Son of Khyber_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [70]
His story was suspicious but not impossible. Under Galifar, the champions of the Silver Flame battled supernatural threats across the continent. And there were always tales of corruption within the church, especially in Breland.
Thorn tapped the hilt and quietly sheathed the dagger. They were passing through the Chamber of Bones, Drego lighting the way with a floating ball of argent flame, and it was time to prepare for her next meeting with the Son of Khyber.
Xu’sasar, Daine, and Brom were waiting for them. It seemed that the unorthodox surgery had worked. Brom was hearty as ever, and he’d even taken the time to hammer out the dents in his war gauntlet. Xu’sasar had polished her chitin armor, and the opalescent plates gleamed in the light of the cold fire. Her silver-white hair was a shroud of moonlight drifting around her slender frame. The vicious bone wheel in her hand was a reminder of her deadly talents.
If Daine had made any special preparations for the battle ahead, Thorn couldn’t see them. His boots were still crusted with the muck of the sewers, and there were bloodstains on his armor. The change was in his demeanor. The tension she’d felt earlier had vanished, and he smiled as he saw her.
“Well met, brother and sister,” he said. “I hope you are ready for the challenge that lies ahead.”
Thorn waved a hand. “Any day that goes by without battling an ancient force of evil is a day wasted, that’s what I always say.”
Now Daine’s smile was strained. “There is truth to what you say, but do not think to laugh at what we face. Drego, what we know of our quarry comes through you. Xu’sasar and Thorn know little of the danger. Please, explain.”
All eyes turned to Drego.
“Very well,” he said. “The first thing to understand is that there are worlds beyond the one we know, higher planes of existence and dark realms that lie just beyond the shadows. Potent spirits inhabit these planes, spawned by the sheer magical energies of these realms. There are many such spirits, from the devils of Shavarath to the treacherous rakshasa spawned by Khyber itself in the first age of our world. Angels are born of the highest realms within the Astral Sea. They are not gods, but many claim to serve the gods. And even the least among them wields fearsome power. Every angel embodies a particular concept. An angel of war may be straightforward enough, armed with a blade of fire and deadly skill. But the greater angels hold dominion over less tangible forces—joy, honor, even love. Some sages say that the angels watch over those mortals who embrace their values. Others believe that the angels are a reflection of the influence those values have in the world, and that if honor leaves the world, its angels will fade.”
“You said this was a fallen angel,” Thorn said. “How’s that different from a devil?”
Drego shook his head. “The two are completely different. Devils are tied to dark concepts—hate, fear, greed. What we’re dealing with is a radiant idol, an angel punished for pride by being imprisoned on Eberron. It still possesses its original appearance, and its powers are still tied to its original dominion.”
“So who are we dropping in on tonight?”
“Do not speak this name casually,” Drego said, and there was no trace of his usual levity. He traced lines in the air as he continued. “You must understand the sheer power of the being we face. He has likely influenced the lives of thousands of your countrymen, Thorn, and just speaking his name could draw unwanted attention to us.” He made a last flourish in the air, and Thorn could just make out a translucent pattern of rippling arcane energy that dulled all sounds beyond and kept Drego’s voice close. “Tonight we shall destroy Vorlintar, the Voice of the Innocent and the Keeper of Hopes, Fifth among the