The Gates of Night_ The Dreaming Dark - Keith Baker [75]
“So, beloved,” the Woodsman said. “You have returned to me at last.”
The songs of the darkwood staff had no words, only the music of an inhuman voice. It did not speak, but Lei could feel the emotions of the spirit trapped within the staff as if they were echoes of her own thoughts. She could sense Darkheart reaching through her to touch the forest, to shield Lei and her companions from the eyes of the enemy. When the storm rose around them, Lei didn’t need the staff to tell her what was going on. She knew the Woodsman had found them. She could sense his presence, fearsome and terribly familiar, as if this man had haunted her dreams all her life.
At first the staff gave her courage. Darkheart had no fear of the thorns, and as these soldiers of the forest moved around them, this confidence had helped Lei keep her silence and hold her position. The Woodsman had sensed their presence and dispatched these minions, but that was to be expected. Lei and her companions were entering the very heart of his dominion. They simply needed to wait out the storm, until the Woodsman’s attention moved elsewhere.
Then lightning struck. The flare wiped away the night, and a giant’s hand slammed into her. Lei kept her hands locked around the shaft of the staff even as the shockwave threw her to the ground. Somehow she maintained her grip through the pain and through the fall. Her body ached, but something was wrong on a deeper, more fundamental level. The song had stopped, and so had the stream of emotions flowing from the staff. She felt strangely empty. The only sound was the wind and tiny feet moving through the forest.
Thorns!
A little man emerged from behind the nearest tree, a long thorn-blade in its hand. There was no time for pain, no time to worry about her wounds. Lei could move, and she could fight. The darkwood staff flashed in the night, and the thorn staggered backward. Lei lunged, driving the end of the staff into her tiny foe. She was fighting on pure instinct, spinning, thrusting, turning to face new enemies. And through it all, Lei felt numb, almost detached. It was like another dream, watching another Lei do battle.
Am I?
Lei had received combat training in preparation for her military duties, but she’d never been expected to fight on the front lines. Her task was to repair the injured warforged, not to join them on the battlefield. Despite this simple training, she’d accomplished remarkable things. Less than a year ago, she’d fought a minotaur with her bare hands. She’d battled monsters in the Mournland and horrors beneath the streets of Sharn. Lei had never questioned her abilities before. She’d been taught the basic principles of battle, and usually she was caught up in the moment, letting anger carry her through combat. Surely anyone else would do as well in her place.
Or would they?
The thorns focused on her companions. Three tried to encircle Daine, and Lei brought one down with a perfect blow to the back of the knees. How did I know where to strike? she thought. Was it training? Common sense?
Or had the knowledge been placed within her?
Pain. Triumph. They were Darkheart’s emotions, faint but growing stronger with each passing second. She could see the path to their destination.
“We’re almost there!” Lei cried. “Follow me!”
The forest fought her. Briars tore at her skin, while vines and roots sought to trip and entangle. She could feel the malevolent attention of the Woodsman, a presence watching from every tree. She kept moving, forcing her way free of branches and brambles. With every step, she found a new strength flowing into her.
Darkheart.
Once she had shared this forest with the Woodsman, and her power grew as they moved toward the center. Lei could feel the anger within the staff. Exile, imprisonment, and a deep hatred for the fey prince who had driven her to it; these joined to