The Shattered Land_ The Dreaming Dark - Keith Baker [119]
“Firebinders!” Holuar called out, speaking with surprising volume for such an old man. He was talking in Elvish now, but somehow, inexplicably, Daine understood his meaning.
Lakashtai? he thought, but there was still no response.
“In ancient times, our masters gave us the power of the night and mastery of fire.”
“Fire and sword,” the drow murmured.
“In ancient times we brought fear to the foe, spilling blood with fire and sword. The rebel, the monster, the breaker of oaths—all fell before us, and our masters were pleased.”
“Fire and sword.”
“Promises they made, of the reward that was to come. When the war was over, the Burning Gate would be opened, and we would be shown the path to paradise, to the realm of our power and eternal life.”
“Fire and sword.”
“The foul dragons snatched our destiny away from us. Even as our masters prepared the path to paradise, the jealous wyrm-kings descended on this land, devastating all in their path. Our masters were laid low, all knowledge and wisdom torn from their minds, but the dragons underestimated us. They saw us only as servants, as insects, beneath their notice. They did not see the gifts we had learned from our masters.”
“Fire and sword.” Daine almost joined in on the chant himself.
“We have drawn truth from the darkness. We have learned what must be done. When the season of flame is upon us, the opener of the way will come.”
“Fire …” Daine caught himself. No one else was speaking, but they were all looking at him.
Holuar continued. “The cycle of flame has come and gone, more than six thousand times, and still we wait. No more. The blood of fire and blood of water brought our emissary into the world.”
Gerrion stepped forward.
“You were sent to the place of storms, to watch for the child of war, led by the voice of the past. Have you fulfilled your duty?”
“Yes, speaker.”
A murmur ran through the soldiers. Holuar struck his staff on the ground.
“Silence!” He pointed the staff at Gerrion. “You have failed us before, child. Do you have assurances?”
“I do, lord speaker.” Gerrion turned to face Daine. “This one was born into a house of warriors, but he split from his house and lost his nation. The child of war, broken from his family, a man without a home. He is led by a voice from the past—a voice that speaks directly in his mind. He is accompanied by a woman of two worlds, who holds the key to that voice. She has been holding it at bay, and surely she can unleash it.”
The murmuring rose again, and Holuar silenced it once more. “Continue.”
“He brought down the priest of dragons, a mighty wielder of flame, and the water rose up to greet him.” He paused here, as if trying to find the words. “A woman of water, speaking in the common tongue!”
Holuar glanced over toward Daine. “You have something to say, Zulaje?”
“Nothing I have not said before, Lord Holuar. I fear that this gray worm wastes our time, as he has done so often before. I fear that this legend holds us from our true destiny. How many generations have we stood at the threshold of the Burning Gate, when we could be spreading our fire across the jungles?”
“Beware, Zulaje,” Holuar hissed. “Do you speak of abandoning our vows? Perhaps you wish to join the savages of the Broken Oath, since you have no respect for our way.”
Zulaje walked forward. “I have more respect than you know, old one. I respect the power we have gained from our devotion.” She spun her double sword, creating a dazzling wheel of fire. “I respect the fury of the flame—it is you who seeks to cage that fury, and even some among your own order grow weary of it. Let us return to the ways of fire and sword. Let those we fought so long ago fear us once again.”
“ENOUGH!” Holuar roared. He slammed his staff into the ground, and the cold fire flared up. “Six thousand cycles we have waited. Six thousand! And I tell you, Zulaje, the season has finally come. I have heard it in the crackling voice of the flame, as I have lain in trance. The time has come,