The Sin War Box Set: Birthright, Scales of the Serpent, and The Veiled Prophet (81 page)

This was already obvious to Mendeln. “And so?”

“Now…now he wishes…wishes otherwise.”

“Wishes otherwise? I am not certain that fills me with trust! And who is
he,
exactly, Achilios? Other than an
angel,
I mean!”

“Someone who might be…our only hope…against Inarius,” the undead archer replied. His gaze suddenly shifted past Mendeln, who felt the hair on his neck rise. “The only hope.”

IF IT IS STILL POSSIBLE…
came a voice that sounded too much like that of Inarius.
FOR IT SEEMS THAT ONE OF THE THREE HAS NOW ENTERED THIS WORLD.

Spinning around, Mendeln faced the angel. It was not Inarius, of that he was somehow certain. There was so much that reminded him exactly of Rathma’s father, yet he knew somehow that this was not him.

But more important was what the celestial being had just said. “One of the Three?” Uldyssian’s brother blurted. His mind raced. The only “Three” that he could think of were the patron spirits of the Triune, spirits who were, in fact, actually—“No!” Mendeln vehemently shook his head. “You cannot mean—”

The faceless figure gave an almost imperceptible nod.
YES, ONE OF THE DEMON LORDS HAS COME TO SANCTUARY
.

This was not how it was supposed to be. From time immemorial, all had proceeded as Inarius intended. Whenever some slight trouble had reared its head, the angel had attended to it with a draconian efficiency that would have left even his brethren reeling. He had learned from that one foolish error, learned from falling prey to his lover’s false words. Since that distasteful event, Inarius had never let anything go beyond his immediate control.

Until now.

The angel, still in the guise of the Prophet, stalked his sanctum as his emotions grew unchecked. Uncertainties that he had not experienced in centuries seized hold of him.

Oris had come in search of her counterpart, who she did not know was no longer even dust on the floor. Inarius had granted her no more than a minute with him but had paid her words little attention during that period. His blunt comment that Gamuel was to be forgotten left her pale, but he did not care. Human concerns were trivial compared with his own.

The night had grown old by this point, and although he was eternal, the passing of the last few hours only served to make the Prophet more anxious. In the past, there had never been a situation that had required more than a few moments’ consideration on his part. Now his mind could not function, save to repeat over and over his recent failures.

THERE HAS BEEN A MISTAKE!
he insisted to himself.
THERE HAS BEEN A MISTAKE! A FAULT NOT MINE!

The mortal Uldyssian had dealt with the Triune, just as Inarius had wanted. The next step should have been the simple downfall of the angel’s pawn. Inarius’s agents had turned so many people against the edyrem that in the end, the abominations would surely fall.

But Uldyssian himself could not be stopped…and he was coming for Inarius…coming for him…

Glancing up at the glorious panorama that sought, in a feeble manner, to describe the perfection of the High Heavens, the angel started. He could have sworn that one of the figures had moved. Inarius stepped back, studying the painted form.

No, it could not have moved. It had only been his own imagination—

The face of the Prophet twisted in fury. His fears melted away at the same time, melted away with little difficulty, for they were not exactly his own.

“I know you now,” he declared to the empty chamber in his human voice. “Your little games will not work on me, demon! You forget with whom you deal!”

I deal with a traitor, a liar, and a murderer,
said a voice that, despite Inarius’s claim, sent a slight chill through him.
It’s almost like dealing with one of my brothers.

“Insolent as ever.” Inarius sought out the darkest shadow and faced it. “So very insolent.”

The shadow moved. Within it, a figure vaguely coalesced.

Inarius showed no sign of anxiety when that figure became another winged warrior he knew so well. “You are not Tyrael, and I am not afraid of him.”

Are you not? Then why do I resemble him?

“Because you are a fool, demon.”

This brought a chuckle. Then, as the other “angel” moved forward, he shifted form again. Now he was a human, but not just any. He was Uldyssian ul-Diomed.

The Prophet bared his teeth. “Again, you are a fool. You have some reason for approaching me. Do so without the theatrics!”

The shadow in the corner suddenly spread forth, all but enveloping the false Uldyssian. As it did, his form distorted. The demon grew less distinct and certainly far less human. He became as much imagination as substance, and as he did, Inarius again felt unsettled, though he dared not show it.

The shadows now encompassed most of the chamber in the direction where the dark being stood. The angel was aware that beyond his sanctum, his followers were suddenly experiencing fears that they did not even know they had. The guards at his doors would be trembling, and there was even a good chance that some had fled their positions. More than a few of his priests would likely be on their knees already, praying that the darkness touching their souls would soon leave them.

They did not know how fortunate they were, for the demon who visited Inarius could have done much worse. It was only that he, like the angel, dared not fully reveal himself.

There were those even the Lord of Terror feared.

The thing in the shadows towered over Inarius. At times, the demon had a shape that was reminiscent of a twisted mix of man and animal. Yet it was the face that most stirred the fears within, for it kept shifting. Inarius saw a skull with horns. Out of the eyes and jaws oozed blood. That horrific countenance became a melting head whose flesh was being constantly devoured by black flies and great worms. A more reptilian face then appeared, feminine and much like that of another demon Inarius had known.

But even Lilith’s visage vanished a moment later, to be replaced again by that of the other angel. As the Prophet frowned, the demon laughed and changed again. Now empty shadow greeted Inarius, and for inexplicable reasons, this disturbed him more than any of his visitor’s other forms.

Is this better, oh Prophet?

Ignoring the mockery, Inarius quietly replied, “When previously we faced each other, Lord Diablo, it was agreed that it would be the last time.”

There are always more last times, Inarius. Although not so many as there used to be.

“And is that the reason for your coming?”

The demon’s shape continually shifted in small ways, as if Diablo had no true form of his own. Each alteration, no matter how small, touched some chord with Inarius, although he ever kept his emotions masked. Diablo fed off the slightest fear.

My reason for coming is simple. His name is Uldyssian.

“Ah, of course. You and your brothers spent so much effort creating the Triune! I did warn you that it would fall.”

Through no effort of yours.

Now it was the angel’s turn to mock. “Are you so certain? You would do better to take a closer look.”

He sensed the demon’s fury and felt a wave of fear seek to take hold of him. Aware now, though, that it was Diablo’s effort, Inarius shielded himself against the dark lord’s power. The effort proved quite a strain, but Inarius succeeded.

Yet had both he and Diablo been human, their hesitation during the moment that followed might have been seen as two exhausted adversaries needing to draw a breath and recover.

Inarius was aware how powerful the demon lord was and knew that part of his own success came from Diablo’s need to shield himself from other eyes. That, at last, revealed to the angel just why he had been visited so suddenly.

“So…that is it,” the Prophet murmured, more confident now. “You are afraid of losing everything. The Lord of Terror is afraid.”

I fear nothing!
the emptiness that Diablo currently used as his face retorted.
No more than you, that is!

“All goes as I desire—”

Taloned paws scraping across the immaculate marble, the demon moved closer, the vast shadow swelling with him in the process. Somehow, even lacking eyes, he managed to stare into Inarius’s mind.
I tasted your fear, angel. There would have been nothing for me to devour if what you say is true. This mortal, this Uldyssian, he has become more than any of us would imagine. He risks all that either of us desires of Sanctuary!

Inarius could not prevent a frown. “Two different desires, I might point out.”

But with one overriding link.
Diablo leaned close. There was a hint of that other angel’s countenance before the emptiness returned.
Neither of the destinies we fight for will happen if this mortal continues along his path.

The Prophet turned away from his unwanted guest, but not because of fear of Diablo. Rather, he saw too well the demon lord’s point and could not help but consider it.

As often as Inarius had threatened to wipe clean Sanctuary and begin anew, in truth, he did not wish to go to such an extreme. He had molded the world to his liking for far too long. He had grown too…
comfortable
.

The demons, of course, sought Sanctuary and, especially, its humans, for another, more base reason. They saw in humans the warriors that they needed to tilt the struggle in their favor.

And as Diablo had said, if Uldyssian managed to keep raising his people beyond what even Inarius had imagined their limits, then very soon neither he nor the demons would have say over man.

THAT CAN NEVER BE!
Inarius thought angrily. He turned back to the demon, who had stayed silent during his considerations. “You are offering an alliance.”

The Lord of Terror laughed harshly.
You make it sound as if such a thing were unthinkable, angel! I recall that you have made pacts with my kind more than once.

Inarius could certainly not argue with him there. As in those other times, though, he intended that the advantage would be his. He had learned from his one mistake, learned from Lilith.

And against the cunning of Lilith, even Diablo paled. A pact could be manipulated. Diablo would certainly try it.

With practiced ease, the Prophet went to his favorite couch and settled there, as if the figure before him were a supplicant, not a master demon. He sensed Diablo’s anger at this insult but knew that the Lord of Terror needed his resources, his Cathedral of Light, for whatever he planned.

Still, Inarius was curious about what Diablo had to offer this alliance. “I will listen.”

Clearly restraining his powers, the monstrous being explained,
Through a minion of mine, I have learned of one who would be eager to help us. Indeed, he is near and already eager for Uldyssian’s blood…or body, that is.

“Body?”

Yes…and for it as his reward, he will be the key to eliminating the threat this mortal makes.

“Of what use is another demon?”

Diablo grunted at what apparently was Inarius’s ignorance.
He is not demon, though his mind is worthy of one. He is a man…or, rather, was. Alone, he will fail, but with both of us to guide him, he cannot but succeed.

“A mortal against another mortal?” It made an ironic sense to Inarius, and if a mortal was Diablo’s pawn, he would be that much easier for the angel to manipulate later. “And who is this man who no longer is?”

You knew him well…so very…when he was the high priest of Mefis.

Mefis. Mephisto. Yes, Inarius knew very well of whom the demon lord spoke. “Malic?” The Prophet allowed a slight smile to grace his mortal countenance. “Malic.”

Yes.
Diablo allowed a face of his own—a less disturbing one, of course—to shift into focus…and with the angel shared another smile.

Mendeln was hiding something, that much Rathma sensed. As he materialized among the marching edyrem—startling not a few—he felt a part of his pupil’s mind hidden from him.

Immediately, he reached out to Trag’Oul to inform the dragon of this.

I know it already,
the creature replied.
And whatever method with which he shields it is immune to even my inquiries.

But that’s not possible!
Rathma knew of no manner by which the mortal, even as gifted as he was, could achieve such a feat.

No, it is not,
agreed the dragon.
For him.

Rathma also noted that Mendeln was doing his best to ignore him. This infuriated the Ancient more than he could believe.

“Mendeln ul-Diomed, we need to talk.”

Uldyssian’s brother glanced back. “We are nearly at the gates of Kehjan. It’ll have to wait. I am trying to figure out how to avoid a war.”

“Any blood spilt between the edyrem and the mage clans is insignificant against the true danger.”

“Not if some of that blood belongs to Uldyssian!” Mendeln snapped with unusual vehemence.

His reaction only convinced the son of Inarius that there was indeed more going on than Mendeln wished to tell him. Rathma had a terrible idea what that might be.

“We will talk, son of Diomedes—and now.”

His student paused. The other edyrem wisely moved on as the two black-clad figures stared at each other.

“Talk? At your convenience, as usual,” the mortal blurted. “When I need to talk, you are elsewhere! When I need answers, you only provide puzzles!”

There was something terribly amiss. Rathma surreptitiously reached out with his powers. He searched the jungle very carefully, thinking in terms of his father’s cunning.

And there he finally saw what he believed Mendeln was hiding.

Achilios shadowed the edyrem horde.

His expression not changing, Rathma murmured, “I see. Forgive me for not understanding the problem.”

Mendeln reached out to him. “No! It’s not—”

But Rathma had already vanished, to reappear in the jungle behind the stalking hunter.

“I am sorry to do this, Achilios,” he declared.

Almost too late, the Ancient recalled that this was not a being bound by living limits. Before he had even finished speaking, the archer had spun around and readied an arrow.

It flew past Rathma’s ear, distracting him more than anything else. That was apparently all that Achilios desired, for instead of attacking, he immediately leapt into the underbrush.

But if the hunter thought that sufficient to keep Rathma from him, he was sorely mistaken. Now better prepared for what he faced, the Ancient vanished.

The look on the archer’s deathly countenance when the son of Inarius materialized right before him might have been humorous under other circumstances. Achilios gaped, then grabbed for a good-sized knife at his waist.

NO.

The voice stopped both dead in their tracks. Rathma was struck far harder than Achilios, who had likely heard that voice often in the past days. Rathma whirled around, seeking the speaker and growing anxious that he could not even sense the slightest trace.

Eyes blazing, he turned back to the archer. Achilios said nothing, but his expression told Rathma all that he needed to know.

“It is him,” the Ancient breathed. “It
is
him.”

But before more could be said, there came shouts from the direction of Mendeln and the edyrem. Rathma looked that way.

The sky ahead had suddenly turned an unsettling green.

He looked again to Achilios, whose expression had not changed. Rathma hesitated for a moment, then vanished from the spot.

The son of Inarius reappeared near Mendeln—and beheld a sight that without doubt had no natural origin.

The green filling the sky was that of a brightly colored insect—to be precise, the mantis. Never in all his long life had Rathma ever witnessed so many mantises, especially together. Mantises were solitary creatures, but these swarmed in numbers that dwarfed even the greatest gatherings of locust. From the direction of the capital, they came, and Rathma did not have to have the wisdom of generations to know that there was no coincidence. The only question remained was just who was responsible. The mage clans, perhaps, or his father.

Or perhaps Achilios’s new master.

But that hardly mattered now. The swarm was nearly upon the edyrem, and as the mantises descended, they seemed to swell in size. From a few inches, they grew to more than a foot and kept growing.

While initially stunned, Uldyssian’s followers did not continue to stand and wait. Serenthia gave a shout and threw her spear into the swarm. As the weapon flew, a fiery aura burst into being around it, one that swept over any nearby insect the spear passed. Engulfed by the flames, more than a dozen of the creatures immediately perished.

And as this happened, those with her attacked in a variety of manners designed for maximum carnage. Balls of energy, buffers of pure sound, whatever could slaughter the mantises by the scores struck the gargantuan swarm.

But Rathma noticed quickly that despite the hundreds of huge bodies already littering the area, the mantises’ numbers did not appear to diminish. If anything, the swarm seemed to grow.

He wasted no time in calling to one who might better understand.
Trag, do you see all this?

The dragon’s reply was immediate.
I sensed its beginnings and quickly sought what was going on.

This is not the work of the mage clans, is it?
Rathma asked, even as he prepared to join the conflict.

No…this was brought together by a power far greater than they.

Trag’Oul did not have to elaborate. Rathma understood exactly what he meant.

He searched the area for Mendeln and was not surprised at all to discover Uldyssian’s brother among the missing. The Ancient could scarcely believe that Mendeln would betray the rest, but no other explanation made sense.

Something else occurred to him. He reached back to where he had last sensed Achilios and found him also gone.

This is a diversion…this is all a diversion.

To verify that, Rathma surveyed the tableau. The edyrem attacked and attacked, and the mantises kept coming and coming. There could not be so many of the insects in all of Sanctuary, yet they were without end. The creatures landed among Uldyssian’s followers, biting and scraping them, but thus far, he saw not one serious injury, not even among the younger and older. The swarm also never flowed any faster than the humans could handle them. Just enough to keep them harassed and unable to advance.

Unable to reach Kehjan.

Rathma did not have to ask why. He knew that if Mendeln had not already somehow transported himself into the capital, then he was well on his way.

The question was, what did the angel he now appeared to serve desire of the younger brother?

There was only one way to discover the reason. With a last glimpse of the struggle, Rathma went to Kehjan.

Uldyssian reached out to Serenthia and Mendeln and again confronted a vague barrier. A part of him chided the son of Diomedes for not immediately heading back to them, but another kept reminding Uldyssian of what could be gained for not only the edyrem but all humanity if he succeeded here.

And it appeared that his hopes were not without reason, for Prince Ehmad came to him late in the day and said, “We don’t have much time. The mage council has agreed to meet with you, but it must take place just after the sun has gone down. No later.”

“Why the sudden urgency?”

“I am a mere prince,” his host said with a mock shrug, “and understand little of the ways of spellcasters.”

Uldyssian suspected that Ehmad knew far more than he indicated but left it at that. He trusted in the prince. “And the guilds?”

“They will be there also. I should tell you, Ascenian, that such a swift gathering of both sides together says much concerning their interest in you.”

Uldyssian’s head suddenly pounded, but even as he reached a hand up, the pounding went away. Prince Ehmad looked concerned. “My friend, are you ill?”

“No…I’m fine.” Still, there had been something familiar about the sensation, as if it originated with someone else and not him, someone he knew well, too. Mendeln? Serenthia? Was one of them seeking to contact him?

Before he could pursue the thought, Uldyssian suddenly sensed another presence.

The mage Kethuus materialized before them. “Zorun Tzin is dead.”

At first, Uldyssian was not certain whether the shadowy man referred to his captor or Malic in his guise as Zorun. Kethuus quickly corrected himself.

“Zorun Tzin was traced to an area below the city. There was some hint of his magic, but it faded in one particular location. That can only mean that he’s truly no more.”

“And Malic? What about Malic?”

“This spirit of which you speak cannot be sensed in any way. It’s been suggested that when Zorun’s body perished, so, too, did this Malic.”

Uldyssian could scarcely believe that. “There must be some way to be certain!”

“All manners of detection that the mage council’s established have been used. They verified Zorun’s death at the location and found no trace of any such creature as you describe the high priest.” Kethuus grinned, his white teeth a great contrast to his almost-invisible face. “Perhaps you can do better.”

It was not a suggestion but rather a challenge. Uldyssian, aware more than anyone of what a threat Malic was, could not refuse it. “Will you take me to where you last traced Zorun Tzin? Are you allowed to do that?”

“Of course.”

“It is but three hours until the sun sets,” Prince Ehmad reminded him. “I would recommend not being delayed.”

“Have no fear. I’ll see that the Ascenian gets back in time and in one piece.” Kethuus sneered. “He’ll find the council and the guilds far more trouble than this Malic, believe you me.”

“This must be done,” Uldyssian told his host. “Believe me. I failed to make certain that he was truly dead the last time. Whatever harm Malic causes in his hunt for me I feel in great part responsible for.”

“May the ancestors watch over you, then,” Ehmad replied with a bow.

Kethuus sneered again, obviously not as strong in his belief in such things as the noble. “Shall we be gone, or do you wish to natter on for a while longer?”

Although well impressed by Kethuus’s abilities, Uldyssian cared little for the mage himself. He seemed typical of the arrogance that the son of Diomedes expected of his kind, which did not bode well for the upcoming gathering.

The sooner they were back, the better Uldyssian would like it. “Take me there.”

Touching his chest, Kethuus obeyed.

The transition was nigh instantaneous. The two stood in an alley in the midst of the capital. Tall but obviously neglected buildings crowded around them.

“I thought that we’d appear in the tunnels,” he said to his companion.

Kethuus lowered his hand. For the first time, Uldyssian noticed the medallion the other wore. Runes etched around the blue stone in the center faded from illuminated gold to dull brass even as he watched. This was the equivalent to Zorun Tzin’s staff, Uldyssian realized.

“One doesn’t go blindly belowground,” Kethuus explained in a tone that mocked Uldyssian for not knowing that. “The tunnels are the oldest places in all Kehjan. Some say they were built for a previous city raised before men ever existed.”

“And who would’ve built it?”

The hooded mage stamped his boot on a small pattern carved into the path. To Uldyssian’s astonishment, part of the rock slid away, revealing a hole down which rusted metal rungs could be seen on one wall. “Some say angels and demons.”

Kethuus did not elaborate, instead dropping down into the hole and climbing out of sight. The son of Diomedes quickly followed suit.

As he descended below the alley, the stone slid back into place above him. Uldyssian tried unsuccessfully to shake off the notion that he had entered a trap.

At the bottom, Kethuus created a small, illuminating globe. Uldyssian did not imitate him, preferring for the moment to let the spellcaster assume that his powers were greater than the outsider’s. It had become abundantly clear that, at least where Kethuus and his two comrades were concerned, Uldyssian’s power was suspect. That despite Amolia’s earlier attempt to seize him.

Shrugging off the prejudices of his possible allies, he waited with growing impatience while Kethuus led him along the ledge of the vast water system. Uldyssian had expected to descend only a short distance from their destination, but Kethuus turned from one confusing passage to another.

And only then did Uldyssian wonder if it was actually the mage he followed.

Unseen by the figure in front of him, his hand balled up into a fist that glowed a faint crimson. Uldyssian could not believe that he had not considered such a trick by Malic. The dread spirit was cunning enough to take one of the very hunters after him and use that body to bring his ultimate prey to where the high priest could deal with him. Malic would know that his foe would insist on trying to track him, which meant that the high priest would be certain to lay some sort of trap.