The Fading Dream_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [44]
He sounded sincere and for a moment, Thorn wondered if she’d misjudged him. Then she remembered the sorrow in his voice when he’d spoken of the torments Marusan had faced in the dungeons below the city of the tree. He told a good story, but he was a spymaster too. “And your friend Cazalan Dal? Any new thoughts on him?”
Cadrel heaved a great sigh, and for an instant, he seemed to be a much older man. “I still have no idea what those madmen hope to accomplish. It was a mistake for my lord to send our best into such peril and a loss to our nation that they have fallen to madness. There are too many mysteries in this world. At least the answer to one of them lies before us.”
“Let’s hope so,” Thorn said. They’d almost reached the great tree, and she could see a gate down at the very base of the trunk, nestled in the valley formed by two spreading roots. “It’s interesting that the Mourning destroyed all the other trees and left this one alone.”
“We are the ones who felled the trees.” It was the knight in the horned helm, the first time he’d spoken since they’d begun traveling. “You saw what became of them in the grove where we found you. After the blood of our prince and this one soaked the soil, the greenery that survived the tainting grew thirsty. The plants sought our blood, and the region had to be cleansed. The hungry trees you saw are mild compared to the savage roots that besieged us in the first days.”
“What else can you tell me?” she said to the eladrin warrior, tapping Steel’s hilt as she spoke.
“It is not my place to speak to you,” the knight said. “I will let my queen tell you what you need to know.”
Steel was more forthcoming. I have to agree with Cadrel, he told her. It is a wonder. One of the rarest products of Aerenal is what the Aereni call viraletha—livewood. These trees are infused with extraplanar energy, and this sustains them even if the tree is uprooted. I’ve seen a ship with a livewood mast with a dryad living inside it.
Thorn ran a finger along Steel’s blade, lingering on the tip. It was a signal she’d established after one too many long-winded explanations: Get to the point.
This tree is not an artifact. It’s alive. And it doesn’t belong here.
Thorn tapped the hilt of the dagger. Yes?
When the soldiers teleported in your earlier fight, they weren’t teleporting in the same way that heirs of Orien do. After the teleportation effect, each of them was suffused with extraplanar energies. I believe that they slipped out of our world and into Thelanis, returning at a different point in space and time. Something is anchoring them to this plane, though. They can only remain in the Feywild for a split second before being forced back here.
Thorn ran her finger along the point again.
I’m sensing that same energy flowing through the tree. It validates what Drix said … and even Cadrel’s story. It’s not of this world. It’s a piece of Thelanis anchored here.
Thelanis … Thorn knew all about the history of the Five Nations. She knew twenty ways to kill a man during a waltz. She even knew a touch of magic. But metaphysics and planar cosmology weren’t one of the core subjects at the King’s Citadel. Still, every child of Khorvaire knew the basic stories of the outer planes … shadows of the world, realms embodying certain aspects of reality. Dolurrh, the domain of the dead. Shavarath, the heart of war. And Thelanis, the faerie court, a place of magic and mystery. In the stories, the powers of the lords of Thelanis seemed limitless. A faerie king might lay a casual curse on a mortal that would afflict the hapless person’s bloodline for generations to come, or turn dirt to gold with a snap of his fingers.
Or replace a boy’s heart with a crystal shard, Thorn thought.
The energy flowing through the tree is almost overwhelming. But the necrotic energies suffusing the soil are equally powerful—far stronger here than they were within the mists. The Mournland