The Fading Dream_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [51]
“The moment the blood of my child and this man of Cyre mingled on the ground, the earth trembled and shook. The glamour snapped and broke. I felt the land itself being torn apart, nature twisting on the most basic level.”
“The Mourning,” Thorn said. “But that’s just bad timing. A coincidence.”
“There is no coincidence,” Tira replied. “At that time, I didn’t know who this child was. You see the mingling of our blood in his features—human and fey.”
“He’s half-elf. So am I.”
“You carry debased blood in your veins. You are descended from the slaves of Xen’drik. Marudrix … he is of us. I told you that there were those who found us, even through the glamour. His ancestor was such a one, a brave warrior who won the heart of one of our own.”
Cadrel tapped her arm. He couldn’t speak but he mouthed a word: Ma-something … Marusan. Marusan. The knight in his tale. Marusan … and Marudrix.
“This was before I rose to wear the Circle of Leaves,” Tira continued. “Else I might have seen it in his features. But that man … he became a bridge between our worlds, as the Tree itself was. His descendants became the keepers of this forest. My predecessor even gave them one of Ourelon’s shards, to preserve the memories of those who fell between our visits.”
The ice lord rose to his feet again. “The line of keepers was extinguished over five cycles ago, when the Preserving Shard was lost to us. This is impossible!”
“I can discipline you as easily as the human, Syraen.” Tira’s eyes blazed. “Yes, we thought the line of keepers destroyed. And once again we find that our sight is not so perfect. This boy was of that blood. I struck him in anger, struck him for a crime he did not commit, spilled that blood upon that of my own son. And in so doing, I unraveled the foundation of both our worlds and set the Mourning in motion.”
Thorn looked at Cadrel. He couldn’t speak, but his expression mirrored her thoughts: She really thinks she caused the Mourning by stabbing Drix. We’re in the Tower of the Silver Madwomen.
Then she noticed that no one else was smiling or questioning it. The expressions of the fey were cold and grim.
“I’m sorry,” Thorn said. “I mean no disrespect, but you’re serious about this? Perhaps you didn’t realize it, but out beyond your woods, we’ve been fighting a war for the last century. The Mourning only targeted Cyre. Why would your curse do that?”
“You are mistaken,” Tira said. “The Mourning didn’t target Cyre.”
Thorn didn’t know what to say to that. She was even more surprised by what happened next.
She’s right, Steel said. But ask her what she means.
But Tira continued on her own. “Trust me, we are aware of your wars and your kingdoms. Your Cyre was a changing beast. In days past, it was far larger than it was that day. So if the curse struck at Cyre, why didn’t it affect the nation of the goblins, or the elves to the east?”
Exactly, Steel said. And it wasn’t even tied perfectly to those borders; Darguun and Valenar were simply quick to seize what little land remained outside the mists.
“What’s your explanation?” Thorn said.
“The curse should have spread across your world and ultimately through the bond into Thelanis as well. The moment I realized what was happening, I acted to save the boy. I bound the Shard of Life to him, the shard of the Silver Tree. And in doing so, I bound the curse to him. It is not your Cyre that holds the Mourning. It is Estara, the kingdom that stood here before your Galifar conquered it and gave it to his daughter. Marudrix is of the blood of the keepers of the wood and, through lost Marusan, a prince of Estara.”
Drix had been barely paying attention throughout all of that; perhaps he’d heard it before. But that snapped him back. “What? How am I a prince?”
“You are a prince of a lost kingdom. In the eyes of magic, you are that kingdom. In saving you, we