Lei nodded. “I could probably make you such a thing by the time we arrive at Stormreach.”

  “I trust you to hold to this bargain, for the honor of your mother,” Thaask said, “and I will tell you what I know between my warning rounds. Two things were foremost on her mind, and I can speak of those now, before my work begins.”

  “Please!” Lei said.

  Daine sighed and sat down on the deck.

  “She traveled with the other in search of the ruins of those who went before. Her people had given life to the unliving, to create weapons of war—”

  “The warforged, yes, I knew they worked on warforged.”

  “She said that the old land held many secrets of those gone before,” Thaask said. He steepled his hands, tapping his yellowed claws together in a sharp click. “Her folk had plundered this knowledge to use in their creations, but she believed that there was far more to be found—that her kind had skimmed the surface without plumbing the depths. She wanted to find ways to improve these spawn of war, but she did not want to share her knowledge with her kin, whom she thought blinded by gold.”

  “You said she spoke of two things.”

  “Yes,” Thaask hissed. “The spawn of war, but also a child of her own. A daughter, she wanted. I told her of the spawning pits of my people, and she spoke of her desire for a daughter. It was a subject of sorrow for her, one of great difficulty, but one much on her mind. I am pleased to see that she met with success: She must be quite pleased.”

  “She’s dead,” Lei said quietly.

  “Yes, the great destruction on your land. We are glad this has come to an end; more ships sail this way, more needing protection of my kind, but my sorrows for her loss. I found her enjoyable company.”

  “A subject of sorrow … what do you mean by that?”

  “Difficulty with the spawning. I do not understand your reproductive cycles, but I know that the spawning often brings no children, and so it was with her. She felt that soon would change.”

  Lei said nothing, but Daine saw her eyes grow wide, as if she’d just remembered something disturbing. “I’ll have your stone for you by the end of the voyage, Thaask.” Her voice was tighter than it had been a moment ago.

  “You have my thanks. Speak again, when you wish it.”

  Lei said nothing; she simply turned and walked to the hatchway, her expression blank and distant. Daine glanced at the sahuagin, who bobbed his head in something that might have been a shrug.

  “Did I offend?”

  “I don’t know,” Daine said, “but I intend to find out.”

  Are we going to talk about this?”

  Daine caught up with Lei below decks as she entered their cabin. Pierce was standing in a corner of the room reading a book, and he looked up as the two entered. Lakashtai was nowhere to be seen; the kalashtar woman often disappeared during the day, and said that she preferred solitude for her meditations.

  “No,” Lei said. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  “Is there a problem?” Pierce said, setting down his book.

  “No problem,” Lei responded, glaring at Daine.

  “You’re in a good mood, for someone with no problems,” Daine responded. “What’s gotten into you?”

  “I said I’d make a music stone for Thaask, and it’s going to be hard to do in time, especially with most of my tools at home. I should have considered the situation more carefully.”

  “Creating a magic stone is your idea of a good time. I practically need to pry you out of the basement at swordpoint to get you to have a little fun. The conversation was going fine, and then he said something about your mother, and the next moment you’re running for the hatch. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  “Who said you had a right to know?”

  “Damn it, I’m not trying to interrogate you!” Daine said. “If you don’t want to talk, fine, but if you’re in pain, of course we want to help.”

  “Fine.” Lei sat down on the bunk, and all the energy seemed to flow out of her. “What do you know about the history of the warforged?”

  “I didn’t ask for a history lesson.”

  “You want to know about my family, that’s what you get. Most people think Aaren d’Cannith created the first warforged, and in a sense, he did. He developed the multi-composite construction of the warforged, the blend of wood, stone, metal, and organic material that is still used today.”

  Lei was always fond of lecturing, and talking was clearly calming her nerves, so Daine decided not to press the matter. “Organic material? You mean flesh?”

  “No, of course not, but wood is actually organic. Pierce, if you would, your arm—see those cords at the joints?”

  “I always thought that was leather,” Daine said.

  “Leather would likely rot or tear. Aaren derived this material from studying the livewood tree, which remains alive even after it is cut from the ground. These cords are much like tree roots—flexible, tough, even able to respond to magical forms of healing, though not as effectively as flesh and blood. These roots form the bulk of a warforged soldier’s muscles, if you will. The important thing is that the creation forges would actually cause these roots to grow at an accelerated rate, limiting the amount of steel and other materials needed to build a soldier.”

  “Great, and what does this have to do with anything?”

  “Merrix took the first steps toward the warforged, but his creations lacked true sentience. It was Aaren, his son, who created the first warforged—who adapted the creation forges to breathe true life into metal and wood, but Aaren had no interest in creating soldiers. He wanted to understand the nature of life—to try to fashion a creature with a soul.”

  “House Cannith was only interested in war,” Pierce rumbled.

  “That’s right. Aaren’s forges were taken from him. The best artificers of the house were set to work, ordered to find a way to duplicate and adapt his creation to produce superior soldiers. My parents were part of this effort. I grew up in a small, hidden forgehold, and I never saw a human child. My parents were always busy, devising new tools for the warforged or new body designs. I spent my childhood with the warforged themselves, discovering the world as they did; but no warforged remained at the hold for long, and my friends would all go off to war. There was a time …”

  Her voice shook; she paused, and closed her eyes. Before Daine could move, Pierce reached out and put his hand beneath hers. She smiled wanly and squeezed his hand, then continued.

  “There was a time when I envied the warforged, when I wanted to be a warforged. At least they had a purpose. I felt like no one wanted me around.”

  “Thaask said your mother wanted a daughter …”

  “I know! But that’s not how it felt. She was warmer than my father, it’s true, but she was always busy, and she and my father were always preoccupied with new designs, with the next idea. I guess I began to think of myself as a redundant model. They could always improve the next generation of warforged, but the daughter … they had to live with what they had.”

  She took a deep breath. “Things improved when my dragonmark manifested. It appeared when I was nine—years before the normal age. At that point, my training began in earnest. I was sent to Sharn, to the towers of the Twelve, to Cannith enclaves across Khorvaire. I barely saw my parents again after that, and I didn’t give it much thought. At last I had my purpose! I performed much of the usual work of the day, building wands for the battlefield, helping with the warforged. Eventually I caught the eye of Hadran d’Cannith.”

  Daine held up a hand. “If you don’t want to talk about him …”

  “Why stop now? I never loved Hadran. Never. He was wealthy and powerful, and it was a good match. It was my duty. Really, I never thought twice about it, but then my father interfered. He said that he wouldn’t consent until I’d served four years serving on the battlefield as warforged support.”

  “What?” Daine vaguely recalled Lei saying that she never wanted to be a soldier, but he never guessed that her parents would have ordered her into such danger.

  “He never asked me. He never explained his reasons. He simply gave his orders, and like a good soldier, I followed them, so I ended up with you.”

  “What does this have to do with Thaask?”

  Lei looked away, and her voice tightened in her throat. “Just hearing him talk—knowing that there was a time when she wanted a daughter as much as she wanted that better warforged—it just hurts. Knowing that that love was there once—but somehow, I never received it, and now I’ll never see her again.”

  Daine didn’t know what to say, so he just put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. She clung to him, and soon tears began to flow. For a moment they just stood there, Pierce watching to the side. Then Lei broke away.

  “I’ll be all right,” she said, sniffling and rubbing her nose. “It’s over now, and I need to start work on that stone.”

  “All right. I’ll leave you to it, but if you need anything …”

  “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

  Daine looked at Pierce. “Up for a little combat practice on the deck?”

  “As you wish.”

  Pierce picked up his flail and followed Daine out of the cabin leaving Lei alone with her thoughts. She took her tools out of her backpack and found a focus stone that would serve for the job, but the image of her parents hung in her mind. Not the memories of a lonely child, trapped in a world of war and steel, instead she was haunted by the memory of a dream, lying on a slab next to Pierce while her parents discussed her progress. Perhaps it was just a manifestation of her insecurities—a fear that she was nothing more than another experiment, a failure to be cast aside? Somehow she felt that there was more to it, and it frightened her.

  She rubbed the back of her neck, passing her fingers across her dragonmark, and set to work.

  Daine’s first vision of Xen’drik was Shargon’s Teeth—a chain of islands rising out of the water, surrounded by sharp peaks of black basalt.

  “Teeth of the Devourer,” Thaask said, stepping up to the rail next to Daine. “When he hungers, the Teeth shatter the hulls and bring the ships down.”

  “I thought you were here to keep that from happening,” Daine said.

  “As he wills.” Thaask ran a claw across his teeth; to Daine it looked like a ritual gesture. “Should he call storms, my path would not save you.”

  “Where would that leave you?”

  “I and mine scavenge the ships that sink to the bottom. We are the children of the Devourer, and we claim what he leaves behind.”

  “So you want us to sink? And we’re paying you to be our guide?”

  Thaask gave a croaking rasp, which Daine had come to believe was a laugh. “What has this little ship to offer? If the elders wished it, sea and stone alike would rise to shatter this vessel. Nothing travels the waves save by our leave. There are those beneath the sea who take their pleasure in pulling down your vessels, but those of my school have no wish for war between the land above and the deep water, not now. We serve as guides across the water. If the Devourer wishes to claim your ship, we will take what he leaves. If not, we take what you give and build the trust between our kind. We gain by either path.”

  “You said you didn’t want war between the surface and the water now. …”

  Daine let the sentence hang, and there was a moment of silence. Thaask turned to face him fully, and the sunlight gleamed across his scales. “As he wills,” he said, drawing a claw across his teeth.

  The sahuagin dove off the edge of the ship, returning to the sea to scout the waters ahead. There was a creature waiting for him there, a huge ray with fins that made Daine think of wings. This beast served as Thaask’s mount, sliding through the water with speed that hinted at supernatural origins; Thaask clung to the ray’s back and it darted forward, making it seem as if the Kraken’s Wake was standing still. Daine watched the shadowy shape disappear into the depths, and wondered what lay hidden in the deep waters.

  The attack came without warning. One moment Daine was standing at the railing of the ship, an instant later, he was engulfed in cold shadows that drew the heat from the world. He was weightless, falling, and though he could see nothing, every instinct screamed that he could strike deadly ground at any moment.

  Let me take you from this place. The voice was calm, soothing … Tashana. Don’t fight it. Take my hand and you can have refuge in your memories, safe from the death that awaits you here.

  Daine could feel her fingers just beyond his own, warm and welcoming. He clenched his fist. “None of this is real.”

  Perhaps, but it is deadly all the same.

  The wind grew louder, and Daine felt that he was falling faster, though darkness was still the only thing he could see.

  Surrender to me. Tashana’s thoughts were cold fingers drifting across his skin. Let us return to your past. It’s the only way you’ll ever know the truth of that night—the only way you’ll know if you were really to blame for the fate of your soldiers.

  Faces flashed across Daine’s mind. Jode. Donal. For a moment he heard Krazhal cursing just behind him. Marshalling his thoughts, he forced the images away. “I know all I need. Now get out of my mind.”

  Are you certain that’s what you want? Do you know what you left behind?

  Impact. Not earth or stone, but water, even colder than the chilling wind. Daine’s limbs were still frozen, and salt water flowed into his nose as the weight of his armor pulled him down.

  It seems I pushed too hard when I seized your mind, Tashana said. You’ve fallen from the railing. You don’t have much time. Do you really want to spend it choking in the cold? Wouldn’t you prefer to die in the company of friends?

  “I’m not dying!” Daine snarled. Then it struck him. He could feel the water flowing into his lungs, the paralysis gripping his body—yet he could still speak, still hear his own voice. “This isn’t real!” he hissed.

  Though Daine couldn’t move his arms, he could imagine moving them. As his body slipped deeper and deeper beneath the sea, Daine pretended to reach down to his belt. One hand gripped the hilt of his sword. The other slipped into his belt pouch—and even as his belongings drifted out into the water, he wrapped his hand around the shard of green crystal.

  Strength flowed into him, fire moving up through his hands and burning away the cold. A blazing green light consumed the darkness and Daine heard a keening howl as Tashana faded from his mind.

  He opened his eyes.

  His clothes were dry, and the air was as warm as it ever got on the Kraken’s Wake. Light came from the everburning lantern on the wall. He was lying on his bunk, and Lei and Lakashtai were staring down at him.

  “Daine?” Lei said quietly.

  His left hand ached, and he realized he was clutching the crystal shard Lakashtai had given him so long ago—squeezing it so tightly he’d probably drawn blood. He opened his mouth to speak and choked on the empty air, words catching in his throat.

  “Relax,” Lakashtai said, placing her right hand over his. Warmth and relief spread through his blood. “You are safe now. Your will is strong, and we are with you.”

  “Safe?” hissed Lei, turning on Lakashtai. “You call this safe? You said that you could protect us—protect him. Is this your idea of protection?”

  “Ur,” Daine began, but words were still awkward.

  Lakashtai released Daine’s hand and turned to fully face Lei. Dazed as he was, Daine was struck by the contrast in their appearance: Lei was fire and gold, red hair and green leather, and he could feel her anger and passion. Lakashtai was cold, stark black and white, night and snow.

  “I underestimated Tashana,” Lakashtai said coolly. “She should not have recovered from our battle so swiftly.”

  “You said you could stop this,” Lei replied.

  “I can.” Lakashtai passed her hand over Daine’s left fist, still clenched tight around the crystal shard. He felt the stone grow warmer as her hand drew near. “The channeling stone is a shield. I just need to pour more of my strength into it—to spend more time in meditation. I can build a wall. I just didn’t realize how high it needed to be.”

  Struggling, Daine managed to find the strength to raise his fist, touching Lakashtai’s hand. “Thhh … Thank you,” he finally muttered through numb lips.

  Lakashtai looked down at him and shook her head. “No, Daine. I have failed: it was your strength that saved this day.”

  “Ours,” he said, opening his hand to reveal the sparkling crystal shard.

  Lei scowled and looked away. Lakashtai simply nodded.

  “Keep the stone close,” she said. “I must stay with you to protect your sleep, but I will do all that I can to ensure that they cannot strike again so long as you are awake.”

  Daine nodded, and rubbed his fingertips across the crystal. He turned toward Lei, trying to frame words in his mind. There had been a part of him that had wanted to let the world slip away … to stop fighting, to join Jode and the others. It may have been Lakashtai’s stone that drove back the spirit, but it was thoughts of Pierce and Lei that gave him the strength to reach for the stone.

  Lei had already left the room.

  Lightning shattered the night, and Lei winced as thunder rolled around her. The Kraken’s Wake pressed forward through the storm, shuddering with the impact of each mighty wave. As Lei closed the hatch to the lower decks, a gust of wind broke through the invisible wards, almost knocking her down. Nature and magic were at war, and without the spells woven into ship and sail, the Kraken’s Wake would be torn apart. The wind howled again, and Lei wondered how long the mystical defenses could hold against the anger of the storm.

  The sooner I’m back below, the better, she thought, carefully making her way across the deck.

  “I give you greetings, daughter of air.” Thaask’s harsh voice rang out over the wind. The sahuagin was standing by the rail, and he drew a claw across his teeth as he gazed up at the storm-clouds. “He hungers.”

 

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