Keith Baker - The Shattered Land

“This provides access to every plane?” Pierce said, looking up at the spheres.

“It’s not that simple. Alignment, orbit … Only two planes are accessible at the moment, Thelanis and Fernia, the plane of fire.”

“Fire.” Daine’s mind was racing. “And these spheres are controlled from here?”

“Initially, and from the sphere itself. The sphere protects the passenger from any dangers of the plane, though if you leave-who knows.”

“Do you understand how they work?”

“I can’t explain it … but yes, I do.”

“Good,” Daine said. “Shen’kar, if you don’t mind, I’ll need you for this. Here’s my plan …”

The high priest Holuar was surrounded by an aura of mystical fire, and he was simply walking through the ice that blocked their way. The chill air could not breach his shield of flames, and as old as he was, destiny gave strength to his limbs. The end is near , he thought. At long last, I shall reap the rewards of my ancestors’ loyalty. The Lords of the Promise will enfold me in their power, and we shall set the world aflame .

The ice had filled a long stretch of the hall, and progress had been slow until Holuar had called on the cloak of fire. Now the wall crumbled before him: he had reached the end of the barrier.

There was a man in the hallway twenty feet away. He was too tall, too thick. His skin was sickly pale, and no marks of honor stained his skin-an outlander-the false child of war, the one that had been tested and failed. Holuar pointed a bony finger and prepared to call on the deadly fires, but the stranger dropped to his knees, holding out his hands in supplication.

“Just hear what I have to say before you kill me,” the man said. The words of the outlander tongue were flat and graceless, and the man spoke terribly slowly. “I know what you’re looking for, and I can give it to you.”

“What is this?” Holuar said. His soldiers were emerging from the tunnel, but he raised his hand and they simply spread out around him.

“You want to pass through the Burning Gate. That’s what this is all about, right? Well, I came here with the woman who can open it for you.”

“The woman of two worlds,” Holuar said. Could it be that she was needed to open the gate and not simply the monolith? He reflected on the words of the prophecy: she would free the voice of the past, she would make the way clear, she would hold the keys. “She will aid us, or you will all die.”

“I know. I don’t care where you go or what you do. I’ve got my own business here. So here’s the deal. You give us what we want, and we’ll open the gates for you. You go through and do … whatever it is you have planned. We go on our way. Everyone lives.”

Holuar narrowed his eyes. “What you want, you say … what is this, that you want?”

“Him.” Daine pointed at the man next to Holuar. “Gerrion.”

Gerrion laughed. “You have no idea what you’re asking.”

“Oh, I think I do. Do you really think your life is more important than, what, tens of thousands of years of devotion?”

Gerrion glanced at Holuar. “Grandfather? Will you deny me my place in history to satisfy the whims of this outlander, or shall we simply torture them until they do as we ask?”

“Perhaps you’ve forgotten, but we’ve been fighting a war back on Khorvaire,” Daine said. “I’ve been tortured by the best. If you think you’ve got the time to break us, by all means, but I’m told that your season of fire will be over soon, and when it’s over, so much for your gate.”

Holuar considered, finally speaking in Elvish. “You did not bring the child of war to us, Gerrion. Some would say that you failed in your duty.”

“Grandfather!”

“Speaker of the law!” Holuar snapped, and Gerrion hung his head.

“Perhaps it was the wrong man that I led to the city, but I brought all four to the land of fire. If I hadn’t drawn this man here, the child of war would not have come. I fulfilled my destiny!”

“Yes … I suppose that you did.” Holuar looked at Daine. “No,” he said, returning to the Common tongue. “His life is not yours to take. If we must tear the secrets from you, we shall.”

“Wait!” Daine said. “I don’t want his life. All I want is my honor. He betrayed us. He made me look like a fool. I just want to prove how he’d fare in a fair fight. First blood. A scratch only. If he dies you can kill me too. I won’t resist. I swear.” He drew his sword and looked down at the hilt. “On my father’s blood.”

Holuar glanced at Gerrion. “To this I agree.” He glanced at Gerrion. “Take his honor for the Sulatar, child. Show that you have the strength of the fire-that you are not just a knife in the darkness.”

“Grandfather, I-”

“ I have spoken!”

Daine grinned. “Tell you what, Gerrion, we’ll keep it fair. You can use that fine flaming stick you’ve got there. Me? I’ll just use my dagger. I’m sure you remember it.”

“Do as you wish,” Gerrion said. “You will take no honor from the Sulatar. When you are ready, then.” He made a mild gesture with his light sword, the vaguest hint of a salute, but even as Daine nodded and drew his dagger, Gerrion was already launching in a lightning-swift thrust.

Daine leapt back. He didn’t parry or riposte-he simply kept the distance between them, staying beyond the tip of the blade.

“Do you have any honor to take?” he said.

Gerrion said nothing. His handsome face twisted in a snarl as he launched blow after blow. Daine continued to dance away, staying just out of reach.

Minutes passed, and Daine had yet to strike.

“What are you waiting for?” Gerrion hissed. “You asked for this fight. Aren’t you going to try to win it?”

“Perhaps I already am,” Daine said, ducking beneath a fiery slash. “Perhaps I’m not trying to win yet, but you’re doing a fine job of losing without me.”

Gerrion growled , and the tip of his blade almost grazed Daine’s cheek; the flames singed his beard. Cutting it close , he thought.

And suddenly Gerrion stopped. He held his guard position and simply watched Daine. “You’re not trying to win,” he said. “But you asked for the fight. And if you didn’t want to win, then you-”

“That’s right,” Daine said. His arm flashed forward, and the blade was a black streak through the air. The adamantine dagger sank into Gerrion’s left shoulder, and the gray man dropped his sword in shock and surprise. “I was bored,” Daine finished. He looked at Holuar. “First blood,” he said. “I’ve got what I came for. Give me back my dagger and I’ll show you to your gate.”

Gerrion had fallen to his knees. Holuar looked down at him and yanked the dagger loose in one swift motion. Gerrion whimpered and pressed a hand against the wound to staunch the flow of blood. Holuar ignored him and tossed the weapon back to Daine.

“You have your honor,” he said quietly. “Now give us our destiny.”

“Is everything ready?” Daine called out to Lei as he led the firebinders into the vast Hall of the Gate.

Pierce and Lakashtai stood by the door; at Daine’s signal, Pierce laid down his bow.

“Yes,” Lei said. “The vessel is prepared.”

She pointed, and murmurs rippled through the assembled drow. One of the crystal spheres had descended and was hovering just above the floor. A shard of the crystal had folded out and down, creating a long ramp. The inside was filled with dark mist.

Holuar studied the glowing inscriptions on the outer edge of the sphere. “Yes. This is the gate of passage, the chariot that rises to the land of promise.”