The Shattered Land: The Dreaming Dark - Book 2 (18 page)

“This Hassalac can cure me?”

“It is not so simple. Hassalac has gathered many relics of the past. It is possible that he has already found the weapon we require to drive the darkness from your mind, but he is arrogant and proud, and he will not help us out of kindness. It is my hope that a suitable gift will serve as our gateway to his vault.”

“So we’re going on a bold expedition to the market?”

“Hassalac is a powerful and wealthy man, and the things that he desires are not sold in the market square. Fortunately our guide is familiar with Hassalac and the lay of this land, and Gerrion has suggested a suitable gift. This is not a time for discussion. Finish your meal swiftly, and let us set ourselves in motion; I shall explain everything in time.”

Daine shrugged and turned his attention to his bowl of sour milk and bitter berries. Beneath the table a gray cat with glittering silver stripes rubbed against his leg, purring in strange fluting tones.

Stormreach was a different place by the light of day. With the sun in the sky, Daine could see the buildings that dominated the center of the city … although building was a generous
term. Stormreach was filled with ruins: remnants of stone and densewood, vast archways and broken walls.

“Tens of thousands of years,” Lei murmured. “These were the homes of giants. Imagine what these walls have seen.”

At the moment, Daine had little interest in history; he was more concerned with the Riedran warriors. While Lakashtai said they’d need time to recover, there was no way to know how many allies they had in the city. Daine studied each weed-choked wall, each stranger to cross his path. Many of the settlers had used the old walls as the foundations for their homes and businesses; these ranged from shabby tents to solid stone structures that looked like they could last another thirty thousand years. Pox-ridden beggars, vendors hawking strange and disturbing foods, and colorfully dressed missionaries all sought to bar their path, but Pierce pushed the strangers aside.

Gerrion led the way. He followed a strange path, and his choices seemed almost random. Wide roads alternated with narrow alleys where they needed to walk in single file, and Daine was certain they were moving in a wide circle instead of a straight line. The war had taught him that the shortest path was not always the safest one, and this time they did not encounter any ambushes.

“I think it’s about time you told us who this Hassalac is,” Daine told Lakashtai, as they made their way past a band of dwarves—miners, by the look of it. The sharp stench of roasting lizard-meat filled the air, fighting with the salty tang of the ocean. “Judging from our guide’s reaction last night, I gather there’s a story to tell, and I’m not going into this blind.”

“Hassalac Chaar,” Lakashtai said. “The Prince of Dragons. The most powerful sorcerer in Stormreach, or so it’s said—possibly one of the mightiest in the world. He claims that the blood of dragons runs through his veins and that this is the source of his power.”

“‘Prince of Dragons?’ Don’t tell me he actually has dragons as servants.” Daine had never seen a dragon, but he had heard the legends. It was said that a single dragon could lay waste to an army.

“No,” Lakashtai said. “It is just a title, derived from his beliefs about his bloodline.”

“That’s something, I guess, and he collects old things?”

“Yes. This was my original purpose in coming to this place—to gain access to his vaults and study the relics that he has acquired, to learn if he has found anything better left unknown.”

“Like what?”

“In ancient times, Xen’drik was ruled by a race of giants. Their civilizations lasted tens of thousands of years, and in that time they learned much of magic. They developed mystical weapons and tools far beyond the capabilities of the wizards of Khorvaire.”

“You’re worried that he’s found some sort of weapon built by these giants?”

“No,” said Lakashtai.

There was an angry roar coming from behind them. Glancing over his shoulder, Daine saw a massive, filthy woman—at least ten feet tall and heavily muscled—howling at the dwarves. The miners scattered, leaving the giantess alone with the nervous lizard-meat vendor.

“So that’s a giant?” Daine said. “She doesn’t look like much of an archmage to me.”

Lakashtai shook her head. “The fall of giant civilization began with an attack from the outer planes—from Dal Quor, the region of dreams. Mystical portals brought a host of quori spirits to this world. It was an army of nightmares, fear given form.”

“The work of your il-lushtavar?”

“Il-Lashtavar, and no, it was not. The plane of Dal Quor goes through cycles, ages in which the very nature of reality is reshaped and redefined. The Dreaming Dark is the spirit of this age, but we can only imagine what came before. This is why I have come—in the hopes that among his treasures, Hassalac has recovered tools of these ancient quori, something that will tell us more about their society.”

“How does this help me?”

“The giants fought the forces of Dal Quor and in time defeated them. The giants developed some sort of terrible weapon that altered the orbits of the planes themselves. Once
a skilled wizard could travel into Dal Quor or summon its spirits to do his bidding. The giants shattered the bonds that bind Dal Quor to Eberron, and today it can only be reached in dreams.”

“Where’s that leave Tashana?” Daine said. “She seemed like a little more than a dream in that fight on the docks.”

“She is a vessel for a spirit of Dal Quor, and this fiend grants her terrible power. It would be far worse if it could manifest physically; as it is, the quori must act through mortal hosts.”

“I hate to ask again, but how does any of this help me?”

“The giants fought a war against nightmares, and they won. Their ultimate victory was due to the weapon that shattered the bonds of worlds, but they undoubtedly used lesser tools in the battle—and if they could defend against quori attacks, they might be able to drive the spirit from your mind. It’s possible Hassalac already has such a tool; if not, it is my hope that he has a map.”

“Because …?”

“I do hate to interrupt,” Gerrion said. “Actually, I kind of enjoy it, but that’s beside the point. We have arrived at our destination, my lords and ladies.”

The building before them was a dome-shaped structure built from large clay bricks. The walls were worn smooth by the passage of time, and Daine guessed that it was one of the oldest structures in Stormreach. In place of windows, large blocks of pinkish crystal were embedded in the walls. Each crystal slab was engraved with a unique symbol, and studying the symbols Daine realized the nature of the building. Glancing at the arched doorway, he saw what he had expected to find—a familiar eight-pointed cross.

“This is a temple to the Sovereign Host,” he said. “What are we going to do—pray for our gift?”

“Not at all,” Gerrion said. “You’re going to steal it.”

Y
ou want us to rob a
temple?”
Lei said. She looked at Daine. “Surely you’re not going along with this.”

Daine shrugged. “Where were the gods when Cyre was destroyed?”

“You can’t expect the Sovereigns to take sides in mortal wars. Cyre, Breland—they watch over us all.”

“Not very well.”

“Stealing from priests—how much lower could we sink?”

Gerrion was watching the interchange with a smile. “Fair lady, I assure you that the master of this temple has sunk far lower than you ever could. If it is any consolation, he obtained the object we now seek through theft.”

“Why should I believe you?” Lei said.

“Well, since I was the one who stole it for him, I would hope you’d take my word on the matter.”

“Who did you steal it from?” Daine said.

“Hassalac Chaar. That’s how I know it’s something he wants.”

“Of course.” Daine ran a hand across his forehead. Lakashtai and Pierce both watched in silence. Daine guessed that Lakashtai had known about this all along; Pierce, on the other hand, saw no reason to speak. “So you know your way around Hassalac’s estate?”

“Oh, no. I stole the scale before it ever reached the Dragon Prince. I have my talents, but I wouldn’t be so foolish as to
invade Hassalac’s sanctum. Not to discourage you, of course.”

Daine glanced at Lakashtai; she raised her eyebrows, and this minimal motion conveyed her indifference as clearly as any shrug. “Fine. This is your game, Lakashtai, and I’ll follow your lead.”

Lei was still studying the multicolored hierogram above the gate. “I … suppose. What are we looking for?”

“A single scale from a blue dragon, a foot across, one and a half feet tall. Straps have been placed on one side, allowing it to be used as a buckler; the other bears the symbol of the Sovereigns.”

Lei considered this. “A foot across? But the dragon would have to be …” She trailed off, struggling to calculate sizes in her head.

“If you believe Master Sakhesh, it’s a scale of the god Aureon himself.”

“Oh!” Lei said. “They’re draconists!” The prospect seemed to cheer her.

“Care to explain that to us lowly soldiers?” Daine said.

“There’s a sect that claims that the Sovereigns walked the earth before they rose to the heavens,” Lei said. “The draconists say that these dragons were the mightiest children of Eberron and Siberys, and that after defeating the demons of Khyber they ascended to a higher state of being. I’ve never actually met a draconist, but I’ve seen a few of their icons.”

“It’s a belief that’s alive and well in Xen’drik,” Gerrion said. “They say Master Sakhesh hopes to become a dragon himself some day, and his faith is founded on greed. The dragon church is one of the oldest buildings of Stormreach; this is a hard land, and the first settlers relied on the magic of the priests for survival. The church has a proud history of extortion, and Maru Sakhesh is a great believer in tradition.”

Daine didn’t care if people cast the gods as dragons, humans, or fruit, but it seemed to make all the difference to Lei; this revelation had removed her doubts. “What’s our plan?”

“Gather around,” Gerrion said, “and I’ll tell you what to do.”

Gerrion did not accompany them into the church. The situation was plain enough to Daine; this wasn’t the first time that Gerrion had robbed this temple, and Sakhesh would not welcome him. Daine glanced over at Lakashtai. Much of this plan depended on her mental power, and in her weakened state she might not be up to the challenge. Her expression was serene, and if she had any doubts she hid them well.

A small antechamber led into the circular nave of the church. Benches filled the center of the chamber. Nine altars were spread along the walls, each altar placed beneath one of the crystal blocks in the walls; pink light filtered down through these crystal cubes. Traditionally, each altar would bear the symbol of one of the nine Sovereigns; here the altars were engraved with images of dragons, elaborately carved and inlaid with enamel and jewels. Daine was no expert on religion, but he knew that the central altar was typically dedicated to Aureon, and here it bore the image of a rearing blue dragon wreathed in lightning.

Do not speak
. It was Lakashtai’s voice, quiet and clear. Too clear—there was no trace of an echo in the great hall.
Think of me, and I shall hear your thoughts
.