Keith Baker - Son of Khyber

Thorn’s hand was still resting on Steel. Such spirits do exist, he told her. Three hundred years ago, there was a battle beneath Sharn, when a paladin of the Silver Flame led a band of warriors to hunt down one of these radiant idols in the tunnels beneath Sharn. The bold crusaders were all killed, and it took nearly a hundred soldiers, priests, and wizards to contain the spirit. It could not be killed. I believe it is bound in the dungeon of Dreadhold to this day.

“What makes you think you can defeat this thing?” Thorn asked.

“It’s what I was born to do,” Daine said. “To bind what cannot be slain. You have skill I need, and I think you have untapped depths within you. Xu’sasar is fearless and deadly. And we will have the help of another-a specialist in such matters. Lucky for us that he developed an aberrant mark and joined our house.”

Thorn felt another chill as fire rippled through Daine’s mark. “And there he is,” Daine said, looking at the door. He raised his voice. “Welcome!”

A man walked into the room-handsome, dressed in clothes of black silk trimmed in silver, his dark hair well-groomed. His gray eyes locked onto Thorn’s. He smiled, and she felt a chill run down her spine that had nothing to do with the embedded shards.

“Sister Thorn,” Daine said. “Meet Drego Sarhain.”

The Undercity Lharvion 21, 999 YK

Drego Sarhain. They’d met before, when Thorn was undercover at the Great Crag of Droaam. Drego was a sorcerer and spy in the service of the nation of Thrane. They’d worked together for a time, uncovering the identity of the demon who wanted to release a horde of werewolves and skinchangers against the people of the Five Nations. And that’s when Drego had betrayed her, claiming that despite the massive casualties, such a catastrophe would reunite the Five Nations-albeit, reuniting them under the banner of the Silver Flame. The medusa Queen of Stone, Sheshka, had turned Drego into a statue-and Sheshka’s curse was no easy thing to lift. Thorn wondered how Drego had escaped.

This changes everything, Steel whispered. What’s an agent of Thrane doing with the Tarkanans?

He was right. To this moment, there had only been two players on the board: Tarkanan and the Twelve. But what was Thrane’s interest? Thrane and Breland were still bitter rivals at the end of the Last War, and while Boranel and the young Keeper, Jaela, had sought to normalize relations, many of the powerful cardinals had other ideas. Was Thrane trying to use Tarkanan against Breland? The Son of Khyber knew Thorn’s true allegiance, but he’d introduced her to Drego as a member of his house. Did Daine know who Drego really worked for? Despite the silver trim on his fine clothes, the Thrane had abandoned the arrowhead symbol of the Silver Flame he’d worn in Droaam. She needed answers, and quickly.

She had to give Drego credit. He didn’t show the slightest sign of recognition or surprise. He smiled and extended his hand, brushing his lips against her proffered fingers. “And how lucky we are to have such a lovely addition to our family,” he said. He held on to her hand as he continued to speak. “What gift does your mark possess?”

Drego knew Thorn was a Brelish agent and that mere months ago she hadn’t possessed an aberrant dragonmark. He was testing her-undoubtedly curious to see what the quartermasters of the Citadel had devised. She smiled and let a faint trickle of power flow from her false dragonmark. It was just a touch of pain for her-a razor running down the edge of her skin-but Drego grimaced and pulled his hand away.

“I’m sorry, Brother Drego,” she said coyly. “It’s easier to show than tell. What of you? I can’t even see your mark.”

Though he was still sweating from the pain, Drego wasn’t one to pass up such an opportunity. “It’s hidden by my clothing, sister. But if you’d like a private viewing, that could certainly be arranged.”

That was certainly the Drego she remembered. He’d pursued her throughout their time in Droaam. She still wasn’t sure if it was entirely a game, or if there was some spark of truth behind it. Even when he’d turned on her in Droaam, he’d still asked her to take his side and come with him. She didn’t trust him, yet there was something between them, something she couldn’t easily explain. Even now, she found herself enjoying the interplay and wanting to draw it out. “So what does it do?”

“My gifts relate to spirits, sister,” he said. “I may not have power to match our mighty Son of Khyber, but my powers help me track and battle fiends and other immortals. Beyond that, I studied the arcane arts before my mark manifested, so I have a few other tools in my arsenal.”

“Impressive,” she said. “Tracking and binding fiends. How do you measure against an exorcist of the Silver Flame?” Thrane had long been known for its corps of exorcists.

“Interesting that you should ask,” Drego replied. “I was in fact raised in the church, and for a time I served the nation. But despite the powers of my mark, the mere fact that it was aberrant was enough to turn my superiors against me. I was cast out from my duties. I’m grateful that Tavin and the Son of Khyber have given me the chance to put my skills to good use.”

So there was his story. There was even the chance that it was true-though Thorn didn’t believe it.

Daine had remained silent throughout their banter, and now he spoke again. Whatever vulnerability or remorse he’d let Thorn see had vanished. He was the Son of Khyber again, confident and in charge. “You made good time, Brother Drego. Did you acquire the information we require?”

Drego nodded. He produced a leather scroll case and handed it to Daine. “Everything’s there. I don’t have an exact location, but certainly a place to begin.”

“Very well. I will need time to study this and to prepare for the challenge ahead. I suggest that the two of you rest and enjoy yourselves as best you can during this time. We go to face an immortal, a being who gazed down on Eberron before the first human was born. There is every chance that we will not return.”

Thorn held out her hand, reaching for his arm. “Is there anything I can-?”

“No.” He brushed her hand away. “If you see Xu’sasar, tell her she may return. I will call you when it is time. Now leave me. Both of you.”

Thorn and Drego looked at each other for a moment. Thorn knew he was thinking the same thing she was-waiting for the other to move first. She smiled and walked past him. Despite the bravado, she felt a shiver through her nerves as he followed her.

They were in the Chamber of Bones when he reached out for her. Perhaps he was only going to lay his hand on her shoulder, but there were all too many spells that could be cast with a touch. She felt the movement as he reached for her. The next instant Steel was in her hand, and the tip of the dagger was set against his throat. Only then did she turn to look at him.

“No offense intended… Nyrielle.” He smiled as he said her name. “You’ve always been better than I at finding your way around in the dark. I’d hoped you’d be my guide.”

Thorn had been so distracted that she hadn’t noticed when her sight shifted into the spectrum of grays. She knew Drego had no similar gift for seeing in the dark-or hadn’t when last they had met. Nonetheless, he seemed to have no trouble keeping his eyes fixed on hers.

“Of course,” Thorn said. “I’m always glad to lend a hand to an old friend. Let me show you a few of our sights.”

A moment later Drego was on his knees. Thorn stood behind him, her forearm pressing against the back of his neck, Steel laid against his throat. “We call this the wall,” she said, driving Drego’s forehead against it with a firm tap. Steel said nothing, but Thorn could feel his amusement.