Keith Baker - The Shattered Land

Lakashtai glanced at Daine. “Well, captain? Any tactical advice?”

The deck was covered with snow, and Daine’s face was numb. An icy wind was beginning to rise. “This doesn’t look good, and I don’t much want to drag this boat across a frozen field. I say listen to the guide.”

Gerrion gave a quick bow. “Always the best advice. Lay on your oars, then-hopefully we can reach the cove before the river is completely frozen.”

The temperature fell with the approach of night, and twice they came to a halt, until Lei carved a path with magical flame. Frost formed on Pierce’s outer shell, and the creatures of flesh and blood drew their cloaks tight against the cold, but even as the sun slipped away, Gerrion pulled the vessel off of the river. Strangely, the waters of the inlet were less choked with ice; it was as if some hidden force was warming the water, and Lei’s mystical flames were not needed. The shore was hidden behind shadow and snow, but Gerrion proved his worth as a guide, steering through the darkness. At last the ship struck soil, and Gerrion and Pierce heaved the anchor off the side.

“If you have any warmer clothing, now’s the time to find it,” Gerrion said. “The path’s only a few hours walk from here, and I’d sooner press on than camp in this mess. Olladra willing, we’ll be back in the warmth by midnight.”

“We are not alone.” Pierce’s quiet voice drifted from the cold. Daine could barely see Pierce through the snow, but the warforged had his bow in hand, an arrow to the string. There was a blur of motion in the night, a splash as Pierce leapt down from the deck. “There is another boat at rest here, struck aground harder than ours.”

Daine squinted into the darkness. He could barely see the outline of the vessel. He sighed: if anyone was out there, they’d surely have noticed the arrival of the new boat. “Lei, light-disposable.”

Pale light pushed back the night, emanating from a copper coin in Lei’s palm. She pressed the glowing disk into Daine’s hand, and he flung the coin off the deck, creating a pool of light in the darkness. Daine searched for any signs of movement, any reaction in the night, but he saw nothing.

Pierce was right: another boat was at rest some 20 feet away. Slightly larger than the Grey Cat , it was a two-masted vessel with a squat, rounded hull covered with black tar. At least it’s not Riedrans , Daine thought-at least the ship was simpler and far uglier than the elegant vessel Lakashtai had identified as Riedran when they’d first arrived in Stormreach.

There were no signs of movement beyond the lapping water and no lights on the ship.

Drawing his sword, Daine leapt off the prow of the Gray Cat . Icy water splashed around his boots, and Daine ground his teeth against the cold as he made his way to the shore.

Pierce materialized next to him, a mithral ghost in the snowy night. He raised a hand, gesturing toward the boat. Follow, silently , his gestures said.

Daine shadowed Pierce, moving as quietly as he could. The warforged kept his bow ready, but a moment later he paused, nodding his head toward the icy ground.

A human body lay on the ground. It was half-buried in snow, and fresh blood was spread across the white blanket.

Daine swore silently. He’d seen worse in the war, but those were times he’d done his best to forget. At first it seemed that the corpse had been cleaved in two, but the truth was far more disturbing. Only half of the body was intact. As for the rest-what Daine had taken for bloodstains were actually the pulped remnants of flesh and bone. It seemed that the man’s body had been caught beneath a wheel of razor-sharp spikes, and from the pattern of the spray the wheel was spinning at a tremendous speed. Daine knelt next to the corpse. The snow hid any distinguishing features that were left to him and obscured his clothing. Daine was reaching out to brush away the concealing snow when Pierce gave a sharp gesture.

Enemy. Holding position-possible ambush . He pointed toward the beached boat.

Lei had come up from the shore, and she was stopped short by the sight of the devastated body. “Claws of the Keeper,” she whispered. “What could do something like this?”

“Whatever it is, it’s long gone,” Daine said. “This boat’s probably been here for days. Weeks, even.” As he spoke, he signaled with his fingers, drawing Lei’s attention to their hidden foe. Moving in. Give ranged support-nonlethal if possible .

“Good,” Lei said. “We’ve got enough to worry about with the cold, but I would like to take a moment to study … this, if you don’t mind. I’d like to know what’s out there.”

She knelt beside the corpse and drew a crystal and a short wooden wand from her pouch. Doing her best to ignore the grisly spectacle and focus on her work, she ran the carved stick around the edge of the crystal and concentrated on infusing the shard with the energies she needed.

Daine could hear Lakashtai and Gerrion emerging from the river, but there was no time to explain, and in any case neither of them was familiar with Cyran military signals. Best to move quickly and hope they were smart enough to recognize the situation on their own. Under optimal circumstances Daine could have crossed the distance in the blink of an eye, but the deep snow slowed his movement. Moving calmly and carefully, he made his way to the hull of the opposing vessel. He took a deep breath, the chill air sharp in his lungs, and dove around the bow.

Nothing. Just shadows and blowing snow.

Pierce himself had disappeared. Daine hoped that he had drawn any enemy’s attention away from the warforged, allowing him to do what he did best. Daine put his back to the boat, studying the ground for any signs of tracks or recent motion, then he saw it-a small figure almost hidden in the falling snow and the shadows of night, a gnome or perhaps a human child. Daine couldn’t see a weapon in the silhouette, though in this age of magic the enemy without a weapon could be the most dangerous foe of all. This might be the child of the dead sailor, but Daine couldn’t take any chances.

“You! Step forward, hands where they can be seen.” Daine had his blade leveled at the shadow in the snow, and he was tensed to leap into the darkness. “Come forward slowly. If you engage in any sort of hostile action, you’ll have three arrows in your chest before you have time to blink.”

“I never blink.” The sound was like hissing steam in a kettle of tal-a warforged voice. The stranger slowly moved into the pool of light that emanated from the glowing coin.

Behind Daine, Lei drew in a sharp breath. It was all Daine could do to restrain himself from lashing out, striking the construct before it could come closer.

Beneath the layer of shimmering frost, the plates of the ’forged were blackened metal, engraved with strange patterns and words in a language Daine didn’t know. While its hands were empty, dozens of two-inch blades were folded back against its arms and torso, and Daine knew from experience that these could rise up and lock into place to serve as deadly weapons. Its arms were long and spindly, out of proportion with its childlike torso, and its head was the narrow wedge of a rat or weasel, complete with a mouth full of steel teeth. It was not the strange appearance of the construct that caused Daine’s fingers to whiten against the hilt of his sword. He’d seen a warforged like this before. He’d destroyed one, maybe more than one.

At Keldan Ridge.

“Where did you come from?” Daine snarled. Every instinct urged him to strike before the creature could act. Memories rose in his mind, fresh from recent nightmares-this rat-like construct leaping the barricade, only to be shot down by Lei. It couldn’t be the same one. They’d left it in pieces, but he’d never seen any warforged like this anywhere else-and it sure didn’t look like the work of House Cannith. “What are you doing here?”