Annev stared at the banner lying on the table. ‘You said Breathanas had the phoenix banner at the Battle of Vosgar … but if he hadn’t been knighted, why did he have a banner? He should have been carrying his knight’s banner.’
‘Breathanas squired for his uncle, Derekyn Ainneamhag, during the Siege of the Kuar. His uncle took an arrow in the throat when the siege broke and leadership of the house fell to Breathanas’s father.’
‘So I’m a descendant of House Ainneamhag?’
‘That’s why I made them your namesake.’
‘Ainnevog of House Ainneamhag?’ Annev grimaced. ‘That’s a terrible name.’
Sodar laughed. ‘Ainneamhag is a very old name for a very old house tracing its roots back to the Age of Kings. But you needn’t worry at the name. After the Fall of Keos, Breathanas was knighted and House Ainneamhag became House Breathanas. A thousand years shortened the name to Breathen, and another thousand years to Breth. Throughout it all, they kept the phoenix banner and sigil.’
‘So … I’m Ainnevog Breth?’
Sodar smiled. ‘Yes.’
‘And my father was …?’
‘Tuor Breth. And your mother was Aegen.’
‘Aegen,’ Annev said, trying the name on his tongue. ‘Did she have a last name?’
Sodar shook his head. ‘Ilumites don’t use last names the same way we do. They take the name of whatever clan they’re travelling with, and when they leave, as Aegen had, they leave their name behind.’
Annev picked up the shortsword from the table. ‘So you knew my father, and my grandfather, and my great-grandfather …’
‘And all the other greats between you and Breathanas.’ Sodar nodded. ‘I chose to become steward to your family, and I have protected your line ever since.’
Annev fiddled with the cuff of his glove, afraid to make eye contact with Sodar.
‘Then how did my parents die?’
Sodar went silent. When Annev finally looked up, he saw tears on the priest’s cheeks.
‘I couldn’t save them,’ Sodar whispered, his voice thick with emotion. ‘I’m sorry, Annev.’ He wiped his eyes. ‘If I could do it over again … I don’t know. I was too late to save Aegen, and if I’d saved Tuor, I would have lost you – or we all would have been killed.’ He rested his hands on the table. ‘It was vital I saved you, and Tuor understood that, I think.’ He took a deep breath. ‘That’s what I tell myself, anyway.’
Annev let silence fall between them, thinking about everything the priest had said. He unrolled his glove and looked at the injury the witch had left him. Using his index finger, he traced the faint white lines encircling his forearm: the scar had almost disappeared, and all it had taken was time; the poison had bled itself out and the skin had repaired itself.
The same couldn’t be said of Sodar’s injuries: his memories of Aegen and Tuor clearly still pained him, and Annev realised the priest would never fully recover until he released the guilt he still felt. Tuor and Aegen couldn’t help with that … but Annev could. He looked up from his arm and met the old priest’s eyes.
‘You saved me, Sodar. Even though I was just a baby and I was deformed, you saved me. I owe you everything. If my parents were still alive, I’m sure they would thank you.’ He reached across the table and gripped the old man’s hand, and Sodar squeezed back hard.
‘I still don’t get it, though,’ Annev said, giving the priest time to collect himself. ‘Why are you preserving the line of Breathanas? Why is the line so important – and why are strangers hunting me?’
Sodar released Annev’s hand to tug at the tangles of his beard. ‘It is … complicated. The Lost Prophecies say that the House of Breathanas will destroy Keos the Fallen. For that to come true, the line of Breathanas must be kept alive.’
‘But Breathanas killed Keos. The prophecy was fulfilled.’
Sodar shook his head. ‘That prophecy was given in the Age of Kings – the Second Age. There was no House of Breathanas back then; it was still the House of Ainneamhag.’
‘But they were the same house, so it should still apply.’
Sodar wobbled his hand back and forth, both agreeing and disagreeing. ‘Yes. That is one interpretation of the prophecies – there are several. Mine is that Keos only fell when Breathanas destroyed his physical body. Breathanas could not destroy the spirit of the Elder God: only a God can kill another God, and so the prophecy stands, and Keos, in some way, still lives.’
‘But when Breathanas picked up the Staff of Odar, he became a dalta – a child-god – so the prophecy still applies.’
Sodar chuckled. ‘You sound just like Arnor – or Reeve. Next you’ll tell me I’ve wasted my life protecting your family line.’
Annev smiled, though his cheeks burned hot. He had been thinking that, but if he said it he would break the old man’s heart.
‘Keos will rise again,’ Sodar said. ‘Some say he has already risen – that when the High Priest Neruacanta replaced Cohanuk, he was possessed with the disenfranchised spirit of Keos. That is why in New Terra he is called Keos the Second, the God-King.’
‘But you don’t believe that,’ Annev guessed.
‘I think it unlikely,’ Sodar conceded, ‘but even if I were wrong and Neruacanta were all we had to face, he’s still the most powerful warlock alive – and a more evil man you are unlikely to find. Regardless of how he returns, though, the fact remains that Keos is coming, and the line of Breathanas must be ready to stand against him.’
Annev scratched at the back of his neck. ‘Against a God?’ He shook his head. ‘I can barely stand against Elder Tosan.’
The priest laughed. ‘You remind me of your great-great-great-grandfather. Talented. Sceptical. Unbelieving.’ Sodar walked over to the fireplace, where the mantel displayed the table corner Annev had sliced off. ‘He didn’t want any part of this – didn’t want to be a descendant of Breathanas, or have any of the responsibilities that came with it – but your grandfather was a believer, and your father, too.’ Sodar placed the sheared piece of wood in front of Annev. ‘Why do the ones without magic always believe, while the ones with magic refuse?’
Annev snorted. ‘Maybe we don’t like being told what to do.’
Sodar blinked. ‘That sounds about right,’ he said. ‘I suppose I’ve been protecting your family for the Dionachs Tobar for so long that I forget about little things like free will.’ He laughed again. ‘I should know better. Your father was almost as stubborn as you are, though neither he nor his father had the talent. Your great-great-grandfather Macarraig of House Breth – he was the last of your line to have a little magic, though his father was even more gifted.’
‘What happened to them?’
‘Macarraig trained at the enclave of the Dionachs Tobar and became an artisan of modest talent. As for his father … we had a falling out. I made mistakes. Pushed him to do things he had no interest in doing. I kept too many secrets from him, and when he found out, it was too late to repair the damage.’ His voice filled with regret. ‘I’d rather not make the same mistake with you. I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want … but now we might not have a choice.’