XXI

 

Sins of the Son

 

Her son was dying. Cabe was dying.

To Hadrea’s mind, all her effort had been for naught. It did not matter that she, too, was dying and that with her would perish Melenea. Only Cabe mattered.

“U-Uncle? Help him?”

But he was not paying attention to her at the moment, instead his solemn gaze looking past her. She did not have to ask at whom he looked. Poor Wiln lay either dead or dying in the opposite direction. Hadeen could only be staring at one person.

“So, this is what’s become of all this,” her father remarked bitterly. Although she heard him walk around, he remained out of her sight. “I should have done as I believed right.”

“Brother ---”

“Is that the little monstrosity? A pale, tiny thing.”

“This is your grandson, Brother!” Hadeen held the infant toward him. “Although you may not have to concern yourself. He is not long for this world. Indeed, he will likely be here only a short time longer than your daughter.”

“Hadrea!” Now at last, the master of the Vale bent into view. Concern filled his face. “Hadrea! You’ll recover at the Vale! I’ve already set into motion ---”

“No!” she managed, startling him with her vehemence. “No! Take care of Cabe!”

“The child is beyond my skills. You are not.”

“A lie...a lie...” Hadrea shook her head. “You want ---”

A darkness fell over her. She heard Melenea’s sinister laughter and watched her father recoil in shock.

Hadrea grunted in agony, yet somewhere she found strength to fight back. The darkness receded...for the time being.

“My son, Father! You will s-save my son.”

Hadaryn exhaled. “I did not lie to you about that. The child is beyond my abilities even if I wanted to save him.”

That was it, then. Defeated, Hadrea did not fight as her life began to slip away. So long as she took the dread spirit with her ---

But would she? Hadrea wondered why Melenea had fought so little, considering that her chance of escape grew less and less with each fading breath. Even the last attempt had been very simple for the dying half-elf to push back.

The truth finally struck Hadrea. If she did not willingly keep the specter at bay, it would take her body the moment she passed. Yet, Hadrea knew she had very limited time...

“Uncle!”

Hadeen leaned toward her. He continued to clutch her son with more care, more love, than Cabe’s own grandfather.

“Uncle...the flower? Is there nothing you can do to preserve its power?”

The brothers glanced at one another. Hadrea silently prayed for them to hurry. Each second seemed an eternity.

“There is one thing,” Her uncle muttered. He looked for some place safe to set Cabe.

“Let me do this!” Hadaryn snapped. He seized his daughter’s hand, one finger grazing the rose. “Hadrea! Are you ready?”

She knew he thought that he was going to help her use the flower to hang on to life. A tear slipped from her; Hadrea could not tell him what she planned to do or else he probably would have refused.

“Hurry, Father...”

The master of the Vale concentrated. Hadrea felt his elemental powers spread over her hand and creep into the rose. She felt it stiffen in her grip. A thick layer of some glassy substance coated the flower.

It was not the spell that she had expected, but she had no choice. She knew she had only moments remaining.

Melenea recognized what she intended. The Vraad spirit threw her full force at the half-elf’s weakened soul.

It was a moment too late.

Hadrea seized the spell her father had been casting around the flower.

“Hadrea! What ---” He sought to remove his hand, but with her other hand she seized his in what was truthfully a death grip.

“Uncle!” Hadrea cried. “My son!”

He glanced at the bundle, not certain at first what she meant. By then, it was too late for him to do anything to stop her either.

At her command, the glassy substance coursed over her body. Hadrea had expected it to feel cold, but instead it provided a wonderful warmth. She felt the rose’s power blended with it, just as she had hoped. Melenea railed and ranted, but did not yet have power over her body.

“Hadrea!” her father cried. “Stop!”

She would have answered, but already her head was covered as well. The outer world receded, her father’s continual shouts now muffled.

Her last mortal act was to release his hand before the glass spread to him. With that, the source of power behind the spell vanished. Fortunately, Hadrea sensed that she had done what she needed to do.

No! the Vraad raged. No! I will not be imprisoned again! I will not!

Hadrea paid the specter’s fury no mind. They were trapped together now. Trapped forever.

Forever...

 

 

Basil and Tyr did short work of the handful of beasts managing to slip past the border. The former did so using a combination of magic and weapon, be that weapon sword or ax. Tyr simply dealt the killing blow with a single spell.

The mages had a tremendous advantage over the drakes when it came to the diggers, a tremendous advantage even compared to the realm’s lord. Having participated in the spellwork creating the furred horrors, they knew all the secret weak points left in just in case. Nathan had not wanted to rely solely on one safety spell. Now, that decision had proven yet another wise one. The weak links made the diggers actually fairly easy prey for their creators.

“You waste a lot of energy doing that,” Tyr commented to Basil as the burly mage finished.

“And what of it?” Basil demanded angrily. “And what of it? Tyr, we as a force have been wiped out!”

“There is Penacles and the Gryphon. A tremendous base from which to keep the rebellion growing.”

“Ha! Do you think the Dragon Kings will let the city survive? Libraries or no libraries, Penacles will fall, mark my word!”

Tyr shook his head. It was an argument the priestly wizard had had with his best friend for days now. Basil saw little hope. He had only secretly agreed to continue following Nathan’s plan because of his desire to lash out at the drakes however possible. The destruction of the Adajian Fields had only wetted his appetite, though. Basil had already talked about trying to break into Kivan Grath itself once the last of the beasts was dead.

Tyr sensed another digger crossing. Each one seemed stronger than the last. This one appeared to be the most powerful yet.

“Let me take it,” Basil offered, wiping what passed for digger blood off his breastplate.

“We’ll need to do this one together ---” But his reply reached only empty air.

Swearing, he transported himself to where Basil had gone.

Despite the lack of actual illumination, Tyr had no trouble seeing what was happening. Like Basil, he had enhanced his vision so as to be able to fight the diggers beneath the surface.

The scene spread before him was one he had already witnessed a variation of a few minutes earlier. Basil stood just a few scant yards away from the huge creature. The armored mage had an ax in one hand and the sword in the other. Both men had materialized behind the burrowing giant. Basil had already drawn blood with his initial attack, the result of which was that the beast now ferociously tore at the earth as it turned to take the tiny assailant.

Laughing harshly, Basil thrust with the sword. The blade flared blue as he fed his spell through it. The blade cut off the tip of the nearest claw.

“Come at me, you damned piece of fur!” Basil mocked. “Match your puny nails with my two comrades here!”

The digger swept a paw across the cramped tunnel it had made with its earlier burrowing. Basil leapt back as the claws came within a foot. At the same time, he swung the ax.

As another tip of claw flew free, Tyr started casting. He had done enough evaluation of this giant in the few seconds Basil had been fighting it to see its weakest point. Tyr had no desire or patience for a long fight. One quick strike and ---

“Aaah!” A horrific coldness shot through his ribs on his left side. Tyr felt his heart momentarily stop and knew that despite it starting again, the odds were very good that soon it would stop again...permanently.

Tyr collapsed against the side of the tunnel. He tried to pull free from the source of the monstrous cold, but it held to him with a vampiric hunger rivaling that of the diggers.

A low chuckle arose from next to him. Struggling, Tyr managed to turn his head enough to see Azran. The source of the cold and hunger was the sinister black sword Nathan’s son had created.

“A-Azran! What do you --- what?” was as much as Tyr could manage. He felt a tremendous emptiness expanding within him, as if the sword’s feeding literally hollowed the wizard out.

Azran finally pulled the sword free, but not out of any regret or sympathy. Tyr knew that he had given the damned sword everything it wanted.

His legs buckled. Even before he slipped to ground, he saw through blurring vision Nathan’s son approaching a distracted Basil.

Tyr tried to shout, tried to send a mental warning, but even the latter was beyond his remaining strength. He watched in growing horror as Basil, just finishing the beast with a swing of his ax, stepped back to admire his handiwork.

Azran drove the Horned Blade through the back of the armored mage’s neck hard enough to make the point come out just under Basil’s jaw.

Nathan’s youngest held the sword there for a moment, doing with Basil as he had done with Tyr. Coughing, Tyr tried to rise, but instead ended up falling forward.

He heard the clank of metal as Basil fell. A moment later, Tyr beheld Azran’s boots right in front of him.

Another intense rush of pain filled the stricken wizard as Azran drove the Horned Blade into his back.

And then, thankfully, Tyr felt no more.

 

 

Nathan exhaled. The last of the beasts rushing east were dead. He started to reach out to Tyr, but then another voice filled his head.

Nathan! Yalak all but shouted. You must hurry to the Manor! Quickly!

Yalak? What do you ---

No time to explain! I foresee great disaster if you do not hurry! This is urgent! Go now!

Few times in his life had Nathan heard his old friend so adamant. Nathan immediately turned to Gwendolyn. “Something’s happened at the Manor! Yalak says we need to go there right now!”

“What is it?”

Nathan wondered that himself. Yalak had not made that clear. Still, he trusted the other mage implicitly. “We’ll find out when we get there, I suppose.”

 

 

“Are you all right?” Adam asked.

Yalak nodded. “Yes. Nothing to fear.”

The other wizard glanced around. “I sense another one approaching a few miles away.”

“Can you deal with it yourself?”

Adam grinned. “I’m never by myself if there’s even a blade of grass around. You know what I can do with the forest right behind us.”

“Do it, then.”

Adam grinned wider, than shifted away.

And now, it begins, Yalak thought with resignation. He took a deep breath, then muttered, “Half a hand higher and the stroke will be cleaner, if you don’t mind.”

He had heard the startled grunt that followed more than a hundred times in his visions. Surprising his attacker so had never altered the outcome in any variation, however.

Yalak glanced over his shoulder to find Azran glaring at him, the Horned Blade still held up for what would have been a killing strike. In contrast to the others, Azran and the sword had wanted to take no chances with the veteran wizard.

“You try anything and I’ll run you through,” Nathan’s son warned.

“You plan to kill me regardless.”

Azran’s eyes darted left and right.

No... Yalak silently begged while his expression remained neutral. Not this variation!

Well aware of what the results would be, Yalak still tried to cast a spell.

The Horned Blade moved of its own will. Yalak tried to move in the opposite direction most of his visions showed him doing. The choice still proved a fatal one. The Horned Blade caught him in the chest, simultaneously already absorbing much of both his power and his life force.

The sword withdrew. Gasping, Yalak dropped to his knees. His body shook. He could barely move.

“Yalak!”

No...no...no... Yet, even though he protested, Yalak knew that he could not alter what would next take place. More and more of the variations had fallen aside, narrowing the possible outcomes. Still, however this ended up, Yalak prayed that he had at least guaranteed other, more important outcomes.

More important than the lives of he and his friends.

The cry came from Adam Gudwead, who, as predicted by Yalak, had returned after sensing the Horned Blade’s activity. Adam, who now made the blades of grass under and around Azran into true blades. The sea of daggers attacked Nathan’s treacherous son.

Unfortunately, one easy sweep of the Horned Blade did away with most of Adam’s attack. Adam immediately cast a second spell, drawing upon the nearest trees. Thousands of leaves flew from those trees, becoming a rain of sharp missiles.

In response, Azran brought the Horned Blade up before him. Holding the weapon with the point straight to the sky, he smiled wickedly at his new foe.

At that point, a plume of flame draped over the younger Bedlam.

Sssorak continued to exhale. Sitting atop the dragon, Tragaro urged his slave on. Azran disappeared completely in the plume.

All to no avail...all to no avail... Yalak thought as he tried to make his body work despite what the Horned Blade had done to him.

Sure enough, a second later, Azran’s outline appeared in the plume. The Horned Blade still held upward before him, Nathan’s son faced Tragaro and Sssorak.

Azran tilted the point toward the dragon.

The flames striking Azran turned back at the wizard and his slave. Their crimson hue changed to a dark, dark black.

Tragaro screamed as he was engulfed. Sssorak roared and quickly shut his mouth, but the black flames continued to sear both man and dragon.

Tragaro collapsed onto Sssorak’s back. The dragon, his head still ablaze flew into the air, clearly trying to use the wind to help douse the magical fire.

Hands seized Yalak from behind. He did not have to look up to see Adam Gudwead.

“I’ll get you out of here ---”

“No...go...” Despite knowing better, Yalak still prayed he could alter one minor point his visions demanded had to take place. “Go...g-go!”

But as every remaining variation dictated, Adam refused to leave him.

“Damn! Where’s he gone?” the other wizard muttered.

Yalak stared at the scorched spot where Azran had just stood. Yalak shut his eyes and swallowed.

“Aaa!”

Adam’s pained shout was followed by the other mage’s hands slipping from Yalak. The other Dragon Master dropped in a heap next to Yalak, the Horned Blade’s tip still piercing the back directly between the shoulder blades.

So, it is to be this vision, Yalak thought, tears streaming. Salicia...would that it could have been different.

The tip pulled free. The sound of footsteps dueled with the pounding of Yalak’s dying heart.

Azran stood before him. He looked both stronger and more maniacal.

“This is all your fault, you know!” Nathan’s youngest declared. “If you hadn’t intended to come after me, I wouldn’t have had to go after all of you first!”

Yalak had neither the might nor the will to argue with Azran’s insanity. He knew that the only voice Azran heard other than his own was that of the Horned Blade.

“Across the throat,” Yalak rasped. “If you do not mind.”

Azran’s grin widened. “Oh, I’ll do just that. I’ve got plans for you and the Egg.” The younger wizard --- no, Yalak corrected himself, Azran had slipped into that darker calling some labelled sorcerer --- looked around, seeking the prized creation. “Where is it?”

“Where you will not find it. Where others will.”

The Horned Blade flashed briefly. Yalak imagined he saw a pair inhuman eyes in the energy radiating between the two points of the hilt.

“Well enough, I suppose,” Azran grumbled. He raised the sinister sword high. “You’ll do well enough.”

Yalak refused to shut his eyes as the sword came around. He hoped that his death would at least make up for some of the tremendous guilt he felt for manipulating matters throughout the rebellion, even though every vision indicated he had had no choice.

 

 

Azran summoned a large dark red pouch. Letting the pouch float, he reached down and grasped his grisly prize...the head of Yalak. With little care, he dropped the head in the magical pouch.

Strings at the top of the pouch tightly bound themselves together. Azran seized the pouch.

“And now?”

Now...now we only need your son...

“About time...and I think I know exactly where they’ve been hiding his mother...I think it’s time to see Uncle Hadeen again.”

 

 

To Be Continued in Part Four