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The Gates of Night_ The Dreaming Dark - Keith Baker [13]

By Root 509 0

“That’ll do,” Jode said, pausing to savor the scents. “But first, let’s have a look at that arm of yours.”

Daine’s back itched.

Someone pulled at his left arm. He opened his eyes, reaching out with his right hand, grabbing hold of…

Lei.

“Sorry about that,” she whispered. “I was trying not to wake you.”

“That’s fine,” he muttered. He sat up, taking in his surroundings. He was back in the sphere. The air was chilly, and the only light came from the flickering sigils traced across walls and floor. Daine’s thoughts were fogged with sleep, and he had no idea how much time had passed.

“Let’s have a look at that arm of yours,” Lei said.

Daine glanced over at her, and for a moment he wondered if he were still dreaming. The situation hardly seemed real. Then his stomach growled … and this time, there was no fresh-baked bread to appease him.

Lei heard the sound. “I’ve still got some rations in my pack,” she said as she examined his tattered sleeve. “Not much, I’m afraid, but …” Her voice trailed off.

“What?” Daine said.

Pierce had been standing at the edge of the room, but hearing Lei’s tone, the warforged turned to look at them.

“See for yourself,” Lei said. Using both hands, she tore a hole in Daine’s sleeve, widening the gap where Tashana’s claws had torn into him.

“Hey!” Daine said, but he fell silent when he saw the skin below. The wounds Tashana had inflicted were gone, with no trace of bruise or scar. “That’s good work. Can you do anything about—”

“I didn’t do it.” Lei said. “I worked on Pierce while you were sleeping, and prepared a healing charm for you. But I didn’t use it.”

“It may have been the same force that restored your hand, my lady.” Pierce had moved closer, to better examine Daine’s arm.

“I suppose,” Lei said. “If her claws hadn’t cut through the skin, I might think it was all some sort of illusion—”

“Jode did it,” Daine said.

The others just stared at him.

The dream was coming back to him. Unlike his visions from the Keldan battlefield, this one was more like a true dream; the details were faint and fading. “I remember now. He healed me just before I woke up.”

“Woke up,” Lei repeated. “You’re saying that Jode did this in a dream?”

Her tone irked him. “Do you have a better explanation? Something fixed your finger.”

Lei sighed. “Daine, Jode couldn’t have restored my hand even when he was alive. I don’t know why you’re fixated on this, but there has to be another explanation—”

“It was that bottle. The blue fluid.”

“What are you talking about?”

She was unconscious when I drank it. “It’s …” Daine scratched his back while he tried to put words together. “Last year, when we fought that thing in the sewers. Teral said that they were stealing dragonmarks. That they were going to steal your dragonmark.”

Lei nodded. She shivered, no doubt remembering the chamber of horrors in the depths below Sharn.

“You remember how we recovered a few bottles of black liquid down there? And gave them to Alina? Well, one of them wasn’t black … it was blue. And it had Jode’s dragonmark engraved on the seal.”

“You’re saying … you drank his dragonmark?”

“You’re the expert on magic here!” Daine said. “I don’t know what it was. But even the Jorasco healers couldn’t explain what happened to Jode, remember? I drank the potion, and then I saw Jode in my dreams. And now … I think he healed me.”

“That’s impossible,” Lei said.

“Tell it to your fingers,” Daine replied. “All ten of them.”

Lei glanced down at her hand. “But he wasn’t in my dreams. And I told you, Jode couldn’t do that.”

“If you say so,” Daine said. “Me, I’m not complaining.” He glanced at the other bedroll; the drow woman was still wrapped up in the blanket. “Have you checked to see …”

“I wanted to help you first,” Lei said, glancing to the side.

“Well, let’s see if the mystery healer paid our friend a visit.” Daine carefully drew back the blanket.

Whatever force healed Daine and Lei hadn’t touched the dark elf. Her ebon skin bore dozens of cuts, and the blanket was covered with crusted blood. None of the wounds were deep, but the sheer number was

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