Keith Baker - The City of Towers

The room came into focus, and he could see tanks and tools lined up along the walls to his left and right. Strange objects floated in vats of luminescent liquid, but he was too far away to make out details. He spotted Lei’s pack lying on the floor a few feet away from him, but there was no sign of his sword.

Then he saw Lei. A table was in the center of the chamber. In the dim light, he hadn’t seen it at first. The surface was curved and covered with opalescent enamel, and the reflected light of the glowing fluid glittered on the dark surface. Lei lay spreadeagled on top of the table, arms and legs pinned by heavy manacles. A few odd objects were scattered about-vials of fluid, knives of various shapes and sizes, and … a handful of crystals. I wonder if those are Alina’s shards, Daine thought.

“There’s no point in pretending to be unconscious, Captain Daine. I heard the shift in your breathing.”

Teral’s voice came out of the shadows to Daine’s right. Wrapped in his armor of flesh, Teral’s voice was deeper and had a horrible wet rasp. Teral stepped into the light. He had changed into a loose cloak, and he glared at Daine with a terrible grin on his raw, bloody face.

Daine raised his head and looked Teral in the eye. He could see Hugal and a few other shadowy figures lurking in the darkness. Hugal was wearing Daine’s sword. He caught Daine’s eye and giggled.

“What happened to you, Teral? What have you done?”

Teral moved with astonishing speed. Daine never saw the slap that slammed his head back against the wall.

“Mind your tone, Daine, or I might take your tongue … or worse. I’ve pushed Olalia about as far as I can. Perhaps you should be my next toy.”

Daine glared at Teral. He could feel a trickle of blood where his right cheek had grazed the wall.

“It is not a question of what I did , Daine. It is a question of what was done to me. I was saved. You wandered the Mournland for months. In that time, did you ever find any survivors?”

“We found nothing that could be saved.”

“Yet I came to Sharn with over a hundred, myself included.” He glared up at Daine, his eyes crazed behind his horrible mask of flesh. “I was there on the night of the Mourning, Daine. I saw the mists with my own eyes. I could never explain it to you. It was … pure, transcendent beauty, land and life reshaped without regard for mercy or reason. It was over in a moment. I was still alive, but I could not move. I could only lie there, feeling my body slowly shifting from life to death. No sovereign lord came to defend me. No Silver Flame shielded my soul. But at the last moment, when the light had gone from my eyes, they found me. They pulled me back from death, filling me”-he ran a hand across the ghastly layer of muscle that covered his skin-“with new life. Together we found others. Their mortality burned out of them by the Mourning, they were vessels waiting to be filled by the power from below.”

Daine glanced at Lei, hoping she would stir. He needed to buy more time. “I see that the power from below bought you a nice home here in the sewers.”

Teral hissed, and his barbed tongue flickered into view for a moment. “There are forces in the deeper darkness that you can’t begin to understand. The world could have been theirs in ages past, and it will be in the days to come. The Mourning is the first sign of their return. Through our war, we destroyed our nation. Through our magic, we broke the world itself. Now the children of madness are returning, and this time all will fall before them.”

“Sure,” Daine said. “I can see it. I mean, there’s a hundred of you, right? Aside from the ones we killed, of course. That’s an unstoppable army, no question.”

A second slap slam med his head against the wall. “This is only the beginning,” Teral said. “Our numbers grow every day. Our master can reshape body and mind, granting gifts or stripping strength away.”

Daine remembered the old woman with the basilisk’s eye, who had been fully human only a few weeks earlier. He saw movement in the vats of liquid and wondered what they contained-and how long he could avoid finding out.

“You will see,” Teral said, gripping Daine’s chin with one moist hand and staring into his eyes. “You have strength. Yes. I think you shall serve at my side once your mind has been properly … adjusted.”

A chill ran down Daine’s spine, but he kept talking. “So by day you fan the anger of the Cyran refugees, and by night you turn them into monsters?”

“My master gives us the power to act on our anger, Daine. He allows us to take our rightful place in the new age that lies ahead.”

“And Jode?”

“The powers of your companion will be most useful-as will the gifts of the young lady,” Teral said, glancing back at the unconscious Lei. “All flesh is as clay in the hands of my master. He strips the powers away from the beasts of earth and air and grafts these powers to our flesh. Now, at last, the gifts of the dragons are ours for the taking. He gestured to the far end of the room, where Daine could just make out a shelf of flasks and clay vials. “With the power of the binding stones, the dragon’s mark can be stripped from this weak human flesh. Once it has been concentrated into this purest form, it is only a matter of time until that power is mine.”

it is time , Daine thought, then he frowned. Time for what?

“He approaches,” Teral whispered.

Lei heard voices, but she couldn’t make out the words. She couldn’t move, even to open her eyes. Where was she?

Lying down, that much she could tell. The sound of water was all around her, and there was a horrible smell-yet one that seemed strangely familiar.

How quickly we forget , she thought. Or did she? Why would she have thought such a thing?

Her body was tilted, her head lower than her feet, and the blood was pounding in her forehead. The surface beneath her was cool and smooth. She could see vague, flickering illumination to either side of her, as if light was shining through water. She could almost hear a voice in the distance, calling her name … or was that just another stray thought?

A figure moved into the light, blurred and indistinct. “All is well, my dear,” said the figure. It was Hadran. His hand touched her forehead, brushing the hair back from her face. Her vision was still blurry, but she could see him in her mind, proud and stately in his robes of blue and gold. His gray mustaches were carefully waxed, and he pulled at one as he smiled at her. “There is much to be done, but you’re safe now.”

Hadran picked up a tall, thin urn and poured the contents out next to her. Due to the curved surface and the tilt of the table, the fluid gathered at the back of her head and the small of her back. It was cold, and a tingling sensation spread across her skin.

She tried to speak, but her mouth still wouldn’t move. How could this be?

“There are many mysteries in the world,” Hadran said, squeezing her shoulder comfortingly. He poured the contents of a second beaker into the basin, and the tingling increased to a sharper sting. “Only the mad can understand them all, for they have gone beyond understanding. Relax, my love.”

Despite the pain at her neck, Hadran’s words were soothing, and she began to drift. But then the image of Councilor Teral flashed through her mind, his skinless armor wet with blood.

I do not take orders from excoriates. You have no place here . Those had been Domo’s words. Domo the warforged. Hadran’s warforged.

The thought brought her back to her senses, but she still couldn’t open her eyes or move her limbs.

Hadran still had a hand on her shoulder. He was spreading an object across her chest. Jewelery? A necklace? “Let it go,” he said soothingly. “All is forgotten. All is forgiven. You are finally home, and nothing else matters.”