The Shattered Land: The Dreaming Dark - Book 2 (20 page)

Now the dragon was crouched in a corner of the room, and Daine could see his image reflected in its dead metal eyes. Any doubts about its nature were laid to rest: this was a creature of magic and metal, not flesh and blood. Somehow, it disturbed
Daine in a way the warforged never had. At least the warforged were human in form and voice, and in some ways they weren’t so different from men in armor. Occasionally, especially when drunk, Daine had forgotten Pierce’s true nature, calling him to join the revels, but there was nothing natural about this creature. It shouldn’t even have been able to move. There were no joints, no hinges—it was solid metal, yet it had the flexibility of flesh.

There was a moment of stillness as the enemies watched each other. The only sound was Lei’s quiet curse as she fumbled with the lock on a stubborn coffer. Then the creature leapt forward, crashing into Pierce. The warforged raised his flail just in time to catch the dragon’s foreclaws, holding its upper body at bay, but it lashed out with its hind claws, and there was a terrible screech of metal on metal. Copper claws gouged Pierce’s armored plates and tore into the leathery cords that lay beneath.

The warforged did not cry out in pain, but the extent of the injury was plain to see. Cold fury welled up in Daine’s heart. Pierce might have saved his life only moments ago, and that was just one time of many. This thing would not be the end of his friend. His anger pulled him forward, and as Pierce struggled to hold the dragon at bay Daine reversed his grip on his dagger and slammed it into one of the creature’s eyes. This dagger was no ordinary blade; forged by a mad smith of House Cannith, it could carve through steel as easily as cloth, and no mundane metal could match its edge. The blade sunk deep into the dragon’s head, with no more resistance than he would have felt from a block of soft cheese, but the dragon had no brain within its skull. It twisted its head, and pure anger gave Daine the strength to hold onto the dagger and pull the blade from the creature’s head. Its left eye was a ruin, but it didn’t seem to be affected in any way; Daine leapt back just in time to avoid the snapping jaws.

Status, Pierce
, he thought.

The warforged was on his feet, but he gave no response. The beast was continuing to tear at Pierce with its hind claws, and Daine could see the shredded cords at his waist. Were Pierce a creature of flesh and blood, his entrails would be dripping
from the dragon’s talons, but the warforged wasn’t down yet. He lacked the strength to push the beast away, but he twisted to the side, using its weight against it. As the dragon fell to the floor Pierce brought his flail down, wrapping the long chain around one of its hind legs. The copper beast tumbled to the floor, scattering coffers with its wild thrashing. Pierce dropped to one knee—clearly his injuries were taking a toll on him, and he still hadn’t responded to Daine’s telepathic query.

Anger gave way to concern, but there was no time for either. Daine darted forward, slashing with his dagger. Slivers of copper fell to the floor. It was clear that the creature did not possess any sort of vital organs: if Daine was going to do anything, he’d have to take it apart piece by piece. It might not use its eyes, but perhaps the loss of its head would prove more of a handicap.

It was easier to devise such plans than to put them into practice. In an instant the dragon was fully facing him. It lashed out with its tail, catching Pierce directly in his injured midsection; the warforged soldier crashed into the wall and lay still. Now the dragon glared at Daine with its ruined gaze. Daine crossed his blades before his chest. Perhaps if he caught it in mid-leap, he could use its force against it, drag the dagger across its neck …

In the end, it wasn’t the dragon that leapt. There was a flash of motion and then Lei was on the creature’s back, clinging to its neck. Her mouth was twisted in a terrible grimace, and Daine could see the air rippling around her hands; for a moment he remembered the battle at Keldan Ridge and a warforged soldier exploding at her touch. The dragon thrashed around, trying to reach her, but she held on with grim determination; Daine was afraid to strike at the beast for fear of hitting Lei in the melee.

He needn’t have worried. The creature gave no howl, no cry of pain. It simply froze in place, becoming dead metal once again. Lei slumped against its neck, breathing hard.

“Lei!” Without even thinking about it, Daine reached out for her. She fell into his arms, still gasping for breath.

“I’ve got … scale,” she said, her head pressed against his shoulder. It took a moment for Daine to remember the
purpose of the battle. “Let me … Pierce.”

Daine steadied her on her feet, and for a moment he just held her as she caught her breath. All thought was lost in a maelstrom of emotion, anger and concern wrapped together with something deeper. Then he let her go and they ran to Pierce. The warforged lay against the wall, seemingly as inert as the dragon statue. His waist was a gaping ruin of shredded cords coated with a translucent, sticky fluid, but Lei just knelt beside him and ran her hands over the torn ligaments. Daine had seen her work with warforged before, and he knew there was still hope.

Lakashtai, what’s going on?
He thought.

Nothing. Suddenly he remembered Pierce’s failure to respond.

Lei? Can you hear me?

“Lei?” he said.

“Yes?” She didn’t look up from her work.

“We’ve got trouble.”

“I should say that you do,” came a voice from the hall.

Maru Sakhesh was wreathed in flame. The fire did not touch his dark robes or the arch of the doorway, but Daine could feel the heat against his skin, and he wondered for a moment if it would only burn the flesh of a foe. The priest held no weapons, but as he clenched his fists, his burning aura grew brighter.

“The season of flame is upon us,” Sakhesh hissed, his voice low and deadly. “You have chosen an excellent time to die.”

“We’ve got other plans,” Daine said.

He’d felt a momentary shred of doubt when Sakhesh had appeared; no matter how he tried to justify it, the fact was that they were thieves and the priest was defending his property. Daine had no intention of being burned to death, and he needed to find Lakashtai. He wasn’t sure he’d call the kalashtar woman a friend, truly, but she was a companion, and she’d saved his life. He couldn’t fail again.

Daine leapt forward and lunged at Sakhesh, the point of his blade directly in line with the priest’s heart. Sakhesh was an old man, and he didn’t have any room to evade the blow. He didn’t try. He didn’t even flinch when Daine struck. His black silk robes had the strength of steel, and Daine’s blade slid to
the side without penetrating. The priest’s fiery halo flared with light and heat, and a column of fire lanced along Daine’s sword to surround his arm. Daine leapt back, but his shirt was smoldering, and his arm was sore and burnt.

“Be at peace,” Sakhesh said. He clenched his fist, and Daine was caught in a vise-like, invisible force. He struggled with all his might, but he could not move. Sakhesh stepped toward him, throwing his arms wide. “Surrender. Give yourself to the fire, the breath of the true Sovereigns.”

L
ei was still examining Pierce’s injuries when Sakhesh entered.

First sahuagin, now draconists
, she thought. As a child she had been taught to believe in the Sovereign Host, and like every heir of House Cannith she had receive the ritual blessing of Onatar, the Lord of Fire and Forge. She wasn’t an especially devout worshipper, but the Sovereigns didn’t ask much of their followers. Nonetheless, she felt a certain disdain for this priest and his radical beliefs. Dragons were amazing creatures—but they weren’t gods. The fiery aura gave her pause, but his magical powers didn’t vindicate his beliefs; a wizard could summon fire without following any god. Magic was a power many could draw on, and the faith of the priest was but one path to power.

Even before Sakhesh spoke, his intentions were clear to her—they weren’t getting out of the room without a fight. She might be able to get Pierce back on his feet before Sakhesh could strike, but with only seconds to work, she could only perform minimal repairs, and if Pierce suffered more damage in such a state, he might be destroyed for good.

Pierce had to sit out of this battle, but she didn’t.

As Daine leapt forward, Lei closed her eyes and concentrated on her armor, merging her thoughts with this magical aura that encased and surrounded her. Green leather studded with golden rivets, this armor was her most treasured possession. It had been a gift from her mother, given to Lei when she left her
parents’ enclave for her first assignment. Aleisa said that it was an heirloom of the house, crafted by the legendary artificer Alder d’Cannith. There was power in the vest, a reservoir of energy she called upon when weaving her enchantments, and the vest itself was mystically malleable. Lei could weave temporary effects into any object, but this usually took a considerable amount of time: with her vest, it was a matter of seconds. Now Lei drew on the concept of fire, the basic principles of heat and flame. Touching the vest with her mind, she took its aura and twisted it, shaping it, creating a shield that would protect her from all forms of heat.

She opened her eyes. Mere seconds had passed. Daine was frozen in place, paralyzed by another spell. Sakhesh was walking forward, preparing to wrap Daine in his burning embrace. He hadn’t even spared a glance for Lei.

That was a mistake.

Lei spun in place as she rose from the ground, and her darkwood staff was a black blur as it smashed into the priest’s head. There was a burst of flame, but it dissipated harmlessly around her; even her staff was protected by the magical aura of her armor. Sakhesh cried out in pain and stumbled away from her, one hand rising up to shield his head.

Lei threw herself forward, striking again and again. The priest had his own magical shield that helped turn the brunt of physical blows, but he simply wasn’t prepared for the sheer ferocity of Lei’s attack. Neither was she. She felt as if she was being swept away by her own anger; she was guided more by instinct than conscious thought. Jode’s death, Daine’s affliction, Lakashtai’s cool condescension, and now Pierce’s injuries and these battles in a strange land—it had been building up inside her ever since they’d arrived in Sharn almost a year ago. Now she had an outlet for all that rage and frustration, some arrogant man who wanted to kill Daine and didn’t even understand how to show proper respect for the Sovereigns.

Sakhesh was no fool. He was no match for her physically, and he knew it. He fell back, circled the room, and tried to put obstacles between them. He clenched his fist, and Lei felt his hand trying to grasp her mind and freeze her in place, but his
magic paled before her fury, and the spell shattered against the wall of her will. Gouts of flame were dispersed by the magic of her armor, and every moment that passed she landed another blow.

Finally, Sakhesh fell to the ground. His flaming aura had guttered and died. His face was a mass of bruises, and Lei was certain she had felt a rib crack on her last blow. Now a new feeling rose within her … a strange sense of shame. Was this really who she was, a thief, who would break into a man’s home and beat him? The point of her staff was lowered, ready to strike—but she paused, her anger finally fading.

Sakhesh glared at her, forcing himself up with one hand. Blood dripped from his mouth, and she could feel the raw hate in his gaze.

“Fool!
” he spat. “You cannot fight me.”

“I think I just did.” She wondered if she should strike him again, silence him, but now that her fury had faded the idea of beating a fallen foe seemed repellent.

“You have won
nothing!
” A shattered tooth fell from his mouth as he gasped out the words. “You … you will lay down your weapon and return what is mine. Now!”

“And if I don’t?”

“With one word …
one!
I can turn my fires on your warforged, burning him from within. You cannot stop me in time.”

He was right. He’d fallen back when he’d dropped to the ground, and now she was too far away. He could cast one last spell before she could close, and Pierce was horribly damaged. Surely this … it couldn’t be worth it.

“Very well,” she said.

“Now
drop your—”

He never finished the sentence. Even as he shouted his final demand, the point of a black dagger spouted from his throat.

“Trouble speaking?” Daine said.

He planted his boot on the priest’s back, grasping the hilt of his dagger as he pushed down with his foot. The blade was slick with blood as it emerged, and Sakhesh sank to the floor without another word.

Lei stared at Daine. In the battle with Sakhesh, both she
and the priest had forgotten about him, and he’d finally broken free of the magical paralysis. Daine looked down at the corpse beneath his boot and the spreading pool of blood, and she wasn’t sure if his expression was one of sorrow or cold resolution.

“I guess I’m an assassin after all,” he said. He knelt next to Sakhesh and wiped his bloody blade on the priest’s robes. “Get Pierce on his feet and that scale in your pack. We need to go. Now.”