“Cut off the ring!” Prince Aran said to Hettie. “Quickly!”
If they cut the ring, you will die. They will die. The ring will explode. Let them cut it. You will serve me best through your death.
Hettie’s look was one of agony. “I’m sorry,” she said, bringing the dagger up.
“No!” Paedrin said, his face contorting, his eyes wild with panic. “Don’t…cut…it!” He tried to free himself. He felt the tears squeeze through his lashes. He tried to speak, but the Arch-Rike clamped his mouth shut. He tasted blood on his tongue. His entire body shook with pain, but he could not free himself from the prince. They were going to die because of him. They would all be killed. He looked pleadingly in Hettie’s eyes.
She had tears in her eyes, but she took hold of his fingers and tried to pry them apart to get at the one with the ring.
Nizeera slashed at the Kishion, but he dodged her blows and planted a knife in her haunch. She shrieked in pain, scrabbling in spasms, and he shoved her away. He would be on them in moments, Annon realized. He tried to summon a spirit to heal her, but the hazy smoke was driving them to escape from the windows in droves. Annon saw the look of terror on Paedrin’s face. The ring would not come off easily. Even if they cut it, what would happen?
There had to be another way.
“Wait,” Annon said, rushing to her.
Tyrus shook his head in despair. “It’s a Kishion ring. He cannot remove it himself without dying. Cut it off.”
“No,” Annon said, his mind whirling. A spirit hovered near him, whispering. He tried to make out the words amidst the commotion.
Neodesha warns you. The spirit ring. Someone else must release him from the trap. He has not shed blood yet.
It all came together in his mind, a flash of insight. In the woods of Wayland, he had seen many rabbit snares left by trappers. A rabbit would race into it headfirst and it would cinch around its neck. The more it kicked and tried to flee, the tighter the noose became until it strangled. He had freed several rabbits caught in such snares. The memory came to him as a whisper from Neodesha far away, but spoken through his mind in the form of a memory. They were connected somehow. Her wisdom seeped into him. Paedrin could not remove the ring from himself. He was the rabbit in the snare. But someone else could if he had not killed anyone yet.
Annon pushed Hettie aside and grabbed the Kishion ring. With a hard twist, he pulled it off of Paedrin’s finger.
There was no explosion. It was yet another lie told by the Arch-Rike. The irony struck Paedrin bitterly. The Rikes and their rings were all a great lie. His imprisonment was a lie. His destiny as a Kishion was a lie.
Everyone stared at him, wide-eyed. Annon held the Kishion ring in his hand and jerked as if it scalded him. He dropped it to the floor.
The voice in Paedrin’s mind was gone. He would never allow it in again.
Paedrin’s eyes focused, a feeling of intense relief flooding him. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you, Annon.”
Prince Aran released his hold and Paedrin straightened. He turned to the Quiet Kishion and launched at him like a spear shaft. He was free and it gave him energy and a sense of duty he had never felt before. Everything in Kenatos was a great lie. It was time for the truth to be shown.
The two were embroiled together. Paedrin observed everyone cluster around Tyrus, who withdrew the cylinder. “Gather round me!” Tyrus barked. “Hold my arm!”
Paedrin kicked and punched, using every technique of the Uddhava as well as his own violent passion. He wanted to humble this Kishion and teach him a lesson in pain. The Arch-Rike’s treasured protector. Paedrin fought fast and hard and gave it his best. Master Shivu would have been proud. In the Bhikhu temple, he had never met his equal. The duel only lasted a few moments. He was kicked in the chin and then thrown across the room, skidding until he struck the wall and blackness took over.
Kiranrao appeared in a smoke-stain of magic next to Tyrus. “Give me the dagger, and I will face the Kishion next.”
Annon stared at the Vaettir, full of distrust. “No,” he warned Tyrus. “Do not trust him.”
Kiranrao gave Annon a scathing look. “I can defeat him. Give it to me!”
Prince Aran glanced at both men and then confronted the Kishion as Tyrus hesitated. Prince Aran blocked the way, standing still as the Kishion advanced. If he defeated the Kishion then Kiranrao would not need the dagger. The two faced off silently, their visages grim. Annon had seen the Kishion up close once before, and the look of determination and murder in his eyes terrified him. He felt the last of the spirits abandon the room, one by one, their power fading as the stench of the smoke filled the air.