59: THREE BRANCHES
Atrine, Jorat Dominion, Quuros Empire. Three days since everyone in a busy tavern failed to notice the emperor among them
Kihrin sat down on the throne and leaned back. “So … how are the nightmares treating you two?”
Both Thurvishar and Brother Qown raised their heads, looking surprised.
After a long, awkward pause, Brother Qown said, “Awful. I dream of caves filled with families who are choking to death or melting. Or choking to death and melting.”
“I told you not to research Quuros war curses.” Thurvishar shook his head. “I dream of Gadrith. It’s so hard to believe I’m finally free of the man.”
Brother Qown, who had been pacing around the throne room, looking at the mud-caked statues, turned to Thurvishar. “I’m curious about something. Relos Var once told me the only reason he didn’t kill Gadrith was because the man had something that belonged to him. And while Gadrith did, Relos wouldn’t move against him. So what was it?”1
“Okay, this conversation just turned a whole lot less ‘idle chitchat.’” Kihrin straightened.
“Why…” Thurvishar frowned, fingers absently turning the band of his father’s intaglio ruby ring. “No. No, I haven’t the slightest idea. Although … I did often sense Gadrith must have had some edge over Relos. But I grew up in the Capital, where everyone is blackmailing everyone.”
Kihrin cocked his head. “If it was information, it might well have died with Gadrith, but what if it wasn’t? Do you think he might have hidden something at Shadrag Gor or back at the D’Lorus estate?”
“You mean an artifact?” Thurvishar asked.
“Sure, why not? Relos Var claims he doesn’t have a Cornerstone himself, but I don’t believe him. All the other dragons do. Why wouldn’t he?”
Thurvishar blinked. “Wait. Just because he shape-changed into a dragon doesn’t mean he is one. Khaemezra did the same thing…”
“Yeah, but Relos Var is a dragon. Remember the dragon who flew overhead when I was in Kharas Gulgoth? That was Var.”
Thurvishar inhaled. “I suppose it might have been.”
“Well, If I were a dragon who could only be killed if someone had my Cornerstone,” said Qown, “and another wizard had it? I’d reclaim it the second I heard he’d died.”
“Yeah, I would too.” Kihrin sighed. “It was worth a dice throw, anyway.”
Janel stared up, dumbstruck, as the dragon reared back.
It hadn’t worked.
It hadn’t worked, and she’d done everything perfectly.
“Janel!” She had that much warning before Senera grabbed her, not physically but magically, pulling her from the path of Morios’s clawed hand.
“Aw, come back, little girl. We’re not done playing.”
“I’m so glad I’ve made a good impression,” Janel said, feeling hysterical.
A fractal circle opened in midair next to them; Tyentso stepped through.
“Cover your ears!” Tyentso shouted to Janel and Senera, as well as anyone else in proximity.
Tyentso pointed the Scepter of Quur at the dragon. Janel and Senera both put their hands over their ears. The air distorted as a beam roared from Tyentso’s scepter to Morios. A high-pitched, horrid sound emanated from the beam, impossibly painful to hear.
Where the beam hit, Morios’s body just … vibrated apart, the beam drilling right through him.
Oh, thank Khored, Janel thought. Surely this will—
Then Morios laughed again, and everyone watched in horror as the gaping holes through his body healed over.
“I take it back. I haven’t had a fight like this since my brother.”
But instead of attacking, Morios launched himself up into the air and began flying back toward Atrine. He turned and looked back over his shoulder as he flew, as if checking to make sure his audience was paying attention.
“What’s he doing?” Senera said.
“Baiting us,” Janel growled. “He knows we don’t want to see Atrine destroyed, so he’ll force us to go to him. As he said, he’s playing.”
“Oh, it’s worse than that,” Tyentso said. “He is going to hover over a crowd so I can’t try the magnet trick again.” She gave Janel a sympathetic look. “The medics are on their way. It was a good try. Sorry it didn’t work out.” She opened another portal and left.
“Damn it all.” Janel started to stand but then ground her teeth as the pain in her leg reminded her why moving was a bad idea.
“Wait here,” Senera said. “I can’t heal your leg, you know. Never could—you’re a two-healer job. Let me find someone.”2
“It’s fine,” Janel said through gritted teeth. “Help Tyentso. I can take care of this myself.”
“Good luck.” Senera paused and smiled at Janel. “You know, it was kind of fun at the end. Tell Thurvishar thanks for saving my life.” She summoned a portal for herself and ran through, tossing something to the side just before she did.
Senera’s final words sent a chill through Janel. She crawled over to where Senera had left and felt around on the ground, looking for what the woman had discarded.
Her hand closed on half a twig.
“No.” It couldn’t be the same twig. She had that twig. Janel fished under her bodice and pulled out the stick.
It was broken.
Janel had spelled the branch to resist breaking. Her falling to the ground wouldn’t have done it.
Then she realized what Senera had done. What Senera must have done.
There had never just been two branches. There had been three. Senera had anticipated Janel confiscating the twig. So Senera had enchanted a twig of her own, sympathetically linked to the other two. When Senera had broken that, she’d snapped the other two twigs, wood and metal both.3
But why? What could Relos Var have gained by sabotaging his own plan to destroy Morios? It had been his idea from the start, so why would he—?
Janel felt dizzy. She couldn’t count on any of her assumptions being true. What did she know? She knew Kihrin had Urthaenriel. She knew Senera had signaled Qown. She knew Kihrin was seconds from destroying another Cornerstone, assuming he hadn’t already.
What she didn’t know: what would actually happen. Destroying the Stone of Shackles had released the demons, after all …
Janel looked around. The army was in disarray, the survivors of Morios’s attack gathering the injured and dead. She saw her father—he’d survived—off in the distance in a yelling match with a green-robed D’Aramarin royal.
Milligreest would have a fast way to reach Tyentso. She’d just order him to—
Janel stopped herself. She couldn’t order Milligreest to do a thing. Khorveshans might not understand idorrá and thudajé, but they sure as hell understood chain of command. High General Milligreest knew who was in charge: himself.
Janel put her hand on her leg and concentrated on pulling in enough tenyé from the surrounding ground to heal her broken bone.4 Suless had taught her the trick of it. It hurt like someone putting a torch to her bare skin, but it worked fast.
She jumped to her feet. “General Milligreest!” Janel yelled. “High General Milligreest, I need your help!”
The high general paused in the middle of his confrontation with the High Lord Havar D’Aramarin. “Yes?”
“We’ve been tricked,” Janel said. “Senera and Relos Var have tricked us. The emperor has to contact Thurvishar—tell him to stop Kihrin from shattering the Cornerstone. Before it’s too late. Please, sir, I’m begging you.”
The high general gave her a hard look, but then he stared at a ring he wore—not an intaglio-cut ruby ring, but probably the same principle.
After a few agonizingly long seconds, Qoran Milligreest said, “She passed along the message, but he didn’t respond.”
Janel’s heart skipped. “What does that mean?”
“That he didn’t respond,” Qoran repeated. He turned his attention back to the high lord. “I’d leave if I were you. The emperor won’t be pleased with you when this is over.”
Havar raised an eyebrow. “She can’t hurt me. Literally can’t hurt me. Have you forgotten the restrictions that come with wearing the Crown and Scepter? She can’t so much as lay a hand on any member of a Royal House.”5
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” the high general said, smiling.
The high lord sneered and started to walk way.
Then the ground began to shake.