The Fading Dream_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [39]
Thorn opened her mouth to question that, but then she remembered his words at the Citadel. All her attention had been focused on Boranel and Oargev and on keeping the prince of Cyre from killing the tinker. She hadn’t even thought about the name of the city or how it might relate to the image that had been haunting her dreams. “Does it have golden leaves?”
“Not so much anymore. It used to. Why?”
Cadrel cleared his throat. “I understand that these are unusual circumstances, but in Cyre it’s considered rude to interrupt. And as we are in Cyre at the moment …”
“Sorry,” Drix said. “I really would like to hear the rest of the story.”
Cadrel looked at Thorn and she nodded.
“Very well. The lords of the six cities gathered around—or possibly in—a silver tree. Their combined might was a thing to inspire legends. The Prince of Winter held a sword that could freeze the blood of an army with a single stroke. The Lord of Joy wore a jewel so lovely it could cause the hearts of his foes to burst with joy. But greatest among them was Shan Doresh, the Lord of Dreams. His was the power to draw out the heart’s desire and make it real for a time. But these dreams would not last, and he could not restore those slain in the City of Song and Silence. He urged the others to join together in an army, certain that together they could defeat the Titan King and free those they had taken as slaves. But the others were afraid to fight. And when the battle came, the Lord of Dreams and his subjects found themselves alone.
“Titan fought elf for a full twelve days and twelve nights, with the dark magic of the giants matched against Shan Doresh and the hopes he inspired in his people. Cul’sir knew he could not defeat the Lord of Dreams alone, and so he bargained with the Shadow and received a fearful boon. When Doresh next drew on his gifts, he and his people were pulled fully into the realm of dreams, and they were never seen again. The lords of the elder elves were so ashamed and so terrified that they fled into the deepest shadows of the world, finally falling through the cracks in those places into the realm of Thelanis. And this is why the elves don’t sleep today; they are too ashamed to face Shan Doresh and acknowledge their cowardice.”
“Isn’t that a bit of a stretch?” Thorn said, settling her hand against Steel’s hilt.
“It may be,” Cadrel replied. “But you saw those images at the Citadel—how much they looked like elves! Combine that with this level of magical sophistication we’re seeing. Where have these eladrin been all this time? Hiding on another plane is the only answer than makes sense. And planar studies have shown time and again that Thelanis is our closest planar counterpart. Shifting across that barrier in response to a disaster, hiding there, either coming across occasionally or having our people stumble through the wall and finding them—it’s quite a story but not an impossible one.”
“I suppose not,” Thorn said. “Does it matter to us?”
“Perhaps it doesn’t,” Cadrel replied. “But it’s the chance to learn the truth behind one of the oldest stories I know; I hope you’ll understand if I’m somewhat excited.”
“Of course,” Thorn said. “And thank you for the story. But now … it sounds to me like the rain’s stopped. So if we’re going to get to the bottom of this story—or any other—I suggest we climb out of this hole and get on with our journey.”
Time passed, though the dull gray sky and the effects of the Irian tears made it difficult to say just how long. Thorn felt as if she’d been walking for a week, but rationally she knew it couldn’t have been more than a day. She was still troubled by the memory of Drix’s wounds melting away. Zane’s words echoed in the back of her mind. Imagine an army of soldiers possessing such power. And Cadrel’s casual comment, We may be allies this month, but we both know that there can only be one king of Galifar.
“Almost there,” Drix said. “There’s the forest up ahead.”
Thorn had heard that the southern forests of Cyre were one of the most beautiful