FOREWORD
My dearest Lord Var,
Here’s the account you asked for on the history behind the current situation in Jorat. I cheated and took advantage of Janel telling the story herself, but best from the source, yes? And your little brother is even in here too, which I know you’ll find just delightful.
I didn’t make up nearly as much as you might think—it helps when you can use an artifact to check your facts. Our friend’s input was useful too. He didn’t want to contribute at first, but I convinced him to see reason. I’m sure he’d have gathered his records together into a semblance of order eventually, but we don’t have the time for that academic crap. No offense, but have you read his transcripts? He does love words, doesn’t he?
I’m glad I decided to do this myself.
I hope you’ll forgive my occasional artistic license, but if that D’Lorus brat can do it, why can’t I? I’ve left a few of my own personal notes along the way.
Anyway, turns out you can top killing the emperor, freeing every demon, and destroying half Quur’s Capital City, but then …
… you know how much I love happy endings.
Ever your faithful and obedient servant,
Senera
… one last thing, my lord.
I suppose I should explain what really happened in the Capital.
Long story short: this is all Gadrith’s fault. Our favorite undead necromancer decided that he and he alone was the answer to all those prophecies. Thirty years of him plotting to snatch Urthaenriel away from everyone, us included, just came to a rolling boil in the Capital. It didn’t work out well for Gadrith. Or for the Capital.
Gadrith needed the Stone of Shackles, which was a problem, because he had no idea where it was. We did—but he didn’t ask us, did he? No, instead he plotted and schemed and recruited a couple of royals to his cause—Darzin D’Mon must have been a real coup—until he finally figured out where it was: around the neck of a High Lord’s long-lost son, Kihrin.
Except that to get to that point, Darzin D’Mon’s mimic Talon had killed, oh, pretty much anyone Kihrin had ever spoken to. Kihrin hated Darzin’s guts. Still, Darzin claimed Kihrin was his son and laughable as that idea is, Kihrin’s real father let Darzin get away with it. After that, Darzin tried to mind fuck the poor kid into giving up the Stone of Shackles, mostly using Thurvishar D’Lorus and some slave girl Kihrin was sweet on.
It didn’t work. Kihrin gets no credit here. It didn’t work because Talon screwed it up, as you’ll find she’s in the habit of doing. Talon is the one who put Kihrin on that slave ship, and ultimately who we can thank for letting the Black Brotherhood get their claws into him. And while Kihrin did come back to the Capital eventually, it was four years later, with friends, and having been trained by literally the best swordsman in the whole world. Nice job, Talon.
But Kihrin underestimated Gadrith’s willingness to break the rules of polite villainy. The wizard took over the Blue Palace and started executing Kihrin’s family until he finally agreed to hand over the Stone of Shackles. Which Kihrin did. After which point Gadrith promptly killed him.
Or rather, Gadrith had Darzin kill him, sacrificing Kihrin to the demon Xaltorath during what was no doubt stage 517 of Gadrith’s great ‘conquer the world’ plan. You’d think being sacrificed to a demon would be enough to kill Kihrin for good, right? Once again, we can thank Talon. Neither Gadrith nor Darzin realized Kihrin had been gaeshed while he was away. Talon knew. So she’d grabbed Kihrin’s control talisman as a souvenir. Combined with our very own Janel personally escorting Kihrin’s soul to the Land of Peace in the Afterlife, it was enough for Thaena to bring Kihrin back.
And that, as they say, was that.
Sure, Gadrith probably thought his plan was coming up rainbows and puppies. Xaltorath had started a Hellmarch in the Capital, luring Emperor Sandus into the open. Gadrith then tricked Sandus into killing him while Gadrith wore the Stone of Shackles. And—since that’s what the stone does—that meant Sandus was now dead and Gadrith, now living in Sandus’s body, was the newest emperor of Quur. Nobody could stop him—he’d killed his own daughter Tyentso when she tried and left her body to rot on the Arena floor. Everything was going great.
Funny how quickly your fortunes can change when you’ve just murdered one of the Goddess of Luck’s favorite people. Kihrin might have been too weak to stand after being Returned, but he still managed to kill Darzin, find Urthaenriel, and destroy both the Stone of Shackles and Gadrith at the same time. Destroying the Stone broke every gaesh made using it, so that means all the demons are free now too. So’s Kihrin’s mother, Khaeriel. Who, by the way, killed every single member of House D’Mon Gadrith hadn’t already finished off except Kihrin’s father, whom she’s kidnapped. Pretty sure she has no idea her son’s alive. Do with that as you will.
Just to add insult to injury, remember how I said Gadrith killed his daughter? Thaena returned her without even being asked. After Kihrin had slain Gadrith, and after the magical barriers had gone up to keep the Crown and Scepter locked away until the next Great Contest. All Tyentso had to do to crown herself emperor of Quur was reach out and grab the damn things.
So good news: we have a new emperor. One who hates the Royal Houses. I’m excited to see where that leads.
And Kihrin? Kihrin did one smart thing: he left town. I couldn’t use magic to find him because of Urthaenriel, but we know he headed to Jorat next—which is where the chronicle attached picks up. Happy reading.
PART I
CONVERSATIONS IN A STORM HOUSE
Jorat Dominion, Quuros Empire. Two days since Kihrin D’Mon returned to Quur
The men paused at the ramp’s base to shake the rain from their sallí cloaks. Behind them, the black sky flickered, then lit up with blinding brightness. A second later, the crash of thunder rolled over them. The heavens opened to drench the ground.
“Shut that door!”
Before they could respond, Scandal, the gray fireblood mare, shouldered her way past. Her passage knocked the heavy oak barrier backward, and the high winds yanked at the unanchored door, forcing the two men to wrestle it back into position. One man closed the latch, locking it.
Stillness enveloped the men even as they heard the winds howl outside. Kihrin turned to his companion. “Why didn’t we go to Atrine again?”
The other man, a large fellow with a white star-shaped birthmark on his forehead, grunted. “Too many imperial soldiers in Atrine.”
“Right. That was it.” Kihrin eyed the stone building’s interior with suspicion. “Star, I know how much you love horses, but … is this a barn?”
As Kihrin D’Mon walked forward, the barn opened into a broad stone-lined vault nestled into the hillside. A herd of horses clustered at the rear, wide-eyed, ears flicking back at each peal of thunder. His gray fireblood, Scandal, joined them, sidling up to two large black fireblood stallions also present. Unlike Scandal, who resembled an oversized mare, the other firebloods’ not-a-horse natures showed themselves in red eyes and matching tiger stripes running up their legs. The other horses grouped around them like children seeking a parent’s protection.