60: BROTHERS, AGAIN
Atrine, Jorat Dominion, Quuros Empire. Three days since Gadrith found Kihrin’s weak point
Kihrin held up a pair of dice. “So anyone feel like a game to pass the time?”
Brother Qown shook his head.
“Not a ch60ance in hell,” Thurvishar said.
Kihrin sighed.
Brother Qown raised his head and opened his hand. The metal twig had broken in two. “That’s it. That’s the signal. They’ve killed the dragon.”
“Thank the Eight,” Kihrin said. He drew Urthaenriel and slammed the edge down against the crystal.
The ground rolled under their feet, undulating.
Janel screamed as the ground tossed her up into the air like a small child playing blanket games. She hit the ground and scrambled to keep hold of something as the earth beneath her continued shaking.
Over on Lake Jorat, a whole giant section of the bridge leading to Atrine broke free and slid away. Then Janel realized she had the scale wrong.
A whole section of Demon Falls, holding back Lake Jorat itself, had just given way.
Not only was Tyentso still fighting Morios, but Janel had no way to reach her to tell her she had just seconds to slay the dragon, if they wanted a true death. And Janel was quite certain that she’d just watched their chance to permanently kill Morios this time slide away, thanks to Senera’s betrayal.
Only, what had caused the earthquake?
“I need a way over there,” Janel said to General Milligreest. “Is there anyone here you’d trust to open a portal?”
He glanced back in the direction the high lord had left. “No. And I’m not going to risk you or anyone else on the bridge in that condition.”
“I have to help them!”
“You tried,” General Milligreest told her. “There’s nothing more you can do.”
“I refuse to give up!”
“Sometimes you don’t have a choice,” Milligreest snapped. “Damn it, you’re as stubborn as your brother.” He stopped himself and winced.
Janel felt dizzy … it had never occurred to her … “I have a brother?”
“Not anymore.” Milligreest’s voice caught.
Her throat tightened at the grief in his voice. She didn’t ask what had happened. This wasn’t the time.
But then she frowned.
Brothers. Morios is looking for his brother, Janel thought. Morios thought his brother would be here too. Why?
Kihrin had speculated the dragons might all be children of the Eight, but what if it wasn’t so specific? Relos Var himself didn’t qualify, for example. He was Kihrin’s brother. So they weren’t children necessarily, but relatives of some sort. Children, parents, sisters … brothers. What if, on some level, dragons still remembered that familial connection?
Kihrin had said that the dragon Sharanakal was Thaena’s son and that he had laired near her island sanctuary. Aeyan’arric had stayed near her uncle Rev’arric, better known as Relos Var. Janel wasn’t sure which came first: Had Thaena chosen to stay near her son to keep an eye on him, or had her son chosen to stay near his mother? Had Relos Var stayed near Aeyan’arric, or the reverse? But if the pattern stayed consistent … there had been one of the Eight living in Atrine, hadn’t there?
“Khored,” she breathed.
Her father paid no attention. He probably thought she was cursing.
Janel bowed her head and prayed.
“Khored, please hear my prayer, for your brother Morios is here. Morios, who lays waste to Atrine, a city you love. Please help us, or he’ll scour this place to the ground—”
Khored said, “I can’t stay for long.”
Her father gasped and fell to one knee.
Janel looked up. Khored floated above her, red armor dark as blood, raven-feather cloak blown back by the wind. Everyone around them seemed to realize a god had appeared among them at the same time. She heard people dropping to the ground all around.
“We can’t stop him,” Janel told Khored. “Nothing’s working.”
Behind Khored, Janel could see explosions over Atrine. She had to assume Tyentso still fought to keep the dragon from smashing Atrine, and Morios still played.
The God of Destruction said, “Of course nothing is working. My brother is the personification of war, battle’s avatar. Combat makes him stronger. Relos Var should have told you.”
“Brother!”
“That’s my cue,” Khored said, looking over his shoulder. “I’ll distract him for as long as I can. We can’t kill each other. Believe me, we’ve both tried. Evacuate everyone from Atrine and find safe ground.” He waved a hand at Janel.
And the world shifted. She now stood inside Atrine. It was a horror of fallen buildings and crumbling masonry. Far too many bodies were visible in the streets.
Janel had no eyes for such disasters as she stood there, stunned and furious. Relos Var should have told them? Relos Var had known? Known combat would make the dragon more powerful, known Morios couldn’t be killed by violence?
But of course. Senera never would have betrayed Janel without her master’s approval, would she? This had been planned from the start.
Above Janel’s head, she saw Morios, now fighting two opponents. He was having a great time, despite the huge chunks of his scales that had been ripped away from where he’d freed himself of Tyentso’s magnetic caskets.
Wait. Why hasn’t he healed that damage?
“Don’t fight him,” she said aloud. The Name of All Things had said the only way to kill Morios was not to fight him.
Why in all the cold depths of hell had she assumed that the Cornerstone gave any answer but the literal truth? Senera could lie, but the Name of All Things never would. Morios couldn’t regenerate the injuries he’d inflicted on himself.
Janel turned around and began running toward what was left of the Temple of Khored.