Son of Khyber

CHAPTER TWENTY — NINE

The Depths Lharvion 22, 999 YK

Thorn refused to panic. As her feet slid into the molten stone, she swung the heavy bag forward. The weight and momentum pulled her flat against the stone ahead, and mercifully, the impact didn’t shatter it. She drew Steel with her free hand and slammed the blade through the porous crust. This time, the surge of inhuman strength answered her call, and using Steel as a piton, Thorn pulled herself forward, dragging her legs out of the lava. She was ready to crawl forward, but she found that she could still stand, that there was still strength in her legs. She loped forward, barely thinking as she crossed the last few yards to safety. As soon as she was safely in the tunnel, Thorn collapsed to the ground, waiting for the agony to come.

But it didn’t.

Thorn was amazed that she’d even been able to walk. Her clothes were smoldering from where she’d fallen against the crust. She assumed that the intense heat had burned away the nerves, and she had to force herself to look down at her legs. What she saw was a shock. Her boots and the lower legs of her pants were tattered and burnt, almost completely destroyed. But the skin below was completely untouched. She could feel the rough stone of the tunnel beneath her feet.

She held Steel over her legs. “Explain this.”

What do you wish me to explain?

Thorn shook the dagger. “How did I survive that? I just plunged my foot into molten lava, and I’m not even hurt!”

The charm you’re wearing provides basic protection against extreme heat.

“I know that! But not against lava-so what happened?”

I have no explanation. There was a momentary surge of transmutative energies when you pulled yourself free, but that does not account for your initial survival. Have you encountered such heat before?

Thorn glared at the dagger. “Of course. I go swimming in lava all the time.”

Don’t limit yourself to lava. Have you ever been badly burned?

“Of course I have. When I was three, I stuck my hand into the cooking fire. And I was almost killed by a Karrnathi pyromancer on the Blackrod mission.” She hesitated. “There was the sorceress in the Great Crag.”

During that mission, a fight had broken out in the chambers of the medusa queen, and an Aundairian sorceress had thrown a fireball into the room before fleeing. The blast nearly killed Queen Sheshka, but had no effect on Thorn at all. That was also the first time she’d used her life-draining touch. In the madness that followed, that particular detail had slipped from her mind.

So nothing since Blackrod?

“No… nothing,” she said.

There’s no logical explanation. I suggest you submit to a physical examination when you return to the Citadel. At the moment I suggest you release your companions before they suffocate-unless you’re having second thoughts about this mission.

Thorn shook her head, sheathing the dagger. Thoughts were whirling through her mind. Her unnatural strength had first come to her in the Great Crag. She’d survived the fire. It was in Droaam that she’d learned that her enhanced senses were somehow a part of her, not granted by magical tools. And it was there that she had killed a man with her touch. All in Droaam. Her first mission after Far Passage.

What do you really know about what happened that night? The voice from her dreams echoed in her mind.

Then she heard her own words again. I am the Angel of Flame.

It was madness. But so was her survival.

She didn’t want to think about it anymore. She wanted to fight something, to channel the confusion into anger. She opened up the sack and reached inside. She felt someone’s hair and pulled Drego out through the opening.

“I’m glad to see that worked,” Drego said. He glanced down at her feet and raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t like those boots?”

“Just get Daine out of the bag,” Thorn said. “Let’s kill an angel.”

“We’re close,” Daine said. He drew his sword, and cold fire gleamed along the silver blade. “As before, we’ll need to weaken her before I can safely absorb her. Drego, I can’t imagine your flame will be of much use.”

“Not to worry.” Drego drew his wand and twirled it between his fingers. “I have other options.”

“I have a few tricks of my own, courtesy of Lord Merrix.” Daine produced a crystal sphere from a pouch. “This should buy us a little time. Thorn, you handled yourself well before. Are you ready for what lies ahead?”

Thorn nodded. She didn’t have any cunning plans, but she was certainly in a mood to stab something.

Daine paused, then he spoke again. “I know that you both have your own reasons for being here. We do not share blood or mark, and you have your own agendas in this matter. But you have been worthy companions, and whatever follows this battle, I thank you for standing at my side.”

Thorn could see the sorrow in his eyes. He doesn’t think we’ll all make it through this, she realized.

“We may meet as enemies in the future,” she said, “but I’m proud to be your ally today.”

Even as she said it, she realized it was true. Though Daine’s war wasn’t her own, she admired his dedication. He was challenging one of the most powerful forces in Khorvaire, and there was a part of her that thought it was a battle worth fighting.

“Nothing more need be said. Let us go.”

Thorn drew Steel and ran through her weaponry as she followed the others. The bare rock beneath her feet was a strange feeling, but there was no time to consider that mystery further. She had the myrnaxe bound in her glove, and her false dragonmark-though she doubted that mere pain would incapacitate a fallen angel. It seemed foolish to fight such a creature with a dagger, but they’d managed to defeat the radiant idol already. How hard could the second one be?

They were making their way up a rising slope. A flickering radiance filled the hall above-the light of a bonfire in the chamber above.

“That’s it,” Drego whispered.

“Wait!” Thorn grabbed his arm and pulled him back, almost dragging him off his feet. There was something on the floor ahead. The faintest pattern visible against the black stone. Thorn threw a pinch of silver in the air, and the glyph burst into flame. Even Thorn could feel the heat pouring from the burning sigil. She studied it, and by the time Steel spoke, she’d already come to the same conclusion.

You can’t disperse this with the tools you’re carrying, he told her. The power is beyond Kundarak work. Anyone touching the symbol will be incinerated.

“You’d best let me go first,” Thorn said. “And if you see anything like this… don’t touch.”

The next glyph was hanging in the air-an even more impressive feat. Thorn ducked beneath the flaming brand and crawled along the floor. At last she reached the top of the tunnel and peered into the room that lay beyond.

What she saw was madness.

Once this chamber had been the great hall of a goblin king. The style was reminiscent of the Tarkanan sanctuary, simple and ascetic. Thick pillars supported the high roof, and the remnants of a few tattered banners hung from the walls, bearing the symbol of a skull and battle-axe. Streams of glowing lava snaked across the floor of the room, staying molten even with exposure to the air. And the flaming glyphs were scattered across the room, emblazoned on floor, wall, and pillars alike.

But these were the least of the wonders to be seen. The ceiling of the hall was high above her head, and floating debris filled the space between floor and roof. Some of it was simple stone, chunks of columns or walls that had shattered in Tarkanan’s quake. But there were charred bones drifting through the air, and enormous pieces of armor. No, not armor. An armored leg, larger than that of a troll, was floating past her, and she could see that it was solid-filled not with flesh and bone, but with metal and stone. Not warforged, but some sort of construct. Studying the bones, she spotted a few scorched corpses that still had scraps of identifiable uniforms, and she could see the edge of a gorgon seal.

The seal of House Cannith.

Cannith had been here before, and all evidence suggested that it had been a disaster. It might have been a coincidence that Daine had brought the Cannith weapon here. Or perhaps he was following in the house’s formidable footsteps.

Then she saw the throne. It had been hidden behind the drifting torso of a steel giant, and now it slowly came into view. The throne of the goblin king, torn from the floor and set loose in the air. And there in the great chair sat Vyrael, the Ashen Sword, Eighth among the Burning Host. Every feather on her wings was an individual flame, and her face was a mask of brass wreathed in fire. Her body was hidden beneath a robe darker than the blackest soot. A sword lay across her lap-a greatsword forged from dark, pitted iron. It was a brutal weapon, one that had seen many battles.

The fallen angel was a majestic and fearsome sight, but it seemed she was not omniscient. If she was aware of Torn, she gave no indication of it. She remained perfectly still, save for the flickering flames of her wings and her glorious mane. Thorn crept along the wall, slowly making her way behind the angel. The throne was a good ten feet off of the ground, but there was a lot of floating refuse in the air. As long as it would support her weight, she could use the debris as a springboard to reach her enemy.

Vyrael still seemed to be unaware of her presence. Under normal circumstances, it would be a simple task. A quick leap, surprise attack, slash her throat before she had time to raise her blade. But after fighting Vorlintar, Thorn wasn’t even sure these beings had internal organs. Daine had a weapon he’d planned on using, so for now, she’d wait.

It didn’t take long.

Thorn’s attention was locked on the angel, and she didn’t see the others enter. But she saw Vyrael’s reaction. The Ashen Sword spread her burning wings and rose into the air, hovering above her throne. Brilliant flames engulfed her blackened sword, and the train of her robe drifted like smoke. Her angry voice was as harsh as the beaten brass of her mask, and it echoed off the walls.

“Spawn of darkness! You are a fool to come before me. A thousand fiends have fallen to my blade, and I will not suffer your presence in this place. Prepare for battle!”

“You’ve never met a fiend like me before,” Daine said. “Let’s see what you can do.”

Vyrael dived toward him, and battle was joined.