her heart, broken by her son’s death, could not survive the aftermath. They found her unbreathing, the boy cradled in her arms. In death, they had a peace to their expressions that was complemented by a love between them one could still see. The boy and his mother were laid on the pile together and burned as one.

And as they vanished in flame, the sadness in Uldyssian changed to fury again. Fury at Lilith, at Lucion, at those like the Triune and the Cathedral, who cared for nothing but their dominion over all else at such costs.

Try as he might, Uldyssian could not quell that fury. By the time the last body had been properly burned and the day had once more faded, he knew that there was but one course of action, a course that, for the moment, had a particular focus.

“The Triune must be brought down, Mendeln,” he said when they were alone. “I may be mad to think it, but I plan to do what I can to see their temple crumble. They’ve done too much to too many of us.”

He expected his brother to dissuade him, but, instead, Mendeln only said, “If that is what you wish. I will always stand by your side, Uldyssian.”

Uldyssian was grateful, but could not let it just end there. “Mendeln…Mendeln…what’s happening to you?”

For the first time, a troubled expression briefly crossed his brother’s countenance. As Mendeln buried the emotion again, he replied, “I do not know. I can only tell you that I do not fear it anymore…and that, so long as I can, I will do whatever it allows me to help you.”

Staring into his brother’s eyes, Uldyssian saw no guile there, only honesty. He wanted to demand more of Mendeln, but also saw that to do so would tread on ground neither were quite ready for just yet. When he instead patted Mendeln’s shoulder, his sibling looked both relieved and grateful.

“That’s all I can ask,” the older brother said. “That’s all.”

He expected Serenthia to condemn him for even thinking of such a plan—Achilios having already paid the price—but the hunter’s death had, instead, galvanized the trader’s daughter. When Uldyssian told her what he had decided, she showed no hesitation in agreeing.

“My father’s dead because of them. Achilios, who foolishly loved me and who I loved for too short, is dead because of them. You want to bring down the Triune…and the Cathedral, too…and I’ll be there, Uldyssian! All I ask is that you help me to learn as much as I can, so that I’ll be able to stand up at the front of the struggle and pay them for what they’ve done!”

Her vehement response worried him, for Uldyssian did not want Serenthia throwing herself into danger so that she could rejoin her lost love. He would have said as much, but, Serenthia suddenly turned to the remaining Parthans and shouted, “Uldyssian has spoken! The Triune must pay for all this! We will tear down the temple! Who is with us?”

There was a moment of silence as Romus and the others drank this in…and then determined cheers broke out. “Down with the Temple!” and “Death to the Triune!” filled the jungle.

“Someone must summon the others!” shouted the former cutpurse. “They’ll want to join us!”

And, with that, what had began as but a bitter notion in Uldyssian’s head became the start of an uprising. He stared at what he had wrought, startled to also realize that he did not regret the fervor of those with him. They were not his followers, not in his opinion, but companions, comrades in suffering who had as much right as him to demand justice…even against demons and other forces.

“This world is ours,” he muttered, his words drawing the attention of the shouters. They grew silent, wanting to hear him better. “We are its children! Our existences are intertwined!” He hesitated. “And, most of all, we are our own masters! Our lives are ours to control, no one else’s! That is our
birthright
as much as the powers growing within us! Our birthright!”

This brought renewed cheers. Uldyssian let it go on for a time, then raised his hands for silence.

“Romus!” he called. “Are there still among you those who can track well?”

“Aye, Master Uldyssian…and if they can’t, I can!”

“We leave at first light, with the city of Toraja as our goal! A good-sized city, Mendeln?”

His brother considered. “It is not Kehjan, but nothing is. Yes, it is a good first destination.”

He knew what Uldyssian had in mind. To face the Temple and, very likely, the Cathedral and the mage clans, their numbers would have to be much greater. Uldyssian had no doubt that there would be those in Toraja who would be open to what he offered.

There would also be those who would oppose him…and so Toraja would in addition become a proving ground for his uprising…. or a burial ground.

“We head to Toraja, then,” he said to the rest. “The riders must go back and tell whatever Parthans wish to hear that they are invited to join us there! Tell them to head there!”

“I’ll see to the message myself, Master Uldyssian!” replied Romus with increasing resolve. Three other men let out shouts of equal enthusiasm.

“The task is yours, then, you four. The rest of you remember! First light!”

They cheered again, caught up in the imagined spectacle of sweeping across the world and gathering with them throngs of enthusiastic newcomers. Uldyssian let them celebrate, knowing that it might very well be otherwise.

They might very well be slaughtered before they even reached the gates of Toraja.

“They would follow you anywhere,” Mendeln commented.

“Even to the Burning Hells and High Heavens?” his brother returned, recalling the mythic places of which Lilith had spoken. He could scarcely imagine an eternal conflict between celestial beings, but even less could imagine he and his kind remaining potential fodder for whichever side triumphed.

Mendeln nodded. “Even there…if it should prove necessary.”

He glanced in startlement, not certain whether Mendeln was jesting or not. Certainly, his brother did not seem the type to jest, not anymore.

They continued to let the Parthans cheer. If not the Burning Hells and High Heavens, at the very least there would be demons and more aplenty here in Sanctuary…chief among them Lilith. Lucion had been correct about one thing; Uldyssian had no doubt that she would find a way to come back into his life…and then attempt to either control or
take
it.

Whichever she desired, Uldyssian did not shy from facing her. She would find him far more than she thought. Much favored her in their struggle, but he was prepared.

“My birthright,” he whispered. Then, thinking of all those there, Uldyssian corrected himself.
“Our
birthright. Our world.” His determination grew greater yet as he thought once more of Achilios and those others who had perished for no good reason. “Our
destiny.”

“Yes,” answered Mendeln, hearing Uldyssian despite how quiet he had spoken. “That and more. That and
much
more.”

And thinking about it, Uldyssian knew that he was right.

An uneasiness had spread through the main temple of the Triune. Few understood it, but all felt it. The high priests pretended as if all was as it normally was, but those who watched them close saw that even
their
eyes held some hint of concern.

In the private sanctum of the Primus, the demon Astrogha hung deep in an upper corner, his form completely shadowed from any who might enter. Around him scurried several eight-legged fiends, all moving with an anxiety he did not outwardly reveal.

But mixed with that anxiety was a growing thought. Lucion had not returned from wherever he had gone. It was far past any reasonable hour of return. While the son of Mephisto had said one thing concerning where he had vanished to, Astrogha had not taken that at face value. He knew that Lucion saw in this human something more than mere potential for the ranks of the morlu or any other force benefiting the Triune. Lucion had been on the verge of the unthinkable…perhaps wondering if the nephalem could raise him up above even his father and the other Prime Evils.

Yet, Lucion was not back and Astrogha now contemplated how that worked in his favor. Perhaps
he
should take on the aspect of the Primus.
He
should command the power of the Triune.

Yes, after all, it could certainly not be turned over to a fool such as Gulag. Gulag was pure chaotic force; he had no wit for commanding.

Suddenly, the demon sensed another presence in the chamber. He tensed, ready to spring if it turned out to be an intruder. Astrogha had eaten recently, but he always had a taste for blood.

But to his surprise, it was the one being he had not expected.

“Lucion is back,” he announced. “And has Lucion done what he wished?”

“In some ways, yes, in some ways, no,” the Primus remarked cryptically. “Astrogha?”

Lucion’s tone almost sounded as if he was not certain who spoke, but that could not be right. The spider demon chose to move on with the conversation. “Was there sign of her? Of Lilith?”

The Primus was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “Some, but I do not think we shall see much of her for a while.”

“Good, good…”

Lucion put a hand on the tall throne upon which he generally sat during audiences. As Astrogha watched, the towering figure settled into it, then looked up into the shadows where the other demon lurked.

“I would be alone, Astrogha.”

“How long?” There were times when the son of Mephisto demanded this. Generally, the arachnid would retreat to one of the towers until Lucion was done with whatever it was he was working on. As the demon chosen to lead, Lucion had benefits that Astrogha often envied.

“From this point on,” returned Lucion, expression hardening. “Find yourself a place to spin a new web. The towers, perhaps. If I ever need you, I will summon you.”

He was being cast out of the chamber forever? Astrogha almost protested, then considered that Lucion was, after all, the
son
of Mephisto, whereas he was only a favored of the Lord of Terror. Diablo would not defend him against Lucion.

“As is wished,” the shadowy arachnid muttered. “As is wished.”

He summoned his children to him, then breathed upon the web so as to dissolve it. Then, with one last—and somewhat angry look—Astrogha vanished.

The figure on the throne reached out with sorcery to survey the room. No one was present, not even one of the spider’s over-inquisitive pets. The chamber was magically sealed off from all others.

The Primus let out a slight laugh…one with what might have been called a
feminine
aspect to it.

“Come to me, my love,” Lucion said with the voice of his sister. “I am waiting anxiously for you…”

And in the Cathedral of Light, the Prophet nodded.

All was going exactly as he had dictated.

The Sin War

continues in

SCALES OF THE SERPENT