“If he knew you lived, he would come after you,” Galiana said from behind him.
Stefan didn’t bother to turn. He couldn’t bear to look at her face. “You knew all along he intended to kill them. Why didn’t you get them away from Seti?”
“He would not stop hunting all of you if we did,” Galiana said. “He was not going to harm Thania, but there was no way to stop him. If he forced you to release the sword to him, he could use the same divya we command during our age Forging. Only the gods know what he would be capable of then.”
“Do you really think he’ll believe I’m dead?”
“The bodies the Sven left cannot be affected in any way. Not even to sense if they are fakes. The power Nerian released made it impossible to identify them beyond a doubt. The man so believes in his own strength I am willing to bet he will convince himself you died.”
“And the sword?”
“He will believe we have it.”
“How could one man be so strong?” Stefan asked.
“We are unsure if he is simply a man.”
“What is he then? A god?”
“Not likely,” Galiana said.
“How are you so sure? He used the Streams, Flows, and the Forms. All three elements, Galiana, at one time.” Stefan stared down at the army as portals opened to allow in more soldiers, these bearing flags from other Ostanian nations. “He Forged essences from all three elements at once,” he repeated to himself yet again.
“There have been quite a few occurrences of late, of old powers seen only in the greatest days of Materforging,” Galiana said. “The Chronicles predicted this as a herald to a time of darkness. As for being a god, the Svenzar managed to wound Nerian. I do not believe anyone but the Eztezian Guardians or another of their own could hurt one of the gods.”
“Maybe Kalvor was an Eztezian and Nerian a god.” Stefan suggested.
“I doubt that. The seals on the Nether are intact. Besides, the day the gods return is the day the world crumbles or so the Chronicles say. The Tribunal suspects it’s more likely that Nerian is a Skadwaz.”
Stefan shook his head in disbelief. That was just as bad. The Skadwaz had been created with the sole purpose of fighting the Eztezians. “So he isn’t dead then?”
Galiana shook her head. “No. The Svenzar and the High Shin failed.”
“So my children’s lives were wasted.”
“Believe me,” Galiana implored. “We had no other choice.”
“And to think you had my wife go along with this.” Stefan shook his head.
“I have told you and Thania has told you … it was her idea.”
“To sacrifice our children for a sword?”
“Nerian may have twisted words,” Galiana said, “but he did not do so about your sword. The key to our future lies with the divya. Would you rather your children be alive and the world destroyed?”
“Yes,” Stefan said. “I would give the world for them.”
“They would still be dead. So I know you do not mean that.”
“Oh, I do. I would give my life and anyone else’s for theirs.”
“That is grief and your love for them talking,” Galiana said. “Regardless, what has happened cannot be changed. You must go on living now.”
Stefan frowned. “Why must I?”
“Nerian will still search for the sword. He will hunt any of the Dorn bloodline for a chance to find someone who can activate its power. The Tribunal plans to lead him on a merry chase fed by rumor, but he will find no more Dorns. You are the last.”
“So?”
“According to the Chronicles, only one of the Dorn line can bring about the sword’s true power. You can use the weapon to some extent, but by now, you should realize you are not the one. Which means you will have at least one more child.”
Stefan’s heart leaped at the propsect, but images of Celina and Anton tempered his brief elation. “In case you didn’t notice, I’m close to the end of my life span.”
“We can extend that,” Galiana said. “Do you remember when I told you of the bargain to secure a future for what was left of the Setian?”
“Yes. You kept something back that day, as you always do.”
“Thania is the key to our age Forging. Of all the Matii we know, only she can combine the essences needed. I should not be the one to tell you this, but in ways she feels she has betrayed you over the years.”
Stefan frowned. “Betrayed me? How?”
“Kinai is the key to the Forge. By having people drink a brew made by her, your wife can then use the divya I spoke of to tap into their essences as one pool. She can then give access to that power and with it, the maintenance of youth.”
Now, Stefan understood. Thania had used this Forging on him to add to his youth. She also encouraged him to make his men drink kinai. Not only did they gain strength from the brew, but his wife extended their lives while providing Nerian and the Council with what they needed. Somehow, he was not surprised. But that was not what bothered him the most. “She was the deciding factor in the bargain to save the Setian,” he said. “Without her agreement to give of herself, to use this gift of hers, we would be no more. Not only that, but Nerian needed her also. He was never planning to kill her. Chances are I could have led them from Seti long ago.” The full brunt of what his wife had given stuck Stefan like a hammer blow. Tears trickled down his face. “She stayed to ensure we stopped him.”
“Yes,” Galiana said.
“We failed.”
“Not really. Once we made our agreement with the Tribunal, they revealed they had another divya similar to the one we used. We shall set up your new home close by in Granadia.”
“Fine,” Stefan said. The chance to rebuild pulled at him. “After I help defeat Nerian’s armies.”
“I am afraid that cannot be.”
This time, Stefan did turn to face her. He clenched his fists.
“Like I said before, he must never discover that you live.” Galiana stared at him, unflinching. “You can help with strategy in the coming war, but you will play no active part. After Nerian has been defeated, you can do as you wish. Until then the fact you and Thania are alive must remain a secret.”
Self-mastery, Stefan reminded himself out of habit. He eased his hand away from his sword. He had lost his children, now he was losing a chance for revenge. What other curses did the gods have in store? He turned and continued to watch the army.
The fetid stench of death mixed with sulfuric fumes rose up from the chasm. Howling winds whipped at Kahar’s cloak. Heat spilled across his face where he stood at the edge of the precipice. Not far from him, Nerian stared down into the black depths. Several feet behind the King stood High Shin Clarice.
The Great Divide certainly lived up to its name. It was a gaping rent in the earth, several thousand feet wide and gods only knew how deep, stretching north and south until it disappeared. Vines and massive roots grew from the side nearest them. Jagged stone jutted out here and there. The occasional bleached bones were the only color that broke up the monotony of darkness.
Today, Nerian wore a simple shirt and trousers. He had the sleeves rolled up to expose the intricate tattoos twining about his arms. His hand rested on a scabbard at his hip, in which was a massive greatsword. The weapon suited his eight-foot frame. Runes and glyphs covered the hilt.
“It is time,” a musical voice said from behind them.
The Svenzar from the Royal Palace stepped up beside them, its twenty-foot stoneform now reduced to about half its size. In the throne room, the creature had not attempted to stop Kahar from killing the children. However, it had blocked Nerian’s power from scouring everyone else in the room. An odd thing that. The Svenzar had also provided Nerian with the sword. Stranger still.
All this time, they had followed the Chronicles, believing the key they needed was the one Stefan now held. But this Svenzar, no, this Eztezian Guardian, the beings created by Kahar’s own brethren to defeat the gods, had shown them differently. According to the Svenzar, the sword was the one Nerian sought.