A name. Make one up if you must, but tell me who and what you are or I’ll rip you out of my chest.
Perhaps. For now, you may think of me as Shira. What am I? I am your destiny. I was made for you.
I am less than thirty years old, Pierce thought. You have been in a vault for over thirty thousand years. You were not made for me.
Then perhaps you were made for me. Is there so much of a difference?
Pierce reached up to touch the orb, where the lone dragonshard protruded from his torso. He considered the mental command that would deactivate his essence node, forcing the sphere from his body.
I wouldn’t. You need me.
Why is that?
Because I can lead you to Karul’tash and so much more besides. For example, you should really listen to what these elves are talking about, and you don’t understand the Elvish language, do you?
If he could have, Pierce would have frowned. Instead, he simply turned his attention to the elves. The soldiers who had captured him were led by a woman with a flaming, double-bladed sword whose armor seemed to glow with inner heat.
A spirit of fire has been bound into the armor using the techniques of the Sul’at savants, Shira observed. When invoked, it will surround the wearer with a burning aura that will injure attackers.
This woman had placed a piece of black glass on the ground, and as Pierce watched, a flickering shape rose up from it. It was only a shadow formed of dark flame, a vague silhouette of a humanoid figure wearing a crown with three points. Pierce waited for a response from Shira, but none was forthcoming.
“So, Sulaje. You have found them.” It was the crackling sound of fire, woven into speech. Somehow Pierce knew the voice was speaking the Elvish language, but it was as if he didn’t even hear the words-he simply knew their meaning.
“We have, Lord Holuar, though I ask you to rescind your order and allow me to proceed with execution. The other outlanders are still at large, and-”
Other outlanders? Pierce glanced at Lei, whose eyes had widened at the words.
“They are irrelevant.” The crackling voice was curt. “I told you that the final season was upon us-but our emissary misread the signs.”
“Keeper?”
“The child of war stands next to you, Zulaje, a man without home or family. The water spoke to this one as well, and he fought the priest of dragons. He opened the gate on the ground, a mystery we have never mastered. I know it in the marrow of my old bones: These are the ones we have sought, delivered to us at last.”
“Are we to test these, as well?” The woman’s voice was full of scorn and doubt.
“There is no need. Let the gate test them.”
“This is foolishness, Lord Holuar. A number of scouts have failed to return. Even a firesled is missing. The scorpions of the Broken Oath are lurking in the shadows, and you are chasing smoke.”
“Enough!” the voice cried from the fire. “You are a child of the flame, Zulaje, but you do not respect our ways.”
“It is time for new traditions-”
“This is NOT THE TIME!” The crackling voice rose in volume, echoing like thunder. “You consider this to be the errand of a fool, Zulaje? Then you need have no part of it.”
“What do you mean?” The woman’s voice was harsh music. “I am war leader, bearer of the blade-”
“Yes, and as such, our people will need you to maintain order in my absence. I am going to the burning gate, Zulaje. I will seek out the land of the promise. You will return to the city and watch the walls. When the army of the blessed returns from the land of the promise-we will see if there is still a role for you among our people.”
Zulaje hissed, baring her teeth. “You-”
“I am the Keeper of the Burning Gate, and I shall decide who passes beyond. You have chosen your path, Zulaje. Be grateful. Should I fail to return, the destiny of our people will be in your hands.”
Zulaje paused for a long moment. “Shall I bring the prisoners to you then?” she said at last.
“No. We both know how dangerous the jungle is, and I wish to ensure their swift and safe passage of Karul’tash. You should return. Alone. Servants of the flame will arrive within moments to lead the prisoners to the gate. I feel them closing now.”
Pierce had been listening in silence, trying to make sense of this strange conversation, but now he heard the sound of people making their way through the jungle, and a moment later four figures emerged from the thick brush and cover.
“Pierce and the Lady Lei,” Gerrion said with a bow. “How lovely to see you again.”
CHAPTER 47
The scorpion drow knew this region of jungle well, and they knew the path the firebinders would take to reach the Monolith of Karul’tash. The firebinder soldiers were slowed by armor and the need to manage the prisoners; Xu’sasar was confident that the oathbreakers could ambush the enemy before they reached the gate. A chill ran through Daine’s spine when the drow scout said that the woman in green had been injured, and his fingers tightened on the hilt of his sword.
The sun was beginning to fall toward the horizon, and Daine was kneeling in the shadow of an enormous tree, nestled against the edge of a wide path. The weathered trunk was covered with fiery orange moss, hardly ideal for camouflage. Luckily, shrubs and the flow of the land provided stronger cover, and there was little chance of being spotted by the foe. “The firebinders favor force,” Shen’kar had told them. “The spear, the sword, the flow of flame and spell. They sharpen blades, not eyes, and will not see us in the shadows. The scout in the sky is a danger, but I shall pluck out his eyes.” For an instant, a black mist flowed around the dark elf’s hands, before being drawn back into his skin. “Darkness is our birthright. The firebinders turn from it, clinging to flame and light. But the scorpion strikes unseen, and as children we are taught to fight without the use of sight. We will draw them into darkness, and there will they fall.”
Gerrion is mine, he thought.
So you have said, Lakashtai responded. She was close by, but her skills with stealth were a match for any drow, and even Daine had lost sight of her. Lakashtai had offered to link the thoughts of the oathbreaker elves, but the drow had declined. They were willing to plan strategies, to agree on critical signals, but they had no intention of letting this outlander touch their thoughts. It may surprise you, but I had not decided to steal his death from you in these last few moments.
I’m sorry. It’s just that the thought of that worm gloating over Lei … I can’t tell you how much I want to kill him.
You don’t have to, she replied. I can feel it.
Why did we trust him?
What reason was there to question him? she countered. He saved our lives, Daine. Now we know why, but at the time, it seemed a gift of good fortune.
Good fortune? What’s that?
He sighed and studied his sword. Shen’kar had taken excellent care of the weapon; if anything, better than Daine had. The blade was polished, and the eye on the pommel flashed as a beam of sunlight found its way through the canopy. Daine’s thoughts drifted, and he remembered finding the blade in his grandfather’s hand, still covered with blood.