Son of Khyber_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [41]
Thorn glanced at Dreck. The warforged nodded. “I have my own duties to attend to, beloved. But our paths will cross again, and soon. Until then, remember the lessons taught to you by the Shaper of the Young, not his betrayal. Let your instincts be your guide. They will teach you all that you need to know about the powers of your blood.” He reached into a pouch and produced a small stone that glowed with the pale blue radiance of cold fire. He tossed it to her. “You will be walking through dark places. Take this, and trust your guide.”
Strange as he was, Dreck was the last familiar thing in this place, and Thorn felt a pang of sorrow to see him go. She still didn’t know why he called her “beloved,” but she’d grown used to it. “Watch yourself.”
“Come,” Xu’sasar repeated. The drow had slipped up behind Thorn, and her voice was a whisper in Thorn’s ear. “The world below awaits.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The Undercity
Lharvion 20, 999 YK
Do you seek battle?” They were the first words Xu’sasar had said since she’d led Thorn from the broken chamber. She didn’t break her stride even as she spoke. Thorn had to struggle to keep up with her, and a few times Thorn had nearly tripped on the loose stone and debris scattered through the abandoned halls. Xu’sasar had ordered Thorn to follow directly in her footsteps, and it was easy to see why; even while jogging, Thorn had spotted the rippling auras of a number of wards, and once she had nearly stepped on a tripwire.
“What?” Thorn asked.
“Your hand reaches for your blade. You slew Fileon. Do you wish to try my skills?”
“Not in the least,” Thorn said, and it was the truth. Thorn might not have seen the dark elf fight, but she’d seen enough to know that she wouldn’t want her as an enemy. Xu’sasar was lean and swift, moving through the rubble with the deadly grace of a scorpion. Thorn’s senses were sharp enough to sense the wind moving around an invisible man, yet Xu’sasar had slipped to her side unnoticed. “This is unfamiliar ground for me, and I feel better with a weapon in my hand.”
Xu’sasar stopped moving. She was standing on the remains of a collapsed pillar, and she spun in place to face Thorn, perfectly comfortable on the uneven surface. “Draw then, dreamer. But there is a saying among my people: ‘When you hold the weapon, you call the battle.’”
Xu’sasar still held the strange, bone throwing wheel in her left hand, and the light of the cold fire gleamed against her silver-white hair and her chitin armor. But it wasn’t the weapon that sent a shiver along Thorn’s nerves.
“Dreamer? What do you mean by that?”
“His word, not mine,” the dark elf said. She turned and leaped off of the pillar, resuming her jog through the dusty labyrinth. “It is the word he spoke, when he first saw your image.”
“Who?” Thorn asked. But it seemed that the dark elf had said all that she intended to.
He was surely the Son of Khyber, and Thorn’s dreams had certainly been troubled of late. She could still hear the laughter of the fierce woman in red. How would this aberrant warlord know any of this?
All disturbing questions. But now she finally had the opportunity to consult with Steel, and she wasn’t going to pass it up. She pulled the dagger from the sheath, feeling his presence settle into her mind.
It’s about time, he whispered. I’ll need a full debriefing once we are alone, but we must establish what we can as quickly as possible. You have identified the Son of Khyber.
Thorn tapped his hilt once with her thumb. Yes.
Good. And from what I could hear, the Cannith heir was some sort of construct. You are certain of this?
Tap.
Perhaps you were deceived. Even if such a thing were possible, it would surely require a creation forge, and the Treaty of Thronehold saw the forges shut down.
Thorn’s irritation grew, but there was no way to discuss the issue with Xu’sasar around. She tapped the dagger twice. She gestured at the dark elf and traced a cross on Steel