The Grieving Tree: The Dragon Below Book II

by Don Bassingthwaite

  Geth hunched back, the hair on his forearms and on the back of his neck bristling. “Don’t,” he growled.

  Singe didn’t stop. “A sewer,” he said. “A dung gate that three men could have held. Should have held. We found signs of a struggle—but we found the bodies of only two of the three men assigned to that gate. There were tracks in the snow, though. Someone had fled.”

  Geth clenched his fists—and his jaw. He said nothing. Singe gave him a look of disgust, then added, “Robrand went to Karrlakton in person to report the Frostbrand’s failure to protect Narath. The old man was a true commander. He carried the blame. He told the lords of Deneith that the massacre of Narath was his responsibility. The lords accepted that—and took everything away from him. Most of Deneith won’t even say his name now. They don’t want to recognize that he even existed.” He took a slow, deep breath. “I want answers, Geth. I want to know what happened.”

  The hollow in Geth’s guts had grown, swelling into a pit and engulfing him entirely. He was numb. Narath surrounded him. Wounds he had thought long healed felt like they had been ripped open again. His tongue seemed swollen in his mouth. There were no words in his throat.

  He shook his head, mute.

  Singe’s mouth twisted. He turned and stalked back into Bava’s studio. A moment later, Geth heard his feet on the stairs.

  The shifter crouched down, resting his cheek on the bars of the railing and staring out between them.

  Dandra woke to the whispering of children.

  It was tempting to go back to sleep. She probably could have done it even over the murmur of the children’s activity. Tetkashtai, though, was fully alert. Her yellow-green glow shimmered in Dandra’s mind, prodding her. Dandra! Dandra, wake up! Listen to them!

  There was an edge of panic to the presence’s mental voice, but then there almost always was. Still, Dandra opened her eyes. The room in which she, Natrac, and Orshok had found space to stretch out was suffused with a pale gray light. Through an open window she could see a gentle, enveloping morning mist.

  Natrac was still asleep. Orshok’s blankets were empty, though there was no sign of the druid. Bava’s children, all of them it seemed, were clustered together at one end of the room, a couple peering cautiously out of the window. Dandra could just catch their words. She blinked the haze of sleep form her eyes and tried to focus on what they were saying.

  “… should wake Nena.”

  “She doesn’t want to be woken unless it’s important!”

  “I don’t like this!”

  “Quiet!” One of the figures at the window was Diad. He raised his head over the sill, then ducked back and turned around. His eyes were wide and his heavy jaw was thrust forward. “They’re still there.”

  A flash of unease set Dandra’s heart beating faster. She sat up. “Who’s still there?”

  The children turned like a flock of birds, moving in unison to face her as she rose from her blankets. One of the smallest whimpered and ducked behind another. Ose and Mine, the twins, came forward, though. “Goblins,” said Mine in a low, serious voice.

  Ose added, “They’re watching the house.”

  Dandra glanced at Diad and the young man nodded. Dandra picked up her spear and crept forward to join him at the window. “Show me,” she said.

  Diad looked outside again, then gestured—below the level of the sill—to the right. “There’s a cistern,” he said. “There are two of them hiding behind it. I think I recgonize them. They’re from a gang called the Biters.”

  Cautiously, Dandra lifted her head until she could just see outside. Through the mist, she could see the shape of the cistern and the broad, round head of a goblin on the other side of it.

  One of the goblin’s ears had been bitten off halfway along its its length. Dandra slid back down.

  “There are more,” said Diad. “They’re hiding—I don’t think they know we’ve seen them. Most are watching the front door, but there are some at the back door as well.”

  “How many?”

  “We’ve counted twelve. There could be more.”

  “It’s every goblin in Zarash’ak!” Ose said.

  “No, it’s not,” her sister corrected her. “They wouldn’t all fit on our street!”

  Dandra gestured for them to be quiet. “Diad,” she said. “Wake your mother.” She looked at the other children. “The rest of you stay away from the windows.”

  She woke Natrac, then went looking for the others. Roused by a hunter’s instincts, Ashi was already awake and alert. Singe stirred reluctantly at Dandra’s touch—his eyes were shadowed by dark circles as if he hadn’t slept well—but he sat up sharply at news that the house being watched. “Vennet’s crew?” he asked as he kicked off tangled blankets.

  Dandra shook her head. “The goblin gang from the webs. They must have tracked us down.” She helped him to his feet and led him and Ashi back to the room with the children. “Diad’s waking Bava. I’m still looking for Geth and Orshok.”

  “I’m here.” Orshok appeared in the door of the room, still in the act of pulling his shirt over his head. Bava pushed past him to sweep down on her children with her arms spread protectively. The artist wore a loose gown that flapped and billowed around her. Both she and Orshok had an unmistakable flush on their cheeks. Natrac’s eyebrows rose. Orshok’s gray-green face darkened in a blush.

  Bava fussed over her children, gathering them together and admonishing them to stay quiet. Only when she seemed satisfied that nothing had happened to them did she turn back to Dandra and the others. “What’s going on?”

  Dandra repeated what she had told Singe, but Bava frowned. “That can’t be right.”

  “Why not?” asked Natrac. Bava looked at him sideways.

  “You’ve lived here as long as I have, Natrac. Have you ever heard of a goblin gang coming out of the webs looking for revenge?”

  The half-orc’s forehead pinched together and and he thrust out his tusks. “You’re right. It’s happened sometimes when they’re fighting with a rival gang, but—”

  “I’ve heard another reason they come up,” interrupted Diad. Everyone turned to look at him. He flushed and his mouth closed sharply, but Singe gestured for him to continue. The young man took a deep breath, then said, “They say the Biters are for hire. Pay the right price and they’ll do anything.”

  “For hire?” Dandra’s gut felt like it was filled with stones. “Light of il-Yannah. Dah’mir and Vennet.”

  Ashi frowned. “You think Vennet hired goblins? Why not send his sailors? Or hire half-orcs?”

  “Don’t underestimate goblins, Ashi,” Singe said. “They may be small, but they’re nasty and there’s usually a lot of them.” Singe clenched his fist. “Twelve moons, even if Vennet did hire them though, how did they find us?”

  Natrac paled. “Urthen knew we were coming to Bava’s for dinner last night. Boldrei’s hearth, do you think they might have—?”

  “It’s possible,” said Singe grimly. “We could just be making assumptions, though. We need to find out what’s going on.”

  “We need to find Geth,” Dandra said. “Il-Yannah, where is he?”

  A look of anger flashed across Singe’s face. “Is his sword still here?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Ashi told him. “It’s with his blankets.”

  “Then he’s probably upstairs,” Singe growled. He turned and stormed for the stairs that led to the studio.

  Dandra stared for a moment, then darted after him. “Singe, what is it?”

  “Geth and I had a little discussion during the night.” The wizard’s voice was tight.

  Dandra let out a hiss of frustration. “I thought that whatever you two had against each other had passed!”

  “It hasn’t.”

  They reached the stairs with the others not far behind. Singe started climbing. Dandra grabbed his arm and turned him around before the others could catch up to them. “What happened at Narath?” she demanded.

  “Ask Geth some
time. See if he’ll tell you.” He pulled his arm away and kept climbing, flinging open the door at the top of the stairs.

  Dandra caught a fleeting glimpse of Geth sleeping curled up in a corner, but no more than that—the opening door wrenched the shifter out of slumber. He uncoiled in an explosion of muscle and hair, leaping up and landing in a crouch, arms raised and crossed, ready to block or to strike.

  Singe didn’t even hesitate before striding into the room. The wizard and the shifter locked gazes. Dandra saw Geth’s lips pull back from his teeth in a snarl of anger—and maybe even fear. She moved forward quickly, putting herself between the two men. “Geth, we have a problem.”

  His lips seemed to peel back even further. “Whatever Singe told you—”

  “No,” Dandra said. “A real problem.” She told him about the goblins without waiting for him to relax—though strangely, he seemed less tense once she had, as if grateful for an enemy to fight. Orshok had brought his sword up from downstairs. Geth crept up to the edge of the balcony and peered over, into the fog. He grunted, then slid back and returned to take the weapon and buckle it on.

  “They’ve got us too well covered,” he said. “If we try to pinpoint where they all are, they’re going to spot us and they’ll know we’ve seen them.”

  “What do you think they’re waiting for?” asked Bava. “Are they going to attack?” There was a fierceness in her voice, a rage that promised swift retribution for any threat to her children.

  Singe shook his head. “If they were going to attack, they would have done it before dawn. I think they’re waiting to try and take us when we leave.”

  “Goblins usually follow a strong leader,” said Natrac. “Take the leader out and they fall apart.” The half-orc had a deadly serious look on his face. Out of the corner of her eye, Dandra saw Geth and Singe share a glance—their first without overt hostility.

  “Good idea,” Geth said. “We still have the problem of spotting the leader, though.”

  The doors onto the studio’s balcony stood open. Through them, Dandra could see the flat rooftop of the building across the street. “I can spot the leader,” she said. She pointed through the doors. “The goblins are all watching Bava’s house. If I’m over there, they won’t be looking for me, but I’ll have a clear view of them. I can use my powers to reach it and to call back to you.”

  Singe’s eyes narrowed. “The long step and kesh?”

  “It’s a long way to reach back with kesh,” she said. “Someone may need to stand close to the doors—it will make contact easier, but you’ll risk exposing yourself to the goblins.”

  “I’ll do it,” said Singe. He glanced at the others. No one spoke against the idea. The wizard nodded to Dandra. “Be careful.” He stepped back.

  Dandra tightened her grip on her spear and took a deep breath, then reached out to Tetkashtai. Help me, she said.

  She could have done this herself, but Tetkashtai’s aid made it easier. The presence extended her light, wrapping herself around Dandra. She drew on the power of their union, bending it to her will, sliding it through the fabric of the world. She took a step forward and the air rippled around her.

  When she put her foot down, she stood on the rooftop across the street. Just as at Natrac’s house, a wooden platform had been laid down on the roof. Unlike Natrac’s roof, however, no one had taken care of this platform for some time. Her sudden weight brought a sharp cracking out of the wood.

  Dandra bit back a curse and dropped immediately to one knee, freezing in place and listening. A few harsh mumbles drifted up from the street below, but nothing more. She let out her breath and rose cautiously to a crouch. Picking her footing carefully, she crept closer to the edge of the roof. If this platform had ever had a railing to keep people from falling off, it was gone now. Dandra stretched out and looked over the edge.

  The mist of early morning was slowly burning away as the sun climbed higher above the horizon. It wouldn’t be long before it was gone entirely. It was already thinner at ground level than it had been. Dandra picked out the goblins hiding behind the cistern easily. Two more were hidden inside an abandoned barrel. Three stood in the shadows of a doorway. More crouched in an alley that ran between Bava’s house and its neighbor. More still lurked on the far side of the house, peering around the corner onto the street.

  All of the goblins had weapons at hand—knives, short swords, and spiked maces. And there were more of the creatures than there had been in the webs. The goblin with the torn ear had brought friends—but while he had been in charge in the webs, it didn’t look to Dandra like he was the leader now. None of the other goblins were looking to him. Diad had said some goblins were watching the back of the house as well. It was possible that their real leader was back there, but she doubted it. It seemed more likely that he would be with the largest number of goblins. The leader had to be at the front of the house—she just couldn’t spot him.

  She looked across the street and into Bava’s studio. Singe stood just inside the doors to the balcony, carefully out of sight of any goblins below. Dandra reached out to him with kesh, stretching her thoughts across the distance to brush at his mind. He opened himself to her. Do you see the leader? he asked.

  No. Dandra wove an image of her view from the roof and sent it to him through the mental link.

  Singe let out a silent grunt at the goblins’ numbers and positions. That doesn’t look good.

  I have an idea, Dandra said. We might be able to draw the leader out if you show yourself.

  The wizard’s thoughts were skeptical. That could be dangerous. We might be giving ourselves away.

  Then you’d better make it look casual.

  Across the street, Singe looked up and gave her a grimace—but when he stepped out onto the balcony, yawning and stretching as if just rising, he didn’t show any sign that he knew either she or the goblins were there. He stood still for a moment and scratched at his chest, then turned around and went back inside. The reaction among the goblins was immediate. Dandra watched a flurry of activity sweep through them as they readied weapons and sat up a little straighter. From the far side of the house, one goblin detached himself from the others and darted across the street. She had to lean out from the roof and crane her neck to watch, but she saw him run into an alley alongside the very building on which she perched—somewhere from which a leader could watch unseen and protected. There we go, she thought to Singe with satisfaction. She passed the glimpse of the running goblin along to him.

  And felt surprise shoot through Singe’s thoughts. I recognize that goblin, he said. That was Preesh—the goblin that was with Chain yesterday!

  Chain? asked Dandra. She twisted her neck again to peer down at the mouth of the alley—

  —just in time to see Preesh emerge from it with confusion on his round face, as if he had gone into the alley looking for someone but had not found them.

  No one had come out of the alley since she’d been watching. At least not onto the street.

  Dandra stiffened. Singe! she called as she pushed herself back from the edge of the roof. The alley across the street—ask Bava if it goes anywhere.

  It took a moment for the wizard to reply. She says it’s a blind alley. It doesn’t go anywhere, but there’s an old ladder—

  The weathered wood of the rooftop platform creaked behind Dandra. Heavy footsteps pounded in a sudden rush. Dandra twisted, throwing herself blindly to the side, catching a glimpse of a polished black cudgel as it flashed down where her head had been. Tetkashtai shrieked in fear.

  Chain grunted and spun to follow her.

  —running up to the—

  Singe’s alarm blazed through the kesh as he saw what was happening. “Dandra!” he shouted, and his voice echoed both in her ears and in her mind.

  She rolled to her feet with Singe shouting and Tetkashtai screaming in her head at the same time. It was too much to handle—she let go of the kesh and Singe vanished from her mind. Across the street, the wizard lunged ba
ck out onto the balcony, his eyes wide with shock.

  “Itaa!” bellowed Chain as he surged forward, cudgel swinging.

  Goblin shouts rolled up from the street below. Dandra saw Singe look down, then leap back into Bava’s house. The cudgel lashed out again. Dandra stumbled and it whistled past her belly.

  Chain spun around to deliver another blow. Dandra jumped back again—and stumbled as her right foot slipped off the edge of the wooden platform. She staggered and the edge of the roof swayed in front of her, promising a long drop down to a street swarming with goblins.

  Chain’s cudgel flashed down.

  Dandra clenched her jaw and shifted her weight, pulling herself back from the edge. She pushed against the roof with her toes—and with her mind. Her feet left the uneven footing of the rooftop to skim the air. She slid back toward the expanse of the roof with the ease of thought, and Chain’s cudgel missed her for a third time.

  The big man’s only reaction to her sudden display of power was a slight narrowing of his dark eyes. He shifted his grip on the cudgel, wielding it with both hands and beating at her with all the strength of his massive arms.

  Dandra’s spear whirled up. She gripped the shaft, holding it across her body to deflect Chain’s punishing blows as she twisted and slid from side to side. The pale wood bent and shivered with each impact, but it didn’t break. The unrelenting force of Chain’s attack forced her back, then back again.

  Burn him! said Tetkashtai. Visions of fiery white bolts and explosions of flame filled Dandra’s mind.

  We’re on a wooden building, Dandra snapped back. There are people inside! And he’s too close! The instant it would take for her to draw on whitefire—or any of her powers—would be all the time Chain needed to get a solid blow past her defense.

  “Chain!” she gasped. “What are you doing? We tried to hire you.”

  “Tried.” Chain’s voice was a focused rasp. His cudgel hammered her spear again, the impact stinging her hands. “Didn’t. Someone else knew the value of hiring the best, though!”

  Dah’mir! Tetkashtai wailed, her fear tangling Dandra’s thoughts.