Keith Baker - The Shattered Land

A memory surfaced in Pierce’s mind-a slender, cloaked warforged, its skin plated in dark blue enamel, its voice that of a human female. He had only met her for a few moments, but he’d never forgotten the encounter. She’d sought to recruit him, hinting that somewhere a group of warforged was building a new future for his kind. He’d turned her down, choosing to remain with his three friends, but ever since that night, he’d wondered what would have happened if he’d gone with her. Recently, he had been reading a history of Galifar and was amazed by what one human had accomplished. The warforged had no history to look back to, but what future lay ahead? Was there a warforged Galifar, waiting to be built?

There was no wind, but the main sail billowed and fluttered, and Pierce turned to study it. The kraken-and-lightning emblem of House Lyrandar gleamed in the darkness. It had been charged with cold fire, and set amid the black sail as it was, it would seem to be floating in mid-air to any approaching vessels. The wind was the result of an elemental bound into the fabric-a spirit of the air that could generate a pinpoint gale just behind the sail. Studying the rippling sail, Pierce wondered about the life of the bound spirit. Was it conscious, aware of its surroundings? Most of the books Pierce had found claimed that elementals were simple creatures and that binding them was no different than domesticating horses. Pierce couldn’t help but wonder: Was the sail a prison for the spirit, or was it doing what it loved most-was the wind its one joy in life? Looking at the sail and imagining the spirit trapped within, Pierce didn’t know whether to feel pity … or envy.

Die!” Lei cried. She spun forward, and her staff was an arc of darkwood flying toward Daine’s head. It was a blow that could shatter a skull-but only if it connected. As Lei moved forward, Daine ducked. In that instant, Lei knew her mistake, but it was too late. Her momentum carried her forward, and before she recovered her balance the tip of Daine’s sword was at her belly. She gasped and dropped to one knee as the staff slipped from her grasp. For a moment she managed to hold herself upright.

“Why?” she whispered and then fell to the ground.

“That’s what I’d like to know.” Daine poked her in the stomach. He’d wound a strip of thick leather around the tip of his blade, but it was still enough to make her wince. “If I kill you one more time, I think Dolurrh will run out of space.”

Someone else might have dismissed it as a joke, but Lei had known Daine long enough to recognize the edge in his voice. “What do you care? I thought we were just playing.”

They were on the deck of the Kraken’s Wake . It was midday, but the sun was hidden behind a blanket of dark clouds. Beyond one memorable storm, the voyage had been unremarkable, and the novelty of being out on the open sea had worn off after a few days of choppy water and nausea. When the day brought a pause in the rain and a period of relative calm, Daine had suggested that they go to the deck to practice, but it seemed that they had different ideas as to what this meant.

“You need to thrust more and stop with the wild swings. Use your reach. This isn’t a time for games.” Daine held out his hand, but Lei remained sitting.

“Why not? I don’t see any pirates on the horizon. What’s wrong with you?”

Daine withdrew his hand and sat down on the deck, facing her. He ran his finger down the scar on his left cheek. “Perhaps I am taking this too seriously. It’s just … we’re going to Xen’drik.”

“Really? That explains the boat.” Daine glared at her, and she held up her hands. “Sorry.”

“You’re just proving my point. There’s nothing funny about this. We don’t know what to expect in the weeks ahead, but we need to be ready for anything.”

“I’m not ready?” Lei said, a little heat rising in her voice.

“I guess … you were with me during the war. I know you can handle yourself in a fight if you have to, but you’re not like Pierce and me. Pierce was built for war. I was raised in a house of mercenaries and learned the first forms as soon as I could lift a sword.”

“Good for you,” Lei said, “and who was it who fought a minotaur with her bare hands?”

“That’s my point, Lei. You can fight if you want to, if you have time to prepare, but it’s when-”

There was a flash of steel, and the point of his dagger was at her throat. She didn’t even see him draw it.

“Life doesn’t always give you warnings. I just want to make sure you’re ready for anything.”

Lei knocked the blade aside. “So what’s your suggestion, captain? Don’t trust anyone? Stay on edge every moment of your life?”

“Lei-”

“You don’t know the first thing about my childhood, Daine. You were raised by soldiers? My parents worked in an isolated warforged enclave, and by the time I was eight I’d only met a dozen humans. My first friends were steel and stone, and the games we played were games of war. Perhaps I am too trusting. Perhaps my life has been too sheltered. Deception doesn’t come naturally to the warforged-it has to be learned, so I’m not used to worrying about my friends pulling daggers on me. I assure you that when I’m facing an enemy I know how to deal with him.” She narrowed her eyes, and Daine yelped and dropped his dagger. The metal glowed red with the heat of her anger, then slowly faded back to black. Lei stood and strode over to the rail, glaring out across the water.

Daine watched her, rubbing his hand. He could handle a sword with ease, but words-words were another matter. He’d known Lei for almost three years, but he’d never thought to ask her about her childhood. His history with his own family, the mercenaries of House Deneith, was a bitter one. After years of serving in the Blademark, he’d become disgusted with the moral ambivalence of the dragonmark houses, which typically put the pursuit of gold above all else. Daine often wondered what would have happened if the dragonmark houses had used their influence at the start of the Last War, if they’d taken sides-could they have ended it quickly, without the terrible loss of life of the past century? Had the thought even crossed the minds of any of the barons, or had they only seen the profit, as House Cannith built weapons for all nations, House Deneith fueled the fire with its mercenary armies, and every other house found its own way to profit from the conflict?

When it came down to it, he’d let his disgust with his house cloud his judgment of Lei. He remembered his own childhood, and he’d always assumed that Lei’s naïveté was the result of pampering and luxury, far from the suffering of the war. Now he tried to imagine a child among an army of warforged, going through their drills and preparing to be sent to the field. He rubbed his scar again, stood up and walked toward her.

“Lei.”

Silence.

“Lei, just listen.” Daine clenched his burned fist, hoping the pain would focus his thoughts. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I should know that you can handle yourself. After what we went through in the Mournlands, even the last few months … I know what you’re capable of.”

She continued to watch the water. She might have been a statue-or a warforged sentry, standing watch.

“It’s just … I feel …” He slammed a fist onto the rail in frustration. “Fine. It’s Jode.”

Lei looked over, green eyes wide. She said nothing, but the question was obvious.

Daine took a deep breath. “I let him go, Lei. I could have stopped him. Perhaps if I’d gone with him, things would have turned out differently, but even before that … I never pressed him, never forced him to learn to fight.” Each word was a weight on his tongue, each one heavier than the last.