Keith Baker - The Gates of Night

“Well, if she gets herself killed, all we’ve lost is a healing charm,” Lei said. “If she comes back, I think you should be the next hostage.”

“At least I’ve got something to look forward to.” Daine studied Lei’s makeshift magical workshop. “Is this going to get us home?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Try me.”

“I know it’s possible to walk from Thelanis to Khorvaire,” Lei said. She added a few verynx whiskers to the mortar and continued her work. “There are soft places between the worlds, and all we need to do is find one. But … that’s like saying that there’s a tree in Breland with golden roots. Thelanis is another world , Daine. It’s another level of reality, and time and distance may not even work the way we’re used to. If we wander around blind, it could take us years to find our way home.”

“But you’ve got an idea.”

“Well … it’s the Traveler’s own odds, but yes, I have an idea.”

Daine set his dagger on the ground, reaching over his shoulder to scratch his back. “I’m listening.”

“We need an oracular vision.”

“And?”

“Augury and divination are forms of magic. The priests who practice true divination call on the gods for guidance.”

Daine frowned. “So you’re telling me our only hope rests in the hands of the Sovereigns?”

Daine’s voice was cold. Religion was a subject he preferred to avoid. Daine had been a devoted follower of the Silver Flame when he and Lei had first met, but over the course of the war, he’d slowly turned away from the Flame and belief in the higher powers. Lei still remembered the day in the ruins of Cyre when he’d broken his bow; she’d never seen him touch an arrow since then. She understood this bitterness. In the wake of the war she’d met many people who felt that no just god would allow such horror to occur. But Lei still believed in the Sovereigns. The Last War was the work of human hands. Lei didn’t believe in predestination. She didn’t accept the idea that divine hands shaped every event on Eberron. The Sovereigns were ideals, and they were a source of inspiration. Onatar might guide the hands of the craftsman, but it was still the craftsman who chose to make a sword instead of a shovel. Right now, however, inspiration might be all they needed.

“Not at all. But divination works, Daine. Whether it’s guidance from Aureon, the Silver Flame, or some pure force of knowledge, there is a power out there that we can call on for guidance.”

“If we were priests.” Daine said, his voice still full of bitterness.

“Power is power.” Lei found a small vial of pure water and added it to the mixture. “If this works … well, it should send the question into the ether. I don’t know what will respond, if anything. But it’s the only idea I’ve got.”

“And if it works?”

“We get a push in the right direction, which is more than we have now.”

“And then?”

Lei was used to Daine’s sarcasm. This calm, serious tone was unlike him. “What do you mean?”

Daine scratched his back again. “I had another talk with Jode last night.”

“It was a dream-”

“Perhaps it was. But he had a point. What happened on Xen’drik, Lei? What did we do?”

Lei suddenly felt cold. “It’s over now.”

“Is it? Lakashtai went to a lot of trouble to get us out to Xen’drik, Lei. We don’t know why, and I don’t like it. We’ve lost a battle, and we didn’t even know we were at war. At the least, I want to understand what we’re fighting for.”

Lei’s heart was pounding. Somehow, just thinking about the events of the previous day drove her into a sweat. She reached down for an empty wand, but her hands shook and she knocked over a vial of preserved lizard eyes, which spilled across the blanket.

Daine took her hand. “What’s wrong?”

“I … I don’t know,” she said. “I just …” She tried to gather her thoughts, to focus on that final encounter with Lakashtai, but she couldn’t. There was a wall in her mind, and even trying to approach the subject filled her with dread. Vertigo washed over her, and she reached out for the ground. Her hand found the darkwood staff, which lay next to the blanket.

She stiffened in shock the instant her fingers touched the wood. A wave of pure anger flowed from the staff, smashing into the wall within her. Time fell away. She could hear Daine’s concerned voice and the faint sound of song, but all outer sensation was overwhelmed by the war in her mind. The staff was a bottomless well of rage and pain, and this emotion poured into Lei. The pressure built, driving out all conscious thought-and then she felt something break within her. Fear and rage drained away, leaving her weak and empty.

Slowly, she became aware of her surroundings. She was clutching the darkwood staff, both hands white-knuckled around the shaft. Daine had his arms around her, holding her steady while he murmured reassuring sounds in her ears. Many of the objects she’d arranged on her blanket were scattered or even broken; it seemed that Daine’s embrace served a purpose beyond simple comfort.

“I’m … fine now,” she said. Her voice sounded strange to her, rough. She looked at the staff. Perhaps it was a trick of the moonlight, but the sculpted face seemed especially lifelike, its eyes filled with sorrow.

“Are you sure?” Daine kept his arms around her, and now Lei relaxed and leaned back against him. “What happened?”

As Lei searched her soul for answers, memories began to return of a voice whispering in her mind in the depths of Karul’tash, a voice that was impossible to resist. “I think it was Lakashtai.” She could feel Daine stiffen at the sound of the name. “Back at Karul’tash … she did something to my mind, forced me to follow her instructions. She must have implanted some sort of defense, a mental compulsion to prevent me from remembering what I’d done.”

“Flame!” Daine swore. “If she’s in your dreams, now …”

“I don’t think she is,” Lei said. Reluctantly, she broke free of Daine’s embrace. As comforting as his arms were, she needed to stand, to regain her balance. She used her staff to push herself to her feet. Despite its strange performance earlier, at the moment it seemed to be a simple length of wood.

This wasn’t the first time the staff had displayed hidden abilities. When they had faced a mind flayer deep below Sharn, the staff’s song had shielded her and Daine from the monster’s mental powers. Lei had spent days trying to unlock its secrets, studying it with every mystical technique at her disposal, but all to no avail. There was magic within it, but she could not identify its nature or what events were required to trigger its release. The staff had been given to her by her Uncle Jura, a man who had been driven from the house after marrying a dryad. She’d never been close to Jura, but she’d heard her share of disturbing stories. The final story was that Jura’s wife had died under mysterious circumstances-and she’d been a dryad bound to a darkwood tree.

Lei stared at the staff, at the carved face. Do you have a story to tell?

No response. No song or motion. Just a sorrowful face carved in darkwood.

“Are you sure you’re not hurt?” Daine was standing behind her, his breath warm against her neck.

She nodded and took a step forward, moving out of his reach. “I’m fine. Whatever Lakashtai did to me, it’s gone.”

“And your memory?”

Lei tightened her grip on the staff, but there was no need. The unnatural fear had been fully wiped away. She let her mind drift back to the chaos of Karul’tash.

Crystals. Shards of crystal. Pieces of a sphere . But there was more. When she’d held the shards, she’d seen into them. Just as she could sense the magical energies of a warforged when she used her gifts to repair it, she could feel the pattern of the sphere, what it had once been, the state it yearned to return to.