The City of Towers

CHAPTER 29

Take him down!” Daine cried to Pierce, but the warforged didn’t raise his bow. In fact, he didn’t move at all.

“I’m afraid that this is between you and I, Daine,” the twin said, standing up and walking toward him. “Your friends can’t help you.”

Turning to Lei, Daine saw that her body was completely rigid, her face devoid of expression. “What have you done to them?” he said, taking up a guard stance.

“It’s Monan, actually. I was lying last night. Greykell was right. We like doing that just to confuse people.”

He seemed unconcerned with Daine’s glittering blades. And with good reason. As Monan approached, Daine made a long lunge with his sword. The blow should have pierced Monan’s heart, but the twin moved with astonishing speed, swatting the blade aside with the palm of his left hand. Before Daine could react, Monan grabbed the blade with his left hand and struck at the hilt with his right, knocking it from Daine’s grasp.

While he was surprised by the changeling’s speed, Daine’s reflexes were honed by a lifetime of training. Even as he lost his sword, Daine thrust with his dagger. Monan struck the point of the dagger with the palm of his hand, and the blade-which could cut through steel as easily as cheese-came to a dead stop.

“You still don’t understand, do you?” Monan said. Daine managed to step back before the changeling could grab hold of the dagger. “None of this is really happening. Not physically.”

“What are you talking about?”

Monan smirked, the sadistic smile of a predator toying with his prey. “When you defeated my allies last night, I cast my spirit into your mind. This”-he gestured around them-” is dream and memory. Even now, you’re drooling on the cobblestones. In a few moments I’ll have disposed of you once and for all. I’ll use your body for as long as it suits my needs, and then I’ll leave you to rot in some madhouse.”

“You’re lying.”

“Am I?” Monan reached behind his back, and when his hand came back into view there was a sword in it-one Daine recognized in an instant. “Look what I’ve found here. Remember this, Daine? A gift from your grandfather. And look what you did to it.”

It had been a long time since Daine had really stopped to look at his grandfather’s sword-the damage to the blade and hilt, both intentional and accidental. He glanced at the blade, and in that moment, everything changed. He was in the courtyard of the family estate in Metrol. For a moment, it seemed he was a child again; the walls and doors towered over him. Then he realized that he had not changed. The buildings were simply oversized, scaled to the perceptions of a boy. His grandfather towered over him, tarnished sword in hand.

“Look what you’ve done,” he said, his voice filled with disappointment. “I believed in you. I knew you would uphold the legacy and the honor of my blood. And see what you have done with it.”

“Clever,” Daine said. “But I’ve fought your kind before.”

He made a quick thrust, dipping beneath the expected parry and darting forward, trying to close the distance between them. But even as he moved forward, his enemy slipped back. It was like trying to hit a ghost. The creature wearing his grandfather’s face laughed and raised his family sword.

“I’ve spent all day in your memories, Daine,” the changeling said. “I know how you fight. But it hardly matters. You can’t kill me with the idea of a sword. At best, you can force me into the shadows for a few more hours.”

Now it was Monan’s turn to go on the offensive, and even his movements were those of Daine’s grandfather, who had taught Daine the fundamental principles of defense. But this was a mistake. Dailan had been a master swordsman, one of the best in Khorvaire. Daine remembered those practice sessions as vividly as his last conversation with his father. Combining his memories of the past with the skills he had acquired in the intervening years, it was a simple matter to block each blow.

“You may be able to hold me off, Monan, but you can’t beat me with my own memories,” Daine said.

He was growing suspicious. Monan seemed surprisingly eager to talk about the situation. The changeling might be telling the truth, but he could just as easily be lying, trying to demoralize his foe.

“Perhaps I don’t need to win,” Monan said. “Perhaps I just need to wait. Every minute you’re trapped, my power grows. Soon I’ll depart, and I’ll take your body with me. But don’t worry, you’ll have all of your memories to keep you company. Soon enough, you’ll be no more than a memory yourself.”

Perhaps Monan was telling the truth; perhaps not, but the taunts were taking a toll on Daine. With every passing moment, he felt more detached, distant. It was becoming difficult to think, but he had to try. He launched a series of lightning-swift blows at the changeling, but his foe didn’t parry. He simply avoided. Each warrior knew the other’s fighting style perfectly.

And then Daine had an idea.

He was facing a deadly, highly skilled opponent. He only had one weapon left, and it was both his last defense and his only chance against his enemy. Every lesson he’d been taught, every instinct he had, told him that the dagger was his last hope.

He threw it away.

Monan was preparing for another pass when Daine hurled the dagger. Daine’s real grandfather might have been able to block the blade, but Daine had never thrown a weapon in their practice sessions, and he never would have thrown the weapon in real life. In all of Daine’s memories-the memories Monan was using against him-there was no precedent for such an act. The blade caught Monan in the center of his throat. He sat down hard, and the mask of Daine’s grandfather slipped away, revealing the almost featureless face of the changeling. His sword fell to the floor and vanished as his hands rose up, trying to grab hold of the hilt of the adamantine blade. But he didn’t have the energy, and his hands fell back to the floor.

“Only … temporary …” he whispered, gazing into Daine’s eyes.

Monan faded away, and the world went with him.

Daine woke on one of the pallets in their room in the Manticore. Lei was sitting by his side, holding a glittering crystal in her hand.

“Lei?” he whispered.

She looked over at him, and a smile spread over her face. “Daine! Thank the Sovereigns!”

“They didn’t have anything to do with it,” he muttered. “What … happened?” His head was muzzy, and he was having to force thoughts through the haze.

Pierce’s voice came from above and behind him. “You collapsed, just outside the Manticore. We brought you inside.”

“I was searching for outside influences,” Lei explained, indicating the crystal in her hand. “But I can’t sense anything. Do you remember what happened?”

“It’s Monan. He’s inside my mind. I’ve got to find a way to drive him out and quickly. If what he said is true, it’s only a matter of time before he regains his strength and tries again.”

Lei frowned. “A priest, then? They say that the adepts of the Silver Flame are masters of exorcism.”

“No!” Daine shook his head. “No priests. Besides, this isn’t a demon or fiend. It’s … I don’t know. His memories … thoughts. But I’m not talking to a priest of the Flame.”

Lei shrugged. “Fine. So do you have an idea of your own?”

Daine pondered for a moment then rose to his feet and picked up his swordbelt. “Perhaps I do.” He buckled on the belt and grabbed his chain mail shirt. “Where’s Jode?”

“He still hasn’t arrived,” Pierce said.

That stopped him for a moment. “What time is it?”

“The seventh bell just rang,” Lei replied.

“I’ll be back by ten.”

“Where are you going?”

“Following a hunch.”

“And what happens if you faint in the middle of hunch-hunting?”

“Then I guess Jode won’t be the only one missing.”

Lei blocked his path. “Daine, you were the one demanding we stay together.”

“This is something I need to do alone. Trust me. I’ll be back soon.” He pushed her aside and threw on his cloak as he walked out the door.