The Queen of Stone: Thorn of Breland (9 page)

BOOK: The Queen of Stone: Thorn of Breland
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After some animated discussion, growling, and whining, the gnolls drew the entire group off the main road and into a forest, setting up camp beneath the gnarled trees. With the camp settled, the surviving gnolls drew together and appeared to be evaluating the damage and determining how to proceed. Movement in the sky caused a stir among the travelers, but it proved to be the gargoyles bringing salvaged supplies from the shattered wagons.

Night was falling, and the light from the full moons fell through the trees. The passengers of the blue wagon sat around a crackling fire, watching one another uneasily. Jharl, the gnoll tracker who had ridden in their wagon, studied the sky silently, outside the circle, an arrow held to his bowstring. The buzz of flies filled the air, and Thorn fought to push the image of writhing broodworms out of her mind.

The old elf approached Toli. The bodyguard had bandaged his own wound, but he winced whenever he shifted his weight. The priestess reached out her hand, but Toli pulled away, glaring at her.

“Minister Luala only wishes to tend your wounds,” Drego said. “She’s a gifted healer. Unless you enjoy pain?”

“I’ll take the pain over the touch of a Thrane,” Toli said, glaring across the bonfire.

“In this, she acts not as an emissary of Thrane, but as a servant of the Silver Flame,” Drego said, and the old woman nodded gravely. “We both lost comrades in this attack, and you fought to defend us all. The light of the Flame touches any brave heart, regardless of your nation or your faith. Let us ease your pain.”

The minister reached out again, and this time Toli pushed her hand aside. “I saw the light of your Flame at Vathirond, Thrane. I wasn’t defending you, and I don’t want your help.”

Thorn said nothing, watching as the silent priestess returned to the other side of the fire. She understood his anger. The city of Vathirond lay on the border with Thrane and what had once been Cyre. Few Brelish towns had suffered as much during the war, and it took more than a few years of peace to ease the tensions of a century of war.

Soon a gnoll hunter arrived, carrying a brace of large rabbits. Jharl prepared them over the flame, quartering them with his knife and passing chunks out to the travelers. With no spices and only water to wash it down, it wasn’t a meal worthy of the Twilight Palace, but it was better than nothing. Beren and Drego took turns asking for explanations of the attack, but all Jharl would say was, “Wait.”

At last, the black-furred gnoll emerged from the deepening shadows around their camp. Jharl rose and bowed his head to Ghyrryn, and the larger gnoll addressed the travelers.

“No delegate is dead,” he said. There was no hint of apology in his stance or his voice. “You travel in the morning.”

Beren was on his feet. “I’ll need a better explanation than that, lad. Who did this? How do we know you weren’t involved?”

“You are alive,” the gnoll growled.

He’s got a point, Thorn thought. Despite her earlier doubts, if the gnolls had turned on the travelers on the bridge, it would have been a bloodbath.

“Then who was responsible? Will they come after us again?”

“We will know by morning. Before we travel.” Everything Ghyrryn said was a statement. If he had any doubts, he didn’t show them. “A messenger is sent ahead. Troops from the Crag will secure the way.”

“And they couldn’t have done that sooner?” The silver embroidery on Drego’s doublet glittered in the firelight.

“No need was seen. No delegate is dead.”

The bear was the symbol of Breland, and in his anger, Beren had the menace of an angry bear. Although he was a diplomat, he spoke with the authority of a man who believed he served the most powerful nation in Khorvaire. “One of my men is dead,” he growled. “A man I chose myself. You tell me why he died.”

“You knew the danger of this land, or you would not have guards,” Ghyrryn said, speaking more clearly than usual. “We promised your protection. We do not protect the others.”

Both Drego and Beren began to protest, but the gnoll snarled and straightened his back, towering over the humans. His eyes gleamed in the firelight. He didn’t raise his weapon—he didn’t need to. This was no guardsman to be ordered about by angry aristocrats. He was a creature of the wild, a predator, and when he showed his teeth, the humans fell silent. Toli rose to his feet, sword in hand,
and Thorn moved closer to Beren. But silence was all the gnoll wanted.

“Your enemy will suffer when found. Know this and be satisfied. It is the only answer you will have from me. Now sleep. We will protect you in the night.” He took a step backward, his eyes locked on Toli, then turned and stalked into the woods.

Perhaps it amused the Daughters of Sora Kell to put Thrane and Breland in the same wagon, but even the hags didn’t force them to share a tent. Jharl and the gnolls set up pavilions made from stitched hides. Each was built to shelter four persons, and as Thorn entered the tent for her group, the extra space was a painful reminder of Grenn’s death.

Beren fell asleep as soon as he bedded down, but to Thorn’s dismay, Toli remained awake, glaring at the Thrane tent. Thorn wondered what horrors the man had seen at Vathirond, and when he quietly rose from his bedroll, she feared that he might seek vengeance. Moving quickly, she bunched her blanket around her traveling bag. It wouldn’t fool anyone under close inspection, but at a distance in the moonlight, it would serve.

Toli was careful and quiet, but he was a bodyguard by trade. A Dark Lantern lived and died by the art of stealth. The light of the moons was almost a match for the sun, and the trees broke the light into deep shadows. Thorn clung to this darkness. Her nightclothes were another version of her shiftweave wardrobe—though her blacks were a better choice for such work, she wanted to play the part of the innocent aide if she were discovered creeping about the camp.

She needn’t have worried. Murder wasn’t what the bodyguard had in mind—he sought only a secluded place to empty his bladder. A few moments later, he returned to the pavilion.

Thorn had other plans. She shifted to her dark outfit. An enchantment woven into the black cloth drew the shadows around her, helping her blend into the gloom. She raised her hood and drew her mask up over her face; even if she ran afoul of a gnoll guard, it was unlikely that he’d recognize the Brelish lady. The bracelets she wore on her wrists were multiple overlapping sections, and she drew them back to cover her forearms, activating the defensive magic bound within. She drew Steel, turning the blade against her wrist and keeping him close to her body as she slipped into the woods.

Is there a reason for this late night stroll?

Thorn spoke in a low whisper. “I want to learn about the attack. The gnoll said he’d know by morning. That means they’re doing something now—and I want to eavesdrop.”

A valid concern
.

“I’m glad I have your approval,” Thorn said. “Given the size of gnoll ears, I don’t think I should be whispering to my dagger while I’m trying to avoid them. If you notice anything interesting, let me know. Otherwise, let the Lantern do her work, yes?”

Understood
.

Thorn made her way through the woods, staying just beyond the light of the campfires. The halflings of the Talenta Plains had brought their own sentry—a large lizard that stood on two legs and glared into the woods, sniffing the air and flashing inch-long teeth. If the beast detected Thorn, it made no move.

Although the gnolls were spread out among the various campsites, the creatures also had a camp of their own. As she made her way toward it, she paused to avoid a pair of gnolls … and became aware of a problem. In the absence of any humans, the two were speaking in their own tongue. It was difficult for her to recognize that the hooting and whining was actually communication; it sounded like the noise of wild beasts.

Steel was able to identify a few key words. The gnolls were waiting for someone to arrive. Thorn decided to wait and learn the identity of the newcomer. But if it was another gnoll, she might not be able to understand much.

As she moved closer to the gnoll camp, she heard a sound in the woods behind her. It was no rabbit; it was the crack of a foot snapping a fallen twig. Thorn slid around the trunk of a gnarled oak, taking cover while searching for the source of the sound.

I sense no magical emanations
, Steel said.
Most likely another sentry
.

Thorn wasn’t so sure. The gnolls were larger and heavier than humans; the snap had sounded like the work of a smaller creature. Reluctantly, she abandoned her position, moving deeper into the shadows of the forest. A moment later, she heard the rustle of an arm brushing against bark. She glanced toward it … and saw nothing. The magic of her ring let her see clearly in the gloom, but she saw only empty air.

And yet … she knew something was there. She’d always had sharp eyes and keen ears, and now she
felt
a presence in the woods—more by instinct than anything else. Though her eyes denied it, she
knew
someone had slipped around the tree ahead of her.

Thorn couldn’t ask Steel’s opinion without warning her prey. But she wasn’t about to let this stranger escape. She had come to find out about the attack—and some invisible creature was skulking around the perimeter. She carefully closed the distance to her target.

Focusing her thoughts, Thorn spun around the tree. She saw nothing, but she
knew
where her target was, and she rammed her forearm into the place where a man’s throat might be. Her bracer struck a soft target, what felt like flesh. She raised Steel, ready to drive the blade into her hidden foe.

Finding the invisible man was challenge enough.
Predicting his movement was something else entirely. His kick caught her off guard and knocked her backward, just enough to put her out of reach. His invisibility had the same limit as her own magic; his hostile action shattered the enchantment. The air rippled as Drego Sarhain appeared before her, his hands wreathed in silver fire.

“Well, Lady Tam,” he said quietly. “It seems we have something in common.”

C
HAPTER
N
INE

The Duurwood Camp Droaam

Eyre 12, 998 YK

A
drenaline surged through Thorn’s veins, and the crystal shrapnel burned along her spine. Her first instinct was to charge, to rush in and slash her enemy’s throat before he could begin an incantation. She’d fought wizards and sorcerers before, and she’d found that steel, applied directly to the flesh, was the most effective counterspell. Still, Drego had landed a solid kick; he knew his way around a brawl. She couldn’t afford a long, loud fight … but, odds were, neither could he.

“Flamebearer Sarhain,” she murmured. “This is a surprise. Unless you’re trying to attract the attention of every gnoll in the woods, I suggest you douse your pretty hands.”

Drego flexed his fingers, and Thorn tightened her grip on her dagger, ready to leap at the first sign of a mystical gesture. He lowered his hands, and the flames flickered and died.

“Wisdom
and
beauty,” he said with a smile. He’d seen through her disguise in an instant, but he hadn’t bothered with one; he still wore his embroidered doublet. Of course, an invisible man had little need to conceal his identity. “Does Lord Beren know what an exceptional assistant he has?”

“I’m just as surprised to see your talents at work,” Thorn said, tapping the hilt of her dagger on the word
surprised
. “Given that your minister isn’t speaking, I doubt she authorized this walk in the woods.”

No explanation
, Steel whispered in response.
I’m still not sensing any magical auras. Whatever he can do, whatever he’s carrying—I can’t help you
.

Drego bowed his head to acknowledge the point. “I don’t like to burden the minister with such trivial things. Between prayer and preparation for the task ahead, she has much on her mind.”

“You’re taking quite a risk, wandering the woods like this. If something were to happen to you, who would speak for your minister? Could she even ask for breakfast?” As Thorn spoke, she slid one foot forward. If it came to combat, she needed to end it with a single stroke, before they could draw the attention of the gnolls. Throwing her blade was too risky. She needed to be quick and close.

BOOK: The Queen of Stone: Thorn of Breland
9.94Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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