Son of Khyber

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The Undercity Lharvion 20, 999 YK

The crimson mark of the Son of Khyber rippled along his skin, reminding Thorn of a flickering flame. His personality was a palpable force in the room. Absolute silence held the room as the assembled Tarkanans waited for his next word, and Thorn found that she was holding her breath.

Daine was silent for a moment, as he gazed over his assembled forces. His eyes met Thorn’s, and at that moment the shard in her lower back sent an icy chill through her nerves. Then he spoke.

“We stand on the eve of war. Those who fight at my side tomorrow may not survive the battle. I want you all to understand the nature of this struggle, to know why it is worth the sacrifice.”

A murmur passed through the hall, and a few people nodded.

“You all know the myth,” Daine continued. “How at the dawn of time, three dragons fought for dominance. Khyber tore Siberys to pieces and scattered him across the sky. Eberron bound Khyber. All natural life comes from Eberron, but the most remarkable creatures are those touched by one of the other Progenitors-the dragons born of the blood of Siberys, the demons that rose from the depths to rule the newborn world, and the other wonders and terrors that share our world.”

An interesting time for a fable, Steel whispered.

Thorn was equally puzzled. At the same time, she was entranced. Daine was a master storyteller, and it was hard not to be swept away with the fable.

“The Progenitors stand above the gods. They are the architects of reality, aware of all the paths the future might take. And for whatever reason, they chose to share these mysteries with mortals. The answers lie in symbols left by the fissures of earthquakes, the motion of the moons, glyphs traced out by lava flows and hurricanes. These are the pieces of the great Prophecy. And three thousand years ago, the Progenitors chose a new canvas for the Prophecy. The dragonmark, traced across living flesh.

“It took time for people to understand the meaning of the marks, the powers they possessed. But it soon became clear that there were two sorts of marks. The true-breeding marks of the Twelve could be passed from father to son. They were reliable. Predictable. And for the most part, constructive as opposed to destructive. Healing. Creation. Defense. The families who carried these marks quickly claimed them as gifts of Siberys, a blessing fallen from the sky.”

He held up his hand, and the lines of his mark danced across his skin.

“And then there were the other marks. Chaotic. Unpredictable. And dangerous. Marks of fear and fire. People who could kill with a touch or sow terror in the minds of others. Difficult to control, often dangerous even to the bearer. But dragonmarks nonetheless. They called these aberrant marks and said they were a sign of Khyber’s touch. And perhaps they are. But Khyber is a part of our world. Above, below, and between-you cannot have one without the others. Khyber’s voice can be heard in the Prophecy, and we have our role to play in the future of this world.

“In the past, our kind were almost as numerous as the children of the Twelve. We never know if we will pass our marks to our children, but our marks are free, not bound to any bloodline. We can appear anywhere. And so we spread across the nations. But we were scattered, and that was our weakness. We lacked unity. The Twelve saw us as threat and scapegoat. They hunted us, and by the time our leaders saw the full scope of the menace, it was too late. But even if we could not win this war, Halas Tarkanan was determined that we should not fall without a fight. He gathered our people and made of us an army. We lacked the resources of the Twelve, and propaganda turned every hand against us. We made them pay for their victory. But in the end we fell.”

It wasn’t just the dragonmarked who paid that price, Steel whispered. What of the people of Sharn?

The aberrants didn’t choose the fight, Thorn thought. Should they have just laid down and died? However, Steel couldn’t hear her thoughts, and he did not respond.

Daine continued. “For over a thousand years, the touch of Khyber was all but unknown. Where it appeared-usually when those of the Twelve mingled their precious blood-it was called a curse, the marks even cut from the flesh of the children who bore them. We were painted as monsters. But while we suffered, there was one blessing for the world. The rise of Galifar held the ambition of the dragonmarked houses in check. Their power grew, but they could not challenge the Five Nations when they stood as one. It was no vengeance for what had been done to us. But it was a beginning.

“And so we find ourselves in the here and now. Galifar is no more, while the Twelve are more powerful than ever. House Lyrandar commands the air. House Cannith stands ready to produce legions of steel and stone. Phiarlan and Thuranni watch from every shadow. And the kings of this land are so afraid of each other that they dare not challenge the true threat. That is our role. That is why Khyber’s touch has been seen in greater numbers with each generation since the war began. We are destined to return balance to this world.”

He drew his sword, and its polished blade gleamed in the torchlight. Thorn saw a symbol on the hilt: the same sun-and-eye symbol she’d seen on the Deneith brooch.

“Some of you know my history,” Daine said. “Others do not. My name is Daine, and I was born to the Halar family of House Deneith, fifteen hundred and thirty years ago. Halas Tarkanan was my cousin, and in my younger days we clashed on the battlefield. Then my own mark appeared. If not for my cousin, I would have been killed by my own father.”

Impossible, Steel whispered. He wasn’t alone. Murmurs rippled across the crowd. Daine’s deep voice silenced the whispers. Somehow his calm voice made even the ridiculous seem possible.

“If this sounds like a miracle, it is. I fell in battle alongside my cousin. But my soul was saved from Dolurrh and trapped within dreams until destiny called for me. I have been freed from the Keeper’s grasp to finish the fight my cousin could not win. And I tell you that this time we shall not fail! This time we are the tools of the Prophecy, and we shall change the course of history!”

These words were met with a roar of approval. For all that his words seemed like madness, Daine’s presence was a powerful force, and the growing enthusiasm of the crowd was infectious. Brom pounded on the floor with his mighty fist, cheering the loudest of all. Only one person seemed unaffected by the speech: Xu’sasar. The dark elf stood in Daine’s shadow, silent and still.

Daine waited for the noise of the crowd to subside before he continued. “The founders of this House have done well to bring you together, and we have already begun to build our forces in other cities. This is our time, and our numbers will surely continue to grow in days to come. However, we will never be able to match the Twelve on the field of battle. They have fortress enclaves in every major city, private armies, resources gathered from fifteen hundred years of preying on the people of Khorvaire. So we will not fight them on the battlefield. We are no nation. We don’t need to conquer and hold territory. We shall strike where they are most vulnerable and be gone before they have time to react. And we strike tomorrow!”

We cannot allow that, Steel whispered. His voice was clear in Thorn’s mind even over the cheering crowd.

“Tomorrow we will destroy a forgehold of House Cannith. Each of you will have a role to play. Some will join me on the assault itself. Others will engage in acts across the city that will help to distract the house from our efforts. And the remainder will stay here, ready to defend, to tend to the injured, or to evacuate should the need arise. But make no mistake. As of this moment, you are soldiers. The War of the Mark begins anew. Together, we shall avenge every child of Khyber unjustly slain, and save Khorvaire itself from its deadliest foe!”

Daine raised his sword as he spoke, and his mark burned with brilliant light. The crowd roared and shouted, brandishing weapons and stomping their feet. Thorn rose with them, cheering with the crowd. But it was a show for those around her. Behind the mask, her thoughts were racing. And Steel’s whispers confirmed her fears.

He has to die, Steel said. Tonight.