The Sin War Box Set: Birthright, Scales of the Serpent, and The Veiled Prophet (58 page)

Before the first body stilled, a second follower also collapsed, a shaft through his chest exactly where the heart was located.

Lilith’s followers broke ranks as some sought shelter while others looked for the source of the seemingly magical bolts. Uldyssian was the first to recognize their point of origin, the narrow slits above. How the archer had managed to avoid the guards outside or to be sensed by Lilith was a much more major question.

But the answer to that was something with which he could concern himself later…if possible. The momentary interruption had given him the time that he needed to at last extinguish the spell keeping him bound and helpless.

One of the nearest edyrem saw him rise. The dark-skinned figure started to point at Uldyssian, but the latter, not needing to focus, sent his would-be attacker flying up into the wall. Uldyssian then glared at two more just registering his freedom. They suddenly flung against one another with such force that both were knocked unconscious.

Another of Lilith’s followers screamed. The arrow that had slain him stuck out of his back, which meant that it had come from another direction. Whether that meant more than one bowman, Uldyssian had no chance to consider, for Lilith, face monstrously contorted, had resumed her chanting. Uldyssian could only assume that meant that she still had hope of fulfilling her plan and turning the rest of the edyrem to her cause.

Whatever the cost, he could not let that happen. The chamber shook as pure force radiated from him in every direction. Edyrem went tumbling, some crashing into each other and into walls. Uldyssian did not care if they lived or died, for they had likely been forever tainted by Lilith. What was important was saving all the rest.

Lilith, too, had been thrown back by his brutal assault. But as he leapt off the altar, he saw her rise. Serenthia’s blood dripped from a wound near the mouth and a dark bruise discolored the forehead.

Unfortunately, the demoness was far from defeated. She raised the dagger as if to throw it, but instead uttered another of the incomprehensible words. Uldyssian swore, fearing that Lilith had yet succeeded…

To his shock, though, it was her followers who cried out, then fell still all around them. Uldyssian sensed Lilith quickly draw something from them into herself.

“My foolish, foolish love…” the demoness rasped as she stood up. “Always a little shortsighted. Always not doing quite enough. From these I’ll still have my way with but a moment more. You can’t stand against me enough to keep me from taking the rest of your precious flock with what I’ve grasped from these fools! A greater sacrifice than I planned, but their loss is paltry compared to what I gain!”

He did not speak, answering instead with a force that should have pounded her to the ground. However, although she shook, Lilith remained standing.

They both knew the reason why. As much as he wanted to, Uldyssian could not bring himself to slay Serenthia, the only certain method to stop the creature possessing her body. That hesitation meant that, despite the shift in circumstances, Lilith would still in the end win.

And Sanctuary would surely be doomed.

“Poor, sweet darling,” she cooed. “Always seizing failure at the moment of victory! Still, I promise you some delights with this body, once I’ve made you mine again…”

Something struck the blade of the dagger with such force that it ripped the weapon from the distracted demoness’s grip. Blood splattered the area around Lilith as the dagger and what had hit it clattered against the back wall.

And as both pieces stilled, Uldyssian saw that what lay near the dagger was another arrow…again covered in dirt.

“Serenthia…” a voice called from the entranceway, a voice that despite its grating, was so familiar to Uldyssian that it made the hair on his neck stiffen. “Serenthia…” it called again, closer now. “Come back…to us…to me…”

Despite Lilith still free, Uldyssian had to turn to the newcomer, had to see if he was dreaming…or living a new nightmare.

It
was
Achilios…Achilios, who was very dead.

The hunter’s too pale eyes gazed only momentarily at Uldyssian, as if just to acknowledge that the latter saw the truth. Then, Achilios, bow drawn for another shot, continued forward. Behind him, he left a trail of slightly moist dirt, the same which seemed to cover much of his form.

“Serenthia…” the dead man repeated. What little remained of his ruined throat twisted and shifted as if actually drawing the breath needed for speech. “You can…hear me…you…know me…”

Lilith had been oddly silent, but now she snapped, “There is only Lilith, dear decrepit Achilios! My! Love can be foolishly strong, can it not?” She spread her arms. “Would you like me to warm you for her, archer?”

“Spare…spare me…your pathetic…seductions,” Achilios replied, raising the bow to fire. “If I…can’t…free her one way…I’ll free her…another…she would…want that…”

“And perhaps when she, too, is dead, you’ll have the chance to win her again? How macabre and wonderful at the same time!” She leaned so that he had a clear shot at her breast. “Fire, then!”

But Achilios did not rise to her bait. “When I am…ready, witch…first…I still want…her…to come to us…”

Seeing that Lilith was focused on the walking corpse, Uldyssian readied his own attack. However, Achilios shook his head.

“No…this is not for you to…do…”

There was that in the rasping voice that made Uldyssian listen. He watched as the archer lowered the bow.

“Serenthia…” Achilios murmured. “Serenthia…please awaken…”

Lilith stood as if frozen. Uldyssian thought that she planned some new mischief, but then the demoness’s hands clutched at her throat as if to choke herself.

She screamed. She screamed so loud and with such raw agony that it would not have surprised the son of Diomedes to see the rest of the dead in the chamber rise up to join Achilios. Lilith screamed without pause, the very building shaking from her effort.

And then…and then…something monstrous emerged from her upturned mouth. They initially looked like a pit of small serpents, but Uldyssian finally recognized them as
fingers
. Taloned fingers.

Serenthia’s face distorted, her mouth growing twice, then three times the size of her head. The hands pushed it wider, wider…and only then did it become apparent that the scream was issuing forth from whatever was emerging, not from the woman before them.

Fearing for the merchant’s daughter, Uldyssian started forward, but again the archer forbade him. “Do not…do not stop this…if we are…to have any hope…for Serenthia…”

If it had been any other—no, if it had even been a
living
Achilios—Uldyssian would have paid the command no heed. Yet, somehow, he realized that his dead comrade understood the matter more than he could ever begin to. Nerves taut, Uldyssian forced himself to watch things unfold.

A grotesque array of red quills erupted from Serenthia’s monstrous maw. They pushed upward. Upward…

And with one terrible push, the demoness Lilith burst full-blown out of the dark-haired woman’s mouth.

Still screaming—but from what seemed more rage than pain—the green-scaled siren flew around the chamber several times. Below, Serenthia—now normal again—teetered dangerously.

“Fools!” bellowed Lilith, suddenly hovering. “Little-minded mortal fools! Do you think this means
anything
? Do you think you’ve won at all?” She laughed wildly, then thrust a taloned finger toward Serenthia. “Careful, dears! She’s about to drop!”

With that, the demon flew up to the ceiling, vanishing just before she would have crashed into it.

Neither Uldyssian nor Achilios dared watch to see if this were another trick, for Lilith had at least spoken true when she had warned them about Serenthia. Nearly as pale as the archer, Serenthia let out a slight gasp, then fell over.

Uldyssian intended to use his abilities to keep her from striking the stones headfirst, but somehow Achilios moved even faster. Gritty arms caught Serenthia mere inches from disaster. The archer gently set her down as if she were made of fragile glass.

Serenthia exhaled…and her eyes fluttered open. She gazed up at her savior, who himself looked to Uldyssian as if he suddenly wished that he were anywhere else at the moment rather than in her sight. The archer quickly put one hand over his throat in a futile attempt to cover the monstrous sight.

“A-Achilios…” she mumbled. “Achilios…” A smile started to spread, but before it could go very far…Serenthia passed out.

“Praise…be…” muttered the dead man. He stepped back from her, only then looking at Uldyssian.

The son of Diomedes could still not believe what he was seeing. “Achilios—”

“Take…take better care…of her…next time…if only so I won’t…be back…”

The archer turned to flee, but Uldyssian seized him by the arm. Ignoring both the dirt and the cold he felt, Uldyssian growled, “You can’t leave!”

This brought a harsh laugh from the dead man. “And…how could I…remain?”

Before Uldyssian could answer, yet another scream resounded in the ancient structure. Both looked to the entrance…where, unnoticed in the heat of things, a crowd of startled edyrem had gathered.

A crowd now seeing their mistress as still as death, their master returned as if from the dead…and a man the Parthans in the group knew had been slaughtered by a demon.

Mendeln had never stood atop a mountain before.

He did not like it in the least.

The wind howled and snow covered everything. However, nothing, not even the chill air, really touched him much. He supposed that he had Rathma to thank for that, if gratitude was the proper emotion for being dragged off to this desolate spot to face a figure whose very name filled Uldyssian’s brother with dread.

“And what assistance am I to be against an angel?” he asked not for the first time. Mendeln had to raise his voice to be heard over the wind.

“Whatever it turns out you can supply,” was Rathma’s response, the same one he had used to answer the prior questions.

Mendeln folded his arms tight, if only out of habit, not from being cold. “Where are we?”

“Near where I brought your brother. Near to the vicinity of the Worldstone.”

What little Mendeln had learned of this “Worldstone” had filled him with new awe and not a little uncertainty. To have created such a thing, the angels and demons must have utilized fantastic magic and energy.

He was about to ask Rathma another question when the ancient nephalem raised a hand to cut him off.

“My father approaches. Be wary.”

To Mendeln, it was an unnecessary warning. How could he deal with the arrival of an angry angel with anything but wariness?

The wind suddenly picked up, so ferocious now that it nearly shoved Mendeln from his position. He did not like the thought of tumbling down the mountainside, no matter what he had learned from the dragon and his companion about the many states of life. At the moment, Mendeln still preferred the “living” stage too much to abandon it just yet.

The snow also increased. A storm raged about them. Rathma pulled free his dagger and muttered something, but the storm remained intense.

Then, an ear-splitting thunderclap shook them further, a thunderclap immediately followed by dead silence. If not for being able to hear his own breathing, Mendeln would have believed himself now deaf.

And then he noticed in their midst a golden-haired youth.

“I am disappointed in you, my son,” the robed figure stated in a voice of pure music.

“As you ever have been since my birth, my father,” Rathma replied, his generally bland tone with a hint of an edge in it.

The newcomer looked away from the pair, instead seeming more interested in the general landscape. “And have you seen your mother of late?”

“No. I have been fortunate in that regard. I wish I could say the same concerning
you
.”

Now Rathma had his attention again. “Your insolence is unbecoming. Be grateful that I have not deigned to punish you for your past sins.”

Mendeln watched the pair, still uncertain, despite what he had heard, that this was indeed Inarius. He knew that the angel was master of the Cathedral of Light and had heard of the Prophet’s general description, but to actually see the young figure was disconcerting, to say the least.

As if sensing this, Inarius turned his gaze to the human. Suddenly, Mendeln had no more doubts. The eyes were enough to stop him in his tracks. He could not even say what color they were, just that to have them look his way made Mendeln almost wish to drop down on his knees in worship. That made him again wonder just how much help he would actually be, should Rathma truly need him. If he was this weak merely because of a
look
…

To his surprise, a slight chuckle escaped Rathma. “Not so insignificant, are they?”

“And that may be their downfall,” returned the angel coldly. “You and your kind had no place here. Nor do these. If they cannot be contained, they must be removed…” He turned from them as if they were nothing to him. His sandaled feet left no impressions in the snow. “Sanctuary must be purified…”

Rathma was uncharacteristically emotional. “For
who
, Inarius? For who? All there would be then is you! Must all else in this world bend to your will or be expunged for their defiance?”

“They exist by my will, therefore, yes…” The Prophet turned to them again. As he did, Mendeln noticed that he momentarily left the edge of the mountaintop, yet did not fall. “This is a debate we have had before, Linarian…”

Rathma pulled his cloak tight around him. “That name I have rejected, as I have you and my mother.”

The Prophet shrugged. He glanced briefly at Mendeln, then again at his son. Without warning, Inarius suddenly said, “You know why I am here.”

“Of course.”

“You were forbidden.”

“Fate decreed otherwise,” Rathma returned.

The angel spread his arms and his face contorted. His hair stood on edge and he grew larger and larger. Fire radiated around him.
“I
am Fate here. I am the yea or nay for all that exists in Sanctuary—”

“Beware!” Mendeln’s companion warned, not that Uldyssian’s brother needed to be alerted. The son of Diomedes drew his own dagger, a thing seemingly so insignificant in the sight of Inarius’s abrupt and staggering transformation.

I AM THE ULTIMATE JUDGE OF WHAT IS AND WHAT SHALL BE!
declared the angel, his mouth no longer moving. The words struck Mendeln much as Trag’Oul’s had, but without the dragon’s consideration for their effect on a mortal body and mind. It was a struggle to maintain his stance, but Mendeln knew he dared not falter.

From the angel’s back burst what at first Mendeln took for magnificent, fiery wings. Yet as they spread wide, he saw that they were more astounding than even that. The wings—so different from the feathered ones that Mendeln had most of his life imagined on angels—were actually
strands of light
that moved almost as if with animation of their own. They writhed and shifted like serpents or tentacles, a very contrary suggestion to what the angel represented. Inarius’s body and face contorted. A breastplate formed over his torso. The handsome, youthful visage sank into darkness beneath an immaculate hood, once within, finally transforming completely into shadow. It was as if there was no true physical substance to him. All vestiges of Humanity vanished as a heavenly warrior suddenly hovered beyond the mountain’s edge, one gleaming, gauntleted hand pointing accusingly at the angel’s rebellious offspring.

I SPOKE WITH YOU OUT OF MEMORY, BUT THAT TIME IS PAST FOREVER NOW! YOU WISH LINARIAN DEAD, THEN SO BE IT! THERE IS NO TIE BETWEEN US!

“Was there
ever
?” Rathma shouted back, ivory dagger held before him like the strongest of shields. Mendeln followed suit, hoping that it was not a futile gesture.

THE STONE AWAITS ME
…Inarius gestured.
AND I AM DONE WITH YOU!

The mountaintop exploded.

The force unleashed by the angel ripped up snow, ice, and rock in great chunks. Mendeln expected to be tossed away with them, but for the moment, the area around him and Rathma remained intact. Not much else did, however. Dirt and snow flew everywhere and Mendeln likely would have been crushed if his own weapon had not suddenly emitted a pale light that now enveloped him. He glanced at his companion and saw that Rathma was likewise protected.

But with rock and snow crashing about him, Mendeln did not know how much longer the two would be safe. Above them, Inarius pointed with his other hand—and Mendeln felt the ground beneath him collapse.

“Remember what you have been shown!” shouted Rathma.

But all Mendeln could think about was that he no longer had any footing. His fear of falling had at last become a reality. Rathma vanished from his sight, the other’s footing also torn out from under him.

As he fell, Mendeln caught sight of Inarius, the angel watching the destruction with what could only be called detachment. Even his own offspring was of no consequence to the winged being. After all, Rathma had committed the ultimate sin; he had defied his father.

Clutching the dagger tight, Mendeln sought some way to save himself. Then, a hand clutched his collar, slowing his descent. He knew instantly that it was Rathma.

As the avalanche continued, Rathma set him down on a small outcropping still holding. The shrouded figure then alighted next to him.

“This is not over!” he called.

Not at all surprised, Mendeln prepared himself for the worst. Inarius would not leave this task incomplete.

And sure enough, the winged warrior fluttered into sight. Inarius—his face more of a brilliant armored mask—inspected the two.

Mendeln felt the angel focus on him. He prepared for the end—

WHAT HAS HE DONE?
demanded Inarius.
WHAT HAS HE DONE…AND HOW?

Only after a moment did Mendeln realize that Inarius spoke of
Uldyssian
. He had no idea just what about his sibling so concerned the angel, but suddenly feared anew for Uldyssian’s life.

WHAT HAS HE DONE?
Inarius repeated.
WHAT HAS HE DONE TO THE STONE?

From behind Mendeln, Rathma shouted, “He has done the undoable, Inarius! He has done the undoable!”

The angel hovered in silence for a moment. He started to gesture at the pair, then lowered his hand.
THEN…HE MAY HAVE CONDEMNED YOU ALL
…

And with that, the winged being soared high into the sky, dwindling to a dot in less time than Mendeln could count to the number one. Then, in a flash of light so brilliant it momentarily blinded the human…Inarius disappeared.

The devastation wrought by Rathma’s father—so
easily
, Mendeln dourly thought—began to settle around them. The entire top of the peak had been radically altered. Now, it looked as if the mountain had grown a giant, three-fingered paw with jagged claws on two of the digits. He and Rathma stood on the outer edge of the third, a drop of well over a thousand feet merely one step away.

One question burned to be spoken by Mendeln. “Why do we live? We were clearly nothing to him, whatever your beliefs before we came here! Why do we live?”

“We were not nothing to him, son of Diomedes,” the ancient figure responded, dusting off bits of dirt and snow. “If we had been, we would have been dead without ever knowing he had arrived. It is because of what we—and your brother most of all—represent, that my dear father paused to speak at all. Certainly not for me alone, as we have spoken all we can, lo, these many centuries past. He also came in part out of curiosity surrounding you, Mendeln ul-Diomed, and what a jest it was when he found that he could not bend your knee to him…”

“Could not—” Mendeln felt queasy in his stomach. He had
defied
the angel’s will?

“Did you not know that? I thought you aware.”

Seeking not to think about the subject anymore, Mendeln asked, “What is it that he kept mentioning? Did I hear him say the
Worldstone
? I know that it was mentioned by you or Uldyssian when the pair of you returned, but I never understood completely about it! Just what did Uldyssian do that so—so—
shocked
—him?”

Rathma’s expression darkened. “That will take a bit more explaining. Suffice to say, we are near that which is vital to the conclusion—whatever that conclusion will be—of our struggle. The Worldstone is a thing that only one like my father should be able to alter in even the least way—and, therefore, could my mother—yet your brother did just that! The Worldstone is different now, in even a manner Inarius cannot believe, hence his reaction.”

At first, Mendeln took hope from this, but then he recalled the angel’s parting words.
Then, he may have condemned you all
…

Mendeln surveyed what even the least of Inarius’s fury had done to a gigantic mountaintop and shuddered. “Rathma, what does he mean by his last?”

Lilith’s son held his dagger high, as if using it to search for something. Mendeln waited impatiently as the tall figure first turned in a circle, then replaced the otherworldly weapon in the vast confines of his cloak.

“What he means has to do with the same reason that we, who could not make the stand that I hoped—and evidently did not need to since Inarius made no adjustment to the stone that I can divine—are still alive. Why should he bother with two paltry deaths when, if he reaches the conclusion to which I sense he is leaning, he will then remove
everything
at once and start his Sanctuary anew?”

Only now did Mendeln truly grasp what he realized Rathma and Trag’Oul had been saying all along. “Rather than…rather than allowing Lilith…or humans…to act beyond his dictates…you are saying that the angel could…would utterly destroy our world?”

“And then build anew to suit his megalomania, yes.”

Mendeln could not even imagine such power in one being’s control. “He can…
do
this?”

“He can.” Rathma began drawing a circle in the air, a circle that expanded instantly. As it did, Mendeln saw that within it was utter darkness…the path, he knew, to Trag’Oul’s realm. “He has that power…” the angel’s son continued, sounding for the first time very, very weary. “He has that power a thousand times over…and will be more than willing to use it…”