The tyranny of ghosts tlod-3

by Don Bassingthwaite

  All faces turned to Kitaas. The silence that fell over the chamber was shocking-then the tiered room seemed to explode as every elder present tried to shout louder than the next. “Kill them!” one voice shrieked out above the others. “Kill them where they stand!” Even Tuura looked stunned at the revelation.

  Geth felt the pinnacle of triumph crumble under him. The magic of Wrath’s power vanished like a winking spark, and the sword almost fell from his hand as he stumbled back. Ekhaas caught him. “Tiger dances!” he gasped. “What-?”

  “The Kech Volaar collect history, remember?” Ekhaas said through clenched teeth. She pushed Geth back onto his feet and grabbed for her own sword. “There’s one crime worse than breaking into the vaults.”

  “They didn’t know? Why didn’t Kitaas tell them before? Why didn’t she tell Tuura?” Geth heard the doors of the chamber open as the guards outside responded to the noise within, but he couldn’t help looking back to the lowest tier of benches — just in time to see Diitesh turn and slap Kitaas. “By the Six Kings, I said hold your tongue!”

  They weren’t the only ones to see it. Tuura Dhakaan’s voice howled over the din of the elders. “Diitesh! You knew about this?”

  The elders closest to the leader of the Kech Volaar fell silent instantly. Kurac Thaar, ready to leap to the floor of the chamber with his axe raised high, paused in midstep. The guards rushing into the room stopped where they stood. Diitesh’s already pale face turned even paler as she whirled around. For an instant, terror showed in her expression, then was wiped away as she struggled to compose herself.

  “Let them go to Tariic, Tuura,” she said. “They’ll die just as surely.”

  Tuura’s ears went back. “I wouldn’t have even considered it if I knew. You held it back from me.”

  “I wanted to tell you, Tuura Dhakaan,” Kitaas blurted. “She wouldn’t let me.”

  A flush crept back into Diitesh’s face at her adjunct’s betrayal, but she kept her eyes on Tuura. “Kill them, and send their bodies to Tariic, then. But you’re missing an opportunity to prove your allegiance to him.”

  “The Kech Volaar don’t need to prove anything to the lhesh of Darguun.” Tuura pointed at Geth and the others. “They betrayed us. They are ours to deal with as we see fit. Tariic-”

  As Tuura spoke, Geth felt a touch on his leg. “Be ready to run,” Chetiin said softly. Geth nodded very slightly, tightened his grip on Wrath, and shifted his weight. The door of the chamber was open. The argument between the leader of the Kech Volaar and her High Archivist provided a distraction. If they chose their moment carefully, they might have a slim chance of escape.

  “-can remain ignorant of their fate for the rest of his life!”

  Diitesh’s features twisted into a mask of anger. “Tariic already knows you’ve given them sanctuary!”

  In spite of himself, Geth flinched. On the benches, all of the elders had fallen silent. Tuura drew a sharp breath. “You-”

  “You are blind, Tuura,” said Diitesh. “I see. When you dismissed the offer of the Kech Shaarat, I went after Riila Dhakaan and spoke to her. When the Kech Shaarat swear allegiance to Tariic as emperor, the Kech Volaar must stand with them or die.” Her lips drew back from her teeth. “If you won’t embrace the legacy of Dhakaan on behalf of our clan, someone else must. Tuura Dhakaan, I challenge your leadership of the Kech Volaar!”

  Tuura’s eyes opened wide. Without waiting for a response, Diitesh reached into her robe and pulled out a battered black box. She flicked open the lid and spoke a word of magic.

  The sound of it echoed for a moment, then seemed to transform into a kind of sleepy hum. A heartbeat later, the hum had become a drone that filled the chamber. As Geth watched, as elders scrambled to get away from an impending battle, three glittering, green wasps as long as a finger rose up from the box. The dim light of the chamber flashed on lean, crystalline bodies formed of knuckle-sized gems fastened together with wires of gold. It shone through wings that threw off splashes of rainbow color as they blurred. Diitesh backed away, leaving the wasps hanging in the air.

  Tuura narrowed her eyes and spat, “Your challenge is accepted!” She drew a sharp breath-and sang.

  The drone of the wasps rose and broke into a thrumming dissonance. Tuura choked as if her song had been forced back down her throat. She reeled backward.

  “Kapaa’taat!” Kurac Thaar jumped forward-Geth didn’t know what the rules for such a challenge were, but it didn’t seem like the warlord was going to let them get in the way of his axe. Diitesh just flicked a finger, though, and one of the wasps darted at him. Kurac swatted, but it skimmed easily around his axe.

  It struck like an emerald flash, swooping at his unprotected neck and seeming to do no more than touch it before leaping away. Kurac staggered, clapped a hand to the place he’d been stung, then pitched forward. He hit the ground in a clattering of armor that seemed to go on and on as his body twitched and danced.

  “Duur’kala have always led the Kech Volaar,” Diitesh called over the drone of the wasps. “They have songs and stories of the great empire, but the vaults hold so much more. Tools. Armor. Weapons of all sorts-some of them intended to counter duur’kala!” She flicked her fingers again, and the wasps buzzed around Tuura, toying with her as the leader of the Kech Volaar drew a sword.

  “Now!” said Chetiin.

  It was difficult to tear his eyes away from the duel before him, but Geth did. He spun around and ran for the door of the chamber. The guards who’d spilled inside were staring too. Their reactions were slow. One cried out and grabbed for him. Geth swung Wrath in an arc that opened a gash across the guard’s side. Ahead of him, Chetiin darted between two guards, spinning to slash at their legs as he went. Ekhaas didn’t draw her sword or try to sing a spell but just lashed out with fists, elbows, and knees at any guard who got in her way. Tenquis Tenquis wasn’t there. Geth twisted around, sliding to a stop.

  The tiefling hadn’t moved, though he had drawn his wand. He stood watching the wasps, head moving to follow their darting flight as they evaded Tuura’s flailing sword. “Tenquis!” Geth shouted.

  Tenquis paid no attention to him. But Diitesh did. Her head turned, and she scowled. One hand still pointing at Tuura, she gestured with the other at Geth.

  One wasp broke off from the others and flew at him in a green streak. “Tiger!” Geth cursed. He stumbled back, raising both Wrath and his great gauntlet as if they would be enough to protect him.

  Tenquis twisted and brought his wand up. For a moment, the tip of the implement tracked the wasp, then Tenquis stabbed at the air. A golden spark flashed from wand to wasp-and the wasp rattled off Geth’s gauntlet like a handful of pebbles. It hit the ground at his feet, a motionless collection of crystals.

  Diitesh’s eyes seemed ready to bulge out of her head. They darted from Tuura to Tenquis, then she gestured with both hands at once. One of the two remaining wasps darted at Tenquis. The other plunged at Tuura.

  Tenquis stabbed with his wand, and another golden spark engulfed the wasp coming at him. The thing’s body hadn’t even dropped to the ground before his wand was following the wasp that bedeviled Tuura. Tenquis took aim and stabbed the air for a third time.

  The golden spark that leaped from his wand was as bright as a miniature bolt of lightning, but instead of thunder, it only brought silence. The last wasp fell, its crystal wings still. Tuura looked at it, then up at Diitesh. The High Archivist took a step backward, hands raised, fear on her face.

  Tuura’s voice rose in a sharp, harsh song, and between one step and the next, Diitesh froze. She didn’t move, she didn’t blink. Tuura dropped to one knee beside Kurac Thaar’s still twitching body and sang again, softly this time. He relaxed immediately, her song dispelling whatever poison the wasp had injected into him.

  Geth glanced over his shoulder. One of the guards had Ekhaas in his grip, but neither of them were struggling. Both, along with all the elders in the chamber, were watching Tuura. Geth gestured, and Ek
haas slid away from the guard, returning to him. Moving slowly, they rejoined Tenquis. As ever, the tiefling’s pupilless gold eyes were difficult to read, but Geth thought he saw a certain satisfaction there. A moment later, Chetiin joined them as well, though Geth could have sworn he’d made it out of the chamber entirely.

  “You could have escaped,” he murmured to the goblin.

  “I still can.”

  Tuura stood up from beside Kurac. The warlord’s chest rose and fell in an easy rhythm. He seemed to be asleep. Tuura looked at Tenquis. “How?” she asked.

  “Duur’kala know how to counter the magical songs of another,” Tenquis said. “Daashor of Dhakaan knew how to still another’s creations-at least temporarily.” He nudged one of the wasps where it lay near his feet. The crystal wings stirred feebly. “Put them back in the box. That should render them inert.” He returned Tuura’s gaze. “By Dhakaani tradition, you owe me.”

  Tuura’s ears went back. “I don’t need to ask what you want in return.” She turned around and seated herself in her stone chair. “Lhurusk!”

  An officer among the guards flinched, then stepped forward. Tuura pointed at Geth and the others. “They are to be escorted from Volaar Draal and shown out of Kech Volaar territory in whichever direction they choose. If they ever attempt to approach Volaar Draal again, they are to be killed.”

  “Mazo!” The guard saluted her. Tuura looked back to Tenquis. The tiefling bent his head to her. Tuura’s gaze continued on to Ekhaas.

  “Ekhaas, daughter of the dirge,” she said, “you are cast out of Kech Volaar. You have no muut to us. We have no muut to you. Your story ends.”

  Geth saw Ekhaas’s amber eyes flick once to Kitaas before they went hard and distant. She turned sharply, putting her back to Tuura, the elders, and her sister. Geth thought he saw Kitaas’s mouth open for a moment, only to close before anything could emerge.

  Then a bugbear guard stepped in front of him, cutting off his view, and gestured curtly for him to turn as well.

  They were out of Volaar Draal more quickly than Geth would have thought possible. Guards stood over them in their quarters while they gathered their packs, then marched them up the long passage from the city to the gates. Goblin stablehands were still saddling their horses when they arrived, but the gate guards had already marched aside in preparation for their departure. Just beyond the gates, Marrow waited like an independent shadow in the sun.

  “How did she know to be here?” Geth asked Chetiin.

  The shaarat’khesh elder just spread his hands and shrugged.

  The guard officer whom Tuura had commanded to see them out of Volaar Draal approached Tenquis. “Which direction will you be traveling?” he asked.

  Tenquis looked at Ekhaas. Ekhaas looked at Geth.

  There was only one place to go. “Suud Anshaar,” he said quietly. “The ruins of Tasaam Draet’s fortress. We need to see if there’s anything there.”

  “The Khraal Jungle, then,” said Ekhaas. “Southeast on the other side of Darguun. But we can’t ride straight across the country. Tariic will be looking for-”

  “He’ll think we’re here,” Chetiin reminded her.

  She smiled briefly, then looked to the guard officer. “We travel southeast.”

  He didn’t react. Her smile faded. Tenquis repeated her instructions, and the officer nodded and went away. Stablehands brought their horses over. They mounted up and rode into the sunlight. A Kech Volaar patrol on mist-gray leopards prowled out of the gate behind them.

  “I’m sorry, Ekhaas,” Geth said.

  “Don’t be.” Ekhaas’s voice was harsh. “It could have been worse.”

  “What will happen to Diitesh then?” Tenquis asked her as they made their way up the road and out of the valley. The duur’kala didn’t answer him, but Geth caught Tenquis’s eye, then nodded to a gang of goblin workers assembling a treelike frame beside the road at the valley’s edge.

  “Something worse,” he said.

  CHAPTER TEN

  They followed the foothills of the Seawall Mountains for several days before descending into the lowlands. Once out of the mountains, it was an easy matter to keep their distance from the scattered farmholds and clanholds of southern Darguun. They traveled through a landscape that was mostly barren, studded here and there with ancient ruins from the age of Dhakaan, but also with the remains of much more recent habitation by the humans of the vanished nation of Cyre. Charred, smashed, and overgrown, the rubble of Cyran farms and villages gave mute testimony to the upheaval the region had seen only thirty years before. This was the land where Haruuc had started his revolution before sweeping north. This was the land where the dream of Darguun had been born.

  For the first time in her life, Ekhaas rode past the ruins and felt no pull to investigate them or learn their stories. As much as she tried to conceal the wrenching pain in her spirit, she couldn’t fool herself. She wasn’t entirely successful in fooling the others, either. As she exchanged watch duties one night with Geth, the shifter paused before sliding into his bedroll.

  “It can’t be easy leaving your clan and your family,” he said.

  She held her head high. “My clan exiled me, Geth,” she said, “and I don’t have a family anymore.” The words came out too harsh. She tried to soften them. “I know what you mean. I wish Ashi was here. She knows what it’s like to lose a clan.”

  “She found a place in Deneith. You’ll find your place too.” Geth pulled his blankets up over himself. “You already have a family in us.”

  She couldn’t help snorting. He turned to look at her, his eyes reflecting the firelight like an animal’s. “I could tell you a dozen stories where someone says just that,” she said.

  “And what happens in them?”

  “Usually everybody ends up dead.”

  Geth propped himself up on one elbow. “Goblin stories can be bloody depressing. Did you know that?”

  “Raat shi anaa. ‘The story continues.’” She sat back against the trunk of a scraggly tree. “Sleep well, Geth.”

  “Stay alert, Ekhaas.” He lay down again. Within moments, his breathing had fallen into an easy, regular rhythm. Ekhaas leaned her head back and looked up at the moons, closer to her than Volaar Draal.

  4 Vult

  Two weeks after leaving the towering gates of the City of the Word behind, they passed into the village of Arthuun. The contrast was… striking to say the least, Ekhaas thought. The gates were formed of massive, rough-cut logs hung from walls that were themselves a mix of dressed stone and improvised patches. Tenquis, staring at the walls as they rode through the gates, simply shuddered.

  “I’m no mason,” he said, “but I could do better than that.”

  “It stands up and keeps things out,” said Geth. “I think that’s all the people here are interested in.”

  Ekhaas was inclined to agree with him. Built on wet ground between the broad Torlaac River and the green wall of the Khraal Jungle, Arthuun was a ramshackle place. Like most of the villages and towns in Darguun, it was cobbled together from the ruins of an earlier Cyran settlement and rough structures thrown up by its new Darguul inhabitants. Arthuun seemed to have a particularly transient quality, as if people and buildings alike were just passing through on their way somewhere else.

  Fortunately, there were enough non-dar-mostly ragged, tough-looking humans, but a few half-elves and one grime-stained warforged as well-on the muddy streets that no one paid much attention to Geth and Tenquis. Ekhaas had worried that Tariic might have put a bounty on their heads and circulated their description across Darguun. If such a description had reached Arthuun, it didn’t show. Marrow drew more looks than they did, mostly of deep unease and healthy respect. The worg seemed to enjoy the attention, and when they found a grubby building that advertised itself as an inn, she lay down on the porch, putting herself on display like some disconcerting sculpture.

  “Be careful,” Chetiin warned her. “These are hard people. Bite them and they’ll bite you back
.”

  Marrow just whuffed and thumped her tail against the porch boards.

  The innkeeper who came hustling across the common room to meet them was a halfling. Although a certificate by the door proclaimed the inn approved by the standards of House Ghallanda, Ekhaas had her doubts that any member of that dragonmarked house had ever set foot in the establishment.

  “Two rooms,” Geth told him, “and information. We’re looking for a guide, someone who knows the Khraal.” He flipped the innkeeper a silver coin.

  The halfling plucked it out of the air. “You want a hunter, then. Any of them that carry grinders will do.” He pointed to a rusty sword hung on one wall in a feeble attempt at decoration. The blade was wider than Ekhaas’s palm, but shorter than a typical sword and sharpened on only one edge, more like a farmer’s implement than a fighting weapon.

  “Grinders?” asked Tenquis.

  “Swing one of those against jungle vines for a morning, and you’ll know why.” The innkeeper pointed to another wall, this one hung with a spear. “You see a hunter carrying one of those, he hunts across the river in the moors. You see someone carrying both weapons, you walk away-he doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

  “If you were traveling into the Khraal, who would you want leading the way?” Geth asked him.

  The halfling squinted and looked them over, then said, “Tooth. He’s a bugbear. You’ll probably find him at the Rat’s Tail over by the east wall.”

  “Tavern?” said Geth. The innkeeper just smiled. Geth grunted and tossed him a second silver coin, then a third. “The last one’s for meat,” he added. “Take it to the worg on the porch.”

  They found the Rat’s Tail without difficulty. It turned out to be less of a tavern than a kind of open-air drinking hall, the “walls” made of reed mats rolled up to allow the humid air of the village to circulate. Under the roof, though, it was as busy as any tavern Ekhaas had been in, with many of the same features: arguments, gambling, and drunkards.