The Shattered Land

CHAPTER 2

Daine rolled across the bed, snatching his breeches as he hit the worn mattress. He came up with his back to the wall and quickly covered himself.

The woman was standing in the far corner of the room, half-hidden in the dim light of the evening. She was wrapped in a dark cloak that clung to her slender frame like a shadow, and a deep hood concealed her face. Daine couldn’t see any weapons, but in a world of wizards and sorcerers an unarmed man could be the deadliest enemy of all, and Daine crouched, preparing to leap for his sword.

Before he could move, the woman spoke again. Her words were soft but clear; though she was across the room, it seemed as though she was whispering into his ear.

“I have no intention of harming you, Daine. You wouldn’t be here today if you hadn’t sought my help.” Slowly, she freed her hands from her cloak and pulled back her hood. A flood of inky black surrounded perfect features that could have been sculpted from marble, but it was the eyes that he remembered: slightly too large, with just a hint of an elven slant. Her irises were emerald pools that a man could get lost in, and they seemed to draw all the light in the room. “I do hope you remember.”

If she was disturbed by Daine’s state of undress, she didn’t show it. Perhaps that was what pushed him over the edge. Tearing his eyes away from her, Daine walked over to the door and pulled his sword from its sheath, continuing to shield himself with his breeches.

“Lakashtai. I owe you. I’m not one to forget a debt, but let’s get something straight. If you want to talk to me, you can knock on the front door like everyone else. You can wait in the common room, but I’ve had it with surprises. If you’ve got something to say, I want it now. No riddles or mysteries.”

The hint of a smile played about her lips. “My apologies, Daine. I know that it was rude to invade your privacy in this way, but I assumed that this situation called for discretion.”

“I’m still not hearing an explanation.”

For all his frustration, Daine found it hard to hold onto his anger. Lakashtai’s voice was rough music, with a slight accent that was impossible to place; though he’d only seen her once before, Daine felt as if he’d heard that voice as a child. He felt like a fool for raising a weapon against an unarmed woman-worse yet, one who had saved his life.

“You’ve been having visions, haven’t you?”

Daine paused in the midst of returning his sword to its sheath. “What do you know about that?”

“They pose a threat, and I intend to deal with it.”

“I don’t remember asking for help this time.”

“Did I say you had a choice?” Lakashtai’s eyes seemed to glow in the darkness.

“It’s my mind.”

He wasn’t sure why he was arguing. The visions had nearly gotten him killed, and they seemed to be getting worse. He found he had a morbid desire to know more about that night-and a strange reluctance to let the kalashtar woman touch his thoughts.

“For now. That could change.”

“I haven’t seen a crazy changeling in my dreams lately.”

Daine turned away for a moment, just long enough to pull on his breeches, but even as he tightened the drawstring he felt a hand on his shoulder, warm breath against his neck. All his training demanded that he react, spin around, push her away, but he found that he simply couldn’t move. Her scent was intoxicating, filled with strange spices and hints of unknown lands. Now she was whispering directly into his ear-or were her words entirely in his mind?

“I am sorry, Daine, but it’s time to sleep.”

And he did.

Daine looked down from the barricade, staring into the Keldan valley. The light of the burning skyship cast long shadows across the bodies of humans and warforged. From the safety of the ridge they looked like broken toys, scattered across the floor by an angry child. There was no sign of enemy activity-no reason to wait. It was time to launch the attack.

Only-something was wrong. It was too quiet. Where were the sounds of his soldiers sharpening blades, praying to the Sovereigns, and going through the dozens of other preparations for battle? He looked back toward the camp, and the answer became clear.

He was alone.

When he’d last seen it, there had been three dozen soldiers clustered around the salvaged tents. Now the campsite was empty, and the only movement was the rustling of torn cloth in time with the faint night wind. Daine slowly drew his sword, only to discover another unpleasant surprise. Instead of Deneith steel, the blade was now formed from glass; one solid blow and it would shatter into a dozen fragments.

As he stared at the fragile blade, memories slowly began to slip into place. The Mourning. Sharn. His uninvited guest.

“Lakashtai!” Daine looked up at the night sky. “What is this? What do you want with me?”

This is not my doing.

The voice was right behind him. Daine whirled toward the sound, blade raised. The glass sword might shatter against steel, but it could still pierce soft flesh.

No one was there.

I did not bring you here, Daine. Your thoughts are under siege, and this is the moment your enemies seek.

“What enemies?”

The answer lies here, hidden in your dreams. Search the battlefield, and you will find your foe.

Daine scowled. “You break into my home, drag me into my dreams, and now you’re telling me what to do. What happens if I don’t go along with your plan? What if I just stay here?”

Feel free. Stay here as long as you like, because you aren’t going to wake up until I let you.

“I see. Fine. I’ll play your little game, but I should warn you-after all this is done, you’d best be gone when I wake up.”

There is more to this than you know, Daine. Far more than your mind is at risk. I cannot be bound by your pride.

Daine moved through the empty camp, prodding at blankets and bundles of arrows with his glass sword. He studied the pallet where Jode had set up the infirmary, and he could still see spots of his own blood staining the moldy cloth. For a moment, he thought he saw the halfling out of the corner of his eye-but the phantom vanished when he turned, if it had ever existed.

“There’s nothing here,” he said to himself as much as to Lakashtai.

This is your refuge. It is not the site of the battle.

“You could have told me that before.”

This is your battle, not mine. I can only observe.

Cursing meddling kalashtar, Daine walked to the barricade wall and hoisted himself over it. Instinct kept him close to the shadows; perhaps there was something to this hidden enemy after all.

The battlefield was eerily familiar, every detail exactly as he remembered it. He stepped over the bodies of fallen soldiers and shattered warforged, looking for any signs of life, but the field was just as cold as the campsite and far too silent. Even the flames made no sound. As he approached the burning wreckage of the airship, there was no crackle of flame, no aura of heat. If anything, he felt a slight chill, a shivering cold that seemed to pass through leather and cloth. Then he saw it: a dark blot stretched beyond the ruined vessel. From a distance, it had seemed to be the shadow of the shattered ship, but as he moved closer, he could see that it was nothing so natural. It looked like a pit of glittering tar, but he could see that the surface was in constant motion-not bubbling, but shifting, tiny tendrils rising up and collapsing back into the darkness. He moved slowly toward the pool. With every step, the chill increased.

“You’ve come too late.” The voice was distant, as though cast onto the wind. It was female, low, and despite the distortion he could hear the predatory satisfaction. “We have claimed this place, and this is only the beginning.”

A figure stepped out from behind the burning wreckage, moving forward into the light. Her cloak was woven of pure shadow, and green eyes gleamed beneath the deep hood.

“Lakashtai?” Daine said. He raised his crystal blade into guard position, warily waiting for the woman to make her next move.

The stranger laughed, musical notes scattered across the dark wind. “Not quite, but you might say that we’re sisters.” She tossed back her head, and her hood fell back from her face. Like Lakashtai, her delicate features had an inhuman perfection, as if crafted by an artist who sought beauty with no sense of realism or compassion, but her skin was even paler than that of Lakashtai. Her hair was pure white, bound into a thick braid and wound about her neck; it seemed to glow with an inner light. “I am Tashana, little Daine, and your mind is mine to do with as I will.”

“We’ll see about that.”

She wasn’t armed, but her confidence suggested unseen powers, and Daine wasn’t about to take chances. He walked forward slowly, ready to launch into a swift lunge as soon as he was close enough. Glass or not, he should be able to pierce her skin.

“So we shall.”

The pale woman raised a hand. Tendrils of shadow rose from the pool and twined around her arm. The darkness flowed along her skin, and in seconds she was encased in a shield of shadows.

Daine shivered. There was something deeply wrong with this situation, and he felt the fear that only comes in a nightmare-the certain knowledge that as bad as things were, they could get even worse in the blink of an eye, with no limits on what terrors could appear. He fought the urge to turn and flee, running back to the safety of the camp, but he forced himself to seize hold of his emotions, to quiet his fears and hold his ground. If this was only a dream, nothing could truly harm him here.

“It’s not only a dream.”

Even as she spoke, the mists surrounding the woman rippled and reformed, creating a monstrous silhouette. Two muscular arms were tipped with massive pincers, and a dozen smaller tendrils writhed around the headless torso. There were no clear legs on the shadowform, just a long, powerful tail tipped with a fearsome stinger.

Daine had seen worse sights in the Mournland, but the lingering fears remained. Though he tried to silence his doubts, he could feel his heart racing.

I’m dreaming. None of this is real, not even my fear.

He brought his blade into the fourth guard position, presenting his right side and placing the point between him and the creature. Pushing away his doubts, he studied the monster. As disturbing as it was, it was a thing of mist and shadow; he could almost see the woman within. It’s a trick, some sort of magic-a disguise, nothing more.

“Allow me to prove otherwise.”

The shadowbeast charged forward. A huge pincer lanced out to crush Daine’s head, but he slid to one knee, dropping beneath the blow as he slashed up with his sword.

It was a perfect stroke and would have crippled a creature of flesh and blood, but this was like striking the wind, and the blade passed through the dark form with no effect whatsoever. For a moment, Daine let his guard drop. It’s just a shadow, after all. Then the creature caught him with a backhanded blow. The pincer slammed into his chest with the force of a sledgehammer, throwing him backwards and onto the ground. He rolled to the side just in time to keep the dark stinger from piercing his heart; instead it caught the edge of his chest, tugging against his chainmail.

Rising to his feet, he did his best to dodge the lashing claws. For a few moments he spun around the monstrosity, backing away and fighting to stay a step ahead of the dark horror. It can hit me. I can’t hurt it. A memory was lingering on the edge of his thoughts, and even as he ducked beneath another blow, it came to him: Pierce’s flail passing harmlessly through the insect swarm. Perhaps physical force wasn’t the answer. Heat might not hurt this thing, but light just might.

As the creature swung at him again, Daine stepped to the side and dove forward, rolling beneath the blow and toward the wreckage of the stormship. Dropping his useless sword, he grabbed a chunk of burning wood from the ground.

He flung the spar with all of his might, aiming directly at the creature’s chest-right where he guessed the woman’s head would be, if she was in fact within the shadowy form. Even as the makeshift torch left his hand, the dark shape shifted, becoming ever more solid; for a moment, the mist became pure obsidian, thick and hard as stone. The wood shattered into a thousand sparks.

The beast shook with laughter, even as it resumed its shadowy state. “You can’t win this, Daine,” she said, her voice a howling wind. “You cannot begin to comprehend my power. I am the darkness.”

“Scary. Scarier if you were just a little bit faster.” Despite his bravado, Daine was still fighting the fear that clenched at his stomach and cried in the back of his mind.

“My physical strength is the least of your worries. There are greater weapons at my disposal.”

She raised her massive arms, and the ground around Daine erupted in motion. Across the battlefield, corpses were moving: maimed human and broken warforged, all of the fallen were rising to their feet, forming a living wall around Daine.

“Now would be a really good time to wake up,” Daine muttered.

He set his back against the keel of the stormship and grabbed another broken spar. He could see familiar faces among the shuffling masses: Lynna carried the morningstar that had shattered her chest, and Cadrian staggered forward despite his broken face. Daine took his guard position and prepared for the first onslaught …

And then came the light.

A brilliant luminescence flowed over the field, and the lurching corpses paused to shield their eyes-even those with no eyes left to shield. A glowing figure stepped out of the wreckage next to Daine, a woman wrapped in a hooded cloak that shone with the brilliance of the sun.

“Let him go, Tashana.” It was Lakashtai.

Laughter. “You’re a fool to come here, child of Kashtai-as great a fool as your ancient mother. We claim this man and his dreams. Leave now, and you can earn a few more days of life.”

“He will not stand alone.”

The nimbus of light surrounding Lakashtai intensified, and the shadowy figure seemed to wilt in the glow. But even as the monster cringed, tendrils rose from the dark pool, flooding into the beast and restoring its strength. In moments, it was even larger then before-and the aura of light was beginning to fade.

“Then fall together.”

A vast wave of darkness rippled forward from the shadowy figure. It slammed into Daine, enveloping him in cold and silence, and he knew no more.