here.
Thorn sheathed Steel once more, remembering the illustrations of the hero Harryn Stormblade battling a fierce red dragon centuries before and the strange dreams she’d had of becoming a very similar dragon.
“Here we are,” Drego said, his voice pulling Thorn from her reverie.
There was a gap in the floor-a sharp drop that revealed a tunnel with smooth, curved walls of pure black stone.
“Volcanic,” Drego said, “but not natural. When Halas Tarkanan leveled the old city, he drew magma up from below. There’s tunnels like this scattered around the depths.”
“And this will take us to the point?” Thorn said. “That’s odd.”
“The Cardinal Point wasn’t made by human hands, or goblins,” Drego replied, peering down into the tunnel. “It lies beneath the city, but it’s a natural feature of the region. This is the quickest path. Though I should warn you, it’s going to get hot.”
“Here.” Daine held out his hand. Three small objects lay in his palm. “I took these from the Cannith vault. Set the plugs in your nostrils, and breathe through your nose. They should purify the volcanic gases and cool the air to a safe temperature. They’ll provide basic protection for the skin, but don’t try swimming in molten rock.”
Thorn took one of the plugs and fitted it against her nose. While the air wasn’t that warm to begin with, the instant the plug was in place, she felt a rush of cooler air against her skin. She tried breathing through her nose. The air was almost chilly and had a vaguely floral scent.
Daine produced the bag of holding. Rooting within, he pulled out an assortment of climbing tools: a knotted rope, pitons, hammers. “I understand you’re quite the climber,” he said to Thorn. “Perhaps you could manage the initial descent.”
Thorn nodded, taking one end of the rope and looping it around her waist. “Shalitar,” she said, invoking the same spell she’d used to scale Torran Spire. She felt a tingle as the magical energy spread across her hands and feet, giving her the spider’s gift to grasp the wall.
It was fortunate that she knew the spell. The lava tube was deep and wide, the walls exceptionally smooth. Thorn soon passed beyond the range of Drego’s silver light, but the darkness wasn’t complete. There was a faint light from the depths, a ruddy crimson glow. It was another hundred feet before she finally reached the cavern floor and secured the rope.
Daine had little trouble with the descent. Drego was less athletic than the other two, and he took longer to make his way down his rope. If not for the knots tied along the length of the rope, he surely would have slipped and fallen. Daine and Thorn waited at the cavern floor, watching the Thrane struggle with the rope.
“I’m glad you’ve chosen to take our side,” Daine told her. “I know it’s a difficult choice. This will be an ugly battle, unlike anything Breland has ever seen. But it’s the right thing to do.”
“I’m not choosing sides,” Thorn said. “If this fallen angel is anything like the last, I’m doing my nation a service. But I won’t be joining you when you leave Sharn. And when we meet again, we may not be on the same side.”
Daine glanced away, but Thorn saw a flicker of emotion pass across his face. Guilt? Doubt? Was there something he wasn’t telling her?
“Your loyalty to Breland is admirable,” he said, “though I find it somewhat surprising.”
Thorn scowled. Having just heard this speech from Drego, she didn’t care to hear it again. But her curiosity got the better of her. “And why is that?”
“Foolishness, I suppose. You remind me of someone I used to know, and I can’t imagine her being quite so loyal.” He turned to face her, the lines of his mark shifting along his face as he spoke. “You may not have an aberrant dragonmark, Thorn, but your mark lets you kill with a touch. Does it matter how you do it? You’ve more in common with us that with the beggar, the blacksmith, or the countess. They’ll fear you when they learn what you can do, just as they fear us. Can’t you see that?”
“Whether they fear me or not, they’re still my people,” Thorn said. “My father died defending this nation, and he believed it was a worthy sacrifice. You died before our nation came to be. I believe that Breland has kept the best aspects of old Galifar. I will not turn on the Brelish, and I cannot believe that they’ll turn on me.”
Daine held her gaze for a moment, and it seemed as if he were trying to look through her, to see something beneath the skin. Then he shook his head. “I hope you’re right. I have no desire to make an enemy of you or Breland. But I was brought back to fight the Twelve, and I must follow my destiny.”
Drego had finally reached the ground, and Daine turned away again.
“Let’s go,” he told Drego. “And quickly, before this wretched heat burns my feet away.”
The floor seemed cool enough to Thorn, but she said nothing as Drego led them down the lava tube. It was as wide as a great hallway, and while the heat didn’t trouble her, there was considerable soot and steam in the tunnel; she took care to breathe through her nose, but the steam was still soaking her clothes and beading against her skin. They descended deeper and deeper, until Thorn was certain that they had dropped below the level of the Cannith forgehold or Tarkanan fortress.
And then they came to the lake.
The sloping passage opened into a wide chamber. Thorn couldn’t see the far wall, but it was the floor that drew her eyes. Steam rose from the cracked black stone, and between the cracks came the fierce glow of molten rock.
Drego stared at the lava hissing around the cracks in the floor and breathed deeply through his nose. “It seems we have the Traveler’s own luck today.”
Thorn moved to his side. “This wasn’t in the plan?”
“Not at all,” Drego replied. “We’re almost there. There’s a tunnel to the southwest that will take us directly to the Cardinal Point.”
“A tunnel to the southwest… on the other side of the lake of fire,” Daine said.
“Indeed.” Drego sighed. “That’s the problem with plotting a course through an unstable volcanic region. It’s, well, unstable.”
“There’s no time to go back,” Daine said. “By now… there’s no safe haven for us here. We need to finish our work, and quickly.”
Drego shrugged. “Tell that to the pit of fire.”
Thorn had been studying the molten lake. “How solid is that crust? Could we walk across it?”
Drego shook his head. “The crust might not crack immediately, but it would never support all of our weight. It hardly matters, though. The heat is more than our shields could take. Even if you didn’t end up in the molten lava, you’d still sear the flesh from your bones.”
“It couldn’t support all three of us…” Thorn said. “But just one of us might have a chance.”
“You’re not listening,” Drego said. “The heat-”
Thorn raised a hand, and Drego fell silent. Her thoughts were racing. “Daine. You have the bag of holding?”
He nodded, but he wasn’t smiling. “It’s not a safe form of transport. There’s a limited supply of oxygen and no means to open the bag from within.”
“Which means I’d better move quickly.”
“Wait,” Drego said. “You want us to climb inside the bag and then run across the firepit while carrying us?”
Thorn grinned. “Exactly.”
“I’d always heard Brelish were mad, but-”
“She’s right.” Daine threw the bag to Thorn. Once again, there was something in his eyes-an emotion she couldn’t quite read. “I believe in you. You’ll make it across. Just keep moving. Don’t stop for any reason.”
Thorn nodded and glanced at Drego. He sighed. “Well, at least as I’m suffocating I can tell myself ‘it could be worse-you could be burning to death.’”
“I’m glad I have your confidence,” Thorn said. She spread the mouth of the magical sack as wide as it would go. “Climb inside.”
Daine disappeared into the bag without a moment’s hesitation. Drego paused. “Whatever you do, just keep moving. Don’t stop for any reason. Just keep moving forward.” To her surprise, he actually smiled. “See you on the other side.”
Moments later, she threw the sack over her shoulder and readied for the run. Even with both of the men
