The Grieving Tree: The Dragon Below Book II

by Don Bassingthwaite

  Geth growled softly. “This isn’t the time, Ashi! Ask Singe when we’re back—he understands the lords of Deneith better than I do.”

  “But you give honest answers,” said Ashi. She eased a little closer. “I want to understand my new clan. Deneith carries the Mark of Sentinel. The Mark of Sentinel defends. Deneith must have greater concerns than one man teaching commands to anyone—even ogres.”

  He clenched his teeth. “The dragonmarked houses are more than clans. They’ve turned their marks into a source of power and wealth. They have special knowledge in their area of skill. If other people start giving away those secrets, the houses lose power and wealth.” Ashi stared at him with a look of confusion on her face. Geth grimaced, trying to find a way to describe the vast power of the great house in a way the hunter would recognize. “They do it for honor,” he said finally.

  Ashi’s eyes narrowed and her faced darkened. “There is no honor in wealth!”

  “Talk to the lords and ministers of the dragonmarked houses and you talk to people who see something else. I wish you could have met Robrand, Ashi. I think you would have gotten along with the old man.” Geth jerked his head in the direction of their stalker. “Enough talk. Come on—we have someone waiting for us.”

  They were deep enough into the eerie woods. Geth turned aside and began moving back parallel to the road. The tree that their stalker had vanished behind had a distinctive broken branch just beneath the level of the forest canopy. It didn’t take long for him to spot it—and their stalker, pressed up against the tree and still intent on the column in the road. Geth paused again and bared his teeth as he studied the figure.

  Big as a man and dressed in dark, close-fitting leather armor, just as he’d glimpsed. But he’d made a mistake in assuming the figure was a man or even human.

  Their stalker was the hobgoblin woman from the Barrel in Vralkek, her orange-brown hair pulled back so severely that at a glance her head seemed shaved.

  Geth stifled a growl. Between her presence in the tavern and her presence here, it seemed fairly clear that the hobgoblin’s interest was in their little group and not Tzaryan Rrac’s ogres. He gestured for Ashi to move around to the hobgoblin’s other side. They would come at her from two directions. Ashi nodded and slipped away through the trees. Geth waited a few moments, flexing his fingers and his arm within the great gauntlet, then closed in.

  He was within half a dozen paces before the hobgoblin woman, alerted by some sense that something was amiss, turned to glance behind her, her wolf-like ears standing up straight. Her dark eyes met Geth’s for a fraction of a heartbeat and her ears pressed back flat—then she lunged away.

  Ashi spun out from behind another tree, cutting off her escape with a naked blade. The hobgoblin reeled back. Her eyes darted between him and Ashi. Geth moved another step closer. “You’re looking for us?” he asked in a snarl.

  The hobgoblin bared teeth as sharp as his own. “You will not defile Taruuzh Kraat!”

  Her words brought both Geth and Ashi up short. “How do you know about—?” Geth began, but the hobgoblin didn’t give him a chance to finish the question. Her hands flicked the air and a low, musical word rippled from her lips.

  For a moment, she seemed to shimmer and unfold as five exact duplicates stepped out of her body and spread out to surround her. Abruptly, six figures faced them. The hobgoblin drew a wide, heavy sword. So did her duplicates.

  “Rond betch!” cursed Ashi. Raising her own sword, she leaped for the nearest of the duplicates.

  Geth had seen this magic before. “Ashi, it’s a trick!” he called. The warning came an instant too late, though. The duplicate swayed back before the first slash of Ashi’s sword, but the hunter whirled and brought her blade around in another fast strike that cut across the hobgoblin’s torso.

  The duplicate flickered like a flame and vanished, nothing more than a fragile illusion. Ashi stumbled in surprise. The five remaining hobgoblins lifted their hands in arcane gestures and the chant of another song-like spell spun among the trees. Magic swirled around Ashi and froze her in place, muscles locked in the act of raising her sword.

  Only one of the five had actually cast the spell, however. Geth roared and charged, slapping a powerful backhand blow from his gauntlet at the hobgoblin who had seemed to chant the words with the most vigor. In the instant of his charge, though, his target slipped back, passing through one of her duplicates as they rapidly rearranged themselves. It was like watching a nest of writhing snakes. Geth hesitated, then struck at random.

  Another hobgoblin disappeared without a trace.

  A sword darted at his side. Geth spun and blocked the attack with his gauntlet. Metal scraped on metal. His real enemy. His free hand lashed out in a punch.

  This time he felt the impact and the hobgoblin staggered, a sudden trickle of blood running down the yellow skin of her chin. Her duplicates closed on her instantly, swapping places once again—and as soon as one passed through another, both bore the same trickle of blood. All of the hobgoblins turned back to him.

  Geth snarled in frustration. He reached across his body with his free hand and ripped his sword from its sheath.

  The ancient Dhakaani blade shimmered in the forest shadows. The four women facing him stiffened, eyes opening wide with sudden rage. “Chaat’oor!” they howled in a chorus. “Where did you—?”

  Geth lunged, attacking on instinct alone. His sword tore through one duplicate and he jabbed a metal-clad fist at the belly of another. The illusions faded away instantly, leaving him facing only two hobgoblins. They seemed to swing at him in unison, both of them with teeth bared and ears back. Geth threw up his gauntlet and his sword, blocking both blows, then, with a roar, snapped out both arms.

  The hobgoblin on his left parried desperately, thrusting her blade up to block his. The hobgoblin on his right caught the spiked forearm of his gauntlet across her face—and vanished.

  Geth twisted his fist sharply, catching the real hobgoblin’s weapon in the deep notches that scored one edge of his sword and forcing it high. Spinning under his own arm, he stepped in close and hammered his armored elbow into her gut. As the air rushed out of her lungs and she struggled to draw breath, he whirled again and kicked her legs out from under her. She hit the ground hard. Geth snatched the sword from her hand and stood over her, both swords poised to fall. He nodded toward Ashi, still standing in the grip of the hobgoblin’s magic.

  “Release her,” he ordered. “And don’t try anything else. I know a spell when I see it.”

  Angry eyes never shifting from Geth’s face, the hobgoblin stretched out a hand and flicked her fingers at Ashi. The hunter staggered as the spell faded. Her face twisted in a scowl. “Magic is no way to fight!”

  “Easy,” Geth said. He looked back down at the hobgoblin. “Who are you?” he asked. “Why are you following us?” He remembered her curse when he had first approached. “What do you know about Taruuzh Kraat?”

  Her ears twitched and drew back. Her lips twisted. “I’ll tell you nothing, chaat’oor!”

  Her eyes, however, went briefly to his sword. Geth glanced at the blades in his hands. Held side by side, it was apparent how little the basic design of hobgoblin weapons had changed over the millennia since the fall of Dhakaan. Both swords were heavy and wide with a forked tip, one edge sharp for cutting, and the other cruelly notched for ripping. Geth’s sword, however, was clearly the better of the two. It was heavier than the other blade, yet still perfectly balanced. The notching was evenly formed, the cutting edge fine, and the metal smooth and clear; in spite of its age, it was free of the tiny scrapes and imperfections that marred the newer blade.

  His sword had also injured a dragon, though neither Batul nor Singe could say why. When he had drawn it in Zarash’ak, a gang of goblins had fled from him. Again, no one could explain it. The sight of the weapon had inspired outrage in the hobgoblin woman before him, however. She recognized the sword. Geth extended it toward her. “You know something about
this, don’t you?” he said. “What?”

  The hobgoblin’s eyes flashed, but she stayed defiantly silent. Geth ground his teeth, then growled, “Fine.” He gestured with his sword. “Ashi, get her on her feet. Maybe Chuut and the General can get answers out of her.”

  The hunter sheathed her word and hauled the hobgoblin woman up from the ground, then briskly searched her for hidden weapons. She found a knife, but nothing else. The woman’s only gear was what she carried in a small satchel. Ashi scowled. “How could she have kept up with us all the way from Vralkek?”

  The hobgoblin offered no response, but Geth glanced at her boots. They were finely tooled and decorated with Goblin script. “I imagine Singe could find something magical about those boots,” he said.

  The hobgoblin’s eyes flickered with anger. “Thief!”

  Geth snorted. “We don’t want your boots. Ashi, keep hold of her.” He turned back toward the road.

  Singe, Orshok, and Natrac, along with Chuut and several other ogres, were waiting for them when they emerged from the woods. Singe stared at the hobgoblin with recognition on his face. “Her?” he said in surprise.

  “She knows something about Taruuzh Kraat,” said Geth. He slid his sword back into its scabbard and moved to help Ashi hold the woman.

  “Who is she?”

  “She won’t say.”

  “Her name,” rumbled Chuut, sounding displeased, “is Ekhaas.”

  Geth looked up at the ogre. “You know her?”

  “She’s a pest.” He stepped forward and glared at the hobgoblin. “Tzaryan Rrac ordered your arrest if you were caught interfering in his affairs again.”

  Ekhaas glared back at Chuut fearlessly. “How was I interfering?” she asked. Now that she was calm, her voice was coarse but pleasant, like smoke from burning cedar. “I have no further quarrel with Tzaryan—only with would-be defilers of Dhakaan.”

  Singe’s eyebrows rose and he shot a glance at Geth. The shifter nodded. Chuut, however, looked neither curious nor amused.

  “Come with me,” he said. “You’re going to see the General.”

  An idea turned inside Geth’s head. “Wait,” he said quickly. He gripped Ekhaas’s arm and met Chuut’s gaze square-on. “She’s my capture. If she’s going to the General, I want to hand her over myself.”

  The challenge seemed to confuse Chuut. “The General said for you to stay in your place.”

  “Then she stays with me,” said Geth. Chuut blinked and turned to Singe.

  Geth was happy to see that the wizard wore a half-smile—he’d figured out what Geth was doing. “Tell your shifter to give her to me,” Chuut ordered him.

  Singe shook his head and crossed his arms. “No. He’s right. We can either go to the General—both of us—or you can bring the General here, but until we see him the hobgoblin belongs to us.” He raised an eyebrow. “If I were the General, I know what I’d want done.”

  Ekhaas turned her head to look at Geth. “I’m not a bone for dogs like you to fight over!” she hissed.

  Geth glanced back at her. “You should have answered my questions,” he told her. Ekhaas’s ears stood up straight with indignation. Chuut groaned. His big finger pointed at Geth and Singe.

  “You and you come with me,” he said. “We’ll take her to the General together.”

  “She comes too,” said Geth, nodding to Ashi. “She helped with the capture.”

  Chuut’s mouth drooped. “As you say,” he agreed, “but the orc and half-orc stay. If you cause trouble, they’ll be the ones to pay.”

  Orshok paled slightly at the threat, but Geth shook his head at him. “We won’t cause trouble,” he promised Chuut.

  The ogre just grunted and turned to stride up alongside the resting column. Where he passed, lounging ogres leaped to their feet—and stared curiously at the smaller beings following in his wake.

  Ashi returned their curiosity. “I still haven’t had the chance to fight one,” she commented.

  “And I hope you never do,” said Singe. The wizard looked over his shoulder at Geth. “Good idea, but let me do most of the talking. Remember, I’m the one who’s supposed to be in charge.”

  Geth rolled his eyes and nodded. At his side, Ekhaas’s ears perked up.

  “You’re up to something,” she said.

  “No, we’re not,” Singe replied blandly.

  “I could tell the General what I’ve heard.”

  “From what I’ve heard, the General doesn’t have too high an opinion of you,” the wizard told her. “Is he going to believe anything you say?”

  Ekhaas glared at him but fell silent.

  As they drew close to the front of the column, Chuut tagged one of the leaner ogres and sent him running ahead. Geth spotted the General and Dandra, still on their horses, in the shade of the trees at the side of the road. Chuut’s runner stopped a short distance from them and saluted the General. The shrouded man beckoned him closer and the ogre approached. As he spoke his message, Geth saw the General and Dandra both sit up straighter in the saddle and look back along the column toward them. The General leaned close to Dandra for a moment and she nodded, then turned her horse and urged it into a gallop, racing for them. Her face was sharp with concern. “Cover the hobgoblin’s mouth!” she called. “The General says she’s a spellcaster!”

  “We know that already!” Geth shouted back. “She’s under control!”

  Chuut, however, obeyed the order without a moment’s hesitation, shouldering Ashi aside to reach down and wrap a big hand across Ekhaas’s face. The hobgoblin let out a muffled yell and struggled. Singe stared. “I don’t think she can breathe.”

  The ogre grimaced in pain. “But she can bite!” His free hand fumbled at a pouch on his belt and emerged with a large rag. “Hold her,” he commanded Geth. A moment later, Ekhaas wore a gag and a furious expression, and Chuut was cradling a bloody hand.

  Dandra drew up in front of them and swung down from her horse. “Who is this?” she asked, staring at Ekhaas.

  She hadn’t seen the hobgoblin directly while they were in the tavern. Singe told her what they knew. Dandra’s eyebrows rose. “What does she know about Taruuzh Kraat?”

  “Nothing that she’s telling us,” said Singe. He looked Dandra over. “Is the General treating you well?”

  “He doesn’t say much, but otherwise yes.” She nodded back to where the General was dismounting from his horses with the fumbling aid of two ogres, one of them kneeling like a stepstool. “The General wants a moment. He said we can approach when he’s standing.”

  “He’ll see us?” Geth asked.

  “His words were, ‘Your friends are stubborn.’”

  “That’s us,” Singe said, but his eyes were on the General’s struggles. “Dandra, does he go through this every time he gets on and off a horse?”

  “Every time I’ve seen,” Dandra said.

  Geth watched the ogres trying to help the man almost knock him to the ground. “You’d think he’d have trained them in what to do!” he said.

  Singe’s lips pressed together for a moment. “Aye,” he said.

  It took a few moments longer before the General was standing—a little awkwardly—on his own two feet beneath the trees. He gestured them forward with his left arm, his right hanging as stiff as a piece of wood. Geth could feel Chuut’s watchful gaze on all of them as they moved forward. Ekhaas seemed to pull back a little. Above the gag, her eyes were angry and confused. Geth growled and tugged her after him.

  The General stopped them a few paces away from where he stood in the shifting, dappled sunlight that fell through the tree branches. “I don’t want her any closer to me,” he said. His voice was as harsh as Dandra had described. Maybe even harsher. Geth looked at his shrouded body and gave silent thanks that whatever else the Last War might have done, at least it hadn’t left him crippled.

  “General,” said Singe, “I understand this woman has been causing Tzaryan Rrac trouble for some time. I place her into your custody with my
compliments.” He gave a formal bow.

  The General nodded in return. “My master will thank you himself,” he said. “Chuut, see that Ekhaas is kept under guard. When the company returns to Tzaryan Keep, put her in the dungeon.”

  “Aye, General!” The ogre stepped up behind Ekhaas. Ashi and Geth released their grips on her, turning the hobgoblin over to him. For the first time, there was a flicker of fear in Ekhaas’ eyes. She started to struggle, trying to shout through her gag, as Chuut took her away. She got one arm free of the ogre’s grasp and thrust it out toward the general, but Chuut slapped it down again before Ekhaas could do more than point. Any spell she might have been trying to cast was ruined. The General didn’t move, but just watched with icy calm. When she was gone, he turned his attention to back Geth, Singe, Ashi, and Dandra.

  “You’ve been trying to meet me, Master Timin,” he said. “Now you have. As Dandra can tell you, I’m not much for conversation. I prefer my own company. Does this satisfy you?”

  “You’re giving Deneith Blademarks training to Tzaryan’s ogres,” Singe said bluntly.

  For a moment, the General said nothing. Between the scarves that covered the man’s face and the changing patterns of light and shadow that made even his exposed eyes hard to see, Geth could read nothing of his expression, but when he spoke again his harsh voice had taken on a cold note. “It’s unusual to find a scholar of Wynarn who also knows something of mercenary training—but I’ve found many surprises in Droaam. For your knowledge, I owe nothing to House Deneith.”

  To Geth’s surprise, Singe made no response. He turned his head to look at the wizard.

  Singe’s face was tense with effort of holding back emotion. “No,” he said finally, his voice cracking. “No, I suppose you don’t—old man.”

  On Singe’s other side, Dandra stiffened, her eyes going wide and darting to the General. Ashi looked confused, but Geth felt his gut clench like a knotted rope.

  The General went stiff as well—then drew a deep breath of resignation and relaxed. His right arm and leg loosened. He straightened the fingers of his right hand and reached up to pull aside scarves revealing a face that was weathered and wrinkled with age, but not at all scarred.