The Shattered Land

CHAPTER 46

Firesled. A modification of the design pioneered by the elemental savants of the Sul’at League. The bound elemental provides motive power for the vehicle, and its essence can be channeled through the central staff as an offensive weapon, either in a focused blast or explosive burst. The sled is fire-resistant and spiritually reinforced to resist abjuration effects that could interfere with the binding enchantments. The top speed …

It wasn’t a conversation. Pierce didn’t hear a voice telling him these things. He just knew the information, as if he had studied the subject long ago and forgotten it. At the same time, he felt a strange sensation in his mind-a slight sense of confusion, as if there was something he was trying to remember but simply couldn’t recall. He tried to dismiss it, to focus on the battle, but he couldn’t; it was as if another creature were trying to think with his mind.

THOOM!

Pierce threw himself to the side as the firesled approached, and he rolled with the explosion, avoiding any significant injuries. Rising to his feet, he loosed an arrow at the pilot of the craft, but between the vessel’s speed and the cover it provided to its controller, the elf was a difficult target. The flying sled passed overhead and out of sight. Pierce could hear soldiers approaching through the jungle, and a flock of brightly colored birds took to the sky, complaining in a myriad of sharp notes. An instant later the elves flowed out from the trees-a dozen warriors wearing bronze armor, wielding swords and short spears.

Elves: a servant race. The information was there, rising to the fore without him even asking. Swift but frail. The Gyrderi employ a corps of elf war-wizards, and the species has displayed an aptitude for magic. Be prepared for arcane attack. As an afterthought: Elves do not sleep, though they require a period of trance and mental exercise to restore balance: they do not open a spiritual link to Dal Quor during this time. The unusual pigmentation of these elves could be the result of long-term exposure to magical forces.

Pierce didn’t have time to analyze the thoughts. His last arrow had found the throat of an enemy soldier, and now his flail was in his hands. He swung low, lashing the chain around an opponent’s knees and jerking him off of his feet; as the dark elf tried to rise, the metal ball of the flail caught him in the face, and he fell for good.

As skilled as he was, Pierce was terribly outnumbered. He tried to keep Lei in his peripheral vision, but the elves were moving around him. Even as he parried two swordsmen with a sweeping stroke of the flail, a spear-tip slipped through his guard and dug into the leathery roots under his right arm. Then he heard a voice-he didn’t know the language, but even as he heard the words he knew it meant “Stand aside!”

The elves scattered. Pierce tried to locate the speaker, but the words seemed to have come from empty air, or was there something there? A vague shimmer? A …

The flare of light was overwhelming. Dazzling, vivid colors filled his field of vision, and for an instant he was paralyzed by the brilliant radiance. The dark elves had known what to expect, and before he could recover they were upon him. The shaft of a spear knocked him to the ground, and as his vision cleared he saw a half-dozen weapons leveled down at him. Two of the spearheads were shrouded in flame. The firesled swept over him, and there was another explosion to the east.

Even as Pierce considered his options, a thought occurred to him. Your companion Lei has been seriously injured. She is alive, but further strenuous activity could prove fatal.

He knew it was true. He could sense Lei’s presence even though he could not see her, and he knew she’d been caught in the last blast of the firesled. The odds were impossible, and he couldn’t put Lei at further risk. Reluctantly, he released his grip on his flail and spread his hands.

Pierce offered no resistance as the drow took his weapons and bound his hands. His attention was focused inwards. Your companion. It had seemed like his thought, but it wasn’t. Even now, he could sense that Lei’s condition had stabilized.

Identify yourself, he thought.

Why do we need names?

The thought seemed natural, as if it had just occurred to him, a logical response to his question, but Pierce had been waiting for it, and he examined the thought the instant it came to him. He could feel a hint of the outside presence … like a voice he couldn’t quite remember, the faintest possible scent. Something vast, old, and ever so slightly … feminine.

We are separate. You are sentient. Surely you have an identity of your own.

Perhaps I am just a part of you … a part you’ve forgotten.

The dark elves had surrounded Pierce and brought him together with Lei. Her skin was covered with burns and ash, and there were charred holes in her cloak, but she still smiled at him. He offered her his hand, and the drow did not stop her from leaning on him.

A name. Make one up if you must, but tell me who and what you are or I’ll rip you out of my chest.

Perhaps. For now, you may think of me as Shira. What am I? I am your destiny. I was made for you.

I am less than thirty years old, Pierce thought. You have been in a vault for over thirty thousand years. You were not made for me.

Then perhaps you were made for me. Is there so much of a difference?

Pierce reached up to touch the orb, where the lone dragonshard protruded from his torso. He considered the mental command that would deactivate his essence node, forcing the sphere from his body.

I wouldn’t. You need me.

Why is that?

Because I can lead you to Karul’tash and so much more besides. For example, you should really listen to what these elves are talking about, and you don’t understand the Elvish language, do you?

If he could have, Pierce would have frowned. Instead, he simply turned his attention to the elves. The soldiers who had captured him were led by a woman with a flaming, double-bladed sword whose armor seemed to glow with inner heat.

A spirit of fire has been bound into the armor using the techniques of the Sul’at savants, Shira observed. When invoked, it will surround the wearer with a burning aura that will injure attackers.

This woman had placed a piece of black glass on the ground, and as Pierce watched, a flickering shape rose up from it. It was only a shadow formed of dark flame, a vague silhouette of a humanoid figure wearing a crown with three points. Pierce waited for a response from Shira, but none was forthcoming.

“So, Sulaje. You have found them.” It was the crackling sound of fire, woven into speech. Somehow Pierce knew the voice was speaking the Elvish language, but it was as if he didn’t even hear the words-he simply knew their meaning.

“We have, Lord Holuar, though I ask you to rescind your order and allow me to proceed with execution. The other outlanders are still at large, and-”

Other outlanders? Pierce glanced at Lei, whose eyes had widened at the words.

“They are irrelevant.” The crackling voice was curt. “I told you that the final season was upon us-but our emissary misread the signs.”

“Keeper?”

“The child of war stands next to you, Zulaje, a man without home or family. The water spoke to this one as well, and he fought the priest of dragons. He opened the gate on the ground, a mystery we have never mastered. I know it in the marrow of my old bones: These are the ones we have sought, delivered to us at last.”

“Are we to test these, as well?” The woman’s voice was full of scorn and doubt.

“There is no need. Let the gate test them.”

“This is foolishness, Lord Holuar. A number of scouts have failed to return. Even a firesled is missing. The scorpions of the Broken Oath are lurking in the shadows, and you are chasing smoke.”

“Enough!” the voice cried from the fire. “You are a child of the flame, Zulaje, but you do not respect our ways.”

“It is time for new traditions-”

“This is NOT THE TIME!” The crackling voice rose in volume, echoing like thunder. “You consider this to be the errand of a fool, Zulaje? Then you need have no part of it.”

“What do you mean?” The woman’s voice was harsh music. “I am war leader, bearer of the blade-”

“Yes, and as such, our people will need you to maintain order in my absence. I am going to the burning gate, Zulaje. I will seek out the land of the promise. You will return to the city and watch the walls. When the army of the blessed returns from the land of the promise-we will see if there is still a role for you among our people.”

Zulaje hissed, baring her teeth. “You-”

“I am the Keeper of the Burning Gate, and I shall decide who passes beyond. You have chosen your path, Zulaje. Be grateful. Should I fail to return, the destiny of our people will be in your hands.”

Zulaje paused for a long moment. “Shall I bring the prisoners to you then?” she said at last.

“No. We both know how dangerous the jungle is, and I wish to ensure their swift and safe passage of Karul’tash. You should return. Alone. Servants of the flame will arrive within moments to lead the prisoners to the gate. I feel them closing now.”

Pierce had been listening in silence, trying to make sense of this strange conversation, but now he heard the sound of people making their way through the jungle, and a moment later four figures emerged from the thick brush and cover.

“Pierce and the Lady Lei,” Gerrion said with a bow. “How lovely to see you again.”