The Grieving Tree: The Dragon Below Book II Page 29

  “Run!” he shouted at Natrac and Orshok.

  But it was already too late for them. Dah’mir’s roar fell silent and even over the ringing in his ears, Singe heard the rasp of the dragon’s inhaled breath. Dread pierced him. Dah’mir’s head whipped forward and his mouth opened. Singe whirled, trying to cover his face as if that would protect him from the dragon’s acid venom. Except that no acid came—instead of searing liquid, Dah’mir’s breath billowed around them, warm and wet. The taste of copper seeped into Singe’s mouth and nostrils and across his tongue. Abruptly the air seemed thick. It dragged on him, impeding his every sluggish move. He turned back, looked up.

  Orshok and Natrac had been caught in the dragon’s strange breath as well. They moved with such agonizing slowness that it looked almost as if they were swimming. By comparison, Dah’mir’s movements were fluid and lightning fast. Even his voice crackled in Singe’s ears, bellowing frustration turned sharp and staccato.

  Further down the hall, Chuut and half a dozen other ogres burst out from one of the side corridors, weapons drawn and alarm on their faces—alarm that only grew deeper at the sight of Dah’mir in the courtyard. One of the ogres gave a yelp of terror and staggered back, but Tzaryan was already shouting terse orders in the ogres’ deep language. Chuut recovered himself with the discipline of House Deneith training. Slapping at his squad, he drove them on across the hall and toward the corridor down which Ashi had turned.

  Herons were settling back onto the walls of the courtyard. Robrand was still standing frozen against the door he had opened, staring at Dah’mir in shock. His mouth worked in silent motion before he managed to force out words. “Dol Dorn’s mighty fist—!”

  “Collect yourself, General!” said Tzaryan. “Dah’mir is our guest.” The ogre mage turned to the dragon. “My ogres will bring them back. They won’t escape.”

  “See that they don’t.” Dah’mir’s head turned. “Don’t just stand there. This lethargy won’t last long. Seize them!”

  To Dah’mir’s left, two figures emerged from the shadows to reach for Natrac and Orshok. One was Vennet, though the half-elf’s bloodstained clothes and bright, mad eyes scarcely matched Singe’s last glimpse of him. Behind him was Chain, freed from his cell in the dungeon. And to Dah’mir’s right …

  A cold sweat broke out on Singe’s skin. At first all he saw were licking, flickering flames and glowing embers, stark against the night, then he saw past the brightness. He stared at a burning corpse, risen from ashes. And not just any corpse. Tongues of flame took the place of tendrils and tentacles. Charred flesh marked hollows in an eyeless face. Below them, a thin mouth twisted in hate.

  “No,” Singe croaked. “You’re dead.”

  Hruucan lunged forward, fiery shoulder tentacles lashing through the air. Singe tried to raise his rapier. He could feel the sluggishness inflicted by Dah’mir’s breath already starting to pass, but Hruucan had been faster than him before and now he seemed to move like the wind. One extended tentacle whirled past Singe’s face. The wizard lifted his rapier higher—and the other tentacle slammed across his belly.

  The ring that he wore on his left hand glittered greedily, devouring the heat of the flame before it could burn him, just as it had protected him from the fiery spell he had used to kill the dolgaunt. There was more than fire in Hruucan’s blow, though. The tentacle punched into his gut and seemed to wrench something out of him. A sudden flash of weakness that he felt in his very core sent him staggering back. Hruucan’s tentacles whirled up for another strike.

  “Hruucan!” snapped Dah’mir. The dragon’s wings flapped and furled, sending a gust of wind across the courtyard. His herons stirred in an echo of his irritation. “I said seize, not attack!”

  The dolgaunt froze like a serpent. “I’ve waited, Dah’mir! Give me my revenge!”

  “Wait a little longer,” Dah’mir said.

  Singe saw Robrand swallow, then dart forward. With swift efficiency, he grabbed Singe’s arm before anyone else could. Still reeling from the dolgaunt’s attack, Singe couldn’t put up any resistance. Robrand seized his arm and twisted it in a lock—for a moment bringing his lips close to Singe’s ear.

  “I didn’t know about this!” he whispered quickly. “Dol Arrah’s oath, Etan, I swear it!”

  Singe forced himself to suck in breath. “Help us!” he answered in a soft gasp. When Robrand reached for his rapier to disarm him, he let him take it.

  “I have this one, my lord,” the old man said out loud. Tzaryan nodded his approval. Hruucan hissed, but backed down.

  Chain had Orshok in his grasp and the druid’s hunda stick was on the ground. Vennet held Natrac at the end of his cutlass. His eyes flashed merrily. “Like old times, Natrac,” he said. “I like the knife. Very ingenious.”

  “Da ga shek erat,” Orshok snarled.

  Vennet’s face hardened. “Watch your tongue. I’d be happy to set you up for a matching set of cutlery.”

  He fell silent as a rumble grew out of Dah’mir’s belly. The dragon rose and paced forward. Singe could feel every footfall through the stone floor. Dah’mir looked down on them. “There’s one unaccounted for,” he said. “Where’s Geth?”

  Tzaryan repeated Robrand’s news of Geth’s flight with Ekhaas. The rumble deepened. “Find him for me, Tzaryan,” said Dah’mir. “I owe him a special debt.” He lowered his head until his eyes stared into Singe’s. “It was a mistake coming here, Singe. Once I learned where you were going, I knew exactly what you were trying to do.”

  Singe shivered as Dah’mir’s acrid breath whispered across his face. From the corner of his eye, he saw Orshok turn pale. “How did you know we were coming here?” the young orc asked. There was fear in his face. Singe felt an echo of it. Who knew they had been headed to Tzaryan Keep—or even that they were looking for the Spires of the Forge? Had Dah’mir found Bava after all? Had he somehow tracked down Batul and Krepis?

  Vennet answered for the dragon. “A good sailor obeys his captain,” he said. His lips twitched slightly. “Karth was a good sailor in the end.”

  The crusted blood that stained Vennet’s clothes. “Lightning on Water …” Singe breathed.

  Vennet turned his smile on him. “… never made it to Sharn,” he finished for him. “Although I’m sure Marolis still had her on course right up until I split him open.”

  Dread and disgust squeezed Singe’s chest. “Twelve moons, Vennet, your own crew? Your ship?”

  “A ship?” Vennet’s voice rose and broke. “What need do I have of a ship when soon I’ll have command of the wind itself?” He shrugged with his free arm and his open shirt slipped down to expose part of his shoulders and back. “Do you see the power of the Dragon Below? My dragonmark grows. By the blessing of the master of my master, I will bear the Siberys Mark of Storm!”

  Singe felt Robrand stiffen and mutter a curse of disgust. Orshok looked away. The bright pattern of Vennet’s dragonmark was red and inflamed, as if he had been scratching at it. Patches were crusted with scabs. An open sore over his shoulder blade oozed thin liquid and pus. If the mark had actually grown, though, Singe couldn’t see it.

  Dah’mir’s blunt muzzle opened in something like a grin. “I hope you found what you were looking for in Taruuzh Kraat. Do you think it was worth the price?”

  A spark of anger rekindled itself in Singe’s gut. He clenched his jaw and met the dragon’s gaze with grim determination. “We found Marg’s device and his ravings. We know Taruuzh’s story.” He narrowed his eyes and added, “We know that the magic of the binding stone is the same magic that defeated the Master of Silence. Your master.”

  Less than an armslength from his face, teeth larger than knives clashed together. “Ironic,” Dah’mir said, “isn’t it? My master’s servants will be born from his defeat.”

  Singe forced himself to stand tall when every instinct urged him to cower. “The binding stone that Marg made is broken. Dandra smashed it.”

  “So I have found.” Dah’mir’s ey
es shone. “But I studied the great stone for two hundred years. I understand the magic better than Marg ever did and I have centuries more to perfect it. I will create another.”

  “If you could,” said Singe, “you would have already.”

  Dah’mir reared back with a furious roar. Hruucan looked enraged at Singe’s defiance. His fiery tentacles struck the air like angry serpents and he lunged forward, but one of Dah’mir’s thick legs slammed down between him and Singe with such force that the stones underfoot cracked. Hruucan reeled away. Singe staggered, falling back against Robrand. Dah’mir glared down at him. “I didn’t have Dandra and Tektashtai to study before.”

  Singe swallowed and staggered back to his feet. “You still don’t!”

  “Be glad of that,” Dah’mir said, grinding the words between his teeth, “or I would already have given you to Hruucan.”

  The sound of heavy running echoed from the side corridor down which Chuut and his squad had pursued Ashi and Dandra. Moments later, the ogres burst into the long hall. Dandra and Ashi weren’t with them. Chuut slid to a stop and dropped to one knee before Tzaryan. “My lord, they tricked us. We lost them.”

  For a moment, Singe felt a surge of hope. Dah’mir’s growl rumbled on the air. Tzaryan looked furious—and embarassed. “General, take command. I’ll take charge of your prisoner,” the ogre mage said, striding forward. Singe’s heart froze as he reached for him. “Turn the patrols you have looking for Ekhaas and Geth and set them after Dandra and Ashi. I want the keep searched—”

  “No,” said Dah’mir.

  Tzaryan paused in midstride. “Dah’mir?”

  “Searching will take too much time. I want Dandra found now.” The dragon eased himself back. His eyes flashed. “Chain!”

  The big man flinched. Dah’mir glared at him. “Earn your rescue. You carry the Mark of Finding—find me Dandra!”

  Dandra was dimly aware of the corridor that Ashi ran down, twisting and turning around corners, flashing from torchlight to shadow and back to torchlight. She was somewhat more aware of the discomfort as the hunter’s shoulder dug into her belly with each swift pace. She also knew that Singe and the others weren’t with them—that while Ashi’s quick reactions might have saved the two of them, the others had been left behind to face Dah’mir’s wrath, caught by Tzaryan’s treachery. There wasn’t anything she could do about it, though. The farther they fled from Dah’mir, the more her head cleared, sloughing off the shroud of the dragon’s influence. Unfortunately, her release was Tetkashtai’s release as well.

  She felt like a tiny vessel on the middle of an ocean storm as her creator raged around her. Tetkashtai! Dandra shouted, trying to calm her down. Tetkashtai!

  Her thoughts were butterflies to the hurricane of Tetkashtai’s terror and Dandra felt a flash of fear herself. Back in Zarash’ak, she’d told Singe that every episode of panic seemed to take the presence closer to the brink of true madness. Abandoning any effort to soothe Tetkashtai, she wrenched herself away. Or attempted to. It was like trying to rip a limb from between the teeth of a beast. Tetkashtai shrieked, dragging her back. In desperation, Dandra drew up a memory of Dah’mir—acid-green eyes shining—and flung it at her.

  Tetkashtai’s screams rose and she flinched back. Dandra slammed the gates of her mind, trappping the presence outside them. Echoes of Tetkashtai’s terror rang in her ears. Dandra threw her will against them and blocked them out. For a moment, her thoughts were her own.

  And she realized that Ashi’s footsteps weren’t the only ones she could hear.

  Dandra raised her head and tried to look behind them. Far back, a squad of ogres swung around a corner. One—Chuut, she realized—saw them and let out a deep shout.

  “Il-Yannah,” Dandra cursed. She twisted around in Ashi’s grip. “Ashi! Let me down!”

  “Wait.” Dandra whirled in the air as Ashi slid around another corner—

  —and came to a sharp stop. “Rond betch!” she spat and swung Dandra off her shoulder. Dandra turned around and stared.

  The passage continued on but the torches they had followed were gone. The corridor ahead was pitch dark. To their right, stairs plunged down into darkness as well. To their left, a stout door stood closed. Ashi snarled and whirled, staring at their options with wild eyes. “We can’t go on. Even if we had a torch, the ogres would see the light!”

  Dandra spun to the door, reaching for the handle. There was no way of knowing what lay beyond it, but at least it was a hiding place—but if the ogres didn’t see a light retreating down either the darkened hallway or the stairs, wouldn’t the door be the first place they’d look? Her hand dropped. She turned back to Ashi. A glance at the hunter’s face told her that she had realized the same thing.

  Ashi had her spear clutched in her hand. She thrust it at her and Dandra took it, raising her chin in determination. Ashi bared her teeth and drew her sword, the bright blade shining in the dim light. Neither of them said anything. The pounding footsteps of their pursuers closed in. Dandra moved to face the turn in the corridor, stepping up onto the air and skimming the ground, ready to fight. Raising a hand, she reached into herself to call up the fierce energy of whitefire. The first ogre around the corner was going to burn.

  Instead of whitefire’s droning chorus, all that filled her was Tetkashtai’s mad terror. It lanced through her, tearing a gasp from her throat as she fought it back. She stumbled, her feet dropping hard to the ground. Ashi’s hand whipped out and caught her before she could fall.

  “Dandra!”

  Dandra shook her head, struggling to clear her mind. “It’s Tetkashtai!” She tried to summon the concentration to lift herself off the ground once more, but the presence was like a drowning person, dragging on her mind. Dandra beat her back, but yellow-green light seemed to force itself into the corners of her eyes. Through the glare, she saw Ashi swing toward the sound of the approaching ogres like a cornered animal.

  To their side, the door that they had seen and rejected as a hiding place swung open. Ekhaas leaned out through the door frame, gesturing for them. “Inside! Quickly!”

  Ashi snarled, but Dandra shoved her toward the door. She felt no trust for the hobgoblin, but Ekhaas was no friend to the treacherous Tzaryan Rrac—and if Robrand was right, at least Geth had found some reason to set her free. “In!”

  “The ogres will look in here!” the hunter said.

  “No, they won’t.” Ekhaas reached out and grabbed her arm, hauling her through the door. Dandra slipped through on her heels. The hobgoblin held the door open for a moment longer. Her free hand gestured and Dandra caught a snatch of deep, swelling song. Two flickering lights flared over her palm. With a quick motion, Ekhaas hurled them into the darkness of the hallway, then pulled the door almost shut, leaving it open just enough to peer out. Through that thin crack, Dandra could just see Ekhaas’s lights receeding down the dark passage—exactly like torches carried by running fugitives.

  The sound of heavy footsteps and ogre voices filled the corridor outside. Dandra heard Chuut give another shout and order the ogres onward. In moments, their pursuers had hurtled past them.

  “Quickly,” said Ekhaas. “We don’t have much time. The lights won’t last long. Down the stairs. Take my hand and I’ll guide you.” She pushed the door wide, then reached back and grabbed something from the shadows. The dim light in the hallway struck flashes of purple from a heavy byeshk sword. Geth’s sword.

  Fear and anger rose in Dandra’s throat. Her spear darted forward, point quivering a finger’s width from Ekhaas’s side. “What’s going on here?” Dandra hissed. “Where’s Geth? The General said he and you fled together!”

  Ekhaas didn’t move, though her yellow eyes narrowed and her ears twitched back. “The General lies. Geth is in Tzaryan’s dungeon—with Lor.”

  Dandra blinked. Ekhaas’s breath hissed. She pushed Dandra’s spear away, then stretched out her hand. Out of sight down the corridor, ogre voices rose in confusion. Ekhaas’s ears flicked. “Decide!
Geth is in danger. You have my word on that.”

  Dandra glanced at Ashi. The hunter’s eyes were hard and suspicious, but she nodded. Dandra clenched her teeth and took Ekhaas’s hand. “We’re all in danger.”

  “Be silent until I tell you it’s safe.” Ekhaas led them—Dandra’s hand in hers, Ashi’s hand on the shaft of Dandra’s spear—across the corridor and down the stairs. The light of the hallway vanished. In the dark, the oversized steps of the stairs were even more treacherous, but Ekhaas descended with rapid urgency. They reached the bottom just as the sound of Chuut and his ogres echoed again along the corridor above. Ekhaas shoved Dandra and Ashi back against a wall and let go off Dandra’s hand. Once again, the hobgoblin sang and two more tongues of flame, identical to the first two, appeared above her palm. This time, however, the flick of Ekhaas’s hand left them hanging in the air at the bottom of the stairs. Dandra choked back a curse. Ekhaas was going to draw the ogres right to them!

  Up above, harsh words became excited at the sight of the flames below. Footsteps started down the stairs—only to stop at a command from Chuut. An argument erupted, then ended with the sound of a closed fist on a thick skull. Chuut growled another command and heavy footsteps charged away, back along the corridor in the direction they had all first come.

  In the lights of the flames, Dandra could see Ekhaas’s face. Her ears stood high and she looked pleased with herself. From behind Dandra, Ashi said softly, “Are you mad? You almost brought them right after us!”

  Ekhaas gave a disdainful snort. “You don’t speak their language, do you? For an ogre, Chuut is smart—but not that smart. I knew he’d think the lights were just another distraction. We’re safe for now.”