Son of Khyber_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [45]
He held up his hand, and the lines of his mark danced across his skin.
“And then there were the other marks. Chaotic. Unpredictable. And dangerous. Marks of fear and fire. People who could kill with a touch or sow terror in the minds of others. Difficult to control, often dangerous even to the bearer. But dragonmarks nonetheless. They called these aberrant marks and said they were a sign of Khyber’s touch. And perhaps they are. But Khyber is a part of our world. Above, below, and between—you cannot have one without the others. Khyber’s voice can be heard in the Prophecy, and we have our role to play in the future of this world.
“In the past, our kind were almost as numerous as the children of the Twelve. We never know if we will pass our marks to our children, but our marks are free, not bound to any bloodline. We can appear anywhere. And so we spread across the nations. But we were scattered, and that was our weakness. We lacked unity. The Twelve saw us as threat and scapegoat. They hunted us, and by the time our leaders saw the full scope of the menace, it was too late. But even if we could not win this war, Halas Tarkanan was determined that we should not fall without a fight. He gathered our people and made of us an army. We lacked the resources of the Twelve, and propaganda turned every hand against us. We made them pay for their victory. But in the end we fell.”
It wasn’t just the dragonmarked who paid that price, Steel whispered. What of the people of Sharn?
The aberrants didn’t choose the fight, Thorn thought. Should they have just laid down and died? However, Steel couldn’t hear her thoughts, and he did not respond.
Daine continued. “For over a thousand years, the touch of Khyber was all but unknown. Where it appeared—usually when those of the Twelve mingled their precious blood—it was called a curse, the marks even cut from the flesh of the children who bore them. We were painted as monsters. But while we suffered, there was one blessing for the world. The rise of Galifar held the ambition of the dragonmarked houses in check. Their power grew, but they could not challenge the Five Nations when they stood as one. It was no vengeance for what had been done to us. But it was a beginning.
“And so we find ourselves in the here and now. Galifar is no more, while the Twelve are more powerful than ever. House Lyrandar commands the air. House Cannith stands ready to produce legions of steel and stone. Phiarlan and Thuranni watch from every shadow. And the kings of this land are so afraid of each other that they dare not challenge the true threat. That is our role. That is why Khyber’s touch has been seen in greater numbers with each generation since the war began. We are destined to return balance to this world.”
He drew his sword, and its polished blade gleamed in the torchlight. Thorn saw a symbol on the hilt: the same sun-and-eye symbol she’d seen on the Deneith brooch.
“Some of you know my history,” Daine said. “Others do not. My name is Daine, and I was born to the Halar family of House Deneith, fifteen hundred and thirty years ago. Halas Tarkanan was my cousin, and in my younger days we clashed on the battlefield. Then my own mark appeared. If not for my cousin, I would have been killed by my own father.”
Impossible, Steel whispered. He wasn’t alone. Murmurs rippled across the crowd. Daine’s deep voice silenced the whispers. Somehow his calm voice made even the ridiculous seem possible.
“If this sounds like a miracle, it is. I fell in battle alongside my cousin. But my soul was saved from Dolurrh and trapped within dreams until destiny called for me. I have been freed from the Keeper’s grasp to finish the fight my cousin could not win. And I tell you that this time we shall not fail! This time we are the tools of the Prophecy, and we shall change the course of history!”
These words were met with a roar of approval. For