Word of Traitors: Legacy of Dhakaan - Book 2 Read online

  “You’re going to leave Midian to Tariic? And what about finding Geth? You need me!”

  “I don’t need you.” Aruget’s voice warbled like the voice of a boy becoming a man, then settled into its normal pitch and accent. “I can find Geth. And I told you, Midian can take care of himself.” Eyes that had been green and were now deep brown flecked with orange studied her. “You’re vulnerable, Ashi. Both Makka and Tariic are after you now. If you really want to help Geth—and Ekhaas and Dagii—you run, and you keep yourself alive. If you want to stay, though, you’re on your own. I can’t hold your hand anymore.” He adjusted his armor on a once-more bulky frame. “Does Vounn have a plan for getting you to safety?”

  Churning confusion and boiling anger settled into a sick feeling in the pit of Ashi’s stomach. Benti … Aruget … whoever the changeling was, there was hard truth in his words. Geth had vanished, Midian was gone, Ekhaas and Dagii were far away. Vounn wouldn’t be able to help her either. She’d already told her what she would have to do if Tariic’s soldiers came for her. Aruget would look for Geth and the rod. Her usefulness was over—it was time to retreat from the fight.

  “Pater d’Orien,” she said. “Vounn told him I may be called back to Karrlakton. He’s agreed to use his dragonmark to take me there.”

  “Then I hope he’s willing to see late night visitors.” Aruget eased the door of the room open again and peered out cautiously.

  Ashi caught his arm. “Wait. What’s your real name?” she asked.

  He smiled and his ears flicked. “Whatever one belongs to the face I’m wearing,” he said.

  They moved swiftly between floors, dashing down the stairs and ducking into doors whenever a guard appeared—and there were more guards roaming the halls than Ashi had ever seen before.

  There was no point going back to her chambers. Daavn would have anticipated that. Vounn had probably been woken already. Ashi was doubly glad she’d kept the meeting a secret. The lady seneschal would at least be able to tell the truth in saying she had no idea where Ashi had gone.

  “How do we get out? The exits are going to be guarded.” Ashi murmured in Aruget’s ear as they crouched in another dusty room, waiting for a guard to pass.

  “If you can’t be silent,” Aruget answered with a sly smile, “make a lot of noise.”

  He led her away from the grand areas of the castle into a region of narrow corridors thick with the smell of cooking. They were near the kitchens. “When Ko kidnapped Vounn, he brought her this way,” said Ashi. “Tariic won’t forget to guard the back gate.”

  Aruget’s ears twitched. “Kitchens contain many interesting things.”

  “Knives.”

  “Cauldrons. Kettles. Noon paste. Korluaat.”

  She looked at him questioningly. He shook his head. “This is something I’ll do more quickly alone.” He hurried her past a wide, high vaulted passage that led to the even wider caverns of the kitchens and down another. A pair of big doors, plain and scarred from frequent use, emerged from the gloom. Wet footprints showed on the stone of the floor—the doors opened to the outside of Khaar Mbar’ost and they’d been used recently. There would be guards on the other side.

  Aruget went to a smaller door in the wall of the corridor and pushed it open, scanning the darkness inside. “Storeroom. Wait for me here and be ready to run. If I’m wearing a different face, I’ll wink. If I don’t come, get out on your own.”

  Ashi stepped into the storeroom and was enveloped in the smell of unseen vegetables. She glanced back at Aruget. “Ko couldn’t see in the dark as Geth. How can you see in the dark as Aruget?”

  “Let me keep some secrets.” He closed the door on her, leaving it open only a finger’s width. His footsteps, so quiet that if he hadn’t been wearing armor she probably wouldn’t have heard them at all, went back along the passage.

  Ashi squatted down in the shadows and tried to recapture the same patience and alertness she’d felt while waiting for the meeting on the rooftop. “Ashi, daughter of Ner,” she murmured under her breath, “son of Kagan, son of Tyman, son of Joherra, daughter of Wroenna, daughter of Maal …”

  Time stretched out. Patience didn’t come and there was no need to stave off weariness—Ashi didn’t feel like she’d ever sleep again. She should have asked Aruget to bring a knife from the kitchen for her. A crude blade was better than no weapon at all.

  There would be questions when she returned to Karrlakton. The lords of House Deneith would want to know why she had come back so suddenly. What would she tell them? What could she tell them? What would she do—?

  Running footsteps echoed in the passage. Ashi pushed herself to her feet and backed into the darkness of the storeroom. But when the door swung open, the dim lights beyond shone on Aruget. He dived inside, pulling the door almost closed behind him.

  “Aruget,” she whispered, “what—?”

  Anything she might have said was lost in an incredible boom that sounded as if someone had thrown a massive bell against the wall of the fortress. It was followed by a tremendous crash of collapsing metal. A quavering shriek started up, stretching on and on without pause.

  One of Aruget’s hands found hers. The other pressed itself over her mouth. Out in the passage, the big outer doors were flung open and booted feet raced by. The opening of the outer doors nudged the door of the storeroom a little wider and Ashi caught a glimpse of hobgoblin guards running for the kitchen with drawn swords. The open doors also drew warm air from inside the fortress. Suddenly she could smell smoke, weirdly scented and stinging.

  “Go!” said Aruget. He released her and leaped for the storeroom door. She followed close behind.

  Two unlucky guards lingered in the open doors. One saw them and opened his mouth to shout. Aruget’s sword took him across the belly and then back across the throat in two swift cuts. Ashi dealt the other one a hard punch to the jaw that spun him around and dropped him to his knees. Aruget turned and swung his sword a third time. The guard’s head leaped from his neck and rolled back into the passage. His body toppled to the side. Ashi started.

  “Did you have to kill him?”

  “Yes.” Aruget jumped for the doors, dragging them shut. “There’s an outer gate—open it!”

  Beyond a jutting roof that gave shelter to the doors, rain came down in cascades, turning the small courtyard beyond into a vast black puddle. Ashi splashed her way through it. The outer wall of the courtyard was simple brick, meant to keep out trespassers more than to repel attackers. There were no guards—they must have all been huddled near the inner doors to stay dry. Heavy wooden doors in the brick wall were held shut only by a thick beam. Ashi grasped the rain-slicked wood, clenched her teeth, and hauled the beam free of one door before letting it drop. They didn’t need both doors open to escape. The freed door swung wide with only a tug. Aruget joined her and, side by side, they dashed through the gate and ran out into Rhukaan Draal.

  The night was very dark. Wind-driven rain soaked Ashi’s clothes entirely. Aruget led her through a maze of sidestreets and alleys, always away from Khaar Mbar’ost but never in a straight line. Ashi flipped wet hair out of her face, wiped water from her eyes, and stayed with him. Once she thought she heard the sounds of pursuit, but they were gone as quickly as they appeared.

  “What did you do in the kitchen?” she said.

  “Korluaat poured inside a cauldron,” Aruget gasped. His breathing was more labored than hers, but he carried the weight of his armor and of a larger body. “Another cauldron jammed over top with noon paste to seal the gap. Set over the fire with a rag for a fuse.” He drew a ragged breath. “More pots piled around them. Kettle stopped up with cork and a bit of metal. Spice jars on the coals. No more questions.” He sucked in more air. “Bloody hobgoblins—not built for running!”

  They splashed through puddles that stank like sewers and others that were already as deep as her shins. She stumbled over unseen obstacles and Aruget dragged her to her feet. They didn’t slow. Cold from her wet c
lothes numbed her skin, beaten back temporarily by the heat of exertion. Faces flicked past in the shadows beneath eaves and stairs—people without homes or simply those caught in the storm, seeking out any shelter they could.

  It seemed like they’d been running half the night before the alley they followed opened onto a broad street running with water. Rain and shadow rendered it as anonymous as all of the others at first, but then Aruget slowed to a stumbling, wheezing walk and pointed ahead. Ashi looked—and a complex of buildings enclosed by a stout wall seemed to resolve out of the night. Beside tall iron gates, a crest depicting the head of a unicorn was illuminated by a muted but steady magical light.

  The Orien compound. Ashi grabbed Aruget’s arm and all but dragged him the rest of the way. “Enough,” he gasped. “Let me go!”

  She released him and seized the gates by their heavy bars instead. They were locked, of course. The compound beyond was broad and lit by a few everbright lanterns that shone steady through the rain. Empty wagons were drawn up against outbuildings, and she could smell the animal odor of horses and tribex. No people—human, hobgoblin, or otherwise—were visible, however. They were probably taking shelter.

  Ashi rattled the gates. “Is anyone there?” she shouted. “I need to see Viceroy Pater d’Orien! It’s urgent!”

  An iron rod was chained at one side of the gate. She seized it and hammered on the gates until they rang like chimes. “I am here on an urgent matter concerning Deneith and Orien!”

  There was no response. None at all. She lifted the rod again and struck the gates harder. “Pater! Pater!”

  A door opened, light flooding across the compound. A stiff-looking man in the uniform of a servant darted out into the rain and ran to the gates. Ashi recognized him from visits to the Orien compound—he was Tars, Pater’s manservant. His eyes were frightened and his mouth set tight. He slid to a stop at the gate and thrust a paper through the bars at her. “No one will answer you,” he said.

  He glanced over his shoulder and stiffened. Another figure stood in the doorway. A hobgoblin warrior, armed and armored. For a moment it looked like he might come out into the compound but the fat form of Pater d’Orien appeared and drew him back. The viceroy threw a glance over his shoulder. Ashi couldn’t tell if it was meant for her or his manservant. Tars shuddered. The paper slipped from his fingers and he fled back inside.

  Ashi clung to the gate, cold metal pressing wet clothes against her skin. An armed hobgoblin inside the Orien compound. One of Tariic’s soldiers? Almost certainly. Now that she’d seen him, she saw other things. A horse, still wearing saddle and bridle, tucked into the shelter of an overhanging eave when every other beast was in a stable. A comfortably dry gatehouse that stood empty. Faces that peered from darkened windows but made no move to answer her call.

  Aruget bent and scooped the paper Tars had brought out of a puddle. His eyes skimmed over it. His ears lay flat. “Ashi.” He pushed the paper into her hands.

  A gust of wind tore at it and she had to stretch it tight, leaning into the torchlight that came through the gate to read it. Water was already making the ink run but she could make out what it said easily enough.

  By decree of Lhesh Tariic Kurar’taarn, Ashi d’Deneith is accused of the murder of a soldier of Darguun. To offer her aid or interfere in her arrest is an offense to the throne and the people of Darguun.

  The warning was repeated in the dark letters of Goblin, but it had been written in the script of humans first. A deliberate warning to Pater.

  “He knew,” Ashi breathed. “Tariic knew! Who told him?”

  Hoofbeats sounded over the patter of rain and the rush of wind. Ashi’s head snapped up. Fear punched into her gut. One soldier sent to the compound as a messenger to prevent her escape—and a whole squad sent after to trap her. She whirled. “Aruget, we have to—”

  She stood alone. Aruget was gone.

  Six hobgoblins on horseback burst out of the darkness, swords drawn, the hooves of their mounts sending up sprays of water. They came to stop in a semi-circle around her, trapping her against the gates. One of them walked his horse forward a little and pointed his sword at her.

  He didn’t have to say anything. Wet, shivering, and unarmed, Ashi crumpled the paper in her hand as she raised her head to meet his gaze.

  “Geth.” Hands shook him hard. “Geth, wake up! There are horsemen outside.”

  Sleep burned away like shadows in the sun. Geth opened his eyes and sat up. Tenquis’s workshop spun around him for a moment as his mind made the leap from drowsing to alertness. He’d fallen asleep in a big stuffed chair. The workshop was still brightly lit. Tenquis was still dressed. The table where they had eaten earlier in the day was now carefully laid with the tools for tomb breaking.

  And the sound of rain was overwhelmed by the clatter of hooves.

  Geth jumped up. He still wore his great gauntlet, though Wrath had been laid aside. He seized it. The blade seemed alert and happy, ready for its chosen hero’s moment of glory. He cursed the ancient sword. “How late is it?” he asked Tenquis.

  “Most of the way through the second watch, I think.” The tiefling dashed around his workshop with quick movements, stuffing papers and trinkets into the pockets of his long embroidered vest. His tail lashed furiously. “This is Tariic, isn’t it? He figured you out—or someone gave you away.”

  Geth didn’t answer that. Outside, hoofbeats had given way to footsteps. He pointed at the tool-covered table. “Get rid of those!”

  Tenquis leaped to the table. His eyes flicked over it and he added a few more things to his pockets—then took up a heavy steel pry bar and jabbed it into an inner pocket of his vest as well. The massive shaft slid out of sight without even shifting the fabric. Tenquis gripped the collar of his vest, whispered a word, and the labyrinthine pattern of embroidery that decorated the garment seemed to writhe. Any hint of bulging pockets vanished. “Safe,” Tenquis hissed between his teeth, then he seized the edge of the table and heaved, overturning it and sending the remaining tools skittering across the floor in an anonymous jumble.

  The crash brought an exclamation from those outside—and a command to attack. “Get out one of the back windows!” Geth shouted at Tenquis.

  “They don’t open!”

  The twin doors of the old barn burst in a shower of splinters under the shoulders of two big bugbears. Geth roared and charged to meet them, sweeping Wrath ahead of him. The twilight blade tore into the flesh of one of the bugbears, but the other managed to duck aside. A hairy fist wrapped in rings of scarred brass punched at him. Geth snapped up his gauntlet and brass screeched across black steel. Geth kicked the bugbear’s shins and followed up with another swing of Wrath that forced the Darguul to jump back.

  But more soldiers were pushing through the door, and hobgoblin hands were tearing at the shutters over the front windows of the barn. Geth saw Tenquis bare his teeth and snatch a slim wand from a workbench. Shifting to one side of the fight, he flicked the wand with one hand and, with the other, dashed the contents of a tiny vial into the air. Pale liquid leaped like something alive, flying farther than it should have and splashing in a ragged line under the windows and before the door. Thick greenish vapors rose up from it, a smoky curtain that brought shrieks of pain from the hobgoblins who thrust arms and faces through the broken windows.

  “Paaldaask!” someone shouted. Spellcaster!

  Four hobgoblins had made it through the door before Tenquis’s curtain had risen. Two charged for the tiefling while the other two moved warily to aid the bugbears menacing Geth. The shifter growled and made a low feint at the bugbear he’d wounded before. The soldier stumbled back, getting in the way of one of the hobgoblins, and Geth turned the feint into a whirling attack that brought him up inside the reach of the other bugbear. His armored fist drove hard into the Darguul’s gut. The bugbear wore a heavy leather jerkin but the blow still doubled him over and sent him reeling.

  Geth stayed with him, pressing the attack. His foot ca
me down on something hard and round—one of the spilled tools from the overturned table. Already pulled off balance by the swinging weight of Wrath, he staggered.

  The doubled-over bugbear lunged at him, big arms spread wide. Geth tried to twist out of the way, but the bugbear crashed into him and slammed him to the floor. Wrath flew from his hand. Instantly, the other soldiers were on him as well. They all carried clubs or weighted saps and didn’t hesitate to mix their blows with hard kicks. Geth tried to ward them off with a sweep of his gauntlet, but a bugbear caught his arm and held it back.

  Geth caught a glimpse of Tenquis, wand stripped from his grasp and struggling with his own assailants, before a well-placed blow from a leather-wrapped club set his ears ringing and dark spots dancing before his eyes. Waves of nausea rolled through him, and he barely felt the pain as both arms were jerked behind his back and bound.

  The door of the lhesh’s chambers opened, and Daavn, dripping water onto the rich carpets, strode in. “Geth and Ashi are captured, along with the tiefling artificer,” he said. “We found no sign of Aruget. He may have fled in shame.”

  “He doesn’t matter.” Tariic sat in a vast chair, fully dressed in spite of the hour. “Geth and Ashi are the ones I wanted. Especially Geth. Did he have the rod?”

  “He wasn’t carrying it. I searched the tiefling’s workshop, but I couldn’t find it. I have guards standing watch over the place, ready for you.” Daavn paused and added. “You don’t have to search yourself, Tariic. You’re the lhesh. There are soldiers I trust, clever goblins—”

  “No!” Tariic sat forward and his voice cracked like a whip. “I will search for the Rod of Kings. It’s mine. No one else is to so much as touch it.”

  Daavn flinched, then ducked his head. “Mazo, lhesh.”

  Tariic sat back in his chair. He glanced at Makka—and Makka glanced down at the prisoner he held by one shoulder.