The Veiled Prophet

XIII

The mage council consisted of one chosen member from each of the dominant clans, which numbered seven. There were lesser members from the next seven smaller but still powerful ones below those, but they had no vote. They could recommend or bring up articles for debate, though. This gave them some influence and, thus, less inclination to protest the rulings by the senior members. In this manner, the mage council kept order among themselves, even when many clans were involved in bitter and deadly feuds with one another.

There was an additional factor that served to keep the council above the infighting. The enforcement arm had been created to make certain that no mage, whatever his position, escaped punishment for breaking the covenants set in place by the council. It drew to its ranks spellcasters willing literally to give a part of their essence to the council and thus no longer belong to a clan. Such mages were chosen carefully using many criteria, including trust in their determination to see their orders through to the end regardless of the obstacles.

And so, when Amolia appeared in their midst, she was acknowledged by the council and other attending mages as befit her position. The visiting masters of the guilds also eyed her respectfully; to them, the enforcers were the most trusted—if that word could be used for any of those present—of spellcasters.

The current leader of the council—the bearer of the title changed with each new moon in order to maintain fairness—stared down from the high platform where he and his counterparts sat and, in a voice cracked with age, demanded, “Where is this Uldyssian ul-Diomed? You were supposed to return with him!”

“He won’t be coming,” the figure before him replied. “I am here in his place with a message.”

A combination of surprise and disdain crossed more than one wrinkled face among the mages. Several merchants, most of them far more corpulent than the council, also appeared disproving of the announcement.

A well-coiffured figure with an elaborate emerald-encrusted nose ring declared, “We agreed, in great part due to the request of Prince Ehmad and the memory of our own lamented Fahin, to come to this gathering. If the mages have played some trick in cooperation with this Ascenian—”

“The Ascenian has made no advance pact with the council and would be turned away if he dared so,” returned the council leader. “We would not think of such a disrespectful action against our brothers in the guilds…”

Several of the guild masters smiled knowingly. As powerful as the spellcasters were, they depended too much on the guilds’ wares.

Throughout this exchange, Amolia—Malic—remained quiet. Only when all eyes turned back to him for explanation did he continue, as planned. “Master Uldyssian is not coming, but, as I said, I am to be his messenger.”

“‘Master’ Uldyssian?” The council leader grunted. “You have no masters but us, Amolia…”

Bowing low, Malic put a smile on his stolen face. “No longer! Master Uldyssian has shown me the truth. I exist to follow his path and remove from it all he has deemed heretical.”

“What does she mean by that babbling?” demanded a guild master. Several of those beside him rumbled their approval of this question.

Malic turned slowly to face the man. “It means that he has given me the honor of taking the first step toward liberating the people of Kehjan from the mages and the guilds!”

There were shocked protests from all around at this damning statement. On both sides, members of the gathering rose in anger.

Malic suddenly felt the might of the two who had sent him on this mission fill him. He suddenly knew how puny the powers of any of those in attendance were compared with Inarius or the Lord Diablo…or even him now.

“Amolia!” grated the council leader. “Your very words condemn you. Such foolishness! You know too well the hold upon all of your order. It shall be used now to mete out proper punishment for your declared betrayal, after which the Ascenian—Uldyssian ul-Diomed—shall be declared enemy of Kehjan and marked for death by all.”

Roars of approval rose from both spellcasters and guilds. Malic was unconcerned about the threat of punishment to Amolia. As she no longer existed, what essence they had of her was useless.

Besides, it was time for him to follow his commands.

“But it’s not I who is to be condemned,” he retorted, his smile widening. “Master Uldyssian had already condemned all of you!”

Malic did not even have to gesture. All he had to do was stare around him and let the will of the angel and the demon be done.

The tiny, glittering blades formed in the air around him, then shot forth like hungry flies in every direction. They spun with a swiftness that caused each to emit a faint buzzing sound, a sound multiplied by the thousands.

The guild masters certainly had no chance. Some wore protective talismans bought from greedy mages, but none of those so much as slowed the slaughter. The twirling blades cut through thick garments, then flayed flesh. Men screamed and tried to hide, but there was nowhere for them to go, for before unleashing the blades, Malic had sealed the exits.

The mages fared little better than the guildsmen. Most were too caught by surprise to cast any protective spell. A few managed to ward off the initial blades, but the power of Inarius and Diablo far outstripped even the most powerful of those assembled here. What success any mage initially had proved fleeting.

And so they were slaughtered. The gleaming silver blades—shaped like arced slivers—fulfilled their monstrous purpose. Blood splattered the chamber everywhere, so much that it pooled in many spots on the floor. The screams died down, becoming sobs from here and there…and then silence.

There was little left recognizable. Not an inch of skin remained on any of the victims. Aware that the Kehjan methods of torture preferred flaying, the angel and the demon had visited upon the gathering what they felt was quite an appropriate fate.

With the smile still playing over his host’s face, Malic, untouched by either blade or blood, calmly made his way around the chamber. He paused here and there to inspect a body, but, not finding what he was looking for, he quickly moved on.

At last, the dread spirit located his prize—or two, to be exact. One was a mage, a part of the council, in fact. His life was passing swiftly, but Malic put a hand to his gory torso just where the heart—partially visible—was beating its last.

He felt the will of Inarius flow through. The flayed man let out a gasp. The heart beat a little faster. Of necessity, the pain had also been slightly lessened. They wanted this one alive…temporarily.

Malic performed the same ritual for a guild master whose left leg had been all but amputated by the blades. Gobbets of the rotund man’s flesh lay spread around him like some macabre blanket. He, too, received the angel’s gift.

There were witnesses now. They would survive just long enough to relate their tales, then pass on. The same spell that had kept them from death would also guarantee that they would recall enough but not too much. Their stories would be very similar but from their differing perspectives. The angel and the demon had made certain that there would be no questions from those who discovered them about just what had happened and who was responsible.

Uldyssian, of course.

Already there came banging on the doors. The guards and the mages with them likely did not understand why nothing they did opened the locks or removed the protective spells.

Malic sensed one or two more fleeting lives but knew that those poor fools would not be able to answer any questions. His mission here was done. Under normal circumstances, the medallion he had used to enter would now have required the work of one of those on the council to allow him to leave again. However, the powers he currently served made that unnecessary.

Malic grinned at the carnage, bowed…and disappeared.

He should be dead, drowned in the water.

But he was not, a fact made stranger by the discovery, when at last he was able to open his eyes, that he was still at the bottom of the underground canal.

To his credit, Uldyssian kept from panicking, despite this unnerving revelation. He could vaguely make out movement above him, most of it refuse flowing on. Without moving so much as a finger, the son of Diomedes cautiously sought to find the cause of his salvation—if that was what it was.

At first, Uldyssian thought it the work of the demon, but that made no sense at all. It had been intent on devouring him, that much had been obvious. Therefore, why preserve his life?

What else, then? Or rather, who? Kethuus? Again, Uldyssian knew that he followed a false lead. He had been conscious long enough to see the mage fall. Kethuus was either dead or immobile. There had been no help from him.

Then…who?

Something moved against the current. It was little more than a dark shadow, but it immediately made Uldyssian think of the demon again. He tensed, watching it as best he could.

It hovered at the corner of his eye, never quite coalescing into something that he could recognize. There were glimpses—mere glimpses—of what he believed were long, plantlike appendages and maybe the bulbous body, but never could Uldyssian be absolutely certain. Nonetheless, his heart pounded faster, and had he been on the surface, the son of Diomedes would have broken out in an anxious sweat.

Then there came a voice in his head, one that sent chills through him. I’ve saved you, mortal…saved you from certain death.

Who are you? Uldyssian thought back. What are you?

The shadow moved a bit more into his line of sight. Again, Uldyssian thought he caught glimpses of something that resembled the attacking demon, but now there were other images as well. For a moment, he could have sworn that it was Inarius himself who hovered so close, and the fear that the angel had at last trapped him sent his blood surging yet faster.

It is not he who has come to you here, the voice said with some hint of mockery for having been mistaken for the Prophet. The angel would leave you to die, but I am not so heartless!

Who are you? Uldyssian repeated, now wondering how he could have ever thought for even an instant that this shadow was his foe. Inarius did not touch his primal instincts so. Who?

The shadow shifted closer yet. Dread memories of Malic arose, then passed, only to be replaced by a beauteous yet even more unnerving face briefly crossing Uldyssian’s thoughts.

Lilith.

He fought down these resurrected fears. Lilith was dead, and Malic would not have left him untouched. They had nothing to do with what was happening now.

The shadow receded slightly. It spoke again, its tone soothing, placating. They cannot touch you, Uldyssian, not while you’re under my protection. As for who I am, I’ve many names, and some you know. One of those is Dialon.

Dialon! Uldyssian understood immediately both who and what had prevented him from drowning. Dialon, said to be the spirit of Determination by the Temple of the Triune. Dialon, who Uldyssian knew was actually of the same blood—if one could use that term for demons—as Lilith, for he was brother to her father, the terrible Mephisto.

Diablo, Lord of Terror, was the only thing that kept Uldyssian from drowning.

You need have no fear of me, Diablo said, no doubt sensing the human’s unease. All things are turned about on Sanctuary, where angels commit sin and demons must try to make amends. I saved you because we two are much alike, for we’re all that stands between Inarius and this world’s death.

Despite his predicament, Uldyssian found himself caught up by the master demon’s words. What Diablo said about Inarius was very true. The Prophet clearly saw sin as something others did, not himself. His actions were “necessary.” That hundreds died because of the angel’s ego did not matter in the least.

Yes…you see him correctly. Inarius is mad in a manner that sends fear through the High Heavens and the Burning Hells. Yet he cannot be touched, for he’s tied to the very foundation of Sanctuary, the Worldstone! It’s his power, his existence!

Uldyssian could find no fault in Diablo’s statements, though he had not considered that both the High Heavens and the Burning Hells knew all that was going on. That sent a further chill through him. If both sides in the celestial conflict of which he had learned feared Inarius, then what did that mean for humanity’s hopes?

The demon drew so close that Uldyssian could swear Diablo stared directly into his eyes. The son of Diomedes steeled himself. He had faced demons before.

There was a moment of silence, as if, for some reason, Diablo had to mull over his thoughts. Then…But the angel is not so invulnerable as believed. You proved that…and you proved that you can reach into his very core and put fear into him.

Me? But how?

You changed the Worldstone without even understanding it! You did what no other could and what the angel could not unmake. This gives us a chance if we are willing to strike quickly.

It had come to what Uldyssian had not believed possible. Diablo, Lord of Terror, was offering a pact. The demon wished to ally himself with a mortal against an angel.

It was so mad a notion that Uldyssian would have laughed if able to do so.

I am not Lucion, son of my brother, who preaches only hate. I am also not she who lived to twist all around her finger and then rip out their beating hearts. There is much I can offer in trust.

There was only one thing that Uldyssian wanted at the moment, and that was to reach the surface again. He found it suspicious that not once had Diablo offered to raise him out of the channel. Did the demon expect that Uldyssian would consider his offer while still trapped motionless yards underwater? If so, then truly Diablo and his ilk did not understand the thinking of mortals.

Return me to the ledge, he demanded. Then we can continue talking.

The shadow weaved about in the water. Uldyssian was very aware that he did not see the true form of the demon lord and was grateful for that favor.

In truth, you are safer here for the moment than anywhere else, mortal. Both the natural magic of water and my own power shield you from Inarius even now. Were I to bring you to the surface, you would immediately risk discovery.

Uldyssian did not care one bit about such a danger. Like most humans, he had a healthy respect for water, especially how easily it could fill one’s lungs. I want away from here!

The danger is too great, but perhaps there is a way. But for it to succeed, you must open your mind to me, allow me in a very small way to touch the power within you…just the slightest touch should do it.

As the shadow spoke, Uldyssian suddenly felt as if the water pressed down a thousand times harder on him. He grew claustrophobic, the sensation that he was about to be crushed or drowned magnifying beyond belief. Uldyssian started to agree to the demon’s suggestion…but at the last moment somehow held back. A part of him questioned anew Diablo’s reluctance to do anything until after the human had opened himself up.

That same part also finally questioned whether the Lord of Terror was actually even the one who had saved him. Why would Diablo leave him like this? Uldyssian doubted the reasons the demon had given. They sounded more like a means to keep the human at this terrible disadvantage, where he might be willing to sell himself entirely in order to escape this predicament.

And that made Uldyssian finally realize just who had initially kept him from drowning after he had destroyed the other demon. It had been none other than himself. Only now did Uldyssian sense the truth of that, and he knew that the reason it had earlier escaped him was Diablo’s machinations. The demon lord had fed his innate terrors, making the son of Diomedes unable to focus enough to understand.

And still Diablo tried. I sense Inarius near! Hurry! If we bind our strength together, we can bring him down!

An urge to do as the shadow said arose within Uldyssian. Only with extreme effort did he manage to hold back from agreeing. Then, before anything else could deter his thoughts, Uldyssian began concentrating on freeing himself.

A wave of anger struck him. The demon lord dropped all pretense. You’re mine! You have no hope against me, human! With but a whim, I shall rip off your arms and legs and slowly feed your bleeding torso to my ravenous pets who even now fill the waters!

Scores of dark shapes swam through the water toward Uldyssian. He suspected that they were only illusion, for Diablo still likely sought his surrender but dared not take the chance. With all his will, Uldyssian sought to rise from the channel and release himself from the spell his subconscious surely had created.

The insidious school closed on him. Crimson saucer-shaped eyes stared hungrily. Mouths full of rows of sharp teeth opened to bite.

With a swooshing sound, Uldyssian shot upward. He broke the surface and continued several feet higher. Only when his head was mere inches from the ceiling did his momentum abruptly cease.

His arms, his hands…his entire body was his again. Uldyssian marveled that he floated above the water. As a youth, the former farmer had often imagined what it might be like to be a bird, but never had he expected actually to experience such flight himself.

From below came a wild roar. Out of the water burst the monstrous shadow, and as it rushed up at Uldyssian, it transformed a hundred times. Each incarnation was more horrific than the last, and nearly all the son of Diomedes could trace to his own innate terrors.

But despite his fear, Uldyssian stood his position. He also knew that he had to do more than that. He had to find some defense against Diablo. Only one thing occurred to him, one wild hope that seemed more likely to leave the Lord of Terror laughing in his face.

At his will, a fountain of water rushed up between him and the demon with more swiftness than Diablo could summon. That water even more quickly froze, its sides taking on a frosty but also mirrorlike finish.

And so Diablo looked upon himself.

Under any other circumstances, Uldyssian doubted that the demon would have been affected. Prepared for such a trick, the Lord of Terror would have adjusted. Here, though, Uldyssian’s spell happened so quickly, and with so much instinct as opposed to preparation, that the demon could not have known what to expect.

Thus, Diablo inflicted upon himself that which he did unto others. The fears he had been thrusting upon the human altered to his own.

The shadowy figure let out a shriek that nearly made Uldyssian flee in mindless panic. Somehow, though, the son of Diomedes held. To do otherwise was to fail.

Diablo twisted and turned as his own insidious power wreaked havoc on him. He had only glanced for a moment, but the fears of the master of fear were evidently monstrous, indeed.

Still howling, Diablo rushed up into the ceiling—and through the very stone. His cry echoed throughout not only the underground passage but Uldyssian’s soul.

It took the human a moment to realize that he was alone. Extreme exhaustion seized hold of Uldyssian. The frozen column of water collapsed, returning to the flow. Only with effort did he manage not to join it, instead using his will to push him to the ledge.

Once there, he leaned against the wall and caught his breath. Although Diablo was gone, and with him what little illumination there had been, Uldyssian saw well in the dark. First, the magical field that had kept him from drowning, and now this. Again, his powers had adjusted to his needs without him even consciously summoning them.

That made him recall what Mendeln had said, about his abilities controlling him more than he controlled them. For a second, Uldyssian seriously considered the repercussions that his brother had hinted at—and then laughed at himself for fearing such. He and his abilities were one; how could he possibly be a danger to himself or anyone else because of that?

His head finally began to clear a little. Recalling Kethuus, Uldyssian rushed over to the mage, who still lay unmoving.

Even before he touched the spellcaster’s chest, Uldyssian sensed that Kethuus was still alive. In fact, the dark-skinned man was in the same state the son of Diomedes had been in when first captured by the aquatic demon.

Not certain exactly what he was doing but positive that he could succeed, Uldyssian held his hand a few inches above the mage’s body and ran it along the length from the heart to the head. At the same time, he willed Kethuus to be released.

The mage gasped, then coughed several times. His eyes, which had been staring blankly, now focused.

“Ascenian…” he murmured. “Uldyssian…is it…is it dead?”

Only then did Uldyssian realize that Kethuus knew of nothing concerning what had happened past the moment of his capture. That struck Uldyssian odd, for he had been conscious all the while. Had his will been that much stronger than the other man’s?

“It’s dead. I boiled it alive, which was no more vicious than the fate it planned for us.”

“Of that I have no doubt.” He accepted Uldyssian’s hand. The latter pulled him to his feet, where Kethuus wobbled uncertainly for a few moments before regaining his balance. Once that was accomplished, the mage immediately summoned a light. “Without any aid, I do not think I would’ve fared as well as you.”

Uldyssian eyed the murky water. “Wanting to live can enable someone to perform miracles.”

“Not like yours.” All trace of haughtiness had vanished from Kethuus. “You are everything I heard and even more. You could have also left me to rot, and you did not do that.”

The mage’s change of heart encouraged Uldyssian greatly. If someone as hard-skinned as Kethuus could be made to see the truth, then there was true hope of persuading the mage clans to join with him against not only Inarius but apparently a demon lord as well.

The mage clans. Uldyssian grimaced. “Kethuus, how long have we been down here?”

His companion immediately saw the reason for his concern. “I fear many hours. But have no fear. I will speak for you, Uldyssian! I—”

Kethuus suddenly clutched at his chest. Uldyssian reached to help him, but the dark man shook him off.

“They are…using that part of me that I sacrificed to the council to find me! It is how they track enforcers who vanish, for our tasks on occasion are met with violence.” He straightened. “They know now where I am. No doubt, when we did not appear, they questioned Prince Ehmad and discovered we were together.”

“Odd that they couldn’t find you before now.”

His comment was rewarded with a white but grim smile. “The demon’s spell must have shielded us from such.”

They had no chance to say more, for around them there materialized not one but nearly a dozen hooded mages. Among the newcomers was the lone figure that Uldyssian would have recognized, the gaunt baritone, Nurzani.

“Kethuus,” intoned the skeletal mage, his deep-sunken eyes darting between his comrade and Uldyssian. “Stand away quickly!”

“Nurzani! What—”

The new arrivals raised medallions and staffs in Uldyssian’s direction. Kethuus held up a hand in protest, but Nurzani gestured impatiently, and the dark man suddenly vanished from Uldyssian’s side. A moment later, he appeared behind the other mage.

“Now,” Nurzani commanded.

But before they could do whatever it was they intended to a stunned Uldyssian, there came a rush of water that caught the attention of all. From out of it flew a flood of ivory-colored objects varying in size and shape. In less than the blink of an eye, they gathered between the circle of mages and their intended target.

A familiar and very welcome voice resounded through the tunnels. “Uldyssian! To me!”

Mendeln! There was no one whose appearance could have gladdened Uldyssian’s heart more. Nevertheless, he hesitated a moment, as startled as the others by what his brother had clearly wrought.

A wall formed of bone not only prevented the mages from reaching Uldyssian but momentarily deflected whatever spells they were attempting. The bones themselves were of many origins, from obvious scraps dropped from the world above to those of the types of creatures that lived off the garbage—and one another. There were also human bones, far too many human bones, a grim reminder of not only the city’s lengthy history but the violent aspects of it throughout the generations.

Mendeln had attempted something like this in the past, but not nearly on so grand a scale. The macabre wall shimmered under the mages’ onslaught, but it held.

Kethuus appeared to be shouting a protest to Nurzani, but the other spellcaster was clearly disinclined to listen to him. The skeletal figure reached into a pouch.

Frustration surged through Uldyssian, frustration quickly shifting to outrage. These mages now attacked him without giving any cause. He could only assume that they had planned betrayal all along.

His outrage stirred his power. He felt it strain to be unleashed and saw no reason why not.

A hand grabbed his shoulder. Teeth bared, he turned to find his brother.

“Stand away, Mendeln!” Uldyssian growled. “They’ve brought this on themselves.”

“No,” his sibling replied soberly. “They have very good reasons for hating you.”

Mendeln’s statement caught Uldyssian by surprise. He started to protest—but his brother, eyes narrowing, suddenly looked behind him.

“No!” He thrust something into Uldyssian’s palm, then shouted a word that the elder son of Diomedes could not understand.

The tunnel was momentarily filled with searing light, and then whatever Mendeln had given his sibling emitted a glow of its own.

Uldyssian’s surroundings altered. The tunnels and the burning light vanished. A calming darkness swept over him. He landed on something soft—moist ground. Around him, different sounds arose, the sounds of jungle life.

Still needing to orient himself, Uldyssian dropped to his knees. His breathing calmed and the rage that had engulfed him in the tunnels faded again.

As reason returned, he noticed a faint but comfortable coolness in his hand. There was also a dim glow that reminded him of starlight.

Peering down, Uldyssian discovered Mendeln’s ivory dagger. Even as he eyed it, the faint glow ceased.

Thinking of his brother, Uldyssian twisted around to return the dagger to him…and only then discovered that Mendeln was not with him.

“He was more concerned with you and what you might do,” declared a voice from the opposite direction.

Turning, Uldyssian faced Rathma. “I have to go back for him!”

“Nothing would please me more than to rescue him, especially as it was my lapse that allowed him to be manipulated into following you to Kehjan.” The cloaked figure approached. “But if you return to the tunnels and confront the mages, there will be no hope whatsoever of healing what may already be beyond our abilities to mend.”

As usual, Uldyssian understood very little of what the Ancient meant. He only knew that his brother was among enemies after seeking to rescue him. “I’m going back!”

Rathma shook his head. “Uldyssian, you are not aware of what has taken place these past few hours. The mage council and many of the leading guild masters—all gathered to meet with you—were brutally slaughtered.”

The news struck Uldyssian like a rock. “Slaughtered? How?”

“By one of their own…who claims she did it in your name. They seek her, too, but more to the point, you are now declared a fiendish murderer whose followers must also be put down. The mage clans—nay, the entire capital—rise up to war upon the edyrem.”

It was the nightmare that the son of Diomedes had feared early on but was certain that he could prevent from ever happening. He did not have to ask who was behind it. Inarius, naturally. Inarius—and for some reason, the demon lord Diablo likely had a part in the matter.

And then there was this female mage who, no doubt through the angel or the demon or both, had wielded such might as could brutally slay seasoned spellcasters. He suspected that it had been Amolia—but not truly her. She was not the type easily turned.

Malic had a new body and evidently a pact with those seeking Uldyssian’s downfall.

Yet his concern for himself was minimal. Uldyssian held up Mendeln’s dagger, intending to use it to help him return to his brother or even bring him back. However, the dagger looked different from any time he had seen it previously. It was pale in a more ominous manner, pale and lifeless.

The Ancient shook his head. “I feared as much. When I sensed you but not him, I feared the worst.”

“Stop speaking in riddles, and help me do something!”

“But there is nothing you can do for Mendeln,” Rathma said with utter calm. “Nothing you can do for him at all. Look at the blade. The link between him and it is cut.” He bowed his head. “Your brother is lost to us.”