“Everyone says you were an annoying little shit from the beginning, so it can’t be that far.”
They both laughed, and L’zar nodded. “There is that. But we’re talking about you.”
“Right.”
“When I walked out of that lake, Cheyenne, the Sorren Gán told me something I never expected to fully understand. I had the power I wanted, sure. I’d survived. I rewrote what would have been the end of my story and transformed it into something like the middle, or at least the end of the beginning. I had the Sorren Gán’s full approval and what it called ‘my power,’ but it told me I would not be the last one to use it.”
“Meaning me.” Cheyenne nodded. “I get it. I’m your kid, I got your drow powers. Sure.”
“No. I’m sure you’ve noticed our abilities are not the same.” L’zar chuckled. “And you can’t read the Weave like I do.”
“Well, you can’t handle computers.”
“That’s a fair assessment. The day you told me you’d unlocked your final ability and used the black fire, though?” L’zar said, running a hand through his hair, “That was the moment I understood what the Sorren Gán meant.”
Cheyenne waited for him to continue, but the pause felt far too long. He’s still stalling. “I have a feeling there’s something more to this. Otherwise, you lost me.”
“You get your drow fire from me, Cheyenne. And from the Sorren Gán.”
“Wait, what?”
“In plainer words, drow fire was not one of my abilities when I passed my trials. I’m fairly certain that came from my time spent in the lake, under the Sorren Gán’s control in its domain. To save myself, I took a piece of that beast’s magic as my own and came out with a new fierce power I couldn’t explain. No one would have listened anyway, except for you. You were born with it.”
Cheyenne leaned away from him and frowned. “That’s crazy. You’re telling me I’m part-Sorren Gán?”
“Hardly. You just have its magic in your blood.”
“Magically speaking, L’zar, I’m pretty sure that’s the same thing.”
He looked her in the eyes, a small frown flickering across his eyebrows. “It most certainly is not.” With a grunt, he pushed to his feet and walked across the clearing toward the others. “And now I need a drink.”
Cheyenne stared after him, trying to make all the pieces fit. It sounds like total crap, but it makes sense. I could breathe in the lake, didn’t lose my mind, and couldn’t hurt the damn thing with my most powerful ability.
She shook her head. “Later. I can think about that later.”
She stood and headed after her father. Corian gave her a wary smile. “Everybody good?”
“‘Good’ is probably a little strong, but I don’t want to kill him anymore.”
L’zar smirked but didn’t look at her.
“That’s acceptable.” Corian rubbed his hands together and gazed around the gathered circle. “Time to figure out what happens next.”
“Don’t we go back to the capital and wait for that thing to come and suck out all the extra magic?” Ember asked.
“We could.”
L’zar lifted his chin. “I can’t think about what happens next until we get out of here. And I’d prefer not to waste another day at the very least traveling the way we came so I can find a quiet place to put my head together.”
“Right.” Corian glanced at the cave entrance and cocked his head. “We have plenty of that to do still.”
“And if possible, I would prefer to return to Hangivol with much more of a plan than we have now when it comes to the terms of Ba’rael’s secession and Cheyenne taking the O’gúl Crown. If she wants it.”
Maleshi shrugged. “The plan we have now is nonexistent.”
“What exactly do we have to sit down and think so hard about?” Cheyenne asked.
L’zar’s smile widened. “Where my sister’s weakest point is and how to exploit it.”
She gestured toward the burning cave. “After everything that happened in there, you want to talk about exploiting weaknesses?”
The other magicals glanced around in confusion, but L’zar and his daughter stared only at each other.
“You make an excellent point.” The drow nodded, and his smile bloomed into his trickster grin. “You can’t tell me it’s not extraordinarily effective.”
She laughed. “No, I guess not.”
“We can go to Hirúl Breach.” Foltr lifted his staff and gestured farther into the mountains. “Another few hours through the next pass.”
Lumil snorted. “Hirúl Breach? You know, I heard they call that place the Crown’s Bastion.”
The old raug grunted and stuck his stick into the ground. “The last Crown, yes. K’laht traveled there often, and Hirúl Breach welcomed him with open arms and everything they had to give. There is no love lost between them and Ba’rael.”
L’zar narrowed his eyes. “No love lost, or they hate her?”
“They despise the Crown of this Cycle, L’zar. As they should.”
The drow clapped his hands together and pointed in the direction Foltr had indicated. “Then by all means, that needs to be our next stop. A few hours is much better than an entire day. Lead on.”
“I’m not leading us anywhere,” Foltr blustered. “But I can get us inside.”
L’zar leaned toward him and shook his head. “Idon’t know where it is.”
“Of course you don’t.” The old raug thumped his staff against the drow’s calf. “You never went farther into these mountains than this cursed stinkhole.”
“We should go somewhere else.” Maleshi folded her arms and squinted into the woods.
L’zar cocked his head. “Come again?”
She rolled her eyes and glared at him. “Do I have to spell it out for you, L’zar? Hirúl Breach is the closest hub to the den at Felagtrok.”
“Ah, yes. And this is apparently an issue for you.” L’zar tapped a long, slender finger on his lips. “Care to elaborate?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Foltr patted the general’s arm and nodded.
