“But, of course, most glorious one.” Arihan felt his brow begin to furrow in concern and perplexity, but fought the action away. He would keep a face of calm adoration, no matter what peculiarity the Primus next exhibited.
Yes, surely this was some sort of test…
The Primus fidgeted. Then, as if aware of how he looked, his aspect grew stern. “High Priest Arihan! Do you have anything to say?”
“N-nay, most glorious one! I but await your word on what it is you wish of me!”
“Very good…very good…” A small, black form—a spider, Arihan realized—crawled up out of the Primus’s collar. The leader of the Triune paid no mind to the vermin, even when it began making its way up his neck. “This—I have a plan to bring the mortal to our cause, High Priest Arihan. A masterful plan! But it must be implemented quickly, for it involves our brothers in Hashir.”
“Hashir?” repeated the priest, trying in vain to keep his gaze from shifting to the arachnid. It now crawled on the Primus’s jaw, still apparently undetected.
“Hashir…yes, Hashir will be the perfect place to turn this all around…”
Arihan bowed to the Primus’s wisdom. If he had a plan, then surely it would come to wondrous fruition.
The spider now crawled near the ear, two legs even probing within. Try as he might, the high priest of Dialon could not help but stare at it.
Spiders…there was something about spiders that Arihan had once known. What was it—?
With astonishing reflexes, the figure on the throne suddenly snatched the arachnid up. The Primus clenched his hand, crushing the creature within.
“There is something wrong, my Arihan?”
It was the first time since the gaunt man had entered that his master had not used his title. Although unsettled, Arihan managed to shake his head.
“So good…so good…” The hand remained clenched. The Primus smiled wide…something he had never done before. “You are to be my agent! This is what you will do that will bring the human Uldyssian to our side…whether he wishes to come or not.”
Arihan bowed his head and listened as the Primus outlined his intentions. He listened and all thought of the master’s recent quirks were quickly buried deep in his mind. After all, Arihan lived to serve the Primus; in the end, that was all that mattered.
That…and the knowledge that even if there might now be a hint of madness in the son of Mephisto, the Primus could still crush Arihan as simply as he had the spider.
9
Darkness surrounded Mendeln, darkness that felt as if it went on forever. Uldyssian’s brother suspected that if he ran and ran as hard as he could for as long as possible, he would find no change in things. It would still be dark and empty. A part of him was unnerved by that…but another part was morbidly fascinated.
Still, his concerns for Uldyssian overrode that fascination and the longer Mendeln stood alone and silent in the darkness, the more impatient he became to return…if such a thing was possible. He was, after all, very likely a prisoner.
Why this betrayal, Achilios? he asked himself. Why steal me away when I only wanted to reunite you with the others? What reason could you have for stopping me?
“Because what you would have done would have had very unfortunate repercussions,” replied the voice he knew so well from his own mind.
A shape emerged from the darkness, a shape that yet still seemed very much a part of it. The tall, very pale man with the features too perfect. The cowled figure stood a full head higher than Mendeln, something the younger son of Diomedes had not earlier noticed.
“What repercussions? What? Speak some sense! What repercussions?”
But instead of answering those questions, the other turned from him and looked up…not that Mendeln saw anything different when he, too, stared in that direction. There was simply more of the darkness.
The stranger—no, he had called himself Rathma —quietly asked the emptiness, “Well? Can you sense what she is about?”
And the emptiness answered.
No…she is well shielded in this regard. There is perhaps only one who knows best how to infiltrate that shield and learn the truth…
Rathma frowned. “And we cannot exactly expect my father to be of assistance…as he is more likely than even her to try to reduce me to dust.”
There is that small matter…
Mendeln’s head throbbed each time the second voice spoke, as if his mind was not strong enough to fully accept its presence. He clutched his temples, trying to regain his balance.
Forgive me…the voice said, its intensity much reduced. I will endeavor to keep within your bounds…
Rathma helped Mendeln straighten. “The first time he spoke to me, I thought my head would split open.”
“Did not mine do so?” Mendeln blinked, again seeking the source of the voice. “Who is it who speaks to us? I have heard him before, too!” To the darkness, he suddenly railed, “Show yourself! I’d know all my captors!”
“But we are not your captors,” Rathma quietly returned. “Hardly that. Nor, definitely, your enemies.”
“Not my friends, to be sure! Or else why take me from Uldyssian’s side, where I should always be?”
Because, if you wish to be there for him when you most need to be, you must be with us now…
“More riddles? Who are you, speaker in the shadows? Cease hiding from me!”
Rathma tsked. “There can be no going on with explanations until he sees you, my friend,” he said to the emptiness. “But recall that he is mortal.”
He is not so much less than you, Rathma…
“I never said otherwise.”
Listening to the pair, Mendeln sensed how long they had clearly known one another. There was a bond here as great as that between him and Uldyssian…
Know me, then, Mendeln ul-Diomed…the voice declared, keeping its intensity to a low booming in his head. Know me as Rathma here does…
And suddenly there were stars in the darkness above, a blazing multitude of stars that swirled about as if caught up in a tempest. They filled the area above to the point that Mendeln had to shield his eyes. At first there seemed no rhyme or reason to their movements, but quickly they began to spread apart and settle into certain areas. As they did, Mendeln noticed that a shape began to form, a shape only half-seen, yet seen enough to finally identify it.
It was a creature of myth, a thing in fairy tales and stories, but never truth. Uldyssian had cheerfully frightened Mendeln with tales of such when the latter had been a small child…and Mendeln had savored every story.
But now… now to see such a giant, especially one composed of stars… Mendeln stood gaping and speechless.
It was a dragon. A long, sinewy, serpentine dragon beyond epic proportions.
The dragon has chosen you…those words or ones very close to them had been etched on the stone in the ghastly cemetery Mendeln had found himself in while staying in Partha. The dragon has chosen you…
The celestial creature shifted, its “eyes” a startling array of smaller stars. Know me… it repeated. Know me as Trag’Oul…
“The One Who Is Forever,” added Rathma, almost blandly despite the astounding spectacle. “At least, that is one meaning. There are several.”
But Mendeln barely heard that, for as the dragon spoke, he constantly shifted…and in doing so, revealed a more stunning facet. Within each of the “scales”—the stars—Uldyssian’s brother beheld short glimpses of life… his life. There he was as an infant, in his mother’s arms. Mendeln cried out at the sight of her, the pain of her loss—of his entire family’s loss—suddenly renewed.