35. APOTHEOSIS #3
Seth’s shoulders slumped. His eyelids drooped, and his grip slackened on his blade as he fell into a daze, nearing unconsciousness. It was over—it was well and truly over—but Ged wasn’t finished.
Ysira’s right arm was paralyzed as Iyelekirin knitted its bones back together. She couldn’t stop Ged from swinging his blade down and, in one sharp motion, slicing Seth’s sword hand clean off.
Jacen caught Seth as he fell, out cold, and stemmed the flow of blood from the stump with his own hands. Through a ragged gasp, all he managed to say was “Why.”
Ged stood over his brother’s unconscious, mutilated form. The expression on his face, so hair-raisingly close to vindication, made Ysira see red. He said, without emotion, “If you insist on keeping him alive, he’s less of a threat now.”
In the time it took Ysira to round on Ged, he closed the distance between them. He seized her, dragged her around, and slammed her against the wall. An involuntary cry escaped her.
“You killed my children, didn’t you?” He shook Ysira. “Didn’t you?” “They gave me no choice,” she gasped. “They would have gotten
Neri killed or delivered him to whatever insanity you had planned—”
He shoved her harder against the wall. She struggled, but it was like trying to fight a statue.
“Don’t make me laugh.” Ged leaned in, close enough that she could feel his breath. “You’re the one who abandoned him.”
“Ged, enough!” Jacen shouted. Though he did not leave Seth’s side, the force behind his words distracted Ged enough for Ysira to squirm out of his grip.
“Abandoned him?” she shouted, backing away, too enraged to care that they had an audience—or that Neri could hear every word.
“I was eighteen years old. I had nothing. I had been left for dead. What kind of life could I have given him? But you”—she stabbed a finger at Ged—“you were the firstborn son of Avram fucking Semira. And it wasn’t even you who took him in; it was Lilaya, because you were too much of a coward—”
“You should have known better,” Ged cut her off. “I did nothing to you against your will, and that boy was your responsibility as much as mine.”
“I did my part,” Ysira said. “I carried him, I gave birth to him, and I gave him a chance at the best life anyone in Zivora could ask for. Leave it to you to use him as a human sacrifice instead.”
“A human sacrifice?” Ged repeated, incredulous. “Is that what you think I did?” He pointed at the bones of the Lord of Fear. “If what I’m seeing here is any indication, I did him a favor.”
For an instant, Ysira forgot all about the awful choices at hand. After everything Neri had endured, the horrors he’d seen, the crushing responsibility with which he’d been burdened—the way Ysira, too, had pushed him there—
A chasm opened up inside her.
What have we done?
Maybe she was no better than Ged, but she would let the whole world burn before she let him claim he’d done Neri a fucking favor.
Ged was still talking. “He would never have become a knight. He wasn’t fit for much else, he was defective, but now—”
Ysira hit him. Felt his nose break under her knuckles. First came a grim satisfaction—ruptured by a cold spike of terror as, faster than she could react, he seized her by the neck and started to squeeze. “This is for Damir.”
Ysira’s vision blurred. She kicked her feet, choking, refusing to look away as hate burned in Ged’s eyes. She would not look away. She would survive this, and one day, hers would be the last face he ever saw.
“Stop.”
The voice, this time, was Neri’s. Though it trembled, it rang out through the temple. “Let her go. Or I’ll make you do it.”
Ged actually let her go. Ysira fell hard, coughing, massaging her neck.
Neri flexed his fingers. Tentacles of red light writhed around them. “Step away.”
Ged’s eyebrows rose. He took a step back. It took him a moment to find words. “Good. Very good. I knew all you needed was a little push. Next time, do that first.”
Ysira started, “Neri, you don’t have to do what he—”
But Neri rounded on her, eyes blazing. “I don’t have to do what you say, either.” He was breathing hard, but his voice steadied. “You heard that thing. None of you could stop me.” His gaze circled the platform, taking them in one by one.
Ysira felt a stab of hurt to which she had no right, warring with an unwelcome surge of fear. Meek as he seemed, Neri was one decision away from becoming the most powerful being on all Celes Lor—perhaps on any world. And he was angry. At her. With very good reason.
Under ultimate pressure, different people responded in different ways. As a warrior and as a healer, Ysira had seen a myriad of them. When faced with a breaking point, some hardened. Some shattered. Some ran. Neri had done what few others could: he evolved.
He had reached a point at which fear was no longer sustainable.
Fear would break him—and so he tapped in to something else.
Ysira met Jacen’s eyes. A strange look passed over his face. Be-fore she could parse it, it was gone.
“We’re going back to the library. Jacen, Uncle Seth, and”—Neri’s voice hitched over her name—“Ysira are coming with us.” He set his jaw and demanded, much louder, “Does anyone else have something to say?”
No one dared to speak.