Dawnbringer Page 27

Sabyl smiled gently. “Daughter, you are naive to think it could be otherwise. Even gods have our limits. We leave it up to others to live their lives and, if they so desire, carry out our wills. Never are they forced into situations. Fate and circumstance may do so, but never do we command them directly. You will understand someday.”

  Nera scowled, a retort on her lips, when Malek’s form suddenly flickered and nearly disappeared. With a gasp, she leaped from the dais and reached for him. Their hands briefly touched, and Nera felt a spark for an instant before her fingers passed through his incorporeal form.

  “My time here is ended, my love. Choose well.” Malek then faded into the light.

  Nera had to squint against the brightness momentarily before it dwindled away. He had left her alone in the temple of the night once again. Tears did fall then, sliding down her cheeks.

  I’m not quite alone, she realized. Sabyl was still watching her. She regained her composure and met her mother’s eyes. After a moment, she nodded.

  It is time.

  Gathering herself, Nera stepped onto the dais once more, facing the chalice. The silvery light washed over her, and she felt an immense sense of calm. She took the rune-inscribed goblet in one hand, but it was surprisingly heavy, much more so than its size indicated, and she found she was unable to lift it, initially. With two hands, she raised the chalice before her. Silvery liquid resembling quicksilver sloshed inside. She steadied her hands, and the liquid stilled.

  Nera saw herself reflected in the quicksilver. Her eyes gleamed like embers, and cool blue runes flared on her horns. Gone was the youthful face of a plane-cursed orphan. She had grown into something greater.

  Gods help me. She raised the chalice to her lips and drank deeply.

  The fluid burned her throat like liquid fire. Or perhaps the quicksilver was the bitter cold of Yuez’hite. A myriad of sensations filled her. Light bloomed in her vision, and sounds like chimes filled her ears. Her skin tingled. She gagged, and her stomach convulsed, but she couldn’t release her grasp on the chalice nor stop swallowing the liquid—her muscles were locked in position.

  Once the quicksilver was gone, the last drop having fallen onto her tongue, her muscles loosened, and she staggered backward. A block of ice filled her stomach, burning, causing it to clench in an effort to retch, but nothing came up.

  Her heel stepped off the top step of the dais, and she lost her balance, falling backward. The chalice tumbled from her hands, but it never hit the ground, instead turning to gray smoke in midair.

  Time slowed as Nera fell. She felt weightless, losing her sense of direction. The star field yawned overhead, and she felt as if the stars would swallow her up. She realized her fall had ended and she was floating in midair, as if she lay atop the plushest bed of royalty. Pins and needles stabbed her body in a thousand places, and ecstasy raged through her nerves. She wanted to vomit and cry out in rapture from the sensation.

  The burning, icy sensation spread until it filled her from her toes to the top of her head. Her eyes rolled back, and her arms and legs flailed in the air. Pressure filled her head as knowledge rushed in.

  “This is my daughter Neratiri, Arronessalesyth.” Sabyl stood speaking to a great shadow dragon, Nera’s small hand held in her own.

  She watched as an outside observer and saw herself as a child, likely equivalent to a ten-year-old human and bearing a striking resemblance to her mother, with long dark hair and clear pale skin. Her eyes had a flickering glow in the pupils of the rust-colored orbs.

  The dragon lowered itself to its belly and bowed its head respectfully to Sabyl and Nera in turn.

  “My daughter, dearest of my heart, has a vital role to play in the future of the multiverse. I charge you with protecting her and raising her in the Nexus of the Plains.”

  “Of course, Mistress, I shall guard and care for her even more than I would any daughter of my own.” Arronessalesyth’s voice had a deep, rumbling timbre. His deep-green eyes gleamed like emeralds.

  “I know you will, faithful one. Her nature must not be known to any of my kin or their agents. Consequently, I must remove the spark of her divinity until she is a woman grown and ready to take on the mantle of rule. Her life will be hard, growing up knowing scorn and fear and hatred from those around her, for I will give her the form of a plane-cursed. I would have her grow up with compassion and wisdom learned from her daily struggles, to one day become an effective ruler.”

  Sabyl placed her hand atop Nera’s head, and the girl’s form shapeshifted—her skin darkened to a bronze tint, her hair turned lavender, her canine teeth grew pointed, and bone-colored horns grew from above her ears and curled down and outward. Once the transformation was complete, Sabyl smiled at her daughter and patted her on the head.

  The goddess spoke again. “In the event our adversaries gain awareness of the two of you, I shall need to make you forget this conversation, Arronessalesyth, and your true nature. Neratiri also will not remember any of this until she is ready to rule. She must grow into her own and not be unduly influenced by anyone, no matter how good or ill their intentions.” Sabyl placed a hand on Arronessalesyth’s brow and removed the dragon’s memories.

  Confusion clouded Arronessalesyth’s eyes as the goddess withdrew her touch.

  “Shapechange into a humanoid form, my servant, for you will be able to blend in much better with the mortal population.”

  The dragon’s form shimmered and shrank until a handsome half-elf stood before them, a few years Nera’s elder, with long blond hair and green eyes.

  “Neratiri, you will accompany Arronessalesyth. He shall be your guardian from now on. You will remember nothing prior to your arrival in Nexus. Say hello to Arronessalesyth.”

  Nera looked shyly at the half-elf standing before her. “Arron… Arronale… alesyth…” She stopped, unable to string together the syllables properly.

  The half-elf knelt in front of her until they were eye to eye. “You may call me Arron—I like the sound of that. And in return, may I call you Nera?” When she nodded, he gave her a roguish smile and a wink.

  When Nera reopened her eyes, she was levitating in the air a dozen feet above the temple’s floor. With a thought, she floated down and landed gently on the smooth stones.

  The stars seemed clearer now, as if she could reach out and touch them. The temple seemed smaller, less grand. Or perhaps it felt that way because she herself had become much greater. The strange sensations had gone. She had reclaimed her spark.

  She noticed the faint ache of her wounds. A touch disintegrated the spines impaling her. Once free of the spines, her wounds closed up instantly. She glanced at her metal hand and frowned. Concentrating for a moment, she sought to regenerate the limb, pouring power into it. The Abyssal iron thrummed and vibrated, yet her flesh was already bonded to the metal and wouldn’t form anew.

  Likely, I’m too late since my hand was lost before I recovered the spark.

  Her thoughts turned back to Malek—the thought of seeing him again made her smile. Her first thought was to summon him back from the grave. But something stopped her—the understanding that she would be acting out of selfishness. Nera the Rogue would have done so because it pleased her, with little concern for Malek’s wishes. But she was no longer that person.

  Malek was at peace. She had no right to ask him for more, to return to a world of pain and misery. Sure, he would return without complaint and perform any duty she asked because of his love for her, but that would be taking advantage of him. She would be no better than her father in that regard.

  She frowned at that thought. Nay, Malek has earned his rest. Let him be at peace and happy, reunited with his family.

  Since that matter was decided, she had to act to save Nexus and her friends.

  “You have chosen well, Daughter. Go and rescue your companions. Save your home. Once you leave here, you will never be able to return.”

  “Is it true? Am I forever bound to Nexus?”

  “Yes. That is your fate.�
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  “And it is not too late to save them?”

  Sabyl shook her lovely head. “No, mere moments have passed back in Nexus and across the planes. You can still save them.”

  “Then I will do so.”

  Nera thought of Nexus, of Arron, and felt a connection link them together across the planes. She stepped toward him and suddenly passed through time and space to be near him.

  Her senses bloomed, becoming a hundred or more times keener than before. Her perception expanded and embraced the entire battlefield, and she saw everything in an instant. Portals yawned on the Ashen Plain, and regiments of demons were pouring forth to break upon the thinning defenders of Nexus.

  Arron was in his true form, locked in battle with a massive horned demon, a general of the Engineer’s forces. Arron’s teeth and claws tore at the demon while his foe’s aura of unholy black fire corroded Arron’s scales and melted away his wings.

  Elsewhere, Endira was clutched in the talons of a winged demon, lifted high into the air to be dropped to her death on the ground below. The barbed stinger on the creature’s tail had punctured her breast, filling her with a paralyzing poison that also clouded the mind. She would be too late focusing her mental energy to save herself.

  A section of the Nexus wall was crumbling, blasted apart from a powerful spell cast by a great fiend. The nearest defenders looked over their shoulders in hopeless fear as tons of rubble rained down upon them, some pieces the size of oxcarts. Nera spotted Yosrick among their number.

  Waresh was bleeding from dozens of cuts and stab wounds that would eventually kill him, yet his cursed axe propelled him to further action as, bit by bit, it leeched his soul from him. He would soon be naught but an empty husk.

  The company of the Steel Rage had managed to reform their line and was surging forward, marking a small victory as they broke through the left flank of the fiend’s line. Wyat was waving his sword over his head as he sought to bolster his men’s courage. A giant black spear hurled by a powerful vezarun was mere feet away from impaling him and ending his life.

  Most of Nera’s friends were on the verge of falling in the next moments. The tide of battle would shift dramatically as the heroes perished. Nexus would fall shortly thereafter.

  “No, I cannot allow this! I can change this outcome.” Nera concentrated and reached out with her mind, seizing upon time itself and forcing it to slow. She couldn’t stop it altogether, but within her sphere of influence, she could alter it.

  Nera exploded into action. Ash, clods of dirt, and globules of blood hung in the air like a frozen rain, breaking off her face and body as she moved, their trajectories altered in her path. Flying arrows, daggers, spines, and spells hung in midair as she moved through them. She covered a bowshot of ground in a couple strides.

  Arron was nearest her. She pointed at his foe, and the great fiend burst apart in a slow-motion explosion of ichor and pulp. Its aura dissolved, the acid turning harmless.

  She pointed at the winged demon carrying Endira. It burned to ash in slow motion. Nera reached up and gently plucked the elf from the air, placing her on the ground a safe distance away from the thickest part of the battle. After a moment’s concentration, the poison in her bloodstream was neutralized.

  The crumbling Nexus wall she gestured at, halting its fall. With a thought, she redirected it outward.

  With one stride, Nera stood in front of her old friend Wyat. The cursed spear was hanging just inches from his chest. She touched the spear with her left hand, and it crumbled to dust.

  She thought for a moment about Waresh’s situation. The dwarf’s eyes were glazed over from his battle rage. Blood covered him, much more of it his foes’ than his own. She focused on Heartsbane and destroyed its sentience, thus breaking its grip on Waresh’s mind. Doing so fatally damaged the weapon—its magic would drain away until, once depleted, it would shatter into pieces. But her friend would be himself once again, no longer a slave to the axe’s murderous impulses.

  Pleased with her actions, she allowed time to return to normal. Roars and cries of the battle resumed. She sensed her friends’ astonishment as their fortunes in battle suddenly turned.

  The formation of fiends mustering before the portals suddenly became a field of carnage as the city wall, having had its trajectory redirected as if by a giant catapult, fell atop them like an avalanche, crushing fiends by the scores beneath the massive blocks.

  The battle was on the verge of turning for the time being, barring any new developments. But as long as the portals remained open, hope could not truly gain a foothold.

  The time had come for her to fight her own battle. Nera could sense the city’s tethers linking the Machine to the very fabric of the planes, holding the portals open indefinitely. She focused her power on forcing the Abyssal portals to close, but it was beyond even her new powers.

  The Machine must be mended. The Engineer must be brought to bear.

  She knew that, with the madness consuming her father, he would never willfully aid them. He’d rather let everyone be destroyed in battle in order to gain revenge on his brother.

  She herself had the power to fix the Machine but not the knowledge.

  “Perhaps there is a way,” she said aloud as an idea came to her.

  Chapter 30

  Endira’s stomach flipped, and she looked around, confused and unable to figure out what had happened. One moment, a winged demon had injected poison into her and snatched her up into the air, carrying her high above the battlefield as the poison swiftly paralyzed her body and clouded her senses. The next thing she knew, she was back on her feet, senses clear and body functioning once more, the demon nowhere to be seen.

  Her fortunes had turned in the blink of an eye.

  Around her, the battle still raged, yet somehow the tide had turned. Huge blocks of rubble had smashed through the center of the horde. Arron’s great form reared back and took wing over the battlefield. The dragon breathed on the fiendish legions, burning scores of fiends to a crisp.

  Before Endira could consider the implications of the change of the tide of battle, she felt Nera’s presence a split second before her friend appeared as if stepping in front of her from a great distance. She now understood what had occurred. Even though Nera looked different in form, with her porcelain skin and flowing sable hair and lacking her plane-cursed features, Endira recognized her friend. The blazing embers in her rust-colored eyes were the same. A sheer presence emanated from Nera, the force of her power nearly bludgeoning Endira’s attuned senses.

  Nera had become a demigod.

  Endira increased the strength of her mental block she already maintained, and Nera’s presence became tolerable again to her senses. “You have become what you were always meant to be, Nera.” It was a statement, not a question. “I knew you would succeed.”

  Nera nodded. She smiled and put her arm around Endira’s shoulders, and the elf drew on her friend’s divine strength. She felt renewed at her touch, the weariness and mental fog that came from exerting her powers too much suddenly gone. Nera seemed much more solid, more real than anything else around—bedrock amidst shifting sand.

  “I have become… something else, aye. But I am still me somewhere deep inside.” Nera spoke with a calm strength, yet inside was a hesitancy, as if she was unsure she was still truly herself at heart.

  “Of course you are still you. Your divinity is well earned. Do you know what your destiny is?”

  “I must rule Nexus in the Pale Lord’s stead. That means I must strike down both him and my father, whomever still remains, and end this war. I must do this before the war can be truly ended—the portals will remain open until I mend the Machine. Even my power has limits, and I yet lack the control to best wield it.”

  Endira looked at her curiously. “You sound a bit like Malek.”

  Nera looked sad for a moment but then smiled wanly. “I can truly understand what he had to live through now, for the first time. As you know, the enemy we face is cunning
and powerful—I must be careful that I don’t weaken myself by foolishly overusing my power. I’m afraid I shall need to ask for your help once again.”

  “Gladly—whatever you need,” Endira replied instantly. Such needless destruction and loss of life—whatever I can do to help end it, I shall.

  Nera told her what her plan was, and she agreed that it just might work.

  ***

  Clasping Endira with one arm, Nera teleported them to the square inside the city gates. She could already sense that a number of fiends had flown or teleported inside the walls, starting fires, slaughtering citizens, and causing chaos.

  That cannot be helped at this point, but better that than the alternative—tens of thousands of them running unchecked throughout the city.

  Smoke billowed from a burning building across the square, likely started by a fireball or flaming arrow setting fire to the roof. Nera snuffed out the flames with a thought.

  Around her, the men and women defending the gate became aware of her presence, stopping and staring or murmuring in hushed awe.

  The smoke parted in the road ahead, and a dozen figures approached, several carrying staves and simple weapons, the rest unarmed. They wore rough-spun clothes with crimson sashes tied around their waists. All had shaved heads or close-cropped hair.

  “Greetings once again, Lady of Twilight.” The man at the head of the group bowed low in respect, his companions mirroring his gesture. “I see you have returned in your true form! The Order of the Illuminated Path stands ready to aid you and restore the Balance in this time of troubles.”

  “Brother Cerador!” Nera had wondered what had become of the mysterious monk.

  “I’m humbled you remember me. You are much changed since our last meeting—as Master Dagun foretold, you have recovered your spark! How may we be of service?”

  Nera smiled at the odd monk. “I do have a task I could use someone to attend to. I would ask that you send some men to guard a gnome by the name of Flurbinger Flent and his crew, for they shall be needed shortly to restore the Machine so we can close these portals. He will be found in the caverns beneath the city where the Machine lies.”