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By Root 476 0

staff and Pierce’s unusual behavior, the last thing Daine wanted to deal with was another strange spirit. Still, he could feel some force stirring within the weapon, a power he couldn’t quite touch with his conscious mind, which he could draw out in moments of anger. Just days ago the traitor Gerrion had been stunned when he’d tried to sunder the sword with Daine’s own dagger—a blade of Cannith-forged adamantine, which should have sliced through the steel with ease. In Karul’tash, Daine had been filled with rage and fear at the sight of Lei in peril. Somehow, that emotion flowed into the sword. He’d brought the warforged assassin to the ground with a single blow. He should have been pleased; it seemed he had a powerful weapon at his disposal. Still, he didn’t like mysteries. What were the limits of this power? How could he control it? And what was its origin? Daine had inherited the sword from his grandfather, and if it had a fabled history, Daine had never heard it. But it seemed there was much Daine didn’t know.

One more thought nagged at the back of his mind, the faintest fear. When Daine and his companions had first arrived in Sharn, Jode had pawned Daine’s sword. Some time later, the blade had been returned to by Daine by Alina Lorridan Lyrris, a gnome with considerable magical talents. Daine had scored the House Deneith sigil off the pommel when he had left the house, but Alina had restored it and refurbished the blade. Today, the sword was in better condition than it had been when Daine had first received it. Alina was a manipulator by nature. While she worked to increase her own wealth and power, her favorite pastime was toying with the lives of others—and she certainly wasn’t known for her altruism. Alina did nothing without a reason.

So why had she gone to the trouble of finding and returning Daine’s sword?

For that matter, how did he know that it was his sword? The balance was perfect. Refurbished as it was, it was the very image of the blade he’d seen his grandfather wield in battle. Still, could it be that Alina had given him a different weapon?

Daine sighed.

Lei led the way across the rocky plains, her staff held before her like a torch. Occasionally the staff would murmur, a fluting sob that sent a chill down Daine’s spine. After their experience with the Huntsman, he found himself studying each stone face buried in the ground with suspicion, wondering if a new warrior would rise out of the soil.

“How much farther?” Daine called.

“I don’t know,” Lei said. “It doesn’t talk. I just sense emotions, I guess. I don’t know what we’re looking for, or how far we have to go. Just that it’s …” She paused and changed direction. “This way.”

“There’s nothing out there!” Daine gestured ahead of them. The light of the full moon spilled across the plains, illuminating a seemingly endless expanse of grass and stone. “What are we looking for?”

“Dusk.” Xu’sasar and Pierce had been bringing up the rear. The two seemed well matched in the arts of stealth and stalking. Daine hadn’t noticed the drow girl’s approach, but now she stood between him and Lei. “The spirits say we must find our way to twilight. We wander through the deepest night, and head toward the day.”

“Lei?”

Lei shrugged. “I wish I knew more, but that is what I heard in the vision. The answers lie in twilight.”

“So why don’t we just set camp and wait for a day?”

Xu’sasar blew out her breath. “Do you truly know so little of the way of the world?”

Daine bit back an angry remark. Most of his experience was on the battlefield, but in dealing with enemy officers, he had learned a little about reading his opponents, and he could sense something Xu’sasar didn’t want to share. She was afraid. The drow woman had lost her companions, been thrust in among a band of strangers, and torn from her world. She didn’t want to admit it, but Daine could read the fear behind her carefree mask. Xu’s aggression, her search for conflict, was her way of pushing back the terror. Daine had to respect her skills. While Xu was at least a foot shorter than Daine, a fraction of his