backward. Thorn barely managed to stay on her feet. Luckily, the pain had slowed Xu’sasar. The tip of the bone glaive burned as it scraped against Thorn’s shoulder, and Thorn prayed that there wasn’t enough poison in the wound to bring her down.
Now the advantage was with Xu’sasar. The length of her long blade moved with deadly speed and kept her out of Thorn’s reach. It took every trace of Thorn’s skills to hold her foe at bay, and she had to give ground with each exchange. Xu’sasar was pressing her back to one of the stone columns. And then Thorn had her plan.
Reaching with her free hand, Thorn summoned the myrnaxe she had bound within the glove. Let your instincts be your guide, Fileon had told her. Thorn drew on his lessons. She didn’t try to summon the mysterious energy that lay within her, the burst of power that had saved her in the past. She just focused on the throw, on putting all of her strength into the blow. And the power came, responding to her need.
She threw the axe one-handed, but she barely felt its weight. It was a clumsy blow, and Xu’sasar was able avoid the deadly blade. But the drow was still disoriented from pain, and the sheer force of this blow sent her sprawling backward. Another step brought Thorn to the pillar, and a slash with Steel severed the rope supporting the over-laden net. The cord was thick and unnaturally tough, perhaps strengthened by alchemical means, but it still gave way to Steel. Before Xu’sasar could rise, an avalanche of bone and rusty metal was upon her-brittle corpses of goblin soldiers flowing down in a ghastly torrent. Darting back, Thorn escaped the bones, but Xu’sasar was buried beneath it. Skulls rolled across the floor, and the crumbling breastplate of a fallen bugbear scraped against the stone.
Thorn tightened her grip on Steel and studied the heap of bones. She’d managed to pin Xu’sasar, but it was unlikely that the dark elf was seriously injured. Thorn needed to finish her quickly, before she could work her way free from the bones. She studied the scattered bones, searching for any signs of movement, listening for the sound of labored breathing. But the motion she heard came from behind her, as someone entered the room.
It was Daine. His sword was in his hand, and the blade glowed with pale, silver light that illuminated the room. His dragonmark twisted around his arm, rippling like flame.
Thorn froze. She was still disguised as Xu’sasar, and the true dark elf was completely hidden beneath the bones. Steel was in her hand. She could finish this here. If Daine lowered his guard, one well-placed throw was all it would take to cripple him. She waited, watching, searching for the opening she needed.
“Thorn,” Daine said. She felt a chill in the crystal shard as she met his gaze. “I thought I might see you tonight. Come. You and I have much to discuss.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Undercity Lharvion 21, 999 YK
Thorn kept Steel at the ready. Despite his words, Daine was still on his guard. It would be difficult to strike a lethal blow at this distance, and she just didn’t know what he was capable of. Draw it out, she thought. Wait for him to slip.
“I don’t understand,” she said. It was hard to perfectly match Xu’sasar’s style and idiom, but the magic that hid her face also altered her voice. And fortunately, if Xu’sasar was alive, it appeared that she’d been rendered unconscious by the flood of bones.
Daine smiled, but his sword never faltered. He raised his dragonmarked hand. “I can feel you, Thorn. It’s part of my gift. When I touched you before, I tasted your soul. It will take more than such a little spell to hide your presence from me. And I know why you are here. You came to us from the Dark Lanterns, but you never truly left their ranks, did you?”
Part of Thorn wanted to hurl her blade, to fight or flee as quickly as possible. And yet, there were no signs that Daine had alerted any guards. And his confidence was both unnerving and curious. What did he know about her?
“If you believe this, why am I still alive?”
“Because in spite of what you may believe, we are not enemies. Come. Lower your glamer and listen to what I have to say. And if I am wrong”-he slowly lowered his sword-“you will have your chance to kill me.”
Close and strike, Steel told her. Finish this. “And Xu’sasar?” Thorn said.
Daine glanced at the mass of bones, and the lines traced across his left eye gleamed. “She will live. And I think this is a matter best kept between the two of us.” He turned and walked slowly out of the chamber. “Follow or fight, as you will.”
His back was exposed. Now was the moment. There were a host of vital areas Thorn could strike. Still she hesitated. If he wanted her dead, he could have turned the whole garrison against her. He actually wanted to talk to her. Why?
Lantern Thorn, do your duty! Steel said.
“Perhaps I am,” she whispered, returning the dagger to his sheath. She followed Daine from the hall, kicking the skull of a young goblin out of the way.
Images of Khorvaire were engraved on the walls of Daine’s chamber-tactical maps ranging in scope from a detailed map of Breland to a broad view of the entire continent. Chalk lines covered the walls, notes and details that only made sense to the Son of Khyber. In-depth maps of Sharn had been glued to one part of the wall. Aside from the maps, the room was surprisingly austere. Writing supplies were set atop a battered chest, and the only piece of furniture was a stone slab covered with a thin blanket, which presumably served a bed.
“I don’t sleep much,” Daine said, following her gaze. “I’ve spent too much time in dreams, and there are things I’d rather not see again.”
Presumably he was referring to the strange tale he’d told the assembled crowd, of being a man drawn out of time. Did he truly believe this? Still, at the moment, there were more pressing issues.
“You say you know who I am.” Thorn didn’t feel like listening to Steel at the moment, but she still kept her hand close to his hilt. As curious as she was, it was hard to imagine what he might say that would turn her from her path.
“Yes,” Daine said. “A Dark Lantern, troubled by dreams and dragonshards.”
“And how can you know that?”
He looked at her, his gaze oddly distorted by the dragonmark running across his left eye. For the first time, she felt a sense of uncertainty about him. Up to now, he had always been the strong leader, never a sign of doubt or weakness. But now he hesitated, and for a moment she felt that she was looking at just Daine, as opposed to the Son of Khyber. “You heard the story I told before. To you it may sound like madness, but I lived through it. I spent centuries in dreams, and I saw glimpses of what lies ahead-glimpses of the Prophecy. I saw you at my side. I don’t know why. I don’t know exactly what role you have to play in the challenges that lie ahead. But I know that you are a part of this, and I told Fileon to watch for you.”
“And yet you know that I serve the Citadel. Aren’t you afraid that I’ll kill you?”
He smiled. “Not as simple as you might think, I assure you. And I knew it was a risk.”
“And yet you brought me down here. Why?”
“Two reasons, I suppose. I know that the Twelve have coerced the Citadel into investigating our actions. They know that we have been building our forces, though they don’t realize the danger that they face. I believe that when you learn all the facts, you will do the right thing.”
Thorn considered this. “That’s one. What’s the other?”
“You’ve been sent to kill me. And I think that you could, when the time is right. But not tonight.”
They say madness is the price of an aberrant mark, Thorn thought. “So what are these facts that will stay my hand?”
“Lessons you’ve learned these past few days. You’ve heard of Fileon’s betrayal. In Sorghan d’Deneith you’ve faced the blind hatred of the houses.”
Thorn laughed. “Not much of an argument. One bigot hardly incriminates his entire house, regardless of how vile he is. And Fileon’s tale is just that: a story. From someone I’m surprised you of all people would ask me to trust, I might add.”
“Tell me you don’t believe it. Why are you here now? As a tool of the Twelve. Today they command your
