The Gates of Night_ The Dreaming Dark - Keith Baker [2]
Pierce had seen Harmattan in action and knew that his appearance was deceiving. Harmattan was not wearing chainmail, and he was no man. As Pierce looked at Harmattan again, new thoughts flowed into his mind—
A web of magical force binds the metal fragments together. This energy is concentrated in Harmattan’s head. The rest of his body is thus both malleable and expendable. A sufficient burst of abjurative energy could temporarily dispel the force holding his body together. However, this web is extremely powerful, and such an effort would be unlikely to succeed.
As an afterthought—
Your previous encounter suggests that Harmattan was once a warforged soldier and only discovered his full power after his original body was destroyed.
These seemed to be Pierce’s own thoughts, a natural stream of consciousness in response to Harmattan’s arrival. They weren’t. Another force was sharing Pierce’s body—an ancient intelligence named Shira that had been imprisoned for tens of thousands of years. Pierce wished to know much about the entity that called itself Shira, but this was not the time for questions. Daine had his blades drawn and strode toward Harmattan. Pierce had seen the strange warforged scour flesh from bone in a blur of razor-sharp shards, and he knew that Harmattan wouldn’t hesitate to kill a human.
Pierce lunged forward, his flail spinning in a low arc. He had little experience with shame, but he felt a pang of guilt as he pulled back, dragging his surprised opponent to the ground.
“This fight cannot be won with a sword, Captain.” Pierce said. “Others need you. Do not throw away your life.”
Daine glared up from the floor, fury burning in his eyes. A vibration ran through Harmattan’s metal form—the rustling that served him as laughter—and Pierce saw drops of blood scatter to the ground. While he regretted having struck his friend, Pierce knew that it could easily have been Daine’s blood on the floor.
If you think you can win my trust so easily, you are mistaken, little brother, Harmattan said.
“Indeed.” It was a soft, feminine voice, all too familiar.
Warforged. The analysis came unbidden to Pierce’s mind. An unusual design, sacrificing durability for speed. Mithral plating with stealth glamer; improved visual acuity, allowing optimal accuracy even in conditions of darkness. Embedded …
The mystical analysis continued, but it was drowned out by Pierce’s own thoughts as the newcomer came into view. Slender, graceful, her mithral plates coated with deep blue enamel. Blades of dark metal extended from her forearms.
Indigo.
Pierce had felt a touch of guilt when he pulled Daine to the ground. Now it was a hammer, slamming against his spirit. He remembered the joy he’d felt fighting alongside her—mere moments before he tried to bury her and Harmattan by collapsing an unstable tunnel.
Indigo stood beside Harmattan, blocking any escape. Her face was a mask of blue metal, but Pierce could hear the anger in her words. “You made your choice, Pierce. You chose your masters. Now you will die with them.”
Shame rose again, but Pierce countered it with the memory of Harmattan ordering his minions to torture Lei. Pierce had indeed made his choice. Whatever bond he felt for Indigo, he had his own family to protect.
“You did not come this far to threaten me,” Pierce said, helping Daine to his feet.
You are irrelevant, Harmattan said. Despite Indigo’s wishes, I think I shall let you live. Our family is small enough as it is. But you have already served your purpose. Your passage gave us entry. And as for why we are here … it seems I was mistaken, after all. Destiny is a strange thing.
“What do you want?” Daine growled.
I came here in search of one thing alone. I knew that it was