Chapter Thirty
Rolling With the Punches
“Where did you get that?” Callum went completely still beneath Iarion’s arm as the elf held the dark blade against the bare white flesh of his throat. The hilt tingled in Iarion’s palm.
“That’s not important,” Iarion said. He took a steadying breath and forced himself to continue with his half-mad bluff. “All that matters is this is the only weapon that can kill one of your kind. Now I don’t want to have to use it on you, or even Felara—not yet, anyway. But I will if I have to. I hope you understand the situation.”
Callum swallowed. “You want me to take you to the Void.”
“That’s right,” Iarion said in a soothing voice. “Just me and Barlo. We need to go to the ruins of Saviadro’s spirit palace.” He would need the remnants of the Quenya that linge
