The Shattered Land_ The Dreaming Dark - Keith Baker [90]
Daine was still thinking about what Pierce had said. “If Cannith scavenged the knowledge from the past …”
“It could mean that there were once warforged in Xen’drik, or at least, something quite similar to the warforged. There may be much about my people that House Cannith does not understand.”
My people. “Pierce, did you know that warforged, the one we killed on the beach?”
“I had never seen it before, Daine.”
There was no hesitation, and of course, Pierce had no expression to read. In a warm, well-lit room Daine might have been able to draw some conclusion from Pierce’s stance; even the warforged had body language, though it took time to understand it. If there was anything suspicious about Pierce’s behavior, Daine couldn’t see it.
“Lakashtai said that it recognized you.”
“That seems unlikely. It may have mistaken me for another warforged of my line.”
Perhaps, Daine thought. He’d never seen another warforged soldier of precisely the same model as Pierce. He’d always assumed this was simply a factor of age; Pierce had been on the battlefield before Daine had learned to talk, but a few other thoughts nagged at the back of his mind. He remembered an encounter with Director Halea d’Cannith at the forgehold of Whitehearth; she had been prepared to offer five elite ’forged units in exchange for Pierce. What did they want with one old ’forged?
Even as he tried to shape a question, they stepped out of the snow and into sunlight.
It was like stepping through a curtain. One moment Daine was surrounded by swirling snow and bitter cold. An instant later he was in a forest, lush and green and with the steamy humidity of any Brelish jungle. His skin tingled, protesting the sudden change in temperature. Looking back, he could see a white wall of the frenzied storm, but not only could he no longer feel it, he couldn’t even hear it. The roaring wind had been replaced by the buzz of a thousand insects and the calls of strange birds.
Daine scanned the trees for signs of motion. He glanced at Pierce, and the warforged gave a slight shake of his head. Daine relaxed slightly—if Pierce couldn’t spot a threat, they were either safe or there was no hope for them. Gerrion was pressing through the brush, cutting a path with a long knife. He held a glowing crystal sphere in his left hand, charged with cold fire.
“What’s next?” Daine called. “A desert?”
“If you’re willing to go a few days out of your way,” Gerrion said, “but this region is relatively stable. We just need to find—ah, here we are.”
He slashed through a final patch of dense vines, and they stepped out into a long, natural corridor running east to west. The path was almost twenty feet across; the ground was covered in brambles and vines, but clear of trees.
Daine stepped out of the forest and felt stone underfoot. “A path?”
“A road. Older than your species, most likely. Though if you want a history lesson, I’m sure one of your friends can do a better job than I.”
Daine glanced back at the others. Lei was talking to Pierce, and she was smiling for the first time since their fight aboard the Gray Cat. The unexpected conflict had momentarily pushed the tension aside—but for the moment it was probably best to let it lie. Lakashtai was walking just behind Daine, her hood pulled low to hide her eyes. Judging from past experience, Daine was sure she’d heard them—if she wanted to talk, she would.
“I always preferred swords to books,” he said to Gerrion. “You want to tell me where we’re going, exactly?”
“No, not really.” Gerrion spun his dagger in the air, as they walked along the ancient road, deftly catching it and setting it in motion again.
“You’re going to, anyway.”
“I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.”
“I hate surprises,” Daine said.
“Give it a chance,” Gerrion replied cheerfully. His dagger was a web of steel flowing from one hand to the next, remaining in constant motion.
“Then let’s talk about something else.”
“Oh, let’s.”
“You want to tell me what a Sulatar is?”
Gerrion froze, and