The Shattered Land_ The Dreaming Dark - Keith Baker [139]
Quick! Daine thought to Lakashtai.
For an instant, Daine could feel the kalashtar reaching out with her mind, pulling distant thoughts into a bonded network. His breath caught in his throat, then the thought flowed into his mind.
Daine?
Lei! It wasn’t her voice, but the sense of her, her presence, filled him with new strength.
Captain. Pierce’s thoughts were as steady as his voice, solid and stable as stone.
There’s no time to explain, Daine thought to them. As soon as it’s dark, drop and roll to the side. Get off the path quickly. If you’re hurt … just stay down. Stay out of the way. We’re coming.
Darkness? Lei thought. Night is hours away. What—
As the firebinders drew closer, the troop was engulfed in a sudden and impenetrable gloom. The scorpion wraiths had made their move. Xa’sasar and Kulikoor had used their powers to weave shadows into small stones, and just as Lei’s cold fire lanterns spread light, these devoured it. Daine caught only a glimpse of the drow shadows slipping into the void, but he heard the tortured cries as the oathbreakers claimed their first victims. He stepped onto the path, blade at the ready, and waited for his prey to appear.
First to emerge was a priest. His ceremonial robes were torn, fresh blood mingling with the crimson cloth and chunks of obsidian woven into the hem. His expression was one of abject fear, his only concern escaping the death that waited in the darkness; he never considered what might be waiting in the light.
The cleric’s blood was still seeping into the soil as Gerrion rolled out of the shadows, moving low and fast. His small crossbow was in his hand, and he was tracking Daine even as he rose to his feet, but he wasn’t fast enough. Daine smashed the weapon from Gerrion’s hand with one powerful blow. Daine pressed the point of his blade against the gray man’s throat, pressing just hard enough to draw blood.
“Daine!” The clash of weapons and the screams of dying elves filled the air, but Gerrion was as unflappable as always. “So good to see you again. I hope these savages haven’t hurt you.”
“I’ve been trying to find one good reason not to kill you,” Daine growled.
“How about saving Lei’s life?” Gerrion glanced to the right, and Daine followed his gaze. Lei was nowhere to be seen.
No! There was a flash of dark metal, all too familiar—Daine’s dagger, in Gerrion’s hand. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Daine saw the blade sweeping up toward his grandfather’s sword. Daine knew what was coming. Steel was no match for adamantine, and in an instant the sword would be broken. It was his last bond to his family, and in that moment anger, shame, and love flowed together in a raw burst of emotion.
The dagger struck home.
And the sword didn’t break.
There was a tumultuous ring of metal on metal, a sound more like the peal of a mighty bell than that of two blades. Daine felt a faint quiver in his wrist, but the effect on Gerrion was remarkable. He jerked to the side as if he had been struck, and the dagger was torn from his grip and thrown to the side of the path. His eyes grew wide.
Daine stared at his sword in disbelief. How … Were the flames around the Watchful Eye glowing, or was it just a trick of the light?
The distraction nearly cost him. Gerrion recovered quickly and dove for the dagger, but even as he reached for it, a well-placed kick caught him in the chin and sent him sprawling.
Lei and Lakashtai looked down at the fallen half-elf. Lei picked up the dagger.
“You know, Gerrion, I don’t think this belongs to you,” she remarked, tossing it to Daine. “Lakashtai, do your people have any entertainingly gruesome punishments for thieves?”
“The kalashtar place little value