104. SLEIGHT OF HAND

Kihrin’s story

The ritual cave under Raenora Valley

After being given the power of the Eight

I swung at Relos Var with my sword.

Not a single one of Doc’s lessons had ever prepared me for this kind of sword fight. Filled to bursting with tenyé, unable to use any of it, fighting an enemy who was immune to any spell I might use that magic to cast. Knowing that if I lost control, the consequences would be apocalyptic.

Relos Var looked annoyed, but he met me blow for blow.

“Nice. You’ve been practicing,” I told him. I kept my voice light. I had to. I couldn’t just fight him. I had to pretend it was easy.

“Oh, fuck off,” Relos Var snarled.

I put one hand behind my back, let my posture do the work of communicating an insouciant disregard. It wasn’t the arrogant posture it seemed to be. I moved my fingers in a “gimme” motion while I slowly circled, waiting until the moment I felt someone slip the cool crystal facets of a rough Cornerstone into my hand. I tucked a finger under one of the chains.

I was running out of time. I could feel the pressure inside me pushing at the edges, seeking a violent escape. It took all my self-control to keep that energy inside despite the agony. My control was slipping.

But Relos Var knew that too; he was starting to look concerned. If I called his bluff and refused to enter the portal, there was an excellent chance that my death would take everyone with me.

Neither of us wanted me to destroy the world.

“Is this grief?” he said. “I can bring Janel back, you realize. Teraeth too. But not if you lose control.”

“Who said I was going to lose control?” I sounded amused and just a touch arrogant. I gestured toward my chest. This was the point where I’d find out if matters had truly gone wrong or not. I’d had to take it on faith, for all this time, that Doc waited out there somewhere in the darkness. But now I knew for sure: he was the one who’d just handed me a Cornerstone, after all.

We’d known from the beginning that the only way this would work was if Relos Var was under Chainbreaker’s influence. But we’d also known that Relos Var would be expecting that—that he knew I’d bring Valathea with me so she could use the Cornerstone on him the same way that she had on Thaena.

For this to work, he had to know, with absolute certainty, that he’d already taken care of that threat. That Valathea had been removed from the equation.

Which she was. If only she’d ever been the one wearing Chainbreaker.

And Doc? Well, Doc was dead. Everyone knew that. Even once he’d confirmed that his enemies had somehow imbued eight new Guardians, Relos Var had no reason to think that Xivan had been the Goddess of Death for long enough to make a difference.

On cue, the darkness dropped away from me, an “illusion” at last discarded to reveal my “true form.” It also revealed the brilliant yellow diamond that lay glittering on my breast.

Skyfire.

I grinned. I didn’t know what the illusion covering me showed, exactly, but I trusted Doc had made my smirk as annoying as possible. The man was good at this. “You were right to be upset when Gorokai stole what you were hiding at the Temple of Light. Turns out this bauble has an amazing capacity to store power. More than enough to hold all the bullshit you’re throwing at me. But hey, thanks for giving me the powers of all eight Guardians.” I cocked my head. “Maybe not the way I’d have gone with that one.”

I twirled the fingers of one hand, and the shadow sword I’d been using vanished, replaced by a blade of red glass. Khored’s sword. A visible reminder that he’d just given me the power of eight gods.

Relos Var’s eyes widened. His expression was something a person less familiar with the man might’ve been inclined to call fear. Because if he’d been paying attention—and I assumed he had—then he might have noticed Sheloran using Skyfire earlier. He knew the Cornerstone was here. Doubt would creep into his mind. Had Sheloran using Skyfire been nothing but a ruse, so he wouldn’t think to look for it elsewhere? Did I indeed possess Aeyan’arric’s (and by extension, S’arric’s) Cornerstone? Chainbreaker could’ve pulled off that illusion earlier, but not now, not when its wielder Valathea was dead.

Which meant I wasn’t bluffing. Without the accumulated tenyé of practically the entire human race dumped into me in addition to all eight Guardians, perhaps I didn’t have an overwhelming amount of tenyé, after all. Maybe I wouldn’t explode. If so, I wouldn’t have any reason to make a signature S’arric heroic sacrifice. Which meant the only thing preventing me from killing him outright was Urthaenriel. But even that artifact only granted him a reprieve. We both knew I was the better swordsman.

My brother panicked.

Time stopped.

I experienced a moment of perfect awareness. I might have chalked it up to Taja’s powers—watching the dice fall one by one and knowing exactly how the numbers would land. But this was a bit like rolling those dice and knowing with absolute certainty that they’d keep spinning on their points.

A ludicrous, impossible, improbable gamble.

There was no small irony in how much easier Relos Var’s own gambit had made this. Easier and harder. I could barely stand, and I had to grit my teeth and tense every muscle to keep the energy inside from cataclysmically exploding outward.

Relos Var hadn’t miscalculated, even if he’d convinced himself otherwise. I didn’t have much time before I’d have to dive into that portal circle and hope someone sent me to the other side of the Nythrawl Wound. Doc was using Chainbreaker to conceal my rapidly escalating condition—to keep any hint of the truth from sneaking out—but I knew how close I skirted the edge of catastrophe. I was an eyelash away from truly ending the world.

Especially since I wasn’t carrying Skyfire.

That stone still rested in Sheloran’s grip, being used to fight off raging dragons. Doc had slipped an entirely different Cornerstone into my possession, at the last possible minute, to minimize any chance I might accidentally damage the stupid thing before it could do its job.

I saw my brother think through all the angles, the solutions, all the ways he might possibly manage to salvage this calamity. I saw Relos Var glance down at Urthaenriel, which he’d previously only required in order to command Vol Karoth. Now it must have seemed like salvation.

I watched Relos Var come to the same conclusion that I myself had once discovered when faced with a similar situation against an opponent I couldn’t kill: that Relos Var didn’t have to kill me when he could destroy the Cornerstone instead. If he shattered Skyfire, I’d be right back where he wanted me. And if Relos Var injured me, that was perfectly acceptable as long as I ended up in that circle. Like the Cornerstone, I would recover, and by the time I did, I’d be locked away in another universe. Cost, risk, potential reward, all weighed, juggled, and assessed in an instant. I doubt it was a hard decision.

Especially for someone who was an utter bastard.

On the other side of the room, Janel inhaled. I glanced in her direction.

Relos Var took advantage of that moment of distraction. He stabbed me, piercing Urthaenriel through the Cornerstone hanging from my neck.

Making sure an attacker missed you was far easier than making sure they hit—but exactly where you wanted. I wasn’t standing where Relos Var thought, so Urthaenriel didn’t shatter the Cornerstone. Urthaenriel also didn’t stop before she entered my chest. I ended up having to throw myself forward to make sure everything lined up correctly, but it was close enough.

Urthaenriel pierced my heart.

The death stroke was as precisely placed as if Doc had wielded the blade. Just one of several reasons that it had to be Doc using Chainbreaker and not Valathea. I loved the woman. She was much better at crafting illusions that fooled the senses. There was no one better than Doc, though, for crafting illusions that might trick you into killing your friends.

Or killing your brother, in this case. Relos Var had struck true. A perfect, fatal, final blow. Or final for eight seconds, anyway.

Eight seconds was enough.

Relos Var withdrew the sword. His brows drew together as he tried to comprehend what had just happened.

“I couldn’t kill my own brother,” I told him. “But I can’t stop you from doing it to yourself.”

Doc always had a fine sense of drama, so every illusion in the cave fell at the same moment. My glowing silhouette returned, still unstable and gorged with power. I was revealed to be standing a foot in front of my previous position. But aside from those changes, I likely looked the same as I had before, except for two vital differences.

The clearest was the lack of Skyfire. As I’d said earlier, I wasn’t wearing it. I wish I had been. It would have made dealing with all that tenyé so much easier.

But thanks to Doc, I was carrying a Cornerstone.

I’d been practicing relentlessly, for days, to make sure I could without destroying it. That it would still be there at the vital, pivotal moment.

I opened my hand and let Relos Var see what I’d been holding when he struck the killing blow.

The Stone of Shackles.

It fell from my fingers and hit the cavern floor with a grave and final sound.