The Grieving Tree: The Dragon Below Book II Read online

  “You’re not holding anybody,” he said. “First—that’s Robrand.” The wizard pulled Geth’s sword arm down, then pointed at Tzaryan. “Second—he’s an ogre mage. He can fly. Your sword’s not stopping him.”

  Geth looked confused, then bared his teeth. “What’s he still doing here then?”

  “I didn’t become a warlord of Droaam by not knowing when to talk instead of fight,” said Tzaryan. He drew himself up straight and his black eyes glittered. “Dah’mir abandoned me. I can’t forgive that. You’re no friends to me, but it seems to me that the greatest revenge I can inflict on him is to let you go.”

  “Let us go?” asked Geth. He started to raise his sword, but Singe pushed it down again.

  “Agreed,” he said. He stepped aside and gestured for the ogre mage to leave. Tzaryan bent his head.

  “I’ll leave horses and your gear by the gates of my keep. Take them and ride. I don’t want to see you again.” He looked at Ekhaas and added, “You would be wise to go, too. My ogres are going to have orders to kill you on sight.”

  Ekhaas’s ears stood up straight and her hand twitched toward her sword, but Tzaryan turned his back on her and strode toward the stairs out of the great chamber. After a few paces, though, he paused and glanced over his shoulder, frowning. “General, aren’t you coming with me?”

  Dandra saw surprise pass over Robrand’s face. “My lord? I failed you.”

  “My ogres failed me, General,” said Tzaryan. “They ran. You’re still here.”

  Robrand stiffened and stood tall. “My feelings for Etan led me to conceal what I knew of his purpose here, my lord.”

  Tzaryan’s eyes narrowed. “You said that you had given them no information or aid to dishonor our contract. Is that the truth?”

  Robrand nodded tightly.

  Tzaryan’s wide mouth curved into a somber frown. “Knowledge is gold to those who value it,” he said, “and I value what the lords of Deneith would cast aside. But your old command is gone, Robrand. I expect your full loyalty. Say your farewells.”

  Robrand gave him another curt nod and turned to Singe. To Dandra it seemed that the hard, cold man she had first met in Vralkek had returned—the warm friend who had shared stories with them on the road was gone once more. Singe seemed to see that change, too. For a moment, he looked lost. “Robrand,” he said, “you don’t have to stay. Come with us. I understand why you didn’t think you could do anything—”

  The old man’s lined face tightened. “If you understood, Etan, you wouldn’t speak of it. I have a contract to honor. And you—” His eyes darted past Singe to rest briefly on Geth. “—you have friends.”

  Singe’s lips pressed together for a moment, then he stood respect and bent his head. “It was a pleasure to serve with you, commander,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You are the most honorable man I’ve ever known.”

  An image of Geth, bound and bloodied in Tzaryan’s dungeon, rose in Dandra’s memory and anger made her catch her breath. Geth, though, glanced over his shoulder and shook his head sharply. Don’t say anything, he mouthed silently. Dandra reached out and touched his mind with kesh. Why not? she demanded.

  Because Singe doesn’t need to know right now, Geth told her. He’s already saying good-bye to a hero.

  Dandra watched Robrand return Singe’s nod—and turn away, falling in at Tzaryan’s side and climbing out of the great chamber without saying anything more. Pain filled Singe’s eyes as he watched his old commander go. Dandra’s anger faded. She stepped forward and put her hand on Singe’s shoulder. “We should leave, too,” she said.

  The night was cool when they stepped out of Taruuzh Kraat. Dandra, Geth, and Ekhaas stared in amazement at the open trench that the entrance to ancient ruins had become. “Dah’mir,” Singe said wearily.

  “Khaavolaar,” said Ekhaas.

  Singe looked out into the night. Dah’mir’s herons were gone, perhaps after their vanished master. Tzaryan and Robrand were already distant figures, well on their way back to the looming bulk of Tzaryan Keep. The old man and the ogre mage had made much better time through the long passage than their wounded group had. He looked back at the others and counted the toll that their confrontation had taken. He felt weak, his very spirit lashed by Hruucan’s draining touch. Dandra was battered and bruised and looked utterly exhausted. Geth was as bloody as a surgeon and held his gauntlet arm gingerly. Natrac looked pale and drained. Thanks to Ekhaas’s magic, Orshok was conscious again, but the druid would need more healing before he could walk—Ekhaas and Ashi carried him between them. Only the hunter and the hobgoblin had escaped injury.

  And injuries weren’t the highest price they had paid. Although they’d been strangely vague about how they’d come to join together and make their escape from Tzaryan Keep, Dandra and Geth had told him everything they’d discovered in the caves. Singe looked up at the moons and stars overheard, at the Ring of Siberys bright in the southern sky, and tried to hold back a grimace. He failed.

  “What is it?” Dandra asked.

  Singe’s shoulders slumped and he looked back at her. “We’re back where we were after the Bonetree mound,” he said. “Dah’mir is gone and we’re helpless.”

  “He probably thinks we’re dead this time, though,” said Natrac. “We don’t have to worry about him looking for us—or for Dandra.”

  “I’d rather he was,” Dandra said. She planted the charred shaft of her spear in the ground. “It would mean I was still his only link to raising a new line of servants for his master. Now he’s got Taruuzh’s stones.”

  A wave of exhaustion passed through Singe. A big chunk of mortared stones torn from Taruuzh Kraat’s walls lay nearby. He sat down on it and rested his forehead on his palms. His fingers tangled in his hair. “We were so close. We found out so much and Dah’mir still beat us. Now we’ve lost him again. It’s just like before. He’s gone and we don’t know where he is.”

  “We have a clue though,” said Geth.

  Singe raised his head sharply to look at the shifter. The others turned to look at him as well. Geth put his hand on the hilt of his Dhakaani sword. “It looks like Goblin isn’t the only language Wrath understands. Whatever language that was that Dah’mir spoke to Hruucan in before he and Vennet vanished, Wrath put his words into my head. Dah’mir told Hruucan to meet him in the bright blade after we were dead.”

  “The bright blade?” Singe asked. “What’s that?”

  “Not what,” said Ekhaas. “Where. Wrath translated Dah’mir’s words too well.” The hobgoblin raised her head proudly. “In Goblin, ‘bright blade’ is ja’shaarat—and Ja’shaarat was one of the greatest cities of the Empire of Dhakaan.”

  “Where is it?” asked Geth.

  “Beneath a human city,” Ekhaas said. “Ja’shaarat became the foundations of Sharn.”

  “Light of il-Yannah.” Horror bloomed on Dandra’s face. “Sharn holds the largest population of kalashtar in Khorvaire! That must be why Dah’mir’s gone there.” She stood straight. “We have to stop him. We have to warn the kalashtar.”

  “Kalashtar aren’t the only ones in danger.” Orshok struggled to sit up in Ekhaas’s and Ashi’s arms. His eyes were bright and sharp with lingering pain, but determined as well. “The Gatekeepers need to know that the Master of Silence is active!”

  Singe sucked in his breath and looked at Dandra and Geth. “Which one?”

  “Both,” Geth said grimly. “We’re going to have to split up.” His eyes shifted between Singe and Dandra. “You two go to Sharn. I’ll go to the Shadow Marches with Orshok and find Batul.” He glanced at Ashi. “You know the Marches, too—”

  The hunter shook her head. “I need to stay with Dandra,” she said. She held up her free hand and the swirls of her dragonmark seemed to dance in the moonlight. “I’m the only one who can protect her from Dah’mir’s power.”

  “I’ll go to Sharn, too,” said Natrac. The half-orc moved to stand beside Singe. “It’s been a while, but I still know the
city.”

  Singe nodded. Geth growled under his breath. “Two of us. I guess it doesn’t take more than that to carry news—”

  “Three,” Ekhaas said abruptly. Geth started and Singe raised his eyebrows. Ekhaas’s ears twitched back. “I know the stories,” she said. “Someone needs to tell the Gatekeepers their history.”

  Geth spread his hands. “Three, then.”

  Singe felt a plan rising inside him, pushing back the despair he had felt only moments before. They weren’t helpless anymore and Dah’mir hadn’t gotten away from them after all—at least not entirely. They still had a task ahead of them. He pushed himself up from his seat. “We can take the road back to Vralkek,” he said. “We’ll be there in a few days and we should be able to find some kind of transport to Sharn and Zarash’ak.”

  Ekhaas shook her head. “Unless you find a Lyrandar elemental galleon again, a ship to Zarash’ak will take you almost as long as traveling overland.” She pointed off to the northwest. “I know this part of Droaam. I can get us to the edge of the Shadow Marches.”

  “And I know the Marches,” said Orshok. “We can travel fast. Going back to Vralkek would be a waste of time for us.”

  Silence fell over the group as the druid’s words sank into each of them. “So,” said Dandra after a moment, “we part here.”

  “Aye,” said Geth. “I suppose so. After we collect our gear from the keep.” He rocked from foot to foot uncomfortably. “I’ll send a message if I can. House Orien post from Zarash’ak to Sharn.”

  “Send it to the Deneith enclave in Deathsgate district. I know a Blademarks recruiter there.” Singe looked at Geth—then swallowed his pride and stepped up to the shifter. “Geth, I’m sorry for what I said in Tzaryan’s dungeon. I shouldn’t have told everyone about Narath like that.”

  Geth stiffened and Singe hurried to force out everything he wanted to say. “You weren’t ready to talk and I wasn’t ready to listen. I think I am now. Whatever happened in Narath, I’ve realized something. I know you’re no coward.” He spread his arms and said again, “I’m sorry.”

  For a moment, Geth just stared at him with hard, flat eyes and Singe wondered if maybe he shouldn’t have said anything at all.

  Then Geth lunged forward, wrapping his arms around him, and squeezing him in a rib-cracking embrace. “Took you long enough, you bastard!” he said. Singe wheezed from the pressure and staggered when Geth let him go, but the shifter swung an arm around his shoulders and held him up, leaning close to murmur in his ear, “Tak.”

  “You’re welcome.” Singe straightened up painfully.

  EPILOGUE

  There had been no more trouble since the Revered had returned to the ancestor mound, then vanished again, taking his fiery Hand with him. Still, Breff had seen enough to be wary. For three days and nights after the Revered’s brief appearance, he’d sat watch in a hidden place among the remains of the Bonetree camp, staring at the scorched battlefield before the mound, watching corpses fester and the scavengers come to call. Just before dawn after the third night, he’d risen, weak with hunger and delirious from lack of sleep, and made his way across the battlefield. Ravens and jackals had watched him pass, not even bothering to rise from their decaying feast.

  At the mouth of the mound, he’d kindled a new honor fire and sat with it, half-dreading the reappearance of the dolgaunt with his flaming tentacles. Nothing happened though and as the sun rose, he had let loose one of the fluting calls of the Bonetree clan. The camp was safe again. The clan could return.

  There hadn’t been much to return to, but there wasn’t much left of the clan, either. They’d moved into the charred remnants of the camp, buried their dead and scoured the battlefield, and begun to reclaim their lives.

  As the moons soared overhead on the finest night for many weeks, Breff sat back beside a campfire, his favorite drinking bowl—recovered from the burned camp—in his hand, and looked up at the sky. He was the huntmaster now. The clan was his to command, to keep ready for the Revered’s return. If the Revered returned …

  He buried the thought. The Revered would return. He hadn’t abandoned the Bonetree, no matter what some of the hunters who had fled after the fiery Hand’s attacks might have said. “Su Drumas,” he murmured to himself, “Su Darasvhir.” For the Bonetree. For the Dragon Below.

  He sipped from the bowl. It held only water flavored with rotto stem. His first command to the clan, he decided, would be to begin brewing beer again. His second would be to track down and bring back the cowards who had fled—

  His eyes happened to be on the ancestor mound when silver-white light burst out of the air in front of it.

  Breff jumped so sharply that water sprayed his face and ran down his chest, but he was on his feet in an instant. In the moonlight, he could see a dark figure staggering drunkenly before the mound. It fell, forced itself up, then fell again.

  Others in the camp had seen the light, too. There were shouts of fear. The few surviving dogs that had stayed with the clan broke into mad howls. Those inside tents and makeshift huts threw themselves at thin walls; those outside fled into the night.

  Breff watched the strange figure take another staggering step—then vanish into a second flare of light. The glare winked out but something lingered on the air for a moment longer, a wordless song like distant knife blades falling in a ringing, musical cascade.

  A hunter barely old enough to have earned the name rushed up to him out of the shadows. “Breff! Tokrii eche?” she said in panic.

  Cold fear spread through Breff’s belly. Coming back to the camp and the mound had been a mistake. Maybe the hunters who had fled were right. Maybe the Revered had abandoned them. His eyes swept the night and he snatched up his drinking bowl.

  “Che bo gri lanano ani teith,” he whispered.

  They’d been wrong to come back here. The mound was cursed—he wouldn’t keep the clan here to suffer another attack by the fiery Hand or something even worse. He turned and pushed past the young hunter, running through the recently restored camp and shouting orders for the last remnants of the Bonetree to gather their belongings and prepare to flee.

  GLOSSARY

  Adar: A small nation on the continent of Sarlona. Homeland of the kalashtar.

  Adolan: A druid of the Gatekeeper sect, killed in the Bonetree clan’s attack on Bull Hollow.

  Ashi: A former hunter of the Bonetree, she has turned her back on the clan after discovering her descent from House Deneith. She wields a ceremonial honor blade granted to her ancestor by House Deneith.

  ashi: A dark gold reed. The inhabitants of the Shadow Marches use its starchy pith to make a type of bread.

  Aundair: One of the original Five Nations of Galifar, Aundair houses the seat of the Arcane Congress and the University of Wyrnarn. Currently under the rule of Queen Aurala ir’Wyrnarn.

  Azhani: The language shared by the human clans of the Shadow Marches.

  ban: A goblin expression of non-commital agreement, roughly equivalent to “yeah” or “your funeral.”

  Barrel, the: An inn and taproom in Vralkek.

  Batul: An elder orc druid of the Gatekeeper sect and the spiritual leader of the Fat Tusk tribe. He is blind in one eye, but gifted with prophetic dreams.

  Bear: A cultural hero figure among shifters based on one of the animal forms of their lycanthrope ancestors. Usually referred to as “Cousin,” Bear embodies the attributes of strength and caution.

  Bibahronaz, Bava: A human woman of Zarash’ak, originally of the Howling Rabbit clan. Under the name Bava Bahron, she is an artist known across the Five Nations for her paintings.

  Bibahronaz, Diad: One of Bava’s sons. A half-orc.

  Bibahronaz, Mine: One of Bava’s daughters. A half-orc and twin of Ose.

  Bibahronaz, Ose: One of Bava’s daughters. A half-orc and twin of Mine.

  Blademarks: The mercenary’s guild of House Deneith.

  bo: Azhani for “a place, a piece of land or an area.”

  Boar: A c
ultural hero figure among shifters based on one of the animal forms of their lycanthrope ancestors. Usually referred to as “Cousin,” Boar represents tremendous endurance, but also unrestrained and reckless enthusiasm.

  Bonetree clan: A human barbarian clan of the Shadow Marches, worshipers of the Dragon Below. The heart of their territory is an enormous earthen mound built over generations. The Azhani term is Drumasaz.

  Breff: Huntmaster of the Bonetree clan.

  Bull Hollow A hamlet on the far western edge of the Eldeen Reaches, devastated in an attack by Bonetree hunters and dolgrims in pursuit of Dandra.

  byeshk: A rare metal, hard and dense with a purple sheen. Weapons made of byeshk are capable of inflicting great injuries on daelkyr and their creations.

  By the six kings!: A Dhakaani oath of sincerity.

  chaat’or: Goblin for “defiler” in loose translation. In specific use, it refers to races not native to Khorvaire, especially humans. Elves, an ancient enemy of the Dhakaani Empire, are not considered chaat’oor.

  Che bo gri lanano ani teith: An Azhani expression: “This place is haunted.” Literally, “This land remembers its blood.”

  Che Haranait Koa shenio otoio ches Ponhansit Itanchi: An Azhani phrase from a legend of the Bonetree clan: “The Hall of the Revered is below the Spires of the Forge.”

  chuul: Monstrous creatures larger than a man, resembling huge crayfish with four powerful legs and enormous claws. The tentacles surrounding a chuul’s mouth are capable of paralyzing its prey.

  Chuut: An ogre among the troops of Tzaryan Keep, lieutenant to the General.

  Cira: A beautiful woman with some skill in magic.

  cross: A card game based on bluffing.

  crysteel: An alloy created from iron and a rare crystalline substance. Crysteel is used to make weapons favored by those skilled in psionics.

  d’Deneith, Robrand: A dragonmarked heir of House Deneith, once leader of the Frostbrand company of the Blademarks, disgraced after the Massacre at Narath.

  d’Deneith, Toller: A dragonmarked heir of House Deneith, nephew to Robrand d’Deneith. Killed in the defense of Bull Hollow.