“The presence of Merrix changes things,” Daine said, his tone weary but determined. “I had hoped that they might spend days or weeks trying to determine just who was responsible for the attack. Even a Medani seer would have trouble drawing information from the forgehold at this point.”
“And now?”
“You saw. Merrix recognized me. And while he may not know any of the others, he knows House Tarkanan is to blame. This place has ancient protections against divination, and I have my own personal protections. But I know Merrix will bring every power he can to bear. Tharashk trackers. Medani inquisitives. The master scryers of House Phiarlan. Our defenses won’t hold up for long. And so we need to conclude operations in Sharn and relocate as quickly as we can.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Thorn asked. She hadn’t drawn Steel, but something about the situation troubled her. “You barely know me.”
“You don’t know me, then?”
It was hard for Thorn to read his expression beneath the pulsing lines of his dragonmark. But the tone of his voice caught her attention. She could feel the sorrow and uncertainty beneath his weary determination. He was looking for something from her, and she didn’t know what it was.
“How would I know you?” she asked.
“It’s nothing. You just remind me of someone I knew a long time ago.” He shook his head. “Foolish, I know. You weren’t even born when I died for the first time.”
Thorn raised an eyebrow. “So you’re serious about that? You’re telling me that you actually fought in the
War of the Mark?”
They’d reached Daine’s quarters, and he turned to face her. “I know it’s an unbelievable story. Yet it’s true. There is work to be done in this age that only I can do. And so my soul was caught between life and death, until enough time had passed and a proper vessel could be prepared.”
“Vessel? So this-”
“This is not the body I was born in,” Daine said. He sat down on the hard stone bed and ran his fingers along the bare skin of his left arm. The sense of sorrow was stronger than before.
“What happened?”
“Back before I died, back when my mark first burned its way across my body, I was thrown into another world, a place of magic and wonders. I battled strange beasts and overcame treacherous spirits and finally made my way to the palace of the Queen of Dusk herself.”
Aureon’s Word, she thought. Aberrant marks had always been said to cause madness, and he possessed an exceptionally large mark.
Daine shook his head ruefully, and for a moment Thorn thought that he’d heard her thoughts. “I know what you’re thinking. Soldier from the past, marked by destiny, champion of the feywild… how can it be anything but madness? And yet, this is the nature of our world, Thorn. Great powers are all around us. The balance of the thirteen planes and the gateways waiting to open. The Sovereigns watching from on high, if they truly exist. Dragons and demons fighting wars measured in millennia. Just look at your own life.”
“What about it?” Thorn said. “I serve Breland.”
He smiled, his dragonmarked eye gleaming. “So there are no mysteries in your life, then?”
Well… except for strange bursts of strength, sucking out a man’s life, and the fact that I can see in the dark-and that someone in the Citadel might know more about it than they’ve revealed? No. But Thorn kept her thoughts to herself, speaking calmly. “We were talking about you.”
“So we were. I’d been drawn into another plane of existence. The Queen promised to show me the way home, in exchange for certain… services. And she told me that whatever happened in my war, I would not die until my work was done. I thought I spent years in that place, but when I returned home, only days had passed. The war was at its height. I worked with my cousin. I met many brave souls. And I saw all too many of them die.”
Thorn nodded. The story still sounded outlandish, but it was clear that he believed it. He was lost in thought, reliving the events of the past.
“I was here, in the old city of Sharaat, when my cousin broke the earth and brought the towers crashing down. My body was crushed within the rubble. And yet I did not die. Instead I found myself bound within the dreams of dragons, trapped within their fears and desires. It was all I could do to hold on to my sanity and sense of self. Time had no meaning. And then this man”-he tapped his chest-“this man came before the dragons. ‘The way is prepared,’ they told me. ‘Take this gift, and walk the world once more.’ There was a battle, and then I awoke. You can’t imagine what that was like, returning to reality after centuries of alien dreams. But my freedom came with a price. The soul born in this body was left behind. My freedom damned him to my prison.”
He’d killed the Cannith child without hesitation, but Thorn could hear remorse in his voice now. She sat down beside him. “Do you know who he was?”
He laughed ruefully. “A man named Daine, of all things. A scion of House Deneith, carrying my sword and bearing an aberrant mark.”
“That’s quite a coincidence.”
“No coincidence at all. Every piece of it arranged. I’ve studied the principles of the thing, these last few years. It’s all about creating sympathies between the things you wish to join. The forces that want me here today went to a great deal of trouble to arrange this. Just look to Xu’sasar.”
Thorn was wondering where the dark elf fit into this puzzle. “What do you mean?”
“My predecessor found her in Xen’drik. While crossing through the planes, she met a being she considers to be the Traveler-the spirit who gave her that weapon. He told her what would happen, and told her that she would have to protect me after the change. My predecessor’s other companions weren’t too pleased when they realized what had occurred. Without Xu, I would never have made it to Sharn. No coincidence there. She was told what would happen and what she had to do.”
How could any of this be true? It certainly seemed like madness. And yet Daine’s voice was calm and steady, still ringing with that sense of regret.
“You don’t seem too pleased about it,” she said.
He looked at her, and she felt the chill at the base of her spine. “I am here because I must be, not through any choice of my own. I have stolen the body of a man who might have been a hero. I have devoured the souls of children, and I fear my own dreams. No, I am not pleased.” He looked away, but the icy touch remained. “Can you imagine what it’s like to be a ghost in another man’s body? Am I even alive at all? Or a few memories saved to serve this purpose?”
“So why play along?”
Daine stood, and now regret turned to anger. “What else am I to do? Everyone I knew and cared for has been dead for centuries. Those who destroyed them are now lords of the land. I am being used. I know that. I am a weapon in the hands of a higher power. But their desires and my vengeance follow the same path, and I will have that vengeance.”
His mark was rippling now, tugging against his skin. Thorn let her hand drift down to Steel’s hilt.
Madness, the dagger whispered. Assume that mark of his does what he says, that he’s actually taken the mind of the child into his own. How could such a power cause anything but madness? He’s concocted this wild tale to justify his actions, nothing more. He’s served his purpose. Destroying the creation forge was likely a good thing. But you should be done with him now.
It seemed all too likely. She tightened her grip on the hilt. She could draw and strike. Daine had turned away from her, and she could cripple him in any number of ways. And yet…
“So what now? You said we need to conclude operations in Sharn. What operations? And why are you telling me?”
“Well you should ask. I’m telling you because I need you. Because you have more tactical experience than anyone else in my brood, even Fileon. And because you aren’t one of us. I can’t ask you to do this because of your mark. I want you to do it because it is the right thing for your nation. I want you to realize that the houses are a threat, so that even after I am gone, someone will remember and be on guard.”