The Fading Dream_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [52]
“This is ridiculous.” It was the ice lord again. “How dare you bind one of our greatest artifacts to an outsider? That is the source of our weakness. That is what drains the life of the tree. You have given its heart to a mortal.”
“You were not there, Syraen! I assure you, the glamour fell as the boy lay dying. Go outside and you’ll see the soil still tainted by his blood.”
The Lord of the Emerald Lights spoke, his sparks swirling around his head. “Either way, you are the one who brought this misfortune upon us.”
“And I am the one that can bring it to a close,” she said. “I have spent every moment since that day studying the matter. And I know what can be done.”
“And what’s that?” Thorn said.
“Keeping Marudrix alive holds the curse at bay, binding it to him. To bring it to a close, he must be healed completely. The unjust stroke must be undone. We must take Ourelon’s shard away from him and restore his heart again.”
The fey fell to arguing again. Next to her, Thorn heard Cadrel take a sudden sharp breath.
“Olladra smiles,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“What do you make of this?” she said quietly, rubbing her thumb against Steel’s hilt as she spoke.
“It seems most unlikely,” he replied. “But in my day, I’ve heard many stranger stories. We’re dealing with the fey, Thorn, with a woman who can hide a city from view or steal my voice with a glance. As unlikely as it seems, it is the sort of thing that would happen in one of the old tales.”
I have to agree, Steel said. It’s far more likely that it’s a vast coincidence. Yet as long as there is any chance that it is true, that this could somehow restore the Mournland or help us understand the true power behind it, we have to follow through. Getting the Cyran refugees out of Breland alone would be a tremendous boon to the nation. Beyond that … if she can remove that shard from Drix, that means it could be claimed for Breland. If it can be proven that the Mourning no longer poses a threat, the war will begin again; you know that as well as I do. Acquiring such a tool for Breland—not attached to a Cyran tinker—would be a great success.
Good enough. Thorn drew Steel and rapped against the table with his pommel. “Enough!” she shouted. The others paused and looked at her with varying degrees of surprise and anger on their faces. “Say we believe you. What is this next step? What have you learned?”
Tira glanced at the other fey, her eyes still burning behind the veil. “I sacrificed one of Ourelon’s shards to save the boy. The shards are bound together, just as our cities are bound together, just as the boy is bound to the soil. At this time, under these moons, if all the shards are brought together, like will call to like.”
“What are these shards?”
“Fragments of the gift the dragon Ourelon gave to the first lord of the Silver Tree, or so say the memories bound in the stone,” Tira replied. “Each tied to one of the spires, each holding great power. The strength of the spire is tied to the stone. So Syraen is correct; in surrendering my stone to Drix, I weakened the Silver Tree. Yet the alternative was far worse.”
Syraen spoke again. “You require all the shards for your mad plan, sister. But you know as well as I how many have been lost. The Preserving Shard. The Stone of Dreams. The Quiet Stone. Have you found them all?”
Tira looked at Thorn. “Show them, girl. Show them my prophecy made manifest.”
And this is where it all falls apart, Thorn thought. Might as well see it through. She turned around and shifted her uniform to simple peasant clothes. Pulling her blouse at neck and waist, she revealed the shrapnel in her spine.
A hush fell over the room. Then the voice of the Rose Queen broke the silence. “Impossible.”
There was a gust of cold air, and Lord Syraen was by her side. “Hold, woman,” he hissed.
Thorn wanted to punch the arrogant eladrin in the throat, but she resisted the urge and let him run cold fingers along her spine. In truth, she was as surprised as they were.
“Tira speaks the truth,” he