The Queen of Stone_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [0]
We can’t release Harryn Stormblade from his bondage, Steel said, but Queen Sheshka can. And as one of the most powerful warlords in Droaam, she’ll undoubtedly be in attendance at this diplomatic gathering, as will you.
“So,” Thorn said, “I just need to find a statue, kidnap the queen of the medusas, force her to reverse a curse, and smuggle a legendary warrior out of Droaam, all without causing an international incident.”
Instead, she became a spy, a saboteur,
and when necessary, an assassin.
Sheshka’s death is an acceptable loss, provided Breland can’t be blamed for it.
Thorn’s mind raced as she considered the variables. This was what she’d been trained for, and after months of rehabilitation at the Citadel, it was good to have a challenge.
She became Thorn,
Dark Lantern of Breland.
THORN OF BRELAND
By Keith Baker
The Queen of Stone
Son of Khyber
Coming Fall 2009
To everyone who’s joined me in exploring Eberron over these last few years, who has helped to make this dream a reality - and to Malcolm, whose courage and integrity has always been a source of inspiration.
CHAPTER ONE
The City of Graywall Droaam
Eyre 11, 998 YK
The scents of sweat and blood filled the common room of the Bloody Tooth. A minotaur covered in matted black fur bellowed in triumph as he shook blood from his horns. Across the room, a tattooed ogre fell back against the rough stone wall of the tavern, baring three-inch fangs as she clutched her gory shoulder. As the horned beast moved forward to seal his victory, the ogre suddenly rose to her full nine-foot height. A swift snap of her hand sent her blood flying into the eyes of the minotaur. The crowd roared its approval as the two giants grappled again. The shrill voices of goblins mingled with the deeper cries of brutish bugbears and the chortling laughter of hyenalike gnolls. Gargoyles hissed and scratched the floor with stony talons, and the only two dwarves in the bar set aside their bone dice to concentrate on the match. As the brawlers clashed, onlookers spread slivers of precious metal and the teeth of fierce beasts on the tables and floor, tokens of value in a nation yet to mint a coin.
None of the patrons noticed the woman in black as she moved along a wall, just another shadow in the faint and flickering light. Thorn wasn’t the only woman of the Five Nations in the Bloody Tooth, but anyone with human blood in this place was likely a cutthroat, bandit, or worse. Thorn had no friends in that tavern—not even the man she had agreed to meet.
Thorn slid a short dagger from its sheath, keeping the dark blade hidden behind her forearm. In this room, bare steel would be seen as a challenge, and the last thing she needed was a fight with a drunken bugbear.
“Where’s your gold?” she murmured quietly into the stale air. “Scars or horns?”
You’re looking for a goblin. The voice was a cool whisper, as clear as if the speaker were breathing into her ear, but Thorn knew no one else could hear it. I’m searching for the amulet now.
“The ogre’s a safe bet,” Thorn said as another cheer rose from the crowd. “You’re just afraid to take a chance.”
I have nothing to wager. Steel’s voice was detached and indifferent. And I question your judgment. The ogre has already been injured twice. Her opponent possesses superior natural weaponry. I expect the contest to end soon.
“I’m sure it will,” Thorn said. “Look at the scars. She’s seen worse than this. He hasn’t.”
As if in answer, a roar rose up from the center of the room. As the minotaur charged, the ogre caught his horns in her calloused hands. Grunting from the exertion, she slammed the black-furred beast face-first into the stone floor. The minotaur spat blood and broken teeth, struggled to pull free as the ogre raised him up for another blow.
Thorn smiled. “Where’s the mark?”
The aura is strong, but it’s out of sight. The crevasse in the left corner. He’s about seven feet down the passage. The southern wall of the Bloody Tooth was a sheer rock face, marred by a number