The Fading Dream_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [105]
The battle was all in her mind, in her soul. Thorn was still standing with her hand pressed against the dragon’s claw. And in her other hand, she was clutching a piece of jewelry, a silver brooch shaped like a crescent moon with an opalescent crystal resting between the horns.
The Stone of Dreams.
With her last surge of strength, Thorn slammed the brooch against her chest. There was a burst of pain. She could feel flesh and bone part, feel her blood merging with the stone. She could feel the stone itself studying her … and accepting the bond.
New energy flowed through her. In her mind, a burst of force pilled out around her, sending Sarmondelaryx sprawling. Thorn opened her jaws, and a cone of light shone from within. Sarmondelaryx froze in that light, howling in frustration as her form became soft and indistinct. Her time was done. Her strength was gone. She was a fading dream caught in the morning light.
And in a moment, she was gone.
The light went with her, and suddenly Thorn was falling again, falling into the welcoming dark …
“Thorn?”
There was blue sky above when she opened her eyes, and the golden ring of Siberys glittered in the sunlight. For a moment Thorn wondered just how much she’d dreamed; then she saw the shattered walls around her, the chunks of rubble from the dragon’s wrath.
“Thorn? Can you hear me?” Drix was kneeling next to her.
“Yes,” she said. Her throat was rough and dry, and there was a terrible pain in her chest. “What happened?”
“The dragon was about to crush me. I couldn’t see all that you did, but there was a flash of light and then … the dragon vanished. Everything else … it changed. You’ll see when you look over the edge. The things in the courtyard—they’re gone.”
“You mean … I did this?”
“It’s difficult to analyze energies of such magnitude,” Drix said. “But I don’t think you were responsible. For a time we were on two separate planes of existence simultaneously. Your defeat of Sarmondelaryx coincided with a disruption of that planar juncture. The fey we were fighting, the forces that were assembling, even the bulk of the buildings have likely shifted back to Dal Quor. All that’s left is a shell.”
“That sounds like something Steel would say,” she said. It hurt to breathe too deeply.
“It is,” Drix said, holding up the dagger. “I found him on the floor. He’s told me all sorts of interesting things.”
“Really?” Thorn said. “Well … it’s good to have friends.”
She forced herself up on one arm, feeling a sharp pain as she did. She looked down and saw the sun gleaming off the silver brooch that lay between her breasts. Despite the pain, her skin was smooth around the crescent moon. The stone gleamed with an inner light, and she thought she heard a whispering voice, too faint for even her keen ears to catch the words. Then light and voice faded.
“Lovely,” she murmured, brushing one finger across the cold stone. “I’m sure that’s just what I needed.”
“We can go now,” Drix said. “I’ve packed everything, and I made all the preparations while you were sleeping. It should work just fine. Probably. Well, maybe.”
“Leave how?” She sat up and saw a circle traced in chalk among the rubble with tiny dragonshards scattered around the edges.
“It’s a temporary teleportation circle,” Drix said. “It should get us back to Ascalin. I was able to send a message to Lady Tira. By now there should be people there waiting to take us back to the Silver Tree.”
“You sent a message to Tira?” Thorn said. “And you’re just going to connect to the Orien network with … chalk?”
Drix smiled. “I know,