The Fading Dream_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [55]
He fixed Cadrel with his dark eyes. “Tell me, human, and tell me true: You have seen the wonders our people can produce. You live in a world at war. Do you not wish to have such powers for your own people?”
“You’re asking the wrong person,” Cadrel said with a smile. “My people have no stake in the war anymore. Our nation was destroyed. If these remarkable theories are correct, it was the actions of this woman here that did it.”
“Yes,” Doresh said. “She brought a kingdom to ruin with a single stroke. Unusual circumstances, to be certain. Perhaps you would not use such a thing yourself. But tell me that there are not those among your kind who would stop at nothing to harness such power, who would use it to dominate this land.”
Cadrel looked at Thorn, a nervous smile playing at his lips. “Well, Cyre did not start the war; all we ever sought was peace—”
“And what of me?” Cazalan Dal stood in the room. “Sent into the Mournland in search of what? A way to reclaim the ravaged land? Or a way to harness its power—to find a weapon that could be used to force the other nations to their knees?”
The winter eladrin moved toward the Cyran soldier, glittering blades drawn. Tira’s eyes were blazing, and Thorn held Steel ready to throw. Cadrel’s face was ashen. Then Cazalan shivered and faded away.
“Such is my power,” Shan Doresh said. “To bring dreams into the open. You know this man and his mission, Essyn Cadrel. Once he served your nation; now he may want power for himself. But he wants power. As does your king, Nyrielle Tam. And the Karrnathi warlords that mass their forces around your spire, Shan Syraen. I looked out upon the world, and I saw our people in fear. I felt your call through the stone, Lady Tira. And I knew why the Citadel of Dreams had been called back to this world. Your ancestors refused to aid me in my time of need, and I will not repeat that mistake. I hope that this act of faith will forge a new bond between us, that when I come before this council in days to come, you will remember my wisdom.”
“I would hear more of this now,” Syraen said.
“And I,” Lord Joridal added, emerald lights darting around his shoulders.
“We have much to discuss, to be certain. But perhaps this is a conversation best kept to the ghaele. And the safety of the Silver Tree is surely the first step in securing the future of our people. Lady Tira, you have said that time is of the essence. Tell us of the ritual that will save this land and the Tree. What must be done?”
Tira’s expression was hidden behind her veil, but her voice was cold. “Like calls to like. The bonds between the stones must be strengthened. I have prepared a vault below, where the ritual will be performed. For now, the shards must be left alone for a time, allowed to bond away from their masters.”
Syraen raised an eyebrow. “You would have us surrender the greatest treasures of our people?”
“I would. For hours only. They will be sealed in the vault.”
“And what of us?” Thorn said. “I’m afraid I can’t just give you my shards.”
“You are not the master of the shards that you bear,” Tira told her. “You need not be separated from the stones. But you will have to be sealed in the vault and to remain still while the connections are established.”
The Rose Queen laughed. “You wish us to leave our gifts alone with these outsiders? You are mad, Tira.”
Shan Doresh spoke before Tira could respond. “Your fears are understandable, my lady. Still, unless much has changed since I last walked these halls, the vaults of the Silver Tree are all but impregnable, and I can’t imagine they open from the inside.” Reaching up, he removed his brooch and held it out to Tira. “I trust you, Lady. I place the future of my people in your hands, as the future