84. THE NAME OF ALL THINGS

Relos Var’s story

Raenora Valley in the Raenena Mountains

Evening

Relos Var suspected that rituals upturned the natural order in multiple ways. Unlike real life, where it was easier to destroy than create, with rituals, it was far easier to cause an effect than unmake one. It had taken him close to a thousand years to figure out how to reverse the ritual that had created the Guardians. Even then, it would only work because that first attempt had been the rough and unpolished precursor of what followed.

He could untie a group of humans from concepts that made them like gods, although not without risk—the harder someone struggled against the ritual, the more they’d hurt themselves. They’d shred themselves to pieces spread out over the universal firmament, not just dead but left desolate and scattered on a spiritual level. A fact that he no longer considered a flaw, given his plans. The most dangerous part of the spell had always been that the intended recipients of the same would immediately know his location. That would have meant a lot more back in the days when seven Guardians would have shown up. And now, with the steps he’d taken? Barely a concern.

Relos Var had never found a way to undo what had turned himself and his compatriots into dragons. That was a snarl of tenyé too tangled and dense to be freed.1

In any event, the ritual was a drawn-out remarkably lonely affair even if Drehemia and Anlyr were both patiently waiting for him to finish. Drehemia, at least, had been interested in the ritual itself; she’d taken considerable delight in discussing the details of his discovery, how he’d gone about testing it, what the possible ramifications might be.

She’d agreed that ritual would do what he thought.

Ultimately, however, there was only one way to know for sure.

What gave him pause when the ritual concluded was simple: no one had shown up to try to stop him.

No one had shown up at all. Not even S’arric.

Which meant that either S’arric, Tya, and Khored had died when he wasn’t looking (technically possible but extremely improbable), they’d chosen to ignore the implications of the ritual and cooperate fully (equally improbable), or they hadn’t thought the ritual would work.

This last idea seemed to have the most merit. He checked the prepared ritual circle. Nothing. It was empty. Even if he somehow hadn’t felt the residual release of rebounding concepts, the energies should have gathered here. But the circle was empty and showed no signs of having ever been used. None of the Guardian elements of power had gathered within its confines, as he’d devised.

He scowled and walked back outside. Drehemia and Anlyr both trailed after him. Both knew better than to try to talk to him immediately.

He came outside to find it was night. When he looked up into the sky, he saw … stars. A beautiful, brilliant field of stars, luxurious and glittering in intensity. A sight to bring tears to one’s eyes at the sublime beauty of it all. He was so visually arrested for that moment that he almost missed why it was so odd that he might see the stars this way.

Tya’s Veil was gone.

He just didn’t know if it was gone before he finished the ritual or because he finished the ritual. But no, he was certain that a Guardian’s death or dis-imbuement wouldn’t undo the magical effects of their actions. Perhaps the Veil would have faded when it eventually drained the tenyé needed to power its existence. But for it to fade now?

Tya had lowered the Veil.

“You there.” Var pointed to one of the guards. “When did Tya’s Veil vanish?”

The man looked up at the sky in shock, eyes widening. Var realized he had no idea; he’d only realized it was gone because Relos Var had pointed it out.

Anlyr slowly scanned the area before turning back to Var. “Early evening. About three hours ago.”

“That’s too early,” Drehemia said. “That’s much too early. The ritual hadn’t even finished yet.”

“Stripping the Guardians shouldn’t have removed the Veil, anyway. I assume she did it because of how the sun’s changed? We would’ve needed to lower the Veil, anyway, wouldn’t we?” Anlyr was clearly looking to Relos Var for confirmation. Which was odd because Anlyr was nearly the same age as he was, give or take a few centuries.² There was no reason Anlyr couldn’t understand the science just as well as Var himself.

“Yes, we would have. Lest we wanted a frozen world.” Var looked toward Anlyr and confided, “I had quite enough of that in Yor, thank you.” He ignored the brief, piercing ache as he thought of Senera. He put her out of his mind.

“But what does it mean?” Drehemia asked. “The ritual didn’t work, did it?”

“Indeed, it didn’t. But why? No one should have been able to resist that. The only way it wouldn’t have worked was if it didn’t have a proper target—” Relos Var paused. “Didn’t have a proper target,” he repeated. “Because you can’t loose an arrow at a target that doesn’t exist.”

He recognized the move and the style. C’indrol. Or Janel or whatever they wanted to call themselves. Janel, who loved big, bold plans and understood the importance of denying weapons to the enemy.

Relos Var began laughing. “They beat me to it. Ah, my students are too clever by half.”

“Professor?” Drehemia looked understandably concerned.

“They conducted the ritual first,” Relos Var said.

“How?” Drehemia said. “I thought you said that you were the only one who knew it. That even knew it was possible.”

“That is what I thought, yes,” Relos Var said, “but it’s the only explanation that makes sense. Perhaps Grizzst left notes. They must have stripped the remaining Immortals of their positions before I could.”

“So we progress to the next step,” Drehemia said.

Anlyr gave her a scolding look. “You think they’re going to give us time for that? Now why would they make our job easier if they didn’t have a way of making sure we couldn’t take advantage of it?”

“Do you have some sort of point? And if yes, could you please make it?” Drehemia squinted at Anlyr. “I have things to do.”

“My point is that if we give them time, they will re-create the Guardians, and we won’t have any idea who the next Guardians will be.”

“The ritual to create the Guardians takes days,” Drehemia said. “What we’re doing doesn’t. If we start now, we’ll beat them to it. Easy.”

“What does it hurt to take the time to confirm?” Anlyr said, “You don’t know these people. They’re not stupid.”

“Excuse me? I don’t know Mithros and Irisia? Who do you think—”

Anlyr shook his head. “I’m not talking about Mithros and Irisia. Whatever with them. I’m talking about Senera. We have to assume that Senera discovered how the ritual works and then told Thurvishar and his crew how to perform it. If they’re smart—which they are—then she used the Name of All Things to re-create it before she restored you.”

Relos Var began paying closer attention to the conversation.

“Yes, fine,” Drehemia snapped, “I’m sorry that my sanity is proving such an inconvenience. Let’s assume for the moment that they beat us to it and stripped themselves of their own godhood. How would they keep us from fastening a new source to those same concepts?”

“The same way you prevent someone from being gaeshed,” Relos Var said. “They know how long the imbuement ritual takes. They must have taken steps.”

Drehemia cocked her head. “From being what?”³

Anlyr waved a hand. “It doesn’t matter. You think they’ve found a faster way to create Guardians.”

“Exactly so.”

“It really is a shame that we don’t have the Name of All Things,” Anlyr said.

Relos Var felt a curious sort of pain. Damn. Yes, it really was.

It had felt so nice to have Drehemia back too. So nice to have one of his old students back, someone loyal and smart, who trusted him. She’d understood him the same way Irisia had, but without the blasted insistence on “helping him be a better person.” He’d been able to talk about the ritual sources with her—the dragons—when he hadn’t dared mention them to anyone else. Most of all, it had been Drehemia. Despite her dreth ethnicity, she’d been like a daughter to him.

He was going to miss her.

Drehemia pressed her lips together, clearly unamused. “Yes, such a shame. If I could go back to being insane and give you the stone, I would.” Sarcasm dripped from every word.

Relos Var said, “Good. I’m glad we’re in agreement.”

Drehemia startled and stared at her teacher. The surprise on her face melted away as she waited for him to deliver some punch line, let her know that he was joking. But no such punch line was forthcoming. A grim understanding replaced the fading shock, and Relos Var knew that she understood. She’d known him for too long to expect clemency because they were close.

Relos Var’s lip curled. “Find solace in the knowledge that it’s for the greater good. And I’ll cure you once this is all over.”

Drehemia stared at him like she held on to some faint belief that he didn’t mean it, but any hope of that quickly drained from her eyes. “Revas,” she whispered. “No.”

“Run,” Relos Var told her. “It would be a shame if our fight destroyed the camp, but you know it won’t stop me.”

Her eyes widened. She took one step back, then another, then turned to flee. Her body began to shift and flow, darkness wrapping around the draconic shape like veils as Drehemia took her shadow dragon form again.

She vanished.

It little mattered. Var had placed a spell on her that would allow him to continue tracking her. He gave Anlyr a single nod, then jumped into the air and let the transformation take him as he soared upward.

It would have been easy to say he hated being a dragon, and that was why he took the form so rarely. That would’ve been a lie.

He loved being a dragon, loved it with a singular focus and sense of purpose, which was terrifying when he returned to a human shape. Being a dragon felt every bit as elemental as he would have imagined, godlike in power, momentous in intensity. Every time he changed, he wondered if this would be the time he couldn’t force himself to change back, not for lack of skill but for lack of desire. Every time he transitioned back into a human, he vowed to never turn back into a dragon except for the most extreme of needs.

Recovering the Name of All Things qualified.

He focused on the spell he’d cast, found the twisted coils of tenyé drifting through the air in Drehemia’s wake, and followed her.

Relos Var hunted.