Son of Khyber

CHAPTER TWENTY — ONE

The Undercity Lharvion 21, 999 YK

Drego Sarhain. They’d met before, when Thorn was undercover at the Great Crag of Droaam. Drego was a sorcerer and spy in the service of the nation of Thrane. They’d worked together for a time, uncovering the identity of the demon who wanted to release a horde of werewolves and skinchangers against the people of the Five Nations. And that’s when Drego had betrayed her, claiming that despite the massive casualties, such a catastrophe would reunite the Five Nations-albeit, reuniting them under the banner of the Silver Flame. The medusa Queen of Stone, Sheshka, had turned Drego into a statue-and Sheshka’s curse was no easy thing to lift. Thorn wondered how Drego had escaped.

This changes everything, Steel whispered. What’s an agent of Thrane doing with the Tarkanans?

He was right. To this moment, there had only been two players on the board: Tarkanan and the Twelve. But what was Thrane’s interest? Thrane and Breland were still bitter rivals at the end of the Last War, and while Boranel and the young Keeper, Jaela, had sought to normalize relations, many of the powerful cardinals had other ideas. Was Thrane trying to use Tarkanan against Breland? The Son of Khyber knew Thorn’s true allegiance, but he’d introduced her to Drego as a member of his house. Did Daine know who Drego really worked for? Despite the silver trim on his fine clothes, the Thrane had abandoned the arrowhead symbol of the Silver Flame he’d worn in Droaam. She needed answers, and quickly.

She had to give Drego credit. He didn’t show the slightest sign of recognition or surprise. He smiled and extended his hand, brushing his lips against her proffered fingers. “And how lucky we are to have such a lovely addition to our family,” he said. He held on to her hand as he continued to speak. “What gift does your mark possess?”

Drego knew Thorn was a Brelish agent and that mere months ago she hadn’t possessed an aberrant dragonmark. He was testing her-undoubtedly curious to see what the quartermasters of the Citadel had devised. She smiled and let a faint trickle of power flow from her false dragonmark. It was just a touch of pain for her-a razor running down the edge of her skin-but Drego grimaced and pulled his hand away.

“I’m sorry, Brother Drego,” she said coyly. “It’s easier to show than tell. What of you? I can’t even see your mark.”

Though he was still sweating from the pain, Drego wasn’t one to pass up such an opportunity. “It’s hidden by my clothing, sister. But if you’d like a private viewing, that could certainly be arranged.”

That was certainly the Drego she remembered. He’d pursued her throughout their time in Droaam. She still wasn’t sure if it was entirely a game, or if there was some spark of truth behind it. Even when he’d turned on her in Droaam, he’d still asked her to take his side and come with him. She didn’t trust him, yet there was something between them, something she couldn’t easily explain. Even now, she found herself enjoying the interplay and wanting to draw it out. “So what does it do?”

“My gifts relate to spirits, sister,” he said. “I may not have power to match our mighty Son of Khyber, but my powers help me track and battle fiends and other immortals. Beyond that, I studied the arcane arts before my mark manifested, so I have a few other tools in my arsenal.”

“Impressive,” she said. “Tracking and binding fiends. How do you measure against an exorcist of the Silver Flame?” Thrane had long been known for its corps of exorcists.

“Interesting that you should ask,” Drego replied. “I was in fact raised in the church, and for a time I served the nation. But despite the powers of my mark, the mere fact that it was aberrant was enough to turn my superiors against me. I was cast out from my duties. I’m grateful that Tavin and the Son of Khyber have given me the chance to put my skills to good use.”

So there was his story. There was even the chance that it was true-though Thorn didn’t believe it.

Daine had remained silent throughout their banter, and now he spoke again. Whatever vulnerability or remorse he’d let Thorn see had vanished. He was the Son of Khyber again, confident and in charge. “You made good time, Brother Drego. Did you acquire the information we require?”

Drego nodded. He produced a leather scroll case and handed it to Daine. “Everything’s there. I don’t have an exact location, but certainly a place to begin.”

“Very well. I will need time to study this and to prepare for the challenge ahead. I suggest that the two of you rest and enjoy yourselves as best you can during this time. We go to face an immortal, a being who gazed down on Eberron before the first human was born. There is every chance that we will not return.”

Thorn held out her hand, reaching for his arm. “Is there anything I can-?”

“No.” He brushed her hand away. “If you see Xu’sasar, tell her she may return. I will call you when it is time. Now leave me. Both of you.”

Thorn and Drego looked at each other for a moment. Thorn knew he was thinking the same thing she was-waiting for the other to move first. She smiled and walked past him. Despite the bravado, she felt a shiver through her nerves as he followed her.

They were in the Chamber of Bones when he reached out for her. Perhaps he was only going to lay his hand on her shoulder, but there were all too many spells that could be cast with a touch. She felt the movement as he reached for her. The next instant Steel was in her hand, and the tip of the dagger was set against his throat. Only then did she turn to look at him.

“No offense intended… Nyrielle.” He smiled as he said her name. “You’ve always been better than I at finding your way around in the dark. I’d hoped you’d be my guide.”

Thorn had been so distracted that she hadn’t noticed when her sight shifted into the spectrum of grays. She knew Drego had no similar gift for seeing in the dark-or hadn’t when last they had met. Nonetheless, he seemed to have no trouble keeping his eyes fixed on hers.

“Of course,” Thorn said. “I’m always glad to lend a hand to an old friend. Let me show you a few of our sights.”

A moment later Drego was on his knees. Thorn stood behind him, her forearm pressing against the back of his neck, Steel laid against his throat. “We call this the wall,” she said, driving Drego’s forehead against it with a firm tap. Steel said nothing, but Thorn could feel his amusement.

“Hardly… a way… to treat… family,” Drego gasped.

Thorn pressed her knee into the small of his back. “What are you doing in Breland, Drego?”

Considering the situation, he remained remarkably composed. “Being horribly mistreated,” he said.

She slammed his forehead against the wall again. “Don’t push me, Thrane. I was willing to work with you when we were both on neutral ground-and even then, you betrayed me. Give me one good reason not to kill you right now.”

“You’re about to fight a fallen angel,” he said.

“So it seems.”

“You’ll need me to survive. My dragonmark may be as false as yours, but I am trained to battle creatures not of this plane. I can find this radiant idol, and I can help you destroy it.”

Thorn considered this, letting Steel’s edge press against Drego’s soft skin. “And how did you come to be here? What do you stand to gain?”

Remarkably, Drego still had the aplomb to chuckle. “Brelish. You see the world in shades of gray, but sometimes it is black and white. I’m a flame-bearer of the church, Nyrielle. I’ve sworn to protect the innocent from supernatural evil, and that means driving these horrors from the world. For hundreds of years, the Church of the Silver Flame battled evil across all Five Nations. Then the war came. Now we are not trusted. We are seen as agents of Thrane, when we actually serve a power that would shield every nation.”

“The Silver Flame has churches throughout Breland,” Thorn growled. “Why do we need you to come in and solve our problems?”

“You don’t have a priest in Breland worth my spit,” Drego said. Thorn could almost hear him rolling his eyes. “This nation has always been riddled with corruption. Graft and greed drives your hierophant, not the Voice of the Silver Flame. Those with the courage to fight evil either fled to Thrane during the war or have been held in check by their corrupt superiors.”

Interesting, Steel observed. So he admits that he’s a spy, but claims that he was sent into Breland to assassinate an evil spirit.

“This is hardly the first time this has happened,” Drego said. “Throughout the war, Flamebearers worked in Aundair, Breland, Cyre… even as far as the Lhazaar Principalities. Yes, we want to see Galifar united by the Silver Flame. But faith must always come before politics. The Flame exists to battle these creatures. It is our duty to protect all innocents, regardless of nationality, from these beasts.”

“It’s a pretty story,” Thorn said. “Perhaps even enough to keep me from killing you as a spy. But the last time I put my trust in you, you betrayed me and nearly unleashed a plague upon my nation.”

“Oh, that,” Drego said. “If you’re going to keep bringing that up, we’re never going to-”

Thorn called on the false dragonmark, letting the pain flow through her and into the Thrane. She held back its full power, but it was enough. He thrashed beneath her hand, gasping for breath.

“I’m not an ambassador tonight, Drego. I’m not playing the courtly game. I need a reason to let you live, and I’m still waiting to hear one.”

Drego was still breathing heavily. “I understand,” he said. “Let me… let me explain.”

And he was gone.

Thorn cursed. He’d used this trick the last time they’d fought-slipping between layers of reality. He was behind her. She spun, but fast as she was, it wasn’t enough. She saw a flash of silver light, and then the breath was crushed from her lungs. She was caught in a field of pure force, a gleaming hand that mirrored Drego’s clenched fist. Thorn struggled, fighting to summon the unnatural strength that had aided her in the past, but to no avail.

“I’m not playing games this time,” Drego said. His face was pale in the argent light cast by the hand, but his voice was steady. “What I did in Droaam had nothing to do with Breland. I sought to change Khorvaire itself. What I do now has nothing to do with Breland. I am here to destroy the ancient evils lurking below Sharn-something that will actually help your people. So kill me if you will. But if you do, you’re the one hurting Breland.”

He opened his hand, and Thorn’s bonds vanished.

“So what will it be?” he asked.

Thorn looked into his eyes, searching for any signs of his true intent. For the moment, he’d lowered the mask of the playful courtier. She could see his concern. He knew he was taking a risk by releasing her. But more than that, she could see that he wanted her to believe him. Why was her opinion important to him? Back in Droaam, he’d been determined to spare her life. Why?

She slid Steel back into his sheath and held out her hand. “Very well,” she said. “I’ll work with you, Drego Sarhain.”

He smiled and took her hand. She tightened her grip and pulled him to her, slamming her right fist into his chest. Her supernatural strength rose to answer her anger, and Drego flew back and collapsed among the brittle bones.

“I’ll work with you,” Thorn said. “But betray me again, and you’d best kill me quickly. Because you won’t get another chance.”

Drego groaned. He tried to rise then fell back among the shattered bones. Thorn smiled and left him alone in the darkness.