The Fading Dream_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [59]
“I allowed nothing,” Tira said. “You look to the wards on my vault. Our preparations were perfect. It should have been impossible to teleport in or out.”
“And yet they did!”
As Thorn had suspected, the fey had been observing the vault through magical means. They’d responded quickly to the theft—but not quickly enough.
“We did what was necessary!” Tira said. “Unless we can save the Tree, all will fall.”
“So you say!” Syraen snarled. “And yet it was you who placed our gifts within your vault, without even sentries to watch them—”
“There was no need for sentries in the vault. I tell you, teleportation was impossible. Study the seals yourself. The room was anchored!”
“This argument is pointless.” Shan Doresh’s voice rang out across the room, and the others fell silent as he spoke. “What is done is done. It seems you have brought disaster on your people once again, Lady Tira. It was your hand that brought this curse upon the Tree, and your call that led us to this ruin.”
“You placed your trust in me,” Tira said. “And I in you, despite your fantastic claims.”
“Listening to my tale placed you in no danger,” Doresh said coolly. “For my part, my trust has cost me dearly. Once again, I have undertaken a great risk to protect our people, and again, my people have paid the price. I should never have returned to the Silver Tree. And I will not do so again.”
“Wait!” Cadrel shouted. All eyes turned to the old bard, Thorn’s among them.
Cadrel walked between the eladrin, raising his hands. He was indeed a master storyteller, and he drew on all of that presence; even the angry Syraen stilled his rage. “I know that this is your loss, that I am not one of you and cannot truly understand what this has cost you. Yet surely you are stronger together than apart.” He paused in front of Shan Doresh. “You said it was your gift to make dreams manifest, but it was my nightmare that you showed. Now that nightmare has fallen upon you all. If you are the hero you say you are, will you abandon your people when this nightmare is upon them?”
“You know nothing of nightmares,” Doresh said quietly. “While I have spent hundreds of your lifetimes walking among them. My subjects have endured torments you cannot imagine, all because the ancestors of those who stand in this room lacked the courage to stand by my side. I thought this to be the righteous path. I thought I could find common bond with those who abandoned me so long ago. But they are not my people. My people await me, and I will have to tell them that we have suffered again due to the arrogance of our kin. So leave me be, human. And you, ghaele of the Silver Tree. We will not see each other again.”
He threw his dark cloak over his shoulder, and in that instant, he was gone.
“True words,” Syraen said. “This council is broken, Lady Tira. The Silver Tree crumbles, and it is time for us to see what fate awaits the boughs as they fall. I must return to my people, to make ready for the moment these humans attack me. I pray I will not fall prey to their guile as easily as you have.”
Something was nagging at the back of Thorn’s mind. She played the events over in her mind again and again, struggling to fit the pieces together.
“No!” Tira raised her hand, and silvery light gleamed around her fingers. “Do not leave. Not yet. If we cannot face this together, we will surely fall.”
“You will surely fall,” the Rose Queen said. “Perhaps the Tree will grow again in more fertile ground.”
“A pity,” Cadrel whispered to Thorn as he returned to her side. “To come all this way only to see such discord. Still, I suppose their weakness is a boon for our people.”
That’s it, Thorn realized.
“Stop!” she cried. “All of you. Stop fighting. I know what’s happened here.”
All eyes turned to her, but none were friendly. “As do we,” Syraen growled. “Your kind stole our greatest treasures.”
“An impossible theft,” Thorn said. “And one that makes no sense. A nightmare that has turned you against one another.