The Name of All Things (A Chorus of Dragons #2)

by Jenn Lyons

“Qown, I have lived a very long time,” Relos Var said. “Was it lying to show myself to you as an identity I’ve worn since before you were born? Zajhera isn’t a throwaway disguise some assassin mimic might wear and discard. Zajhera is a good man who wants to help people find their better selves. He’s no less real than Relos Var, although Relos Var’s views are more confrontational. And if neither one is who I really am, their existence is no less sincere.”

“You’re a monster,” he whispered. “No,” said Relos Var. “Monster is such an easily digestible idea. Horrible, evil to its core, irredeemable. If I’m a monster, then anyone who opposes me is by logical deduction a hero, yes?” He leaned over. “It’s not that simple. Sometimes everyone is wrong and you must decide whose wrongness is more acceptable.”

“Why would Xaltorath help me? That makes no sense either.” “No more sense than demons ever make.” I sat back down again. “Xaltorath breaks many rules for a demon. She ignored the emperor when he ordered her to leave me. You should have seen his mouth drop open.” I blinked at Teraeth, who stared at me with a shocked expression. “Rather like that.” Teraeth rubbed his hand over his face. “Do you realize what you just said? When all the demons were bound, they were gaeshed. Who do you think controls those gaeshe? The emperor does. That’s what the Crown and Scepter were created to do. You’re telling me a demon just laughed off a gaesh command?” He exhaled. “That would only be possible if Xaltorath isn’t a demon, which is obviously not true.”6

“No males?” I whispered to Senera. She gave me an odd look that I couldn’t quite interpret, then shook her head. “No, no men allowed. The guards outside are the closest any man besides Duke Kaen ever gets, and even they aren’t allowed inside when the duke is in attendance. Duke Kaen insists he should be his wives’ only pleasure.” I had to stop myself from choking. “Um, but … uh…” Senera stopped fighting her smile. “Yes?” “Has no one told Kaen we don’t need males for that?” Her eyes turned bright. “Don’t spoil their fun. There’s more than a few long-term romances tolerated here, but only because their husband doesn’t seem to realize it’s a possibility.” “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of saying anything.”

Bikeinoh

Veixizhau

Apparently, the Goddess of Death had a mean streak so vicious it left Kihrin open-mouthed in awe. Thaena had taken two infamously mortal enemies—Atrin Kandor and Terindel the Black—and had reincarnated one of them as the other’s son. That was just … mean. And it didn’t even begin to explore the part where Atrin’s widow—Elana—had later married Terindel. Yes, the same Terindel. Kihrin found himself grateful he could watch that tangled knot from a safe distance. Well, mostly. Given his feelings about Janel, he couldn’t claim impartiality. “Are you … all right?” Qown asked. Kihrin looked up. “Sorry. I just, uh … I was just thinking about how Janel also has a ‘type.’” Teraeth and his father, Terindel, both possessed a certain resemblance, after all. Just like Terindel probably resembled his father—Mithros.

Irisia

Rev’arric

“Dragons are insane. They aren’t controllable. They aren’t tamable. Relos Var can make Aeyan’arric behave, but I’ll never trust her. And the largest and the most dangerous—Morios—sleeps under Lake Jorat. When he wakes—and it will be when, not if—he’ll destroy half the dominion before he’s subdued. There’s even a prophecy about him. Would you like to hear it?” “A prophecy.” I stared at him. “I don’t like prophecies.” “They can be useful.” He pulled a book from his shelves and opened it to a bookmarked page. “Especially this one. In the twentieth year of the hawk and the lion, beneath the silver sword, the sleeping beast’s chains shatter. The dragon of swords devours demon falls as night takes the land.”

“My count?” My eyes widened, and I scrambled to my feet, turning to see Arasgon standing there. “What? No, what happened? You shouldn’t be here…” I only knew one reason Arasgon would be in the Afterlife: his death. But even as the panicked thought rampaged across my mind, I realized Arasgon’s appearance had changed. Fire burned from his eyes and hooves. Instead of tiger stripes along his legs, his mane was a mass of flame and sparks. I’d have thought him demonic if the flames were blue instead of red. And yet, I would have known Arasgon anywhere. The curve of his flanks, the arch of his neck, the gentle bend of his nose. This wasn’t Xaltorath. He walked up to me and bent his head to nuzzle my shoulder. I threw my arms around him and started to cry. “Did … how?” I lacked any coherence. “Your mother,” he answered. “She thought you might like my company and so showed me how to join you here.”5 I hadn’t even suspected such a thing might be possible or how Tya might have accomplished it. And yet I could assume the Goddess of Magic knew one or two more things than I did. “If she thinks I’m going to forgive her just because she—” But the words choked in my throat. Because as gestures went, this was a good start.

“Tricking Kihrin to help us under false pretenses was always a mistake. I don’t know why I ever thought otherwise.” “Because of a quarter million people, foal,” Dorna said. Star raised an eyebrow. “You’re running?” “Oh, don’t you start,” Kihrin said. He sat back down and waved at Qown when the priest pulled Worldhearth from his agolé. “Put that away. I’m staying.” Janel blinked. “You are?” “I have four reasons,” he said as he drank the last of his cold coffee. “First, I came here to find you, and while I’m not happy about the way this is going, I’m not leaving without you. Second, because the hell if I’m running from Relos Var, when I’m the one carrying Godslayer. He should be running from me. Third, because I’ll feel like a real ass if Morios is real, and I just left all those people to die.” “And fourth?” Janel asked. He grimaced. “You can’t just end the story there. I need to know what happens next.”

Xivan

Finally, Relos Var said, “I’m fond of Azhen Kaen. That doesn’t mean we agree on all things. Sometimes you watch your friends make mistakes and there’s nothing you can do but let them.” “You mustn’t think it’s so important a mistake, or you’d stop him.” “He isn’t my only game piece, Qown. Not by half.” “Is that how you think of us? Game pieces?” He couldn’t hide the heartbreak in his voice. Relos Var reached out again, put his hand on Qown’s, and squeezed his fingers the way he used to when his name was Father Zajhera and not Relos Var. “No, not at all. But I have lived too long and seen too much to let any single person’s moral failures or bad choices stop me. What we’re trying to do is more important.”

“Over fourteen thousand?” I said. “How can a polar bear cub possibly be over fourteen thousand years old?” “It can’t. That’s why I asked what race the cub was when it was born.” “What’s its name? What’s its birth name? I don’t know what Wyrga calls it, but I’d have to assume she’d lie if I asked.” “I almost can’t bring myself to ask.” “Do it, anyway.” Senera concentrated on the artifact in her hand and then wrote out a single word. “If I’m right…” Cherthog. Cherthog, the Yoran god-king of winter. We both stared at the word. Senera said, “Fuck.”

Kaen’s no better than Cherthog. He’d make himself a god if he thought he could.” “Kaen hates the gods. He thinks it’s his destiny to find Urthaenriel and kill the Eight Immortals with it, remember?” She continued weaving her words across the wall’s clear surface. “Because he thinks they aren’t doing their job. Which is a fine way of saying he’d do a better job. When people pull down their idols, they never hesitate to put themselves on those same pedestals.”

My vision shifted, and I saw the universe differently. Suless didn’t stop there, though. I felt her slip into my mind, silken and cold and so very painful as she began to change contents. Rearrange thoughts.10 Moving down old roads, long forgotten … I’m standing just off from the main stage, waiting to go on, my nerves so taut I feel like they’re about to start making their own noise. I look across the room and see A’val, and I smile at her even as I curse that she’s talked me into doing this. I never intended to go into politics … yet here I am. “C’indrol, it’s time.”11 She motions to me, and then I’m walking in front of the Assembly to give my first speech … I remember when the demons first come, and I remember screaming when they kill my sister and then wear her body like a skin while they chase down my family. I remember the pain and the terror. I escape, but I never forgive myself for living, when they didn’t … An impossibly bright light flashes through my apartment windows. I run to the door leading upstairs to our rooftop garden. I manage to step through the door when the blast wave’s edge hits. Then I remember nothing … I ride on the back of a wagon while we travel down an old dirt road through an impossibly dry, hot desert. I shift my veil around my neck to catch the sweat while I practice chords on my father’s harp. One day, I hope to buy my own harp … I’m crying as Valathea takes me into her arms, and the vané woman’s lips are soft. I still know this is goodbye....

Hedrogha

Janel, I love you.” “No! You don’t even know me. You don’t know anything about me. How can you love me? I don’t even love me!” I don’t remember removing the helmet, but it had vanished when I found myself in my mother’s arms. She smoothed my hair and kissed my forehead. “I love you,” she whispered. “I have always loved you. I loved you when you burned your harp on the Blight’s edge and prayed for me to guide your path. I loved you when Valathea sacrificed herself to help you free S’arric’s soul. I loved you when you marched into Khorvesh, newborn baby in your arms, and demanded no woman would ever be sold to a man there again. And I loved you even more the first moment I held you in my arms, still bloody from your birth—and I screamed so hard no mage on this planet could hear for three days when I had to give you up. I love you enough to humble myself before my enemies so you might live.” She leaned away from me for just long enough to look me in the eyes. “But when all is done, when this is all over, I’m not going to lose. I’m not going to lose, because my daughter doesn’t lose.”

She was so beautiful. The sun refracted off her scales, making a thousand rainbows, sparkling against the snow and ice—cold and perfect, winter manifested. I tightened my grip around Khoreval and wished, just for a moment, that we didn’t have to do this.

I’m not sure how long I sat there. Not very long, I think. Then Relos Var said, “When I ordered Qown to help you, this wasn’t what I had in mind.”

“So what are our options?” Duke Kaen asked. “Kill Janel Danorak? Send her to Shadrag Gor? And what about our Black Knight?” He gestured toward Ninavis. “Are you seriously expecting me to believe you couldn’t track down one middle-aged woman responsible for all the trouble we’ve had in Jorat? When this is the Black Knight?” Kaen didn’t notice the glare Xivan gave him. Ninavis raised her head and grinned as she licked blood from her lips. “And I have to say, you lot sure did make it easy. But your man is wrong; I’m not the Black Knight.” The blue-haired man spoke. “She is, my Hon. I know what I saw in Jorat—” “Or should I say, everyone is the Black Knight now? Killing me isn’t going to change a thing. We knew you lot were looking for armies, so we never formed any. We knew you lot were looking for leaders, so we made everyone a leader. We knew you lot would try to find the Black Knight, so we made everyone the Black Knight. Me? I’m just a thief who’s good with a bow. Killing me is like taking a cup of water from the sea and thinking you’ve stopped the tide.” “Shut her up,” Relos Var said. “She’s just trying to delay—” He paused, and his eyes widened. A dozen emotions seemed to cross his face: anger, shock, outrage, and fear the most identifiable. Brother Qown thought he looked rather like someone who had just been stabbed or poisoned by a good friend, who had just realized how thoroughly they’d been betrayed. Or maybe Qown was just conflating Var’s emotions with his own. “Wh...

Kihrin cocked his head. “Did you really vanish on Duke Kaen like that because I died? What were you going to do when you saw my murderers? Shake Gadrith’s hand or—?” Relos Var rolled his eyes. “Don’t act like a child. Though I realize that’s all but impossible for you. How many times do I have to explain that I’m not your enemy?” “Explain as much as you like; it doesn’t mean I’ll ever believe you.” Relos Var continued as though Kihrin hadn’t spoken. “It was my fault for not keeping better track of what Gadrith and Darzin were plotting. Thank you for killing both, by the way. Especially Gadrith.” “I didn’t do it for your approval.” “I never claimed you did.” Relos Var seemed to be grinding his teeth.

“Where’s your Cornerstone? Just curious.” Kihrin hadn’t lowered the sword. “I don’t have one.” “And once again, I don’t believe you,” Kihrin said. Relos Var vanished. The portal wall vanished. Relos Var—the real Relos Var—stepped forward to Kihrin. “Then stab me,” he told Kihrin, “but the moment you stick me with that little piece of metal, I’ll revert to my true form—” He glanced around the tavern. “Which is considerably larger than this room. So Urthaenriel won’t protect you—or your friends—from being smeared against the bedrock. I’ll heal. But you?” He shrugged. “Thaena’s quite busy killing demons at the moment, but I assume she’d get around to Returning you at some point.” Var glanced at Janel. “And you. But probably not anyone else.” Kihrin set the edge of Urthaenriel against Relos Var’s neck. “You’re bluffing.” Relos Var smiled. “Am I?” Another gate opened. Kihrin didn’t look away from Relos Var, lest this prove a distraction. But the wizard seemed just as surprised by the gate as anyone else. Relos Var’s eyes widened. “Thurvishar?” The Lord Heir of House D’Lorus ran through the open portal, which briefly showed a watery expanse and a sky preparing for dawn. He closed the gate, turned around, and then drew up short as he took in the scene in front of him. “Is this a bad time?”

Kihrin ground his teeth. “And the Stone of Shackles is the heart of which dragon?” “This is an unimportant tangent.” “Tell me, anyway.” “Rol’amar.” Var growled the name like it was a personal insult. A fleeting expression of loathing crossed the wizard’s face. Kihrin carefully filed away the name Rol’amar for future use.

“Oh, this is ridiculous,” Relos Var said. “We do not have time for this.” Relos Var brought his hands together. A portal opened on the ground ahead of them, spanning the width and length of the entire bridge. Everyone on the bridge—as well as every building, shanty, and shack—fell through. Behind them on land, farther down the road leading to the city, Kihrin heard shouts and screams and the accumulated crash of multiple objects. Presumably this was every displaced building, shanty, and shack—all hitting the ground of their new location at the same time.

“He’ll bring the city down around your ears!” “So distract him,” Kihrin said. Var turned his head. “What was that?” “You’re a dragon too,” Kihrin said. “Don’t even try to pretend you’re not. Every person who participated in that ritual to create Vol Karoth was turned into a dragon, including you. So you’re more than capable of distracting Morios, until we can evacuate. Then we’ll talk about killing the damn creature.” Relos Var stared at him, lips drawn back in a sneer. Janel watched, waiting for Var’s response. “Well?” Kihrin said. Relos Var turned his phantom horse around and galloped to the edge of the bridge, away from Lake Jorat and toward Demon Falls. The phantom horse jumped. For anyone else, it would have been suicide. But Var seemed to hover for a second in the night air, the magical construct horse vanished, and his form blurred. What replaced him was an extraordinary sight—enormous and reptilian, winged and clawed. He confirmed what Kihrin had long suspected: that he was the dragon Kihrin had seen briefly in Kharas Gulgoth before Relos Var had shown in up person. That indeed, the morgage hadn’t been mistaken when they had depicted nine draconic shapes—not eight—leaving the site of the botched ritual that had created Vol Karoth. His hide glimmered with metallic rainbow shimmers in the predawn light.

Thurvishar stood. “Did I just see two dragons fly overhead?” “Yes, you did. The second one is Relos Var.” Thurvishar blinked and then shook his head. “It’s really a pity he can’t be on our side all the time.”

“Hey, Scamp,” Tyentso said. “Miss me?” Kihrin stared. He panicked for a moment, thinking this wasn’t Tyentso at all, but rather some monster—the mimic Talon, maybe Xaltorath—counterfeiting her. However, he dismissed the idea as too easy to check. Kihrin slid off Scandal and swept her into an expansive hug. “Tyentso, you’re alive! By all the gods, you’re alive!” She sputtered. “Easy now, Scamp. You can’t just go around hugging the emperor of Quur, you know.” “The what?” He blinked and took a second look at the silver circlet on her head, the slender wand in her hand. No … it couldn’t be … But the energy field that had held off Morios had matched the one surrounding the arena back in the Capital. The same arena where a new emperor was selected, whenever the last one died. “Oh yes,” Tyentso said, “I’m emperor. Empress? We’re still figuring out the title. It’s, uh—” She grinned again. “Not going to lie; it’s good.

Senera concentrated and wove her magic. The portal she created opened onto something black, the gate’s normal mirror finish reflecting … nothing. Kirin bet the watching Royal House wizards were giving themselves fits.

Everywhere, the accommodations catered to equine needs: no stairs, no second floors, nothing one might call a roof. As they swam farther, Kihrin caught odd glimpses of architecture unlike the streamlined style Khorsal had favored. As if Khorsal had himself built on another city’s ruins.

After a few agonizingly long seconds, Qoran Milligreest said, “She passed along the message, but he didn’t respond.” Janel’s heart skipped. “What does that mean?” “That he didn’t respond,” Qoran repeated. He turned his attention back to the high lord. “I’d leave if I were you. The emperor won’t be pleased with you when this is over.” Havar raised an eyebrow. “She can’t hurt me. Literally can’t hurt me. Have you forgotten the restrictions that come with wearing the Crown and Scepter? She can’t so much as lay a hand on any member of a Royal House.”5 “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” the high general said, smiling.

ch60ance

Brothers. Morios is looking for his brother, Janel thought. Morios thought his brother would be here too. Why? Kihrin had speculated the dragons might all be children of the Eight, but what if it wasn’t so specific? Relos Var himself didn’t qualify, for example. He was Kihrin’s brother. So they weren’t children necessarily, but relatives of some sort. Children, parents, sisters … brothers. What if, on some level, dragons still remembered that familial connection? Kihrin had said that the dragon Sharanakal was Thaena’s son and that he had laired near her island sanctuary. Aeyan’arric had stayed near her uncle Rev’arric, better known as Relos Var. Janel wasn’t sure which came first: Had Thaena chosen to stay near her son to keep an eye on him, or had her son chosen to stay near his mother? Had Relos Var stayed near Aeyan’arric, or the reverse? But if the pattern stayed consistent … there had been one of the Eight living in Atrine, hadn’t there? “Khored,” she breathed. Her father paid no attention. He probably thought she was cursing. Janel bowed her head and prayed. “Khored, please hear my prayer, for your brother Morios is here. Morios, who lays waste to Atrine, a city you love. Please help us, or he’ll scour this place to the ground—” Khored said, “I can’t stay for long.”

touch61,

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.”

“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.”

such62

Someone cleared their throat. Kihrin looked up to see a Manol vané standing next to Tyentso—this time, the right Manol vané. Kihrin pulled away from Janel. “Teraeth,” Kihrin said. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” The assassin’s green eyes flicked to Janel and then back to Kihrin. “Obviously.” Kihrin wanted to kick himself. “Look, I’m glad to see you.” “Are you really?” Teraeth raised an eyebrow at him. “Yes, damn it.” Kihrin looked out over the lake toward the ruins of Atrine. “I’ve lost Urthaenriel. It only took three days—” “Well, you do work fast,” Teraeth said. Kihrin sighed. If he’d ever wondered how Teraeth would react to Kihrin becoming romantically involved with Janel, now he knew the answer: poorly.

Karolaen,

Far to the north, a young man wielding Urthaenriel smashed what he thought was a Cornerstone. But since he had been deceived, what he destroyed instead was an ancient mechanism. A device whose sole purpose had been to feed a single stream of light to a site thousands of miles away, to the center of Kharas Gulgoth. And so, a stream of light that should have lasted at least a few more decades flickered, dimmed, and finally died. Eight chains became seven. The number could not hold. As a distant earthquake rumbled through the land, waking morgage from their beds, the system broke down. A single link in a corrupted god’s chains snapped. Vol Karoth opened his eyes.

2I will miss that about Jorat. Whenever I told people I didn’t like to run with anyone, stallion or mare, they actually believed me and stopped making overtures. It was nice.

2I’m reading this thirdhand, and even I know something about that lead bandit’s character. Janel needs to get over herself.

3My personal rule of thumb: when people are shooting you with crossbows, they mean to kill you. But then, I’m pedantic that way.

3Oh, I wish it were that easy. “Where is Janel Theranon right now?” “At the corner of Valiant Boulevard and Triumph Street.” “Great. Where’s that?” “Where’s what?” “Where is the corner of Valiant Boulevard and Triumph Street?” “In the city of Atrine.” Some questions just aren’t worth asking.

6Who’s a good puppy? Rebel is! Yes, she is! Don’t judge me, damn it. She’s adorable.

6Yes, Janel, welcome to the fun world of being a woman, where it’s always like this and where we’re all quietly seething.

6I’m as concerned about this as Teraeth here, so I asked. Do you know what the stone told me? When I asked why Xaltorath wasn’t gaeshed by Grizzst? It said: You cannot gaesh something that does not exist. I have no idea what that means.

1Oh sure. He was so upset about the idea of Janel being involved with Teraeth, but doesn’t blink at the idea of her sleeping with another woman. Typical.

I tried to find out any information on this C’indrol, to see if I could verify this. That’s when I found out a really interesting little feature of the Name of All Things: it can’t see back before its own creation. I must therefore assume C’indrol died before the Cornerstones were created.