Free The Gates of Night: The Dreaming Dark - Book 3 by Keith Baker

the possibility of battle was a relief. Being alone with Lei was both joy and torture. In the brief moment of Lei’s seizure, Daine had felt a terrible helplessness. He was a man with a sword, and there was little he could do when the battle was purely magical. And Lei … Daine knew that she cared for him. There were times when she relaxed her guard, when she allowed herself to let her emotions show. But then she would push him away, force distance between them. He knew what the problem was: blood. Lei was an heir of House Cannith, and she bore the magical Mark of Making. Daine was born into House Deneith, and while he did not carry the Mark of Sentinel, the blood of the house was in his veins. It was said that mingling the blood of two houses was a sure way to produce a childwith an aberrant dragonmark. Daine had never placed much stock in these stories or the tales of the malign consequences of carrying an aberrant mark—until he’d settled in Sharn. Last year he’d fought members of a guild formed by people with aberrant marks, a group that called itself House Tarkanan. Beyond the powers granted by their marks, many of these people were disturbing or disturbed. Daine could still remember the halfling girl sitting under a table talking to her rats, and the rotting flesh of the Tarkanan warrior who’d almost killed Daine with a touch.
    Lei had been driven from her house, while Daine had turned his back on his family. But their blood remained, and it was one barrier Daine couldn’t break through.
    A sound cut through the silence—the call of a Cyran dusksinger. It was a signal. Pierce had returned. Daine gave an answering call, signaling a clear path, and the warforged soldier emerged from the shadows of a massive tor. As Pierce approached, Daine saw that Xu’sasar was with him, the dark elf almost invisible in the night.
    “Report,” he said, keeping his voice low.
    “We encountered two hostile beasts,” Pierce said. Speaking quickly and concisely, he described the encounter with the strange hounds and how the battle had come to an end. “We struck swiftly and with the advantage of surprise,” he concluded. “But the tracks I found suggest that there are other creatures out there.”
    “And you,” Daine said, turning on Xu’sasar. “Was I unclear? ‘Stay here. Don’t kill anything.’”
    The woman was a full foot shorter than Daine, but she stared up at him with no trace of embarrassment.“You are not of my family. You sought information, and I have obtained it.”
    “I’m listening.”
    “You foolishly sought to save my life,” Xu’sasar said. “And yet you failed. This is the first of the final lands, the hunting ground, where the spirits of the worthy dead come in search of judgment.”
    “What could possibly make you say that?”
    “Among the Qaltiar, life is a preparation for death and that which lies beyond. I have been taught the ways of the final lands since I was first marked as a hunter. The moon has not moved since we have arrived. You can see the faces of the failed buried in the soil, and the watchful spirits burning in the sky.”
    Daine glanced up. “We call those stars.”
    “Then you are a fool,” Xu’sasar said. “Have you ever seen stars of such size and such color, shining so bright in the light of the moon?”
    Daine frowned. She had a point. The moon was full and brilliant; the light should have made the stars seem faint. But each star in the sky was a blazing brand, brighter than any he’d seen on Eberron.
    “Go on,” he said.
    “Can you not feel the energy that surrounds us?” Xu’sasar raised her hand, her eyes shining in the moonlight. “Can you not sense the truth of this place? We have seen the hounds of blood. This is the hunting ground. Here we must prove our worth in battle, earn our passage or spend an eternity to contemplate our failure.”
    Lei emerged from the sphere and stood behind Daine. “That’s preposterous,” she said. “The souls of the