The Fading Dream_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [79]
House Vadalis worked with animals, breeding and training all manner of creatures. They were best known for magebreeding—rituals that used the power of the house dragonmark to twist the flesh and blood of an unborn creature, weaving specific strengths into the child. Through the techniques they had produced horses with remarkable speed and strength, hunting dogs that could track the merest trace of a scent, beasts of burden and battle. The house had produced the mighty warbears that Breland had used in the Last War, the Breland coat of arms brought to fierce life. They’d created the “dark eyes,” ravens with an exceptional vocabulary and the ability to recognize and report on enemy activities; they weren’t truly intelligent, but sometimes it was hard to tell. The Korth Edicts prohibited the house from experimenting on humans or other sentient species, but there were always rumors that they were trying to magebreed a better human. With her angelic appearance, the Vadalis savant was exactly the sort to add fuel to that fire. Her appearance wasn’t truly unnatural but still remarkable for a healer.
The five with her were soldiers; that was plain to see. Whatever that place was, they took security seriously. Even at a glance, Thorn could see scars on their skin and nicks on their chain mail; they’d been through battles and come out alive. Four were common Blademarks, with crossbows slung across their backs and swords sheathed on their belts. The one walking next to the woman was an officer, with a golden chimera pinned to his collar; beyond that, Thorn could see the lines of a dragonmark running along his neck and up to his ear. He was resting a two-handed axe across one shoulder, an ugly weapon with a long blade. He was a muscular man, and if not for the web of scars on almost every inch of his exposed skin, he would have been quite handsome. More to the point, Thorn had no doubt he’d be able to wield the brutal axe with ease.
“Perhaps I am. I still enjoy the dulling of it,” he said with a grin.
Thorn followed them quietly as they continued down the hallway. She traced a cross on Steel’s hilt.
Well equipped for common sentries, he told her, though nothing so impressive as our friends in the Mournland. Still, even the two pushing the cart have mystically reinforced armor and enchantments woven into blade and bow alike. Low-grade Cannith work, I’d say. The axe is on par with that of the royal executioner; enchanted to sever a head or a limb, but drawing on its full might would take time—the sort of thing one would use on a stationary target. And the woman … nothing powerful, no weapons, but a great many minor auras. The tools of a chirurgeon as opposed to an alchemist.
Thorn moved the blade in a circle, suggesting a study of the hallway.
Quite an impressive array of spells at work. No aggressive defenses, but the two doors ahead are sealed and set with warning enchantments that will be triggered should the wards be broken; I’m sensing a spell of silence as well. Kundarak work, I believe. Aside from that … The walls themselves are reinforced using Cannith hardening techniques, and there’s a broader enchantment maintaining the temperature. It has the flavor of House Ghallanda to it.
Kundarak, Ghallanda, Orien, Cannith, Vadalis, Deneith … Quite an operation, Thorn thought. Whatever the place