The Shattered Land_ The Dreaming Dark - Keith Baker [84]
“Then why do you do this?” Pierce said. “If killing Daine would have been a merciful act, why did you agree to help? How was it that you were even in a position to assist him in the previous incident?” His expression was fixed in metal, and his voice was steady, but the signs of suspicion were there—his grip on the haft of his flail, the tension in his knees.
“Coincidence, if you believe in such things.” Lakashtai turned to Daine. “I am sensitive to the winds of fate, and when I first saw you in the King of Fire, I knew that our destinies would come together, though I did not know how. When you sought me out, plagued by the mind wraith, I did what I would do for anyone; that technique is an abomination, one used far too often by il-Lashtavar. Once again, I felt the premonition—the sense that there was a bond between us, so I left the crystal beacon in the hope that I would feel you when there was a need. I did.”
“Arriving just in time to kill me,” Daine said.
“If that is how you wish—”
“No. No, I’m sorry,” Daine said, with a dismissive wave. “You’re right. I might already be dead if it weren’t for you. Let’s just forget about it.”
Pierce turned his attention back to his flail, but Daine could see that the warforged was still watching Lakashtai as he oiled the chain and spiked head.
Gerrion eventually returned to the helm, and they turned toward the land, following the coastline and eventually heading up a wide river toward the interior. The oars came out, and all energy was devoted to driving the boat up the channel. At first, Daine thought the reputation of the region was overrated. The shores were covered with thick vegetation, but it seemed no worse than the rainforests of Breland; there were no beasts bursting out of the underbrush, no ancient ruins with walls of gold.
Then they reached the ice.
It began as a chill in the air. Tendrils of mist and steam drifted across the water. A light dusting of frost could be seen on the trees, and this quickly gave way to deep snow. Looking down the river, Daine saw a wall of fog and falling snow, shrouding water and shore alike in white shadows.
“I don’t understand,” Daine called to Gerrion, his breath steaming in the frigid air. “How can the weather be so severe? An hour ago we were in a jungle—would this weather kill the plants?”
“Xen’drik doesn’t play by your rules, my friend,” Gerrion said. “We’re lucky the river hasn’t turned to lava.”
“Are you serious?”
“Certainly. It’s rare, but I’ve heard of stranger things happening. For the most part, it’s stable, but when you pass into one of the soft zones—well, you never know what you might find.”
“Xen’drik’s ancient kings possessed terrible powers,” Lakashtai said. “They fought a war with dream and nightmare; that conflict left its scars on reality. Tomorrow, this region could be green and tropical again, or perhaps the soil will turn to stone and the trees to glass.”
“And the people?” Daine said.
“Best not to find out.”
Snow began to cover the deck, and Daine found he was striking chunks of ice with his oars.
“I don’t much care for the looks of this,” Gerrion remarked. “Ten crowns says the river’s frozen solid up ahead, and I don’t feel like being caught in that.”
“I could try to create some sort of heat shield,” Lei said, laying off her oars for a moment. “I couldn’t cover the entire boat, but perhaps I could fix a small ball of fire just in front of the ship. I don’t know how long I could keep it up, but it would make an interesting experiment.”
“No … There’s no telling how far this goes or how long it will last.” He turned to Lakashtai. “My lady, if you don’t mind a slight risk, there is another way for us to reach your destination.”
“Speak.”
“I know the region you described from your map. There is—a magical path, more or less, that could get us closer to this monolith. There’s a small cove nearby, where I could set anchor. While I do hate to leave the Cat, it’s a harbor I’ve used before, and it’s as safe a landing as one can find in this place. It won’t be pleasant,