groan behind her, the sound of a giant bellowing in torment. This cry of misery and pain reverberated throughout the hall, surrounding her and shaking the ground itself. She felt a sense of mingled anger and despair sweeping over her, and she had to concentrate to drive the alien emotions from her mind.
“Keep running!” Daine shouted.
The Tarkanan survivors were waiting at the gate. The moaning had grown louder, and combined with the sound of crashing stone, it drowned out Daine’s orders. The aberrants didn’t need instructions. The moment they saw Daine, they ran for their escape route. They passed through the first hidden hatch and made their way into the sewers. There Daine called them to a halt, resting against the scum-encrusted wall. Thorn could still hear the terrible howling in the distance, but it didn’t seem to be drawing any closer.
“Well,” Daine said. “I’d call that a good start.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
The Undercity Lharvion 21, 999 YK
The Tarkanan fortress hummed with activity. The infirmary was filled to capacity. Soldiers engaged in combat drills, while the noncombatants gathered supplies in preparation for swift evacuation.
As for Thorn, she was deeply troubled. She had no regrets about the destruction of the creation forge. But she’d done her best to kill Merrix d’Cannith, lord of one of the most powerful families in the world. And what was she supposed to do now? She slipped into a shallow alcove and drew Steel.
“You’re the sharp one. What happens now?”
It’s a good question. This attack may have served the interests of Breland. That doesn’t mean that the next one will. This Son of Khyber remains a disruptive force in the world. The logical course of action is to kill him during this moment of chaos and return to the Citadel.
“I know,” Thorn said. “Still… those warforged assassins. Why would Merrix have something like that? What if Daine’s right, and the Twelve are plotting against Galifar?”
Then someone will have to stop them. Perhaps an enterprising agent of the King’s Dark Lanterns.
“Which is exactly what I’m trying to do now,” Thorn said. “What was that weapon Daine used to destroy the forge?”
A necrotic resonator, Steel said. This is the first time I’ve ever observed one, as they were outlawed centuries ago. But I’m fairly certain that’s what it was.
“Why were they outlawed?”
The necrotic resonator absorbs the fear and agony of a scene of mass death, releasing it later as necrotic force. In addition to the sheer destructive power of the blast, it typically leaves restless spirits haunting the area for centuries to come. Those who sought to outlaw the weapon said that it bound the souls of the victims, trapping them in madness and eternal suffering.
“So this was a relic?”
No, I don’t think that it was. From my brief observation of the casing and the cut of the shards, it looked to have been made within the last century. If I had to guess, I’d say that it was charged during the Mourning.
Thorn slapped the wall with her free hand. “And there you are,” she growled.
What?
“Daine took that weapon from Merrix’s own workshop. He’s making warforged assassins in violation of the Treaty of Thronehold. Now he’s making explosives out of the Mourning itself? Why?”
It could simply be that the weapon is outlawed by his own house-
“With good reason.”
— and he believes that he can prove its worth and then sell it to, say, Breland.
“Or conquer Breland with his bombs, his war-forged, and his Deneith army. And let’s not forget the Lyrandar playing havoc with the weather and flinging lightning down from their airship fleet.”
A colorful image. But do you truly believe-
“Thorn.” The Son of Khyber was walking toward her.
Thorn had been whispering, and she felt confident that he hadn’t overheard her words, but nonetheless she sheathed Steel and stepped out from the alcove. “Yes?”
“Walk with me,” he said. “We have things to discuss.”
Daine said nothing until they reached the lower level of the fortress. Bones still littered the floor of the crypt, and Thorn kicked a skull out of her path.
“The presence of Merrix changes things,” Daine said, his tone weary but determined. “I had hoped that they might spend days or weeks trying to determine just who was responsible for the attack. Even a Medani seer would have trouble drawing information from the forgehold at this point.”
“And now?”
“You saw. Merrix recognized me. And while he may not know any of the others, he knows House Tarkanan is to blame. This place has ancient protections against divination, and I have my own personal protections. But I know Merrix will bring every power he can to bear. Tharashk trackers. Medani inquisitives. The master scryers of House Phiarlan. Our defenses won’t hold up for long. And so we need to conclude operations in Sharn and relocate as quickly as we can.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Thorn asked. She hadn’t drawn Steel, but something about the situation troubled her. “You barely know me.”
“You don’t know me, then?”
It was hard for Thorn to read his expression beneath the pulsing lines of his dragonmark. But the tone of his voice caught her attention. She could feel the sorrow and uncertainty beneath his weary determination. He was looking for something from her, and she didn’t know what it was.
“How would I know you?” she asked.
“It’s nothing. You just remind me of someone I knew a long time ago.” He shook his head. “Foolish, I know. You weren’t even born when I died for the first time.”
Thorn raised an eyebrow. “So you’re serious about that? You’re telling me that you actually fought in the
War of the Mark?”
They’d reached Daine’s quarters, and he turned to face her. “I know it’s an unbelievable story. Yet it’s true. There is work to be done in this age that only I can do. And so my soul was caught between life and death, until enough time had passed and a proper vessel could be prepared.”
“Vessel? So this-”
“This is not the body I was born in,” Daine said. He sat down on the hard stone bed and ran his fingers along the bare skin of his left arm. The sense of sorrow was stronger than before.
“What happened?”
“Back before I died, back when my mark first burned its way across my body, I was thrown into another world, a place of magic and wonders. I battled strange beasts and overcame treacherous spirits and finally made my way to the palace of the Queen of Dusk herself.”
Aureon’s Word, she thought. Aberrant marks had always been said to cause madness, and he possessed an exceptionally large mark.
Daine shook his head ruefully, and for a moment Thorn thought that he’d heard her thoughts. “I know what you’re thinking. Soldier from the past, marked by destiny, champion of the feywild… how can it be anything but madness? And yet, this is the nature of our world, Thorn. Great powers are all around us. The balance of the thirteen planes and the gateways waiting to open. The Sovereigns watching from on high, if they truly exist. Dragons and demons fighting wars measured in millennia. Just look at your own life.”
“What about it?” Thorn said. “I serve Breland.”
He smiled, his dragonmarked eye gleaming. “So there are no mysteries in your life, then?”
Well… except for strange bursts of strength, sucking out a man’s life, and the fact that I can see in the dark- and that someone in the Citadel might know more about it than they’ve revealed? No. But Thorn kept her thoughts to herself, speaking calmly. “We were talking about you.”
