Kihrin collapsed.
“Oh sun.” Qown threw down the branch. “I think I’ve given him a concussion.” He bent down to check on Kihrin, kicking Urthaenriel away. Finally, he exhaled in relief.
Relos Var said nothing and watched.
The small open space under the lake fell into silence.
“Why?” Relos Var asked at last, tilting his head.
“You were going to kill him,” Brother Qown said.
“I was not,” Var protested. “I need him alive for my plans to succeed.”
Brother Qown nodded. “Good.” Tears rolled down his cheeks. “Because at least you have a plan. Because you’re the only one who has a plan. I don’t think the gods do.”
“Give them some credit. The Eight have a plan. Unfortunately for all of us, it’s a really bad plan,” Relos Var said. “They want a stopgap measure, something quick and certain to buy them, oh a few centuries at most. But we only have one immortal race left who could seal Vol Karoth back in his tomb. Even if the vané sacrifice their ageless existence to re-imprison Vol Karoth, what will we do then? When this inevitably fails, just as the last measures did?” Relos Var snorted. “The demons will be free. A broken god who wants nothing more than to devour the universe will be free. And do you know what the worst part is, Qown?”
Brother Qown wiped the tears from his face. “No?”
“The worst part is those things I just mentioned are not the worst part. Every living creature on either side of the Veil will be destroyed long before Vol Karoth sates his hunger. The worst thing isn’t Vol Karoth and it isn’t the demon hordes—it’s a flaw in the universe. And every minute and every second, that flaw grows a little larger. It won’t stop until our entire universe is ripped apart. And that is our real enemy.”
Qown shuddered. He looked down for a moment at Kihrin, at Thurvishar—both still unconscious. He tried not think about Janel and how the fight up above was unfolding. She’d never forgive him.
That is, if she survived.
Relos Var’s expression softened as he smiled at Qown. “Do you really want to help me? It won’t be easy. People will die. You will be forced to make difficult choices.”
“I’m making one right now.”
“True.” Relos Var looked down at Kihrin’s prone body. “Ah, little brother. You should have listened to your instincts. The mistake you and Janel made—even after you knew I controlled Aeyan’arric—was being unable to imagine why someone would unleash a dragon—and then show you how to kill him. You couldn’t imagine anyone using a dragon as bait.”
Var continued, “Morios only slept under Lake Jorat because I asked him to do this for me about, oh, three hundred years ago. He didn’t wake because of any prophecy. He woke and attacked Atrine because I ordered him to. Naturally, it was no coincidence that it only happened now, after you’d found Godslayer. Urthaenriel is the only weapon I know that could safely shatter a control beacon, and you performed your role perfectly. Truly, I have missed you.”
“Uh…” Qown fidgeted. “You know he can’t hear you, right?”
Var rubbed his chin. “I make it a point to never correct an enemy’s mistakes when they can hear me.”
“But wait,” Qown said. “If the prophecy wasn’t about Morios…”
A flicker of disappointment crossed Relos Var’s face as Qown failed to grasp what he thought should have been obvious. “In the twentieth year of the hawk and the lion, beneath the silver sword, the sleeping beast’s prison shatters. The dragon of swords devours demon falls as night takes the land.” He waved a hand. “I told Duke Kaen the entire quatrain centered on Morios, but I lied. That part about the dragon of swords refers to Morios, which is obvious. And easy enough to orchestrate. So what does the rest of the quatrain really mean?” His tone turned into something appropriate for the classroom.
Qown bit his lip. “I don’t know.”
Relos Var gestured for him to continue. “Do better.”
Qown shifted. “There are a few inconsistencies. I would interpret ‘as night takes the land’ to mean sunset, but this fight didn’t happen at sunset. It happened at dawn. Atrin means silver sword in Guarem. That’s why everyone thought the prophecy referred to Atrine.”
“Keep going. Work it out.”
Then Qown blinked as a new thought occurred to him. “But Morios wasn’t imprisoned, was he? Just sleeping. And not sleeping under Atrine, because there’s no place under the city big enough to fit a dragon his size. Those caves we saw under Khored’s temple are too small.” Qown concentrated as he worked through the problem, forgetting where they were. “So that phrase doesn’t even refer to Atrine. And if it’s not Atrine, then maybe silver sword means something else. Maybe it’s a description. If we rearranged verses, then ‘beneath the silver sword, the sleeping beast’s prison shatters’ becomes ‘the sleeping beast’s prison shatters—beneath the silver sword.’” His gaze settled on Urthaenriel, which had fallen into the mud, but it was still bright, vibrant, silver. It had indeed shattered something too. Crystal shards lay all over the throne. The light that had streamed off into the darkness was now absent.
“Then … that…” Qown started breathing fast. “Oh sun. That quatrain was about Vol Karoth, wasn’t it? The ‘sleeping beast’ is Vol Karoth?”
“Technically, every prophecy is about Vol Karoth. But yes.”
Qown felt his heartbeat drum in panic. “What have we done?”
“What did I just say about difficult decisions? And what we have done is bought humanity time,” Relos Var explained. “I know it doesn’t seem as if waking up Vol Karoth is helpful, but think about our circumstances. The last time the demons roamed free, before Grizzst the Mad gaeshed them all just to prove he could, god-kings ruled this whole continent from coast to coast. Say what you want about those little tyrants, but they kept their pocket kingdoms safe from demons. So what did the Eight Immortals do—through proxy Quuros emperors—once the demons had all been tamed? They slew every god-king they could. They only pardoned those who surrendered their old fiefdoms. The god-kings protect nothing in Quur now, while the Eight Immortals cannot be everywhere at once. We’re overrun.
“The Eight Immortals may be far more powerful than the god-kings, but they aren’t omnipotent. Each time some poor fool dies in a Hellmarch, the demons become stronger and more numerous. But what scares demons more than gods or god-kings? Vol Karoth, whose unending hunger is sated just as well by demons as by any other kind of soul. The demons will hide now. They’ll retreat. Hopefully for long enough so we may do what we must.”
“How can I help?” Qown asked, then paused. “Wait, can I help?”
“Of course you can. Never doubt yourself, Qown. I singled you out for special training when you first came to the Temple of Light. That’s because I saw the potential for greatness in you. As for how you can help, start by picking up that sword.” Relos Var pointed to Urthaenriel. “Trust me when I say it’s best for everyone if I don’t.”
“But as soon as I pick up Urthaenriel, any spells I’m maintaining will fail. The water will come rushing in—” Qown’s eyes widened as he glanced at Thurvishar and Kihrin.