I never landed a single blow on her.
I never came close.
I tossed my sword and shield aside and went back down to my knees.
I felt cold metal across my neck as the two blades came to a stop against my skin.
“I don’t know why,” I repeated. “She asked me if I wanted her protection. She didn’t look like a demon. She looked like a beautiful woman. So I said yes. But I never submitted to her. She once—” I didn’t quite dare swallow, aware of Thaena’s stare the whole time, a single motion capable of ending my existence. “She once claimed my mother—my real mother—made a deal with her to protect me. I didn’t believe her then, and I don’t believe her now; Xaltorath loves to lie.”
“Yes. Yes, she does. Look at me.” The blades nudged my chin upward.
I felt her voice in my bones as much as heard it. I dared not deny the order.
I looked up. Our eyes met.
Looking into Thaena’s eyes meant staring into the mirror of every past sin I’d ever committed, every wrong, every hurt. Those eyes saw all. Every shameful deed or deed of which I should have been ashamed. Those eyes said, I have seen all you’ve done. You can hide your sins from all others, even from yourself, but not from me. Never from me.
I found a kind of comfort to it.
I know that sounds odd, but there can be comfort in ripping the scab off a wound. Pain, yes, but relief. Finally, this is out in the open. Finally, I have confessed my sins. Finally, someone knows.
I didn’t see her drop the swords or put them away, but they vanished. She took my face in her hands as she continued looking into my eyes, examining my features.
“Who is your lord?” she asked me. “Who owns your thudajé?”
“The Markreev of Stav—” I began to answer.
“No,” she corrected.
I shuddered as I realized the truth in that single, simple word. Supposedly, I owed my thudajé to the Markreev of Stavira, Aroth Malkoessian. Supposedly, I knew my place, gave him my loyalty. Yet in truth, I’d had none for him since the day he’d decided to place his son’s ambitions over my house’s honor. So who was left? Xun, Duke of Jorat? Possibly Duke Xun. But I hadn’t seen the man in years; it’s difficult to be loyal to someone who is only a name.
Then I realized the obvious answer.
“You,” I said. “The Eight. You have always had my thudajé.”
Her gaze continued to trap mine, judging and righteous, but her hands shifted their position until they cradled my cheeks. She bent over and kissed me on the forehead before letting me go. “I was wrong about you.”
“Wrong?” Was that good or bad? Did she mean she shouldn’t have spared my life?
She turned away, releasing me from her gaze. I felt like I had been held up on strings, freed to slump against the ground and regain my breath. I sought out the vané man for some explanation, but he stared at me as if he’d never seen me before.
“I have a bad habit of writing off people as lost causes too soon,” Thaena explained. “I assumed that once Xaltorath had her claws in you, you would be lost to us.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Mother didn’t believe me,” the Manol vané interjected at last, “when I told her you aren’t a demon yet.”
Thaena spread her hands. “In my defense, it is unprecedented. Demons devour or demons infect. Demons do not show mercy.”
I raised my head. “I wouldn’t call it mercy.”
That stare again from those mirror eyes. “No, I can see why you wouldn’t.” She held out her hands, benediction or apology. “I was wrong about you,” she said again, “and therefore, you haven’t received aid that might have served you. So now I owe you a boon. What do you want? Ask me a favor, and if it is in my power to grant, I will do so.”
My heart beat so fast I could hear nothing else but its rushing in my ears. A boon from the Goddess of Death. I could’ve asked for enough metal to restore my family seat, to buy back the liens owed to the Markreev of Stavira, to regain my vassals’ loyalty in Tolamer. I could’ve asked for the death of Oreth, the man who had forced me from my own home, or for Thaena to Return my grandfather. I could’ve asked to see my parents again …
I shut my eyes in pain. No. I couldn’t. “If it is in my power to grant” didn’t include Returning my parents or even seeing them. My parents’ souls lay beyond the reach of gods.
It’s not easy, in our dual and intertwined worlds, for someone to truly die, but it can be done. Demons most easily bring this true death to others.8
But in any case, I could only make one request and still live with myself after.
“Then I ask this: put a stop to Relos Var.”
Thaena blinked at me. Then she chuckled and turned to her son. “What have you been telling her?”
“It’s not me,” he protested. “She found out about the wizard all on her own.”
“Please,” I said, standing to my feet. “I know Relos Var is plotting ill in Jorat. He has a witch and a dragon giving him aid, and I don’t know his goals, but they cannot be good.”
“Oh, you don’t need to convince me,” Thaena said. “I know better than anyone just what he’s capable of doing. Unfortunately, you have named a boon not in my power to grant.”9
I felt faint.
I had assumed Relos Var to be strong. Strong enough, anyway. But strong enough to dwell beyond the gods’ judgment? I stared in shock.
“Indeed, stopping Relos Var is a topic that much preoccupies myself and my brethren in the Eight,” Thaena admitted. “So instead of helping you, it will be the reverse.”
I frowned. “I don’t understand.” She did something with her hands. Nothing flowery, but one second her hands were empty, and the next she held a spear. A golden spear, beautiful and shining. She offered it to me.
Mind you, spears aren’t my preferred weapon.
I couldn’t remember any occasion where I’d ever used one. I’d practiced with swords or maces for the greater part, which isn’t the same thing at all.
However, when a god hands you a weapon, you take it. You don’t ask for a different style.
The metal felt warm in my hands. The long, barbed spear was decorated along the shaft with sun symbols. It was light and well balanced. Without being told, I knew every inch was magical.
“Her name is Khoreval,” Thaena explained. “An old friend owned her. If I’m correct, then she’s one of the few weapons in the whole world that may be able to slay a dragon. I regret I cannot give you the weapon itself.”
I looked up at the goddess, meeting her smile with my own. “Is that so?” Then her words sank in. “What do you mean, you cannot give me the weapon? It’s right here.”
“No child, this is but a seeming. The real Khoreval is kept hidden behind many locks in the palace of Azhen Kaen, Duke of Yor, who is Relos Var’s champion.”
“That does complicate matters.”10
“So it seems I’m giving you a quest rather than granting you a boon. Recover this spear in the Living World. If the spear is capable of slaying dragons, then you have an opportunity to remove one of Relos Var’s greatest weapons—Aeyan’arric.”