Kall batted Aazen’s blade aside, flipped his own blade to his off-hand, and grabbed Aazen by the throat, lifting him bodily from the floor. Blood streamed down Kall’s arm, but he held on, pressing his fingers in under Aazen’s jawbone until his sword fell from his hand.
“Aazen!” Balram cried, and for the first time there was real fear in his voice.
“Kall, stop!” yelled Meisha, who saw what he intended.
Kall ignored them both and released Aazen. His friend dropped, falling onto Kall’s angled blade. Aazen grabbed Kall’s shoulders to keep himself upright. Kall held him steady. He leaned forward and spoke against his friend’s ear, but he meant the words for Balram.
“He was always faster, more graceful, when I was all limbs and bone. Laerin taught me better. A half-elf taught me how to beat him.” He slid the blade from Aazen’s stomach. “A dwarf taught me how to live.”
He stood up, but Balram’s eyes were fixed, horrified, on his son. “Aazen,” he whispered. The knife went slack in his hand.
Kall reacted, closing the space between him and Balram with speed that would indeed have made the half-elf proud. Kall’s sword, wet with the son’s blood, found the father’s heart with no fight at all from Balram. Kall drove him back and off the ground, drawing the knife away from Varan’s throat.
Balram’s body hit the ground in a pool of the spilled oil. The latent flames from Meisha’s fireball touched the puddle and ignited, and Balram joined the fire that slowly consumed the wood skeleton of Morel house.
Kall backed away, making no move to put out the flames. He took Aazen’s arms and slung his friend’s body across his shoulders. Dantane lifted Varan, and Meisha took Varan’s other side as they headed for the doors.
“This way,” said Meisha. She waved an arm and the flames covering the door folded aside, boiling in orange swirls. The group slipped out through the small opening into the outer yard.
“Dantane,” said Kall, laying Aazen down on the grass.
Glassy-eyed, Aazen watched in resigned silence as his lifeblood soaked the green lawn. The scene reminded Kall of that day on the Esmel shore, when Haig had saved Aazen’s life. Those boys were long dead, Kall thought. “Hurry,” he said.
Meisha took Varan, and Dantane handed Kall his last vial. “You should have killed him,” the wizard said impassively.
“Garavin would have been disappointed if I had.” Propping Aazen against his shoulder, Kall poured the healing potion down his friends throat. Aazen choked on the concoction, but Kall held his mouth. “Swallow, damn you. You’re not gone yet.”
Aazen swallowed. Selûne’s light reflected in his eyes as he stared upward. Gradually, they cleared and swiveled around to focus on Kall. “I thought you had done it,” Aazen said hoarsely. “I thought you’d killed me.”
“I would have been returning the favor,” Kall pointed out. “You tried to kill me.”
“I had to,” said Aazen, sitting unsteadily. He stared over Kall’s shoulder, through the gap in the front of the house. His father was in there. He would never come out again. It took a moment for the gravity of that truth to sink into Aazen’s soul.
He looked back at Kall. “If I didn’t make you fight in earnest, you couldn’t have won,” Aazen said. “I would have killed you before you got to him.” He paused, remembering. “But I never thought you would use me that way. I didn’t think my father could be so distracted.”
“He loved you,” Kall said, “as much as he was capable. You were right about that.”
Meisha looked at Aazen incredulously. “You wanted Kall to win,” she accused him. “You wanted him to—”
“Kill me,” Aazen said. “Yes.”
“Gods, why? If release was what you wanted, why didn’t you kill Balram yourself?” she demanded.
“He couldn’t,” said Kall. He wiped his blade on the grass and resheathed it. “No more than I could accept that my father murdered Haig by his own will and took my mother from me. He was right. We were both in a cage. He wanted me to win.”
“When did you figure that out?” asked Aazen.
“After we fought in the Delve,” Kall said, “I suspected. I knew it later, when the portals were unguarded. I should have known long before.”
“Why didn’t you kill me?”
“Because you wanted to be free of Balram. Your death wasn’t necessary.”
“Free,” said Dantane, looking at Meisha. “To face justice?”
Aazen shook his head. “To return to the Shadow Thieves.”
“No,” Kall and Meisha said, almost as one. Dantane smiled.
“You will still answer for the refugees in the Delve,” said Meisha, “for Varan.”
“And for you,” Aazen said, looking at her. “I did try to kill you. I thought I had succeeded. But now you of all people should want me to go free.”
Meisha laughed scornfully. “The excuse would have to be profound,” she said.
“Balram is dead. The Shadow Thieves’ work in the Delve has been compromised, but Varan is alive, and they will not give him up easily,” said Aazen. “If I return, I can report his death, and you will be free. Keep me for your Harper friends and there will be no safe place for you and the mad wizard.”
“The Harpers are more than capable of protecting their own,” Meisha said, “and no bond of friendship holds me. I need nothing from you.”
Aazen smirked. “And will the Harpers welcome a mad, dangerous wizard into their fold?” he asked. “You know there’s only one place for him now, and if I don’t go back, he’ll never be able to get there. It’s your choice.”
Kall imagined Meisha’s inner struggle. He fought his own feelings on the matter, but he wasn’t surprised when Meisha finally nodded. “I accept,” she said reluctantly, and added, “on the promise that if anything happens to Varan—if he is attacked, kidnapped, or suffers a mysterious ‘accident’ in his bed at night, the Harpers will come after you.” A red glow suffused her skin, or perhaps it was just the reflection from the burning house. “And I will be leading the way.”
Aazen nodded. “You, on the other hand,” he said to Kall, “will be much harder to convince.”
But Kall shook his head. “Go your own path,” he said. “I won’t hinder you, but choose any way but the Shadow Thieves. I spoke the truth. You’ll never be able to trust them.”
“I know,” said Aazen. “And so they will never have a hold on me. I claim no love … or friendship,” he said pointedly, “and so no one will ever control me—ever again.”
The conviction in his voice, the look in his eyes struck Kall with sadness. “True love doesn’t control,” he said.
“Of course it does,” said Aazen. “Love and friendship are flawed emotions. They can be twisted, manipulated, as we’ve both experienced. Never again,” he said. Then he added softly, “You’ve found better companions, Kall. Keep them.”
When Aazen walked away, Kall did not cry out for him to return. For a second time, he watched the darkness swallow his friend, but this time Kall was not alone. Meisha and Dantane stood on either side of him, and later, Morgan, Talal, and Garavin joined them. They stood, silhouetted in the light of the fire, until the Gem Guard came.
Chapter Thirty
The following days saw widespread rumors. Whispers said the fire that consumed the estate had killed Morel’s heir and an undisclosed number of assassins. A surprising public statement from the Bladesmile family partly fueled the rumors, reporting that all Morel assets were now in the care of Rays Bladesmile, per Kall Morel’s request. The furor arising from the announcement, combined with Kall’s disappearance from the city, led to rampant speculation about the fate of the Morel line. Many believed it to be extinct at last.