The Shattered Land: The Dreaming Dark - Book 2 (29 page)

BOOK: The Shattered Land: The Dreaming Dark - Book 2
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He had to be alive.

“Can you see him?” Lei was still holding the rope around her waist. If she’d managed to get the knots undone a moment ago, she would have been swept into the ocean by the second wave. Now she held the rope belt, uncertain whether she trusted the new calm enough to undo her lifeline.

“I do so hate to lose crew,” Gerrion remarked, “but we might want to set to the oars and get out of these troubled waters before something worse comes along. Better to lose one than five.”

Daine ignored him, studying the still waters for any sign of motion. Was that a glint of metal, deep in the darkness? Rising to the surface?

It was—but he was not alone. A vast spout of water rose up from the sea, but this was no wave, and it didn’t even shake the ship. A shower of spray washed across the deck, obscuring their view, then they saw her through the mist.

A woman was gazing down at the
Gray Cat
. She was at least thirty feet tall, dressed in a long flowing robe—a robe formed of water. As the mist cleared and the sunlight struck her, Daine realized that the gown was a part of her. Her clear blue skin was still water, and her long white hair was bubbling surf; the surface of the gown was flowing water, the current giving the appearance of textured cloth. The hem of the gown disappeared into the sea.

And Pierce was in one liquid hand.

For a moment, Daine was stunned by the sight. She was beautiful and strange, as close to a god as he’d ever thought to see. This only lasted a second: his friend’s life was at stake, and there was no time for awe. Even as he wracked his brain for a plan—wondering if there was time to act before she could strike the ship, whether Lei’s magic arrows could affect such a magnificent creature—she reached down, placing Pierce on the deck of the ship.

Be not afraid
. The voice swept across them like the tide itself. It was the sound of a gentle brook, of a tumbling waterfall, and Daine couldn’t say whether the sound was shaped into actual words or if they simply somehow
knew
what it wished to tell them.

“Pierce, are you hurt?”

“No, Daine. It was an interesting experience, but I am none the worse for it.”

Bursting free of the rope at last, Lei ran over and wrapped her arms around the dripping warforged, even as she stared up at the watery figure.

Distant forces turned the waters against you, but I have calmed the restless spirits
. The voice was soothing, as calm and hypnotic as slow waves at sunset.
My mark is upon you, and you will reach your destination without further trouble
.

“You know this because you know our destination?”

There is little I do not know, Daine with no family name. Your journey is just beginning. Darkness is at your heels, and your journey will take you through death and dream. Water will not harm you, but this is the season of fire
.

“I’d heard that,” Daine said, glancing over at Lei. He questioned her with his expression, but she just shook her head. “How do you know who we are?”

We have met before, Daine, and we will meet again before this is done. I watch and I wait, and I act when I can—but there is little I can say and less I can do
.

“Well, I thank you for saving my vessel, good spirit of the seas,” Gerrion put in.

The waters composing the spirit grew darker, and her voice was thundering surf instead of gentle tide.
I do nothing for you, child of the Sulatar. You have your own destiny, and it is not my place to change it. Count yourself lucky that you do not travel the seas alone this day
.

Gerrion bowed his head, stepping back to the wheel. “My humblest apologies, great lady.” Daine and Lei exchanged looks.

The time for talk is done, and the currents draw you to your destiny. Remember: sometimes the oathbreaker is more trustworthy than the ally, and a brother can be both enemy and friend. I will see you again beyond the gates of night
.

With that, she was gone. Whatever force was binding her body relaxed, and a fountain of water crashed down into the surface of the sea, spraying salt water across the deck of the
Gray Cat
.

No one spoke. Even the usually garrulous Gerrion was at a loss for words; he kept his eyes away from the others, and Daine wondered what a “Sulatar” was. The wind slowly picked up, billowing out the sail, and the ship began to move.

Daine slowly walked toward Lei and Pierce. Lei was fussing over the warforged, studying every joint; she did not look at Daine as he approached.

Motion in the corner of his vision brought Daine to a halt, and he turned toward the small cabin at the back of the boat. Lakashtai stepped out of the hatch.

“I was engaged in deep meditation,” she said, taking in the soaked sail and the bedraggled travelers. “Did something happen in my absence?”

Daine glanced at the others then shrugged. “Stormy weather,” he said.

W
hether it was the result of mystical protection or simple good fortune, the day passed without further incident. Once Daine thought he saw a vast dark shape moving beneath the water, but predator or spirit, it did not rise to threaten the
Gray Cat
. The storms that lingered over the Thunder Sea held their distance, forming a dark wall to the north.

Though the waters were calm, the moods of the passengers were anything but. Lei had been avoiding Daine ever since the attack, devoting her attention to Pierce and pointedly looking away and falling silent the few times he approached. He could have forced the issue, but the
Gray Cat
was too small for privacy, and Daine didn’t want to continue the conversation around Gerrion or Lakashtai. In the end, he didn’t know what to say.

It had been many years since Daine had been a member of House Deneith, and it simply wasn’t a part of his identity. He had chosen to leave. In part this was a protest against the actions of the house itself. Cannith, Orien, Deneith: if the houses had joined together in support of the rightful queen of Galifar, the civil war might have ended before it had ever begun, but the war was an opportunity for the houses. The conflict brought many opportunities for profit: Deneith mercenaries, Jorasco healers, Cannith smiths—every house had an angle to work in the war. Greed and lust for power came before any sense of decency or compassion or loyalty to any land.

The policies of the house were only one factor in his
decision. Long before his dreams had come under siege, he’d been haunted by nightmares of the things he’d done in the service of the house. Spilling blood for gold was bad enough, but when he thought back to his younger years in Metrol, to Alina’s hall of mirrors—the memories still burned. It had been Jode who’d pulled him up from that moral abyss, and now all that remained of Jode was a glass vial in his pocket.

When he left the house, Daine had scored the Deneith emblem off the pommel of his sword. It had since been repaired, and he’d chosen to leave it intact—out of respect to his grandfather if not to the house itself, but he no longer considered himself to be a member of House Deneith, and it had never occurred to him that it might have meaning to Lei. She was right; regardless of his feelings, the blood of the house ran through his veins. Daine might not have the dragonmark of the house, but the potential was still there in his blood. Daine had never concerned himself with history, but every child of the houses knew the stories: mixing the blood of two dragonmarked houses could result in aberrant marks, children with strange powers who could grow up twisted by madness or disease. Daine had been a cynical child and had never put much stock in the stories, but a year ago, they’d encountered three people with aberrant dragonmarks, and it had been a troubling experience. Daine thought about the man covered with sores and boils, the little halfling giggling and talking to her rats. If Lei and he were joined—was that the gift they would give a child?

Did he even want a child?

“You have troubles enough to deal with. Do not invite more.”

Lakashtai’s soft voice startled him out of his reverie. Gerrion was sleeping, but apparently the kalashtar knew something about sailing. She stood behind the wheel, her cloak billowing in the wind. The burns along her pale skin had vanished; Daine wondered if she had come to terms with Lei at some point, or if healing was just another of her powers that he didn’t know about. Lei herself was nowhere to be seen and was most likely asleep in the cabin. Pierce was standing at the bow, but glanced back when he heard the conversation.

“I don’t need you prying in my mind while I’m awake,” Daine said with a glare.

“Neither of us has any choice in the matter,” she replied. “It is the price of your protection. I have touched your dreams, and it is difficult for me to ignore your most powerful emotions. You might try being grateful for a change. I do not enjoy the feeling of your thoughts and emotions intruding on my own, but my only alternative is to kill you.”

“If there is a battle, it will not be Daine who falls.” Pierce was cleaning the chain of his flail. His voice was as calm as Lakashtai; it was hard to believe that they were discussing murder.

“In my current condition, you are more than a match for me, Pierce. The pain from the shattered crystal still burns within me, weakening my bond to Kashtai, but I speak without malice. Without my help, your friend will die, and all your strength and skill cannot save him. His death would be a thing of agony and madness, serving the cause of a greater darkness. It would be a mercy if I killed him.”

“You’re just full of compassion, aren’t you?” Daine said.

Lakashtai glanced at him. Her eyes weren’t glowing, but even at this distance the vivid green was remarkable. “If I did not care about your fate, I would not be here now, and the only part of you that matters would have died a year ago.”

Though her voice was calm and level, Daine thought that he could hear traces of pain behind it, and he felt a touch of shame. Lakashtai’s imperious manner made it easy to forget that she might have feelings beneath her serene mask, and even her beauty was as disturbing as it was alluring, but she was right—and she deserved better from him.

“I didn’t mean to stab at you. It’s just that I’m used to fighting my own battles, and somehow, this talk of killing me just doesn’t fill me with goodwill.”

“I understand, but it is not the way of my people to shy away from a difficult truth.”

“Then why do you do this?” Pierce said. “If killing Daine would have been a merciful act, why did you agree to help? How was it that you were even in a position to assist him in the previous incident?” His expression was fixed in metal, and his
voice was steady, but the signs of suspicion were there—his grip on the haft of his flail, the tension in his knees.

“Coincidence, if you believe in such things.” Lakashtai turned to Daine. “I am sensitive to the winds of fate, and when I first saw you in the King of Fire, I knew that our destinies would come together, though I did not know how. When you sought me out, plagued by the mind wraith, I did what I would do for anyone; that technique is an abomination, one used far too often by il-Lashtavar. Once again, I felt the premonition—the sense that there was a bond between us, so I left the crystal beacon in the hope that I would feel you when there was a need. I did.”

“Arriving just in time to kill me,” Daine said.

“If that is how you wish—”

“No. No, I’m sorry,” Daine said, with a dismissive wave. “You’re right. I might already be dead if it weren’t for you. Let’s just forget about it.”

Pierce turned his attention back to his flail, but Daine could see that the warforged was still watching Lakashtai as he oiled the chain and spiked head.

Gerrion eventually returned to the helm, and they turned toward the land, following the coastline and eventually heading up a wide river toward the interior. The oars came out, and all energy was devoted to driving the boat up the channel. At first, Daine thought the reputation of the region was overrated. The shores were covered with thick vegetation, but it seemed no worse than the rainforests of Breland; there were no beasts bursting out of the underbrush, no ancient ruins with walls of gold.

BOOK: The Shattered Land: The Dreaming Dark - Book 2
9.57Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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