The Sin War Box Set: Birthright, Scales of the Serpent, and The Veiled Prophet (92 page)

Then—at last—it reached where the sun stood defiant. Uldyssian’s will almost faltered then, for surely he could not so simply defeat the angel’s strategy. Yet the first edges of the massive gray cloud soon spread across where the sun shone.

As it did, the light grew less blinding. A hopeful murmur arose among Uldyssian’s followers. His own pulse quickened as the sun went from fully dominant to partially seen, then to barely a sliver and, finally, a vaguely hinted-at shape that did just enough to keep the grasslands from being plunged into darkness.

Daring to breathe, Uldyssian glanced around.

The edyrem broke into a cheer.

He looked to Rathma, who bore a rare, if brief, smile. The Ancient bowed his head.

“You have just put uncertainty back into the heart of my father,” the cowled figure complimented.

Mendeln grinned at his brother. Only Serenthia did not share the general outpouring of confidence, but the pain on her face lessened slightly.

It also immediately reminded Uldyssian that whatever he had just accomplished, he still faced a legion of terrible foes.

But he could not let the others see his concern. Maintaining a façade of triumph, Uldyssian led his people on. At the very least, they could now concentrate better on the path ahead—and he hoped that would give the edyrem some chance against whatever next struck at them.

The grass grew thicker the further into the region they marched. Uldyssian had warned everyone to keep on guard, and he was pleased with the attentiveness he felt throughout the band. The most promising of his followers had been placed at the front and outer perimeters, and as usual, those least able to defend themselves were in a position within the main body but toward the back. For once, Uldyssian had wanted to leave them behind, but no one could think of anywhere they would be safe. He could not be certain that the mage clans just might free themselves, then take revenge on what edyrem they could find. Never mind that the group would consist mainly of defenseless children and elders.

No, the edyrem were best off together, especially if they were all to perish. At least then there would be a fighting chance.

“There it is,” Mendeln suddenly and quietly declared.

Uldyssian would not have had to ask what his brother meant, even if he had not seen it at the same time. The gargantuan edifice gleamed despite the thick cloud cover, gleamed as if made of diamond. Uldyssian could not make out any details save the sharply pointed spire towering over all else.

As far away as the edyrem still were from it, its appearance meant that there remained little time before Inarius would wait no longer. Uldyssian’s followers were nearly midway between the Cathedral and the city, the perfect place for any monstrous tableau the renegade angel wished to create.

“Should we not also be able to see the Golden Path?” Uldyssian’s brother added. “I would expect it to be very close by.”

The Golden Path was the direct route between Kehjan and the Cathedral of Light, the way by which pilgrims trekked to the holy site and then back to the capital. The name was of spiritual reference and had nothing to do with its appearance, for the Path was merely a shaved-down area first cut by the Prophet’s acolytes. It was now completely maintained by the sandaled or bare feet of the legions of daily supplicants, who came in such numbers that they trampled down any plant foolish enough to try to grow along the way.

But although it had surely only been a day or two since the last pilgrims had come this way, there was now, for as far as the eye could see—and farther for Uldyssian—nothing but more tall grass. The Golden Path was no more.

“My father,” Rathma stated bluntly, not that everyone had not already guessed that.

Uldyssian raised a hand to signal the edyrem to halt. He would permit no one to proceed until he had thoroughly investigated the area ahead. This could also be a trick by the waiting demons, who he assumed had to be in league with Inarius. After all, they had as much at stake as the angel did in guaranteeing that Uldyssian fail.

Making certain that the sky remained cloaked in gray, Uldyssian looked inward. He let his gift reach ahead and then began the process of methodically searching. A part of him also hoped that he might yet find some sign of Achilios, although that was becoming more and more a dream.

All else faded from Uldyssian’s attention as he made certain that the way ahead was safe. He would not let his people fall prey to Inarius’s machinations. He would not let that happen—

The screams buffeted him from all sides, edyrem everywhere sending mental cries of fear. As he ripped himself from his search, Uldyssian felt Serenthia violently shaking him.

“Uldyssian! Snap out of—” Her voice was cut off.

He turned—and suddenly was snagged around the legs and one arm by what he at first thought were slim tentacles. They were nothing of the sort, though. Instead, the very grass sought to bring him down. Worse, he quickly saw that edyrem everywhere were in stages of being strangled or dragged into the dirt. Some were even sinking.

And the worst-struck place was where the children and others who could not truly defend themselves stood. Despite the bravery of their protectors, they were being torn from one another and pulled in every direction. Their screams were horrific to hear.

Uldyssian put a hand to some of the grass binding him. Fire burned away those blades, but almost immediately, twice their number sprouted from the cindered ends. The same disaster was repeated all over, with even Rathma struggling in vain to free himself.

This was no coincidence. Uldyssian had done exactly as Inarius had desired of him. He had purposely set about a situation that would distract the edyrem leader—a situation that demanded Uldyssian’s attention—even if for only a moment. The son of Diomedes had obliged him yet again by walking right into the trap. All the angel had needed was that moment.

Grass strained for his throat. Uldyssian tugged as best he could on what was already wrapped around him. With some effort, he summoned the power to slice clean all the nearby grass.

But once again, the field not only regenerated itself faster than he could destroy it but became more fierce. The screams that constantly bombarded Uldyssian’s hearing were not merely of fright…they were of agony.

His people were dying. Once more, Uldyssian was failing them.

His mind raged at the Prophet’s uncaring nature. To the angel, humans were less than nothing. That their kind still existed was likely only because Inarius could not stand having no one to honor his greatness. That, and the fact that such utter isolation would have been too much even for him.

That Inarius could call himself a warrior of the Light, a champion of Good, was a jest that Uldyssian found too cruel. He envisioned Inarius as the Prophet, the handsome, eternal youth laughing at his helplessness.

As that vision magnified in his head, Uldyssian burned inside with an anger he never experienced before. The son of Diomedes felt as if he were about to explode, yet he had no outlet. He needed something at which to strike, and there was only the grass.

The grass…

The
grass
…

As had happened before, fire burst into manic life all around him. It was not merely fire as might have been seen in the camp last night, but gargantuan emerald and yellow flames that devoured the nearest blades so quickly and thoroughly that there was nothing left from which to sprout new grass.

And that fire then shot through the region, racing with calculated madness among the edyrem. It left of the grass only black dust, but not one of Uldyssian’s people was so much as singed. For them, the flames felt instead like a brief moment of cool air caressing them.

But it was not enough simply to save the edyrem from the trap into which he had led them. Uldyssian’s anger knew no bounds. Suddenly, everything around him he perceived as a threat to his followers and, especially, to himself. Every blade of grass for as far as the eye could see was a monster, a servant of the Prophet. Glaring at them, Uldyssian only wished them gone.

The fire bowed to his will. It shot forth from the vicinity of the edyrem, devouring plant life in all other directions. In its wake, it left a blackened landscape that, thanks to the son of Diomedes, was not in the least bit hot.

And as the edyrem watched in awe, the rest of the grasslands surrendered to Uldyssian’s fury. From where he stood, the burnt area spread farther and farther. The flames rushed on unchecked, growing more distant but also more voracious.

Uldyssian watched it all without hardly drawing a breath. He watched it all without any care for the destruction he caused. Why, in fact, should he stop with merely the grasslands? If Inarius enjoyed these little plots, then even the jungles were suspect. Was it not for the best to let the fire go as far as it could, even into the capital, where there was nothing but deceit and evil almost on par with what the angels and demons offered? Why—

Someone slapped him hard across the face. Uldyssian let out a roar and focused a good part of his power on the miscreant.

The raw blast of energy struck Mendeln square before Uldyssian realized just who his target was.

“Nooo!” Horrified, he fought to quell his work. Mendeln fell out of sight, adding to his shock. Despite all that, it was still a struggle for Uldyssian to bring himself under control.

There was not a living blade of grass in sight. In fact, the only living things left were the edyrem…and not all of them. There were bodies here, there, and too many other places.

Many of them were children.

However, Uldyssian had no time for Inarius’s innocent victims, so concerned was he about the one belonging to him. He shoved Rathma aside and ran toward where he had last seen his brother. With such force as he had leveled against Mendeln, it was certain that the younger sibling was not only dead but mangled unrecognizably.

But Mendeln’s face and form were in perfect condition, although lying at an angle that sent chills through Uldyssian. Letting out a sob, the older brother bent by the black-robed figure’s side. He had healed others very close to death. If there was a chance to do it once more, he prayed this would be that moment.

The sky crackled with lightning.

Despite the tragedy of his own situation, Uldyssian could not help but glance up at what should not have been. He had created only thick clouds to shield his followers from Inarius’s damnable sun. No storm had been part of that spell.

But now it came nonetheless.

The rain fell with terrible strength, as if a huge bucket had been turned over, a bucket that never finished emptying. The savage torrent mercilessly battered people into the ground. Even Uldyssian found himself hard pressed to stand, but stand he did.

And as the son of Diomedes straightened, he saw the movement from the north. At first, it appeared to flow toward him and his followers much as the terrible rain did. However, as it drew relentlessly nearer, it divided into hundreds and hundreds of robed, helmeted figures on horseback. They wielded curved swords and maces, and their wild shouts were like thunder.

Inquisitor warriors—the militant arm of the Cathedral of Light.

But there was more to them than what at first was obvious. Uldyssian sensed that difference more than he saw it. Wary, he stared at the oncoming legions, reaching out to see them as if he stood just before the pounding hooves.

And then Uldyssian made out just what it was about them that bothered him. It was best revealed in their eyes—their eyes that were now without pupils. Instead, a radiant gold fire blazed forth from beneath the lids, an inhuman force that he saw filled each and every warrior he searched.

It took only a glance at their rabid expressions to see that there was little left of the original minds that had inhabited these bodies. Of all those in the ranks, only the helmeted woman in the lead and a handful of high-ranking priests mixed among the fighters still had eyes that indicated that they were themselves. The rest had all been utterly subjugated by Inarius’s will.

At that moment, Rathma stepped up next to him, the Ancient’s hood and cloak untouched by the incessant rain. He somehow still looked no more pleasant than a drenched Uldyssian.

His words had nothing to do with the ferocious onslaught racing toward them. “Be not concerned about your brother, for I was able to shield him just as you struck out.”

Uldyssian glanced down at his sibling again. Mendeln moaned, and his eyes fluttered open. As Rathma had indicated, he seemed entirely well…no thanks to Uldyssian. The older brother had been too distraught to notice.

But as guilty as Uldyssian felt about Mendeln and as concerned he was about his unthinking outburst, the events now unfolding before them demanded his attention. He stared anew at the charging Inquisitors, hoping that, as with Mendeln, his initial beliefs had been incorrect.

Unfortunately, in the case of the Prophet’s warriors, Uldyssian immediately sensed that he was not. The dread spectacle was exactly as he feared it.

“He has fallen even more than I could imagine,” Inarius’s son shouted, “and may have shown us at last why he is not concerned that a heavenly host is nigh upon Sanctuary!”

“What do you mean?”

“You sense his power within those misguided fools, do you not? Then you can also sense where my father has been able to draw so much from, for this is surely more than he himself could bear alone!”