The Shattered Land

CHAPTER 47

The scorpion drow knew this region of jungle well, and they knew the path the firebinders would take to reach the Monolith of Karul’tash. The firebinder soldiers were slowed by armor and the need to manage the prisoners; Xu’sasar was confident that the oathbreakers could ambush the enemy before they reached the gate. A chill ran through Daine’s spine when the drow scout said that the woman in green had been injured, and his fingers tightened on the hilt of his sword.

The sun was beginning to fall toward the horizon, and Daine was kneeling in the shadow of an enormous tree, nestled against the edge of a wide path. The weathered trunk was covered with fiery orange moss, hardly ideal for camouflage. Luckily, shrubs and the flow of the land provided stronger cover, and there was little chance of being spotted by the foe. “The firebinders favor force,” Shen’kar had told them. “The spear, the sword, the flow of flame and spell. They sharpen blades, not eyes, and will not see us in the shadows. The scout in the sky is a danger, but I shall pluck out his eyes.” For an instant, a black mist flowed around the dark elf’s hands, before being drawn back into his skin. “Darkness is our birthright. The firebinders turn from it, clinging to flame and light. But the scorpion strikes unseen, and as children we are taught to fight without the use of sight. We will draw them into darkness, and there will they fall.”

Gerrion is mine, he thought.

So you have said, Lakashtai responded. She was close by, but her skills with stealth were a match for any drow, and even Daine had lost sight of her. Lakashtai had offered to link the thoughts of the oathbreaker elves, but the drow had declined. They were willing to plan strategies, to agree on critical signals, but they had no intention of letting this outlander touch their thoughts. It may surprise you, but I had not decided to steal his death from you in these last few moments.

I’m sorry. It’s just that the thought of that worm gloating over Lei … I can’t tell you how much I want to kill him.

You don’t have to, she replied. I can feel it.

Why did we trust him?

What reason was there to question him? she countered. He saved our lives, Daine. Now we know why, but at the time, it seemed a gift of good fortune.

Good fortune? What’s that?

He sighed and studied his sword. Shen’kar had taken excellent care of the weapon; if anything, better than Daine had. The blade was polished, and the eye on the pommel flashed as a beam of sunlight found its way through the canopy. Daine’s thoughts drifted, and he remembered finding the blade in his grandfather’s hand, still covered with blood.

The sword holds many memories.

The foreign thought jerked Daine from his reverie. It’s a sword. Steel and leather. The memories are mine.

Just a sword? Not at all. It is a symbol. A relic. I think it has many tales to tell-but you have not been listening.

Is there a point to this? Daine thought.

His concern for Lei already had him on edge, and his family history was a subject he had always pushed away. When he’d left his house he had disfigured the blade, gouging out the Watchful Eye of House Deneith. It had been Alina Lyrris who restored it … a strange turn of events, given her role in his earlier life.

Perhaps. Symbols and memories have power. You weaken yourself by ignoring your past.

Even as Daine struggled to frame his response, he heard the long, low call of one of the orange and gray monkeys. The call was repeated, twice, and Daine knew it was no monkey. It was the warning of the Qaltiar-the firebinders were coming.

A few moments later, a firesled appeared, drifting some fifteen feet above the path. The sled was moving slowly, no doubt scouting the way for the troop behind. The elf holding the carved staff was studying the brush, and Daine held his breath as the cold white gaze swept over his hiding place … and paused. Daine cursed silently. The soldier seemed uncertain, but if he’d spotted Daine, one blast from the staff could incinerate him and alert the others. Where was Shen’kar?

It was a question with an immediate answer. A shadow rose up along the side of the path behind the sled. In one smooth motion, Shen’kar leapt into the air, and gravity stood aside and let him fly. He landed on the back of the sled and brought one hand down against the wood. Inky vapors flowed forth from the point of contact, and in seconds this dark cloud had completely enveloped the sled. The sled picked up speed but veered to the right; it was soon off the path, and Daine thought he heard a muffled explosion in the distance. He idly wondered if it would start a wildfire, but these thoughts were quickly thrust aside as the elven troop came around the bend.

Quick! Daine thought to Lakashtai.

For an instant, Daine could feel the kalashtar reaching out with her mind, pulling distant thoughts into a bonded network. His breath caught in his throat, then the thought flowed into his mind.

Daine?

Lei! It wasn’t her voice, but the sense of her, her presence, filled him with new strength.

Captain. Pierce’s thoughts were as steady as his voice, solid and stable as stone.

There’s no time to explain, Daine thought to them. As soon as it’s dark, drop and roll to the side. Get off the path quickly. If you’re hurt … just stay down. Stay out of the way. We’re coming.

Darkness? Lei thought. Night is hours away. What-

As the firebinders drew closer, the troop was engulfed in a sudden and impenetrable gloom. The scorpion wraiths had made their move. Xa’sasar and Kulikoor had used their powers to weave shadows into small stones, and just as Lei’s cold fire lanterns spread light, these devoured it. Daine caught only a glimpse of the drow shadows slipping into the void, but he heard the tortured cries as the oathbreakers claimed their first victims. He stepped onto the path, blade at the ready, and waited for his prey to appear.

First to emerge was a priest. His ceremonial robes were torn, fresh blood mingling with the crimson cloth and chunks of obsidian woven into the hem. His expression was one of abject fear, his only concern escaping the death that waited in the darkness; he never considered what might be waiting in the light.

The cleric’s blood was still seeping into the soil as Gerrion rolled out of the shadows, moving low and fast. His small crossbow was in his hand, and he was tracking Daine even as he rose to his feet, but he wasn’t fast enough. Daine smashed the weapon from Gerrion’s hand with one powerful blow. Daine pressed the point of his blade against the gray man’s throat, pressing just hard enough to draw blood.

“Daine!” The clash of weapons and the screams of dying elves filled the air, but Gerrion was as unflappable as always. “So good to see you again. I hope these savages haven’t hurt you.”

“I’ve been trying to find one good reason not to kill you,” Daine growled.

“How about saving Lei’s life?” Gerrion glanced to the right, and Daine followed his gaze. Lei was nowhere to be seen.

No! There was a flash of dark metal, all too familiar-Daine’s dagger, in Gerrion’s hand. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Daine saw the blade sweeping up toward his grandfather’s sword. Daine knew what was coming. Steel was no match for adamantine, and in an instant the sword would be broken. It was his last bond to his family, and in that moment anger, shame, and love flowed together in a raw burst of emotion.

The dagger struck home.

And the sword didn’t break.

There was a tumultuous ring of metal on metal, a sound more like the peal of a mighty bell than that of two blades. Daine felt a faint quiver in his wrist, but the effect on Gerrion was remarkable. He jerked to the side as if he had been struck, and the dagger was torn from his grip and thrown to the side of the path. His eyes grew wide.

Daine stared at his sword in disbelief. How … Were the flames around the Watchful Eye glowing, or was it just a trick of the light?

The distraction nearly cost him. Gerrion recovered quickly and dove for the dagger, but even as he reached for it, a well-placed kick caught him in the chin and sent him sprawling.

Lei and Lakashtai looked down at the fallen half-elf. Lei picked up the dagger.

“You know, Gerrion, I don’t think this belongs to you,” she remarked, tossing it to Daine. “Lakashtai, do your people have any entertainingly gruesome punishments for thieves?”

“The kalashtar place little value on property,” Lakashtai replied. “We treasure thought and feeling, and-”

“Never mind,” said Daine. “I think our new friends may have some useful ideas.”

The darkness had faded, and the carnage was revealed. Gerrion was the only firebinder still breathing, and while the oathbreakers were bleeding and covered in gore, all four were still standing. Shen’kar had drawn his spiked club and was making a point of studying the embedded stingers.

“How quickly does he die?” the drow asked.

“Wait!” Gerrion cried.

“We tried that, remember?” Daine said. “As I recall, the only reason to let you live was … oh, that’s right, a trick so you could escape.”

“I had no choice!” Gerrion said. Daine was mildly surprised to see tears gathering in the corners of the gray man’s eyes. “You don’t understand. You can’t understand. All my life, all I’ve ever wanted was to be accepted, to do something meaningful.”

“And leading us to our deaths was your only option?”

“It was the only way I could prove myself to them.” Gerrion slowly rose to his feet, keeping his arms apart and his hands open. Daine tensed, but then he saw Pierce on the other side of the path, longbow at the ready.

Pierce, if he even starts to move, drop him.

Understood.

Daine tried to gather his thoughts, to express what he was feeling for Lei and Pierce, but Gerrion was still speaking and this was not the time. … Welcome home, he thought at last. Lei’s smile was a beacon of joy, and that was all the answer he needed.

“… family!” Gerrion said, gesturing emphatically. “You of all people should understand what that means.”

Enough. “Shen’kar,” Daine said. “Make it slow.”

The drow leader clicked his tongue. Kulikoor twirled his chain and sent one end spinning toward Gerrion. The plan was simple: pull the traitor off his feet and strike him with the poisoned rod.

Gerrion had other ideas.

He had been gesturing repeatedly as he pleaded his case, and now he made one final gesture while snapping out a word Daine didn’t recognize. The painted flames on his leather gauntlet burst into brilliant life. Before Kulikoor’s chain even reached him, this mystical fire spread across his body. The radiance was blinding. In a split second, it had consumed him completely. Nothing was left, save for a charred outline on the path beneath his feet.

Daine charged forward, studying the pattern of ash on the ground. The image of the blazing figure was stilled burned into his vision. “Did he kill himself?” he said, taking a few idle swings at the air.

“No,” Pierce said. He seemed slightly distant, and Daine wondered what the warforged had been through over the last day. “Despite the fiery manifestation, this was a short-range teleportation effect bound to his glove. He is most likely within one mile of this location, and I suspect that the gauntlet is now drained of power.”

Daine glanced at Lei. She seemed as surprised as he was by Pierce’s sudden mastery of the arcane, but she shrugged. “I … I think that’s right.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe he managed to activate it without us noticing. I was looking right at him!”

“His mind is slippery,” Lakashtai said. “Even I did not sense the deception, and your thoughts were elsewhere.”

Daine wasn’t listening. His eyes met Lei’s, and the smell of blood, the sounds of the jungle, the memory of Gerrion, all of it faded away. In that moment, Lei was his world, and a moment later she was in his arms.