Read Online The Gates of Night: The Dreaming Dark - Book 3 by Keith Baker - Free Book Online
Authors: Keith Baker
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hands of the craftsman, but it was still the craftsman who chose to make a sword instead of a shovel. Right now, however, inspiration might be all they needed.
“Not at all. But divination works, Daine. Whether it’s guidance from Aureon, the Silver Flame, or some pure force of knowledge, there is a power out there that we can call on for guidance.”
“If we were priests.” Daine said, his voice still full of bitterness.
“Power is power.” Lei found a small vial of pure water and added it to the mixture. “If this works … well, it should send the question into the ether. I don’t know what will respond, if anything. But it’s the only idea I’ve got.”
“And if it works?”
“We get a push in the right direction, which is more than we have now.”
“And then?”
Lei was used to Daine’s sarcasm. This calm, serious tone was unlike him. “What do you mean?”
Daine scratched his back again. “I had another talk with Jode last night.”
“It was a dream—”
“Perhaps it was. But he had a point. What happened on Xen’drik, Lei? What did we do?”
Lei suddenly felt cold. “It’s over now.”
“Is it? Lakashtai went to a lot of trouble to get us out to Xen’drik, Lei. We don’t know why, and I don’t like it. We’ve lost a battle, and we didn’t even know we were at war. At the least, I want to understand what we’re fighting for.”
Lei’s heart was pounding. Somehow, just thinking about the events of the previous day drove her into a sweat. She reached down for an empty wand, but her hands shook and she knocked over a vial of preserved lizard eyes, which spilled across the blanket.
Daine took her hand. “What’s wrong?”
“I … I don’t know,” she said. “I just …” She tried to gather her thoughts, to focus on that final encounter with Lakashtai, but she couldn’t. There was a wall in her mind, and even trying to approach the subject filled her with dread. Vertigo washed over her, and she reached out for the ground. Her hand found the darkwood staff, which lay next to the blanket.
She stiffened in shock the instant her fingers touched the wood. A wave of pure anger flowed from the staff, smashing into the wall within her. Time fell away. She could hear Daine’s concerned voice and the faint sound of song, but all outer sensation was overwhelmed by the war in her mind. The staff was a bottomless well of rage and pain, and this emotion poured into Lei. The pressure built, driving out all conscious thought—and then she felt something break within her. Fear and rage drained away, leaving her weak and empty.
Slowly, she became aware of her surroundings. She was clutching the darkwood staff, both hands white-knuckled around the shaft. Daine had his arms around her, holding her steady while he murmured reassuring sounds in her ears. Many of the objects she’d arranged on her blanket were scattered or even broken; it seemed that Daine’s embrace served a purpose beyond simple comfort.
“I’m … fine now,” she said. Her voice sounded strange to her, rough. She looked at the staff. Perhaps it was a trick of the moonlight, but the sculpted face seemed especially lifelike, its eyes filled with sorrow.
“Are you sure?” Daine kept his arms around her, and now Lei relaxed and leaned back against him. “What happened?”
As Lei searched her soul for answers, memories began to return of a voice whispering in her mind in the depths of Karul’tash, a voice that was impossible to resist. “I think it was Lakashtai.” She could feel Daine stiffen at the sound of the name. “Back at Karul’tash … she did something to my mind, forced me to follow her instructions. She must have implanted some sort of defense, a mental compulsion to prevent me from remembering what I’d done.”
“Flame!”
Daine swore. “If she’s in your dreams, now …”
“I don’t think she is,” Lei said. Reluctantly, she broke free of Daine’s embrace. As comforting as his arms
“Not at all. But divination works, Daine. Whether it’s guidance from Aureon, the Silver Flame, or some pure force of knowledge, there is a power out there that we can call on for guidance.”
“If we were priests.” Daine said, his voice still full of bitterness.
“Power is power.” Lei found a small vial of pure water and added it to the mixture. “If this works … well, it should send the question into the ether. I don’t know what will respond, if anything. But it’s the only idea I’ve got.”
“And if it works?”
“We get a push in the right direction, which is more than we have now.”
“And then?”
Lei was used to Daine’s sarcasm. This calm, serious tone was unlike him. “What do you mean?”
Daine scratched his back again. “I had another talk with Jode last night.”
“It was a dream—”
“Perhaps it was. But he had a point. What happened on Xen’drik, Lei? What did we do?”
Lei suddenly felt cold. “It’s over now.”
“Is it? Lakashtai went to a lot of trouble to get us out to Xen’drik, Lei. We don’t know why, and I don’t like it. We’ve lost a battle, and we didn’t even know we were at war. At the least, I want to understand what we’re fighting for.”
Lei’s heart was pounding. Somehow, just thinking about the events of the previous day drove her into a sweat. She reached down for an empty wand, but her hands shook and she knocked over a vial of preserved lizard eyes, which spilled across the blanket.
Daine took her hand. “What’s wrong?”
“I … I don’t know,” she said. “I just …” She tried to gather her thoughts, to focus on that final encounter with Lakashtai, but she couldn’t. There was a wall in her mind, and even trying to approach the subject filled her with dread. Vertigo washed over her, and she reached out for the ground. Her hand found the darkwood staff, which lay next to the blanket.
She stiffened in shock the instant her fingers touched the wood. A wave of pure anger flowed from the staff, smashing into the wall within her. Time fell away. She could hear Daine’s concerned voice and the faint sound of song, but all outer sensation was overwhelmed by the war in her mind. The staff was a bottomless well of rage and pain, and this emotion poured into Lei. The pressure built, driving out all conscious thought—and then she felt something break within her. Fear and rage drained away, leaving her weak and empty.
Slowly, she became aware of her surroundings. She was clutching the darkwood staff, both hands white-knuckled around the shaft. Daine had his arms around her, holding her steady while he murmured reassuring sounds in her ears. Many of the objects she’d arranged on her blanket were scattered or even broken; it seemed that Daine’s embrace served a purpose beyond simple comfort.
“I’m … fine now,” she said. Her voice sounded strange to her, rough. She looked at the staff. Perhaps it was a trick of the moonlight, but the sculpted face seemed especially lifelike, its eyes filled with sorrow.
“Are you sure?” Daine kept his arms around her, and now Lei relaxed and leaned back against him. “What happened?”
As Lei searched her soul for answers, memories began to return of a voice whispering in her mind in the depths of Karul’tash, a voice that was impossible to resist. “I think it was Lakashtai.” She could feel Daine stiffen at the sound of the name. “Back at Karul’tash … she did something to my mind, forced me to follow her instructions. She must have implanted some sort of defense, a mental compulsion to prevent me from remembering what I’d done.”
“Flame!”
Daine swore. “If she’s in your dreams, now …”
“I don’t think she is,” Lei said. Reluctantly, she broke free of Daine’s embrace. As comforting as his arms
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