Keith Baker - The Shattered Land

“You know nothing of my life,” he said.

“I lived your life, brother. I served in their war. I believed in the cause. I was almost destroyed more than once, only to be brought back from the darkness by their smiths and their spells, but that gift of life was not given freely. They made me to serve and brought me back so I could kill and die for them again.”

Curiosity warred with anger. “How did you serve? You carry no weapons. Have you set aside the path of war along with your former loyalties?”

“Things are not always as they seem.” She crossed her arms before her chest and clenched her fists. Blades of black metal snapped out of her forearms. “I was born to kill generals and princes. I am the sword in the shadows, and many fell by my hand. I was built to bring death to creatures of flesh, and now that I am free, I choose my victims.”

“You did not live my life,” Pierce said. “I was not made to kill-I was made to protect. Now that I am free, I choose who I will defend.”

There was a flash of motion. A tiny creature came darting out of the sky, a delicate silver construct no larger than a dragonfly. It settled on the assassin’s chest. Pierce had heard of such devices but never seen one; they had been built to transmit memories and images from one warforged to another, facilitating communication between spies and scouts. The stranger’s eyes dimmed for a moment as she listened to a voice Pierce could not hear.

“So you are not alone?” Pierce said. He did not know the range of the messenger, but he was certain it could not fly across the sea.

“I did not cross the Thunder Sea just to argue with you, no. I have my own purposes here, and it is time I returned to my work.” She took a few steps back. “So return to your captain and your lady. Just remember-these creatures of flesh and blood are not as strong as we are. They are vulnerable to so many things: disease, hunger, the ravages of time. They will die eventually, and in a land as dangerous as this one, there are many ways it could happen. Defend them if you must, but we will be waiting for you when they are gone.”

She turned and sprinted down the pier, moving with astonishing speed and silence. A moment later she had passed through the harbor gate, and Pierce was alone again.

Daine’s sleep was troubled. He dreamt of a thousand floating eyes surrounding him, peering, probing, trying to press inside his mouth and ears. There were multifaceted insect eyes, yellow eyes of cats and wolves, human eyes the size of his fist. He could feel the alien gaze as if it were a physical force, icy fingers tracing strange patterns across his skin.

He woke with a cold shiver. The room was dark, and he could still feel the chill touch of the eyes against his skin.

“I am sorry.”

Lakashtai was sitting on the floor next to his bed. She was still wearing her cloak, and even as Daine’s eyes adjusted to the dim light her face was hidden in the shadows of her hood. A sleek black cat was draped across her lap, and it peered up at him with yellow eyes that seemed all too familiar.

“I was arrogant, and I did not anticipate the actions of our enemies,” Lakashtai said.

Daine could not see her mouth, and her voice was a whisper in the darkness. For a moment he wondered if he was still asleep, and he stared at the cat with new suspicion. It ignored him, armored in feline pride.

“The crystal shard Gerrion shattered was a weapon designed to fight my people,” Lakashtai continued. “The pain you felt was but a taste of its true power. Kashtai … the attack has weakened my bond to her spirit, and without her strength my powers are diminished. I thought that I would be protecting you, but now I fear that I shall be the one that requires protection.”

“The eyes …” Daine said, struggling with his thoughts.

“They are the least servants of il-Lashtavar. The Dreaming Dark can capture the spirits of those who die while sleeping and bind them in mindless servitude. Tonight, they are the hounds of Tashana, and they seek your dreams on behalf of their mistress. I have wrapped you in mystery, and I believe that you escaped unseen.”

“I’m safe?”

“For the rest of this night, I hope. I cannot shield you completely, but I can hold them at bay … for the moment, at least, but I cannot promise dreamless sleep in the nights to come.”

She stood, and in her dark cloak she seemed little more than a shadow. The cat seemed to have vanished. “Return to your rest. Hard times lie before us, and you must marshal what strength you can. We will need you in the times to come.”

Lakashtai walked over to the door, and her passage made no sound, but even as she left, Daine heard another whisper at the back of his mind.

Beware the gifts of the Traveler, my friend. Remember the words of the wind .

“Jode?” he muttered.

For a moment he struggled to rise, to look around the room, but sleep weighed on his thoughts like an anchor, and he found himself falling down against the blankets. His last memory was of a pair of yellow eyes shining in the darkness.

If Daine had other dreams that night, he could not remember them in the light of the morning. He was the last of the companions to rise, and when he made his way downstairs the others were waiting for him. Gerrion and Lei were engaged in an animated conversation about the history of local ruins. Lakashtai sipped at a cup of tal, lost in her own thoughts. Pierce watched from a corner. Daine considered asking about his nocturnal patrol, but he knew Pierce would tell him if there was anything he needed to know. While he had come to think of Pierce as a friend and not simply a soldier, they rarely talked; they understood each other, and speech was unnecessary.

“These will strengthen you for the tasks ahead. Eat quickly,” Lakashtai said, pushing a bowl toward him.

It was filled with berries drenched in a watery white liquid, and Daine studied the unfamiliar fruit dubiously. Each berry had a thin yellow shell with a vertical black slash, and at a glance it looked disturbingly like a mass of eyes glaring up at him.

Lei glanced over from her conversation and smiled. “If the local fare is too rich for your delicate palate, I can see about getting you a bowl of gruel, Master Daine.”

Daine scowled and began to eat. He tried not to think about his dream and the eyes crawling into his mouth.

“Now that you have rested, there is no time to waste,” Lakashtai said. “We must conclude our business in Stormreach as swiftly as possible. The Riedrans may have other concerns than hunting you, Daine, but I think it best that we leave quickly.”

“This Hassalac can cure me?”

“It is not so simple. Hassalac has gathered many relics of the past. It is possible that he has already found the weapon we require to drive the darkness from your mind, but he is arrogant and proud, and he will not help us out of kindness. It is my hope that a suitable gift will serve as our gateway to his vault.”

“So we’re going on a bold expedition to the market?”

“Hassalac is a powerful and wealthy man, and the things that he desires are not sold in the market square. Fortunately our guide is familiar with Hassalac and the lay of this land, and Gerrion has suggested a suitable gift. This is not a time for discussion. Finish your meal swiftly, and let us set ourselves in motion; I shall explain everything in time.”

Daine shrugged and turned his attention to his bowl of sour milk and bitter berries. Beneath the table a gray cat with glittering silver stripes rubbed against his leg, purring in strange fluting tones.

Stormreach was a different place by the light of day. With the sun in the sky, Daine could see the buildings that dominated the center of the city … although building was a generous term. Stormreach was filled with ruins: remnants of stone and densewood, vast archways and broken walls.