The Shattered Land: The Dreaming Dark - Book 2 (28 page)

“You were unconscious. It wasn’t even in your hand.”

“I …” She shook her head. “I know. Someone needs to activate a wand to release its power, but somehow—I can’t explain it. It’s as if the wand acted on its own, as if it sensed my need.”

“Is this a breakthrough, my lady?”

Dusk was beginning to fall, and Daine hadn’t noticed Pierce in the shadows. He might have just arrived, or he could have been there for the entire conversation.
My lady
, Daine thought to himself—it’s been a while since I’ve heard that.

“No. I don’t think so. I don’t know. Everything I did …” She studied the wand in her hand, holding it gingerly. “There’s nothing unusual about the design. A wand can’t act on its own.”

“And you felt nothing else? I too once stood on the edge of life and death. Did you … dream?”

Lei glanced at Pierce for a moment, and Daine could see the tension building in her. She shook her head. “I can’t talk about this right now.” She looked back at Daine. “I … I need to be alone right now.”

He just nodded. Confusion, pain, joy—his emotions were a storm within him, and at the moment he just wanted to close his eyes and let it all go. He gave her arm one more squeeze, then she stood up and walked away. Daine let his head drop back against the deck, glancing up into the sky. The boat rocked beneath him, and the sound of the surf seemed to wash away his thoughts. Pierce was standing over him, as silent as any statue, and the face of the warforged was the last thing he saw before he drifted off to sleep.

W
hen Daine opened his eyes again, the sky was dark; the faint glow on the horizon hinted at the approaching dawn. Someone had draped a blanket across him, but he still felt a shiver run across his skin. Though the images were quickly fading, the night had been filled with disturbing dreams. Probing eyes, beating wings, masses of tentacles barely held at bay by a fading shield—he had been standing in the center of a hurricane, and with every passing second it threatened to come crashing in upon him. Even now, with the sun rising in the distance and the fresh tang of warm, salty air, he still felt a cold and inevitable dread. The darkness was there, waiting, whenever he closed his eyes. How could anyone fight something like that?

“More bad dreams?”

Lei was next to him, wrapped in a ragged blanket of her own. Lakashtai had yet to emerge from the cabin, and Pierce was nowhere to be seen. Gerrion was back at the wheel, but his eyes were fixed firmly on the coastline.

Daine just nodded, sitting up and leaning against the side of the boat.

She glanced away, looking out into ocean and night. “I … I know how unsettling that can be.”

“Really? What’s trying to destroy your mind?”

She looked at him, and for a moment he wondered if he’d crossed a line—if there was something she wasn’t telling him.
She’d been on edge for weeks, and her expression seemed … haunted. He reached out, laying a hand on her shoulder.

“Lei—what’s wrong?” He kept his voice low, trying to avoid drawing Gerrion’s attention.

She shook her head and looked away again, but she raised her left hand and clung to his arm. “I don’t know,” she said, a quaver in her voice. “It’s all so—chaotic. What’s happening to you. Lakashtai. She—I just don’t like her, but I wonder if I’m just jealous because she can help you and I can’t, and by the Nine, I
died
yesterday! I should be in the claws of the Keeper right now.” The dawn light caught the first glitter of a tear in the corner of an eye. “How am I supposed to feel?”

Daine put his hand on her cheek, turning her face toward him. Her fingers tightened around his wrist. “Lei …” his words felt like iron in his throat, but he forced himself to stumble on. “You’ve helped me in ways Lakashtai never could. I’d never have made it this far without you.”

She closed her eyes, and a tear ran down her cheek. He could feel her shivering.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me,” he said. “I don’t know what will happen, but we’ll survive it. We always do. A month from now, Lakashtai will be ominously helping some other poor soul, but still we’ll be together.”

“I know.” The sun broke the horizon, and the light turned her hair into a halo of copper flame. She opened her eyes again.

A moment passed before he even realized he was kissing her. The crashing water, the warmth of the rising sun, the feel of her skin against his—it merged together in a rush of emotion, a flood of sensation that swept all thought away.

Then she pulled back.

“This … we can’t,” she said, and now the tears were flowing. She put her hands against his chest and pushed him away, and she couldn’t meet his gaze. “You
know
that. We can’t.”

Daine was still dazed by the moment, by the release of the emotions he’d kept buried for so long. “What?” He kept his hands on her shoulders, and struggled against the urge to pull her back to him. “Why?”

She sighed, and despite the warmth of the sun she was shivering even harder than before. “I—I care about you, Daine. You
know that. You’ve got to know that. You … Pierce … you’re the only family I have left.”

“Lei—”

“I always thought that there was something, that—behind your mockery of my life, my betrothal—that you felt something for me, even if you couldn’t say it. Even if I wouldn’t. What would have been the point? My path was already set in stone.”

“Lei. We were at war. You had a husband waiting for you. I … don’t think I even knew what I was feeling.”

“What does it matter?” she cried. She pushed him with unexpected strength, breaking his grip and knocking him back. “You
told
me! You’re
Deneith!
You
know
what that means!”

Caught by surprise, Daine had struck his head against the edge of the boat. Between the motion of the water and the ringing in his head, it was difficult to focus his thoughts. “I renounced the house before I even met you. It’s not part of who I am.”

“Of course it’s a part of who you are!”
Lei rose to her feet, flinging the blanket aside. “It’s not something you can just abandon. It’s in your
blood
, and our blood can’t mix.”

Understanding washed over Daine. The politics of the dragonmarked houses were a complex dance of power, and Daine had assumed that this was what Lei was referring to. Now he remembered the stories he’d heard as a youth.

“You’re not serious. You’re worried about
mixed marks?
I don’t even
have
a dragonmark!”

“The potential is still in you. My blood would fight yours, and our child would suffer. Remember the Tarkanans?”

“Who’s talking about
children?”
Daine’s head was pounding, and not just from the blow. “I just thought we could comfort one another.”

“I’m from the House of Making,” Lei said. “We always look to the future.”

“You
were.”

Lei’s eyes narrowed, and Daine knew he’d gone too far. He opened his mouth without knowing what he was going to say, just hoping to find some way to pull back that terrible mistake.

And the boat shook.

“Get
down
, both of you!”

In the heat of the moment, Daine had forgotten the others on the boat. Belatedly, he wondered how much Gerrion had heard, but he soon had other concerns. The sky was clear and the wind was steady, but the water was rising hard. Daine had little choice in the matter; a wave slammed into the side of the
Cat
, and the force sent him tumbling to the deck.

It’s on the wrong side of the ship
, he realized.
The waves are moving against the tide
.

Pierce made his way up from the stern. His bow was drawn, and he maintained his footing with surprising grace. “There is motion in the water,” he said, as he reached Lei and Daine, “but I see nothing solid. It is as if the water itself has chosen to attack.”

“I’d say that’s exactly what’s happened,” Gerrion said.

Another wave slammed into the boat, and the deck tilted precipitously. Pierce stumbled, but kept his footing while Gerrion clung to the wheel. Daine managed to seize one of the loose lines with one hand, grabbing hold of Lei with the other. She glared at him but clasped his wrist with both hands.

“Care to explain that?” Daine shouted over the crashing surf.

“There’s always been angry water across the coast, ever since the disaster that shattered Xen’drik,” Gerrion said, struggling with the wheel. “I’ve never heard of troubles this close to the coastline. It’ll make a great story, if any of us live to tell it.”

“So what do we do?” The boat shook again.

“Sink, apparently, unless you think you can kill the sea with your sword.”

“Elementals,” whispered Lei, barely audible over the crashing waves. “Daine, I need stability. Tie … tie the rope around my waist. Quickly!”

At least someone has an idea
, he thought. She let go of his wrist and wrapped her arms around him, and for a moment he forgot the crashing sea and the angry words that had passed just a moment earlier. Then the ship shuddered from another blow, and he quickly turned his attention back to the task at hand.

As soon as Lei was lashed to the line, she reached back and
opened one of the side pockets of her backpack. A sheaf of long arrows leapt out of the pocket in response to her mental command. She knelt down on the shaking deck and laid the arrows across her legs, her features contorted in deep concentration. Daine could see her lips moving, but he couldn’t hear the whispered words over the thundering waters.

The water surged, and the deck tilted sharply. Daine clung to the rope, almost hanging in the air, and even the surefooted Pierce stumbled and needed to steady himself with one hand.

“If you’re going to do something, do it quickly!” Gerrion called.

Blue fire played around the arrows in Lei’s hands, and her eyes snapped open. She thrust the bundle toward Pierce.

“Strike the waves!” she shouted. “Whatever moves against the current! There can’t be many of them—look for the motion and shoot into it!”

Pierce snatched the glowing arrows without comment. He held his footing atop the shifting deck; fitting an arrow to the string, he made his way to the side, sighting into the raging surf. As the next wave rose up against the tide, Pierce released the shaft, loosing a second arrow before the first had even struck. There was a burst of blue light as the arrows struck the water and a deep, low moan like the creaking of old wood—and as the light faded, so did the wave, dissolving into the sea. Pierce launched a second volley into the water, tracking a blur of motion, but if there was anything in the depths it escaped his aim. His third strike bore fruit, and another inhuman groan rose up from the water. He drew back the last of the enchanted arrows, searching the water for any sign of motion, but the moment of violence had passed. The water was calm again, with only the slow motion of the tides and the sound of the wind on the water.

Daine let his breath out slowly. “So … just another day in Xen’drik?”

“A parting gift from our friend Hassalac, I imagine,” Gerrion said. “He never was one to leave a debt unpaid. I suppose it took him some time to find the boat.”

“I studied elementals in my first visit to Sharn,” Lei said, as she worked at the rope knotted around her waist. “The key is
breaking the binding energy. We’re lucky they were so small; a larger spirit would have capsized the boat in an—”

The water erupted around them.

The ship fell to the side, and no amount of agility could help Pierce; Daine saw his warforged companion disappear into the boiling water. Daine was still clinging to the rope, and now he found himself dangling in the air, clutching the slick line as he hung over the violent surf. A massive wall of water had risen to the north, completely obscuring their view of the horizon. The crest of the wave was over twenty feet in height, and there was no doubt in Daine’s mind that it held the end of the
Gray Cat
.

It refused to break.

It simply hung in the air, a cobra waiting to strike. Doom poised above them, as Daine managed to wrap the line around his forearm, and Gerrion clung to the wheel. It was merely a question of whether the wave would finally fall before the vessel completed capsizing.

Then, as quickly as the disaster struck, it came to an end. The towering wave didn’t break; it fell back, gently subsiding into the sea. Daine caught a glimpse of a vast, dark shape moving through the depths, and then, inexplicably, the
Gray Cat
was rising up. Water fell from deck and sail as the ship righted itself, finally standing straight and true. Now the ocean was truly calm, and the wind had died completely. The
Gray Cat
had survived, but it was dead in the water.

Pierce!
Daine scrambled along the edge of the deck, still clinging to the rope. Daine had fallen asleep in his chainmail shirt, and he’d never been a strong swimmer; leaping into the water with armor on was a sure path to a watery death, but Pierce didn’t need to breathe. He had to be alive. Of course, Pierce had never learned to swim. For a moment Daine had an image of the warforged sinking to the ocean floor, slowly walking back to Stormreach.