Son of Khyber_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [88]
Daine had little trouble with the descent. Drego was less athletic than the other two, and he took longer to make his way down his rope. If not for the knots tied along the length of the rope, he surely would have slipped and fallen. Daine and Thorn waited at the cavern floor, watching the Thrane struggle with the rope.
“I’m glad you’ve chosen to take our side,” Daine told her. “I know it’s a difficult choice. This will be an ugly battle, unlike anything Breland has ever seen. But it’s the right thing to do.”
“I’m not choosing sides,” Thorn said. “If this fallen angel is anything like the last, I’m doing my nation a service. But I won’t be joining you when you leave Sharn. And when we meet again, we may not be on the same side.”
Daine glanced away, but Thorn saw a flicker of emotion pass across his face. Guilt? Doubt? Was there something he wasn’t telling her?
“Your loyalty to Breland is admirable,” he said, “though I find it somewhat surprising.”
Thorn scowled. Having just heard this speech from Drego, she didn’t care to hear it again. But her curiosity got the better of her. “And why is that?”
“Foolishness, I suppose. You remind me of someone I used to know, and I can’t imagine her being quite so loyal.” He turned to face her, the lines of his mark shifting along his face as he spoke. “You may not have an aberrant dragonmark, Thorn, but your mark lets you kill with a touch. Does it matter how you do it? You’ve more in common with us that with the beggar, the blacksmith, or the countess. They’ll fear you when they learn what you can do, just as they fear us. Can’t you see that?”
“Whether they fear me or not, they’re still my people,” Thorn said. “My father died defending this nation, and he believed it was a worthy sacrifice. You died before our nation came to be. I believe that Breland has kept the best aspects of old Galifar. I will not turn on the Brelish, and I cannot believe that they’ll turn on me.”
Daine held her gaze for a moment, and it seemed as if he were trying to look through her, to see something beneath the skin. Then he shook his head. “I hope you’re right. I have no desire to make an enemy of you or Breland. But I was brought back to fight the Twelve, and I must follow my destiny.”
Drego had finally reached the ground, and Daine turned away again.
“Let’s go,” he told Drego. “And quickly, before this wretched heat burns my feet away.”
The floor seemed cool enough to Thorn, but she said nothing as Drego led them down the lava tube. It was as wide as a great hallway, and while the heat didn’t trouble her, there was considerable soot and steam in the tunnel; she took care to breathe through her nose, but the steam was still soaking her clothes and beading against her skin. They descended deeper and deeper, until Thorn was certain that they had dropped below the level of the Cannith forgehold or Tarkanan fortress.
And then they came to the lake.
The sloping passage opened into a wide chamber. Thorn couldn’t see the far wall, but it was the floor that drew her eyes. Steam rose from the cracked black stone, and between the cracks came the fierce glow of molten rock.
Drego stared at the lava hissing around the cracks in the floor and breathed deeply through his nose. “It seems we have the Traveler’s own luck today.”
Thorn moved to his side. “This wasn’t in the plan?”
“Not at all,” Drego replied. “We’re almost there. There’s a tunnel to the southwest that will take us directly to the Cardinal Point.”
“A tunnel to the southwest … on the other side of the lake of fire,” Daine said.
“Indeed.” Drego sighed. “That’s the problem with plotting a course through an unstable volcanic region. It’s, well, unstable.”
“There’s no time to go back,” Daine said. “By now … there