The Grieving Tree: The Dragon Below Book II

by Don Bassingthwaite

  “Keep going!” he said. Ekhaas wasn’t out of the cavern yet. As the light of Dandra’s torch receded and the chamber fell into darkness, Geth realized that the tomb of Taruuzh was glowing with a pale, silver-white light. Against that light, Ekhaas looked almost spectral herself.

  The mask of frost on Taruuzh’s effigy had changed again. The stone hobgoblin’s face was at peace, as if dreaming of ancient glories. Ekhaas, still singing, stepped past him. Geth fell in behind her, guarding her retreat more out of habit and respect than actual effectiveness—if Taruuzh’s anger had reached after them, he knew there wouldn’t be a cursed thing he could do about it.

  But the ghost didn’t come after them and the temperature rose swiftly as they climbed. Dandra had been right—the cave air couldn’t have been more than cool, but it felt warm like summer. Geth let out a sigh of relief.

  The stairs were steep, but not long; they opened into a short, unadorned hallway that ended in a wall rigged with a heavy iron arm much like the one that opened the hidden door in the chasm beneath Tzaryan Rrac. From this side, the door, with its latches and handles, was obvious. Dandra and Ashi were waiting for them. As Ekhaas stepped off the stairs and set foot on level ground, she finally stopped singing, took a deep breath and stretched. “Khaavolaar!” she groaned.

  “Ekhaas, that was amazing!” said Dandra.

  “I wouldn’t be much of a duur’kala if I couldn’t bring courage and calm when they were needed.” The hobgoblin’s old arrogance was back, but also a hint of well-deserved pride. Geth could tell from her face and the set of her ears that she knew she had done something extraordinary.

  Something in the wails of Taruuzh’s ghost gnawed at him, though, and left a sick feeling in his throat. “Ekhaas, did Taruuzh say what I thought he said? That his stones—” He tried to recall the spirit’s words. “‘—are saved up against the day that Aryd foresaw.’”

  Ekhaas started, pride and arrogance vanishing into the shock of someone caught in a lie. Dandra blinked and stiffened. “Taruuzh’s stones?” she asked. “The original binding stones? Light of il-Yannah, they can’t still exist, can they?” She turned to face Ekhaas. “But your story of the Battle of Moths—you said they were all destroyed to create the Gatekeeper seal that imprisoned the Master of Silence.”

  The hobgoblin’s ears twitched back. “I didn’t tell you everything. But what I didn’t tell you … it didn’t seem important. There’s an old legend—almost forgotten now—that Aryd convinced Taruuzh to set aside a small box of his stones before the battle, that she’d foreseen a second invasion of Eberron and that the stones would be needed again.”

  Dandra’s eyes opened wide. Her mouth clenched tight in silent horror. Geth growled at Ekhaas. “How could you think that wasn’t important?” he demanded.

  “Because no one believes it’s anything more than a legend!” Ekhaas said. “The Kech Volaar hold tight to our history, but even we know not everything is the whole truth. The tale says Taruuzh hid the stones before his death. Marg himself searched for them and found nothing. That’s why he tried recreating the stones on his own. Generations of duur’kala hunted for them, too. They were never found. The riddle that was supposed to be the clue to their location couldn’t be solved.” She spread her hands. “The legend was set aside as a wild treasure hunt.”

  “No one listened to the ghost?”

  Ekhaas bared her teeth. “Did you listen to me when I said I didn’t know about the ghost? This might be the first time anyone has ever encountered it!”

  Dandra spoke suddenly, her voice hollow and frightened. “‘The time will come again. Three great works stand together as allies: treasure, key, guardian, disciple, and lord.’ Singe read that on the statue in the great chamber of Taruuzh Kraat. Is that the riddle?”

  “Yes,” said Ekhaas. “What drove those who hunted for the hidden stones is that the riddle of Taruuzh sounds so easily solved. ‘The time will come again’ refers to Aryd’s prophecy. The riddle says ‘three great works,’ wonders crafted by Taruuzh, but mentions five things, so two things aren’t works, but something else. The treasure is the stones, Taruuzh’s second greatest work after the grieving tree. The first grieving tree stands in Taruuzh Kraat and was thought to be the guardian. ‘Disciple and lord’ was believed to refer to Dhakaani lords and Gatekeeper druids, sometimes called the disciples of Vvaraak—the allies that put an end to the daelkyr invasion. The searchers believed that Taruuzh was saying that the Dhakaani and the orcs would need to ‘stand together as allies’ to find the stones, just as they’d need to ally to stop a second invasion.”

  “So the riddle seems to tell where to find the treasure and who can find it,” said Dandra. “What about the key? Was that Taruuzh’s third great work?”

  “It seems like it should have been.” Ekhaas shook her head. “But the problem was that no one knew what Taruuzh’s third great work was. Duur’kala compiled lists of the greatest wonders he created, trying to find a clue—but there was nothing. The riddle had no answer.”

  The sick feeling that had gnawed at Geth turned into a terrible ache. “It has an answer,” he said slowly. “The duur’kala were just too caught up in legends to see it.”

  Ekhaas’s ears laid back. “Are you joking?”

  “No.” Geth swallowed. He lifted Wrath and repeated the wistful words that Taruuzh’s ghost had spoken. “They call me daashor, but I was first a smith. I made wonders, but your pure perfection brought the most pride of all to my heart.”

  As if in confirmation, a long, ghostly sigh drifted up the stairs from the cave below.

  “Khaavolaar,” Ekhaas whispered in wonder.

  Dandra, however, staggered back against Ashi, her eyes full of terror. “Il-Yannah’s perfect light illuminate us. If Dah’mir were to find out about this …”

  “He may not know about the riddle,” said Ashi. “This may mean nothing to him.”

  “The Riddle of Taruuzh isn’t well-known, but it’s no secret,” Ekhaas pointed out.

  “Maybe he doesn’t understand the clues,” the hunter said hopefully.

  Dandra’s face drew tight. “Dah’mir laired in Taruuzh Kraat. He studied Marg’s writings. He spent two hundred years working with the binding stone. He’s a dragon. How can he not understand the clues?” She stood up and paced across the width of the hallway. “Il-Yannah, we know what he was able to do with Marg’s imperfect re-creation of the binding stones. Imagine what he could do with Taruuzh’s originals!”

  “He doesn’t have the answer yet,” Greth growled. He thrust Wrath back into its sheath. “All we have to do is make sure he never finds out about this sword—”

  Terrible, deep laughter cut him off. Words rumbled through the hallway. “Too late, Geth.”

  With a horrible crash, something huge slammed against the other side of the hidden door. The force of the impact shook the floor, sending them staggering. Great talons punched through the cracks that opened around the door, clenched on the rock, and heaved. A deafening bellow of exertion broke the air. The door ripped away, its iron arm twisting and snapping with an agonized squeal.

  Acid-green eyes peered through the ruined opening. “Far too late!” roared Dah’mir.

  CHAPTER

  19

  The overwhelming strength of Dah’mir’s presence gripped Dandra. She was drowning, swallowed by the dragon’s irresistible personality. Her world dimmed. All she could do was stare in awe at the eyes that stared through a door too narrow for the dragon’s head.

  There’d been no warning this time from Tetkashtai. Her creator’s terror had gone beyond rising and falling. The borders of Dandra’s mind were battered by a constant storm of yellow-green light and wailing screams. The eerie silence of the caves, the ghost’s frigid attack, Dah’mir’s sudden appearance—they were all the same to Tetkashtai.

  And yet …

  Dandra could see. She could hear. For the first time, it seemed that Dah’mir’s power hadn’t taken her completely. She couldn’t move, c
ouldn’t lower the guttering torch still held above her head, could barely summon the focus to think, but she was at least aware of what was happening.

  Ekhaas’s voice rose in a scream of horror as she faced Dah’mir for the first time. Geth shouted, a wordless mingling of shock and fear, and ripped Wrath back out of its sheath, raising sword and gauntlet in a barrier of cold metal. Ashi had her sword out, too. Dandra felt the hunter grab her shoulder and the short corridor whirled briefly as she was pulled back to safety, to the very edge of the stairs back down into the caves. At the top step, however, Ashi stiffened and Dandra knew why.

  Bone-chilling cold swept up from below, carrying with it a seething, grasping anger. The effect of Ekhaas’s song on Taruuzh’s ghost had worn off—or had been shattered by Dah’mir’s appearance. Taruuzh’s terrible moans drifted up the stairs. There would be no easy escape back into the caverns!

  Dandra stared at a wall, caught between the stairs on her left and unseen combat on her right. She could see nothing, but she could hear. Ashi’s hand left Dandra’s shoulder and there was the sharp sound of flesh slapping flesh. Ekhaas’s scream fell silent. Geth snarled. Dah’mir’s scales made a fast, dry hiss as the dragon turned, shifted, moved—

  No! Dandra yelled. What’s happening? She tried to reach out with kesh, to touch Ashi, but all she found was Tetkashtai’s storm of madness.

  Let me in, Dandra! Let me in! Words emerged from the storm for a moment and Tetkashtai thrust herself along the kesh, trying to breach the defenses Dandra had thrown up to hold her back. Apparently Dah’mir’s power had found no hold on the presence, either. Dandra hurled her back again, desperately pinching off the tentative connection of kesh for her own safety.

  In spite of her efforts, her head turned anyway as if some primitive part of her unconscious sought out Dah’mir instinctively. It was a strange feeling to find her head moving without her control. The short length of the tunnel swung back into view—just in time for her to see Dah’mir thrust a foreleg through the ruined doorway and rake blindly at those inside. As the others cried out and pressed back, Dandra could only watch. It seemed that she could see every scale on the dragon’s leg. Embedded in his thick hide, dragonshards—two bright, one dulled like a soot-darkened lantern—made glittering streaks in the shadows.

  Geth darted forward and slashed at the flailing foreleg. Wrath bit deep. Dah’mir roared and dark blood sprayed Geth. He slammed his leg against the wall, trying to crush the flea that had bitten him, but Geth leaped away. The dragon snatched back his leg.

  “What’s he doing here?” Ashi gasped. “How did he find us?”

  Dah’mir’s eyes returned to the shattered door. They shone with anger. “A dragon knows the value of a dragonmark!” he hissed.

  Chain, Dandra realized. The bounty hunter must have located them for Dah’mir. She cursed silently, then felt a burst of fear as Dah’mir’s lips curled back and the sour, stinging smell of this breath gusted through the hall. They were an easy target for the devastating spray of his acid!

  Geth stepped in front of all of them, Wrath’s twilight blade held across his body. “Use your acid and you destroy the sword,” he said. His gauntleted hand pointed back behind him. “The sword and Dandra.”

  Dah’mir’s eyes narrowed and his lips twisted. “Do you think you’d still be alive if I hadn’t thought of that? Dark lords of Khyber, the unsolvable Riddle of Taruuzh—answered by a shifter! I thought I knew all the secrets of Taruuzh Kraat, but you’ve surprised me. I should have known there was some power about that sword the first time I felt its bite.” His eyes flashed. “Give the sword to me!”

  The air itself seemed to darken with the intensity of his presence. His will engulfed her—engulfed all of them. It dragged Dandra’s gaze to Wrath and she felt an urge to take the ancient sword away from the shifter and present it to Dah’mir. On the edge of her vision, she saw both Ekhaas and Ashi struggling against the same urge.

  In her gut, she knew that she shouldn’t have been able to resist the command any more than she should have been able to resist the dominating fascination of the dragon’s presence. And yet she did. Her arms and legs tried to move, but didn’t. Dah’mir’s power seemed to break before it reached the core of her being, like waves dashing against rocks, like a storm surge driven into a swamp—

  Like a song lost in screaming. Like a focused will broken by insanity.

  Tetkashtai, she said in amazement. Her creator answered only with another wail, but in her mind’s eye, Dandra could see Tetkashtai’s light churning as it absorbed Dah’mir’s power. Tetkashtai’s madness was protecting her. Madness, she guessed as well, must have also been what allowed Medala to stand at her new master’s side without succumbing to him. She felt a kind of awe rising inside her. Madness, the power of Xoriat, drew kalashtar in and trapped them. Once they had themselves succumbed to madness, they were Xoriat’s servants. It was simple. It was brilliant.

  She stood on the threshold, struggling to hold back Tetkashtai’s terrified madness, protected by it, yet powerless. Dandra felt a rising terror of her own. Light of il-Yannah, give me strength! she whispered.

  With a low cry, Ekhaas lost her struggle. She staggered forward, reaching for Geth. The shifter’s eyes never left Dah’mir, though. His face twisted and the Gatekeeper collar around his neck seemed sharp and distinct in the torchlight, as if it was more real than anything else amid the nightmare of Dah’mir’s power. “You’ll never have this sword!” Geth snarled.

  The intensity of Dah’mir’s presence snapped. Ekhaas stumbled, then looked up, stunned. Dah’mir’s displeasure rumbled out of his belly—and was cut short by a cold, echoing moan from the depths of the caves. The dragon’s eyes opened wide, then narrowed. “What have you woken in the caves?” he asked. “No wonder you don’t retreat!”

  At Dandra’s side, Ashi bared her teeth and spat at him. Dah’mir’s lips twitched. “A defiant gesture, Ashi. I’ll tell the Bonetree clan about it so they can add it to their stories of your treachery!” His gaze fixed on the sword. “That sword is a lhesh shaarat, isn’t it?”

  Geth kept his mouth closed. So did Ekhaas.

  Somewhere out on the great chamber beyond Dah’mir, there was a rush of heavy, running footsteps, and voices called out “Master!” and “Dah’mir!”

  “Vennet! Tzaryan!” Dah’mir sat back a little bit. “Come forward and bring the prisoners. I’m sure they’d like to say hello their friends.” Cruel playfulness flickered in his eyes as he glanced back into the tunnel. “Let’s see just how strong your will is, Geth.”

  Dah’mir’s first roar had come while they were still in the tunnel approaching the great chamber. Vennet had let out a cry of “Master!” and Robrand had called out an order for a faster pace. The ogres surrounding them had broken into a shambling run, the guards watching over the prisoners simply scooping up their charges and carrying them along. With the dragon’s second roar, Singe’s stomach had risen in fear, any hopes of finding a way to warn Dandra crushed.

  They burst into the great chamber hard on the heels of Vennet and Robrand, Hruucan and Chain. The bounty hunter and Singe’s old commander paused for a moment, struck by the size of the chamber that spread out below them, by its vaulted ceiling and abandoned forges, by the weird sculpture of the grieving tree. Vennet and Hruucan didn’t stop, though. Hruucan hurtled off the balcony in an acrobatic swirl of flame to land lightly on the floor below. Vennet seized one of the torches from the orc slave who had accompanied them and raced down the stairs, calling for Dah’mir. An instant later, a gust of wind ruffled Singe’s hair and Tzaryan’s flying form soared overhead. “Dah’mir!” he shouted.

  “Vennet! Tzaryan! Come forward and bring the prisoners.” So large that he took up half the space at the great chamber’s end, Dah’mir was a silhouette against a feeble light. The dragon crouched before the narrow mouth of a passage like a cat before a mouse hole. “I’m sure they’d like to say hello their friends.”

  Tzaryan settled t
o the ground and turned around. “General!” he bellowed. “Troops forward! Bring down the prisoners!”

  Robrand stiffened and turned back to look at Singe. The anger that had been in his face before had faded; he wore the expression of someone caught between two hard decisions. Singe’s stomach managed to rise again. For the first time since they’d been captured, their enemies had left them—only the ogres remained and they listened to their General. Once they were free, they still faced daunting odds, but they’d have a chance. They might still be able to rescue Ashi and Dandra and escape together. “Now, Robrand!” he hissed. “Help us now!”

  The old man hesitated a moment too long.

  With a look of desperation on his face, Chain stepped up behind him. Singe saw the flash of a dagger, then Chain had one arm around Robrand’s neck and the other at his back. “Let them go!” he ordered.

  Robrand looked startled. The nearest ogres stood straight, their weapons snapping up. Chain wrenched Robrand around so that they could all see the dagger he held. “I can kill him with a thrust,” he said. “I haven’t seen a Deneith dragonmark that could stop a dagger that’s already tasting blood.” He jerked his head at the ogres holding Singe, Natrac, and Orshok. “Let them go now and get out of my way!”

  “Chain?” called Vennet. The half-elf froze on the stairs and turned back to stare back up at them. “Storm at dawn, Chain, what do you think you’re doing?”

  “Leaving, you bloody lunatic!” Chain snapped. He glared at the ogres. “I said let them go and get out of my way.”

  “Chain, no!” Singe choked. “This isn’t what I meant—”

  The ogres behind him stirred and parted. Chuut stepped out and faced Chain and his captive. “What do you want us to do, General?” he asked.

  Robrand’s gaze darted to Singe, his eyes hard and flat. Singe’s stomach clenched. If Robrand chose, he could order them released. They would be free and his duty to Tzaryan would remain uncompromised. But there would be a price, Singe knew. “No,” he whispered. “Ashi … Dandra …”