The Fading Dream_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [106]
“At least you’ve managed to keep from getting them stuck in your skin,” Thorn said.
“Yes, it’s strange, how that happened for you. Steel thought it might have had something to do with us still being merged with dreams at the time.”
“It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before,” Thorn said. She sighed, feeling the pain grow as she took a deep breath. She rose to her feet. “Let’s go. Somehow I’m thinking the Silver Tree is the quickest path to a strong drink.”
Drix grinned. “I should warn you: this may be a little bumpier than your usual Orien ride.”
A few moments later, the tower was empty. A light wind blew plaster dust down toward the barren courtyard below.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The Mournland
Rhaan 3, 999 YK
Not quite what I’d hoped for,” Thorn said. She was standing at the gate of the Silver Tree, looking out over the pale landscape. At a glance, nothing had changed from the moment they had first arrived.
Drix grinned. “I thought you were the one who didn’t believe the story.”
“I didn’t. I still don’t. Still, after everything we saw … I was beginning to hope that prying that stone out of your heart might just change everything.”
“And it did,” Drix said. He let his fingers drift across his chest, passing over the place where the crystal shard had been. “It’s going to take more time.”
That was what Tira had told them after the ceremony was completed and Drix was able to stand. Initially the tinker had been heartbroken when the green fields of Cyre weren’t restored. Then Tira told them that the results were all that she’d hoped for. That she knew that the decay of the Silver Tree had stopped; it might take time for it to return to full health, but it was on the right path. And as for the Mournland, she was confident that all would be well in just a century or two. With Tira casually dismissing a century, Thorn could see why Shan Doresh had thought a few years a paltry amount of time to devote to his scheme.
“So it’s going to be a hundred years before we know if there’s any truth to the story,” Thorn said. “I guess it’s something to look forward to.”
“There’s lots of things to look forward to,” Drix said. “Why are you leaving so soon? And why like this?”
Thorn looked out over the Mournland, and her thoughts drifted back to her last conversation with Lady Tira, deep in the roots of the Silver Tree.
“So everything she said was true.” Thorn had been standing at the gates of the Silver Tree, staring out across the pale landscape.
“True enough.” The Stone of Life had glowed on Tira’s golden crown, but her face was still hidden beneath the long veil. “You are the soul of Nyrielle Tam, bound to the body of Sarmondelaryx. An old spell, and a powerful one. Certainly the work of dragons.”
“The Chamber—”
“I can only tell the truth of you, so I cannot tell you who among your Citadel might have been involved. But I have heard of this Chamber. For tens of thousands of your years—even before Shan Doresh challenged the giants of Xen’drik—the dragons have remained in isolation on Argonnessen. There they study a matrix of truths, a map of possibilities that can foretell the future—or create it. For generation after generation, they were content simply watch it unfold. Now there are those who seek to use it. To choose the paths the future takes. The dragons of this Chamber walk among your kind, hidden in human form. And they are not the only ones.”
“No?”
“You have met demons before. I can feel it. The most ancient among them have long sought to control the Draconic Prophecy. More of your history than you can imagine—your Last War, Galifar, even the birth of the Khoravar race—has been shaped by this struggle between the Argonnessen