Word of Traitors: Legacy of Dhakaan - Book 2

by Don Bassingthwaite

  “Do it now!”

  She squeezed her eyes shut—just as something shattered at her feet and an intense flash lit up the inside of her eyelids in shades of red. Makka roared. Ashi forced her watering eyes open again. Midian had his tiny lantern open and its light swung across the rooftop. Aruget, still down, dragged at the noose around his throat. Makka shook his head, blinked furiously, and backed away, club held warily in a guard position. Even though the glare of the flash still danced in her vision, she lunged for him.

  He sensed her. The club slapped at her sword in an awkward parry. Ashi twisted and the blade skipped around to rip a thin line up Makka’s forearm. He growled and pulled back further. Dropping his lantern, Midian moved in on the bugbear’s other side with his pick held low.

  Makka’s squinting eyes swung between them and he shouted, “Ko!”

  At the far end of the roof, the figure that was not Geth bent and came up with a crossbow aimed at Midian. The bow steadied and snapped in the same movement.

  Midian tumbled backward. The steelhead of the crossbow bolt made sparks as it hit the stone of the roof.

  “Take him!” Ashi ordered the gnome, but she hardly needed to have bothered. Midian was already darting across the rooftop to prevent another attack. Ko … Ashi realized she knew the name. The changeling Geth had found imprisoned in Khaar Mbar’ost’s dungeons.

  She spun back to Makka, teeth clenched. “Where’s Geth?” she demanded, thrusting at the bugbear. “Baano a Geth?”

  He snarled in response and stopped her blow with a solid block. He was still blinking but his eyes were clear. She pressed her attack, feeling her anger grow inside her. “Baano a Geth?” she screamed again.

  “Waiting for you!” Makka roared in Goblin. His club swung back. “Fury give me strength!”

  For the barest instant, the thin shadows of the rooftop seemed to pull tight around Makka, making the livid scar of the bat-winged serpent on his broad chest leap out in contrast. Then his club came around hard and fast, too fast for Ashi to avoid. It hit with all of the bugbear’s strength and the impact of it drove agony into her left shoulder. The hot rage behind the blow was like a physical force, throwing her across the rooftop. Her back hit the low wall, bringing another burst of pain and sending her toppling back.

  Empty space and the sparse lights of Rhukaan Draal swung around her. Her sword dropped from her hand and vanished in the darkness below. She tried to throw her weight forward, back to safety.

  A massive hairy hand seized her forearm, yanking her back and whipping her across the roof. Ashi caught a glimpse of Makka, then she was tumbling across the stones. She ended up flat on her back and gasping for breath. A single fat drop of water hit the center of her forehead. The rain had come.

  “Alive,” she heard Makka growl. “For now.”

  She forced herself to twist over onto her belly, then up onto her knees. On the far side of the roof, Midian fought the changeling who wore Geth’s face, pick flashing and clashing against a long, heavy knife. The changeling looked panicked. He gave ground with each exchange. The gnome had him overmatched. Much closer, however, Makka stalked across the rooftop. In the up-cast light of Midian’s lantern, his face was a demonic mask.

  Aruget’s dropped sword lay within reach to her right. Ashi grabbed for it but her throbbing left shoulder gave out and she tumbled back to the rain-dappled stones. Makka raised his club.

  Another figure launched itself out of the shadows, slamming into him shoulder first. Aruget. The tackle sent Makka sprawling across the roof. Ashi sucked breath between her teeth and lurched to her feet, bringing up the hobgoblin’s sword. Aruget, however, seized her arm and wrenched her around, dragging her toward the trap door.

  “Aruget! No—”

  “Down!” he rasped. His throat showed deep red marks from Makka’s noose. “Somewhere we can’t fall.”

  Ashi twisted in his grasp. Makka was rising. Midian still battered at Ko’s desperate defense—but as Aruget snatched up the lantern and sent shadows dancing across the rooftop, he glanced away. Ashi saw surprise flicker across his face.

  Ko seized the moment of distraction. His blade licked past Midian’s pick and slashed down his side. The gnome jumped back, blood mixing with rain on the stones.

  “Midian!” Ashi tried to pull away, but Aruget held her tight as he stooped to yank open the trap door.

  Makka roared and charged them. Ashi screamed fury in return and tore herself free.

  Aruget grabbed her again, spun her around, and dropped her through the door. Her scream turned into a yelp. She just missed catching her feet on the steep steps, and her knees buckled as she hit the small landing below with a jarring impact. The lantern clattered down beside her, the metal shield breaking off but the magical core shining steady. She looked up just in time to see Aruget pull the trap door closed after himself. A heartbeat later, the door jerked ferociously as Makka heaved at it from the other side, but Aruget had his feet hooked into the steps. He held the handle of the door with one hand and dug into a pouch at his belt with the other. It emerged holding some kind of nail or spike. The hobgoblin slammed the nail up into the wood of the door. There was a shimmer of blue light. Aruget released his hold and dropped down beside her.

  The door continued to shake under Makka’s strength, but it didn’t open. Aruget took Ashi’s arm and pulled her to her feet. “Go!”

  “But Midian—”

  Aruget’s face was strangely harsh. “Midian can look after himself.” He forced her onto the spiral stairs.

  Ashi pushed against him. “We have to go back for him!”

  “We can’t go back. That door isn’t opening again until it’s broken in,” Aruget said. “We have to get you to safety. Makka couldn’t have set this trap without Tariic’s knowledge and aid. Khaar Mbar’ost isn’t safe for you anymore, Ashi.”

  She started to argue, to accuse him of betraying Midian and leaving him for Makka, but the words didn’t reach her mouth.

  Normally Aruget spoke the human language with a thick accent. All trace of that accent had suddenly vanished. She stared at him. His ears flicked and lay back.

  Then before either of them could say anything, there were other sounds on the spiral stairs. The tread of climbing footsteps. The rattle of armor. Many footsteps and much armor. A hobgoblin’s voice floated up. “Alive! She must be taken alive!”

  “Khyberit gentis,” Ashi cursed.

  Aruget let out a sharp hiss, then he grabbed Ashi once again, gripping her tightly. “Ashi,” he whispered in her ear, “you have to trust me. Forget Midian—this is about you and me now. I think I can get us out of this, but you have to trust me. I’m on your side. Understand?”

  “I—”

  “Good.” He pulled the sword from her hand. “Act defeated and frightened.”

  He pushed her on down the stairs. The light of the lantern, left behind on the landing, faded quickly and Aruget pushed her a little too fast so that she stumbled and groped in the dark. Between her stumbling feet and Aruget’s sword and armor they made more noise than the soldiers coming up. A voice echoed along the stairs, asking in Goblin, “Who’s there?”

  “I have her!”

  Ashi flinched and almost fell. The voice, also speaking Goblin, that came from over her shoulder sounded nothing like Aruget. It was deeper and much rougher. The hand on her arm tightened, holding her up, and the voice continued. “I’ve got the Deneith woman, but Makka needs help. She managed to seal the roof door somehow. Makka’s stuck up there.”

  A dim glow came up the stairs now and Ashi could see the silhouettes of hobgoblin guards. “Who are you?” the voice from below demanded. “Daavn said Makka wouldn’t let any guards come with him.”

  “Do you want to question what Makka said, or do you want to make Daavn happy?”

  They’d reached the first of the ascending guards. The stairs were narrow. There was barely room to pass. Aruget pushed by the first guards. Ashi could smell their sweat and the sour vinegar
smell of dar food on them. They glared at her with unfriendly eyes as she squeezed along. They muttered among themselves. One of them called down, “It’s her, chib!”

  The voice from below cursed, then shouted. “Pass her along! We’ll take her to Daavn.” Ashi could see the speaker, a larger hobgoblin at the foot of the spiral stairs, the light from the main stairs illuminating him.

  “Maabet,” said Aruget. “I’m taking her to Daavn. I captured her. This is my muut.” He paused just above the large hobgoblin. “He wanted her brought right to him, didn’t he? Do you want to keep Makka waiting out in the rain while you take her”—he shook Ashi—“to Daavn? He’s already angry.”

  The other hobgoblin hesitated, his ears up. Makka’s attacks on the door were loud. Finally the hobgoblin’s ears dropped. “Take her,” he said, jerking his head at the main stairs. Then he slapped the hobgoblin ahead of him. “Get moving!” he shouted.

  He spared one last hostile glance at Ashi as she pushed past him, then she was off the spiral stairs and back in the open. Aruget stayed at her back. “Keep going,” he said in that strange deep voice. “Remember you’re my prisoner.”

  They made it down only a few steps before a call came back to them from above. “You!” It was the large hobgoblin again. Ashi felt Aruget stiffen but he kept pushing her onward. “You can’t take her by yourself. She could get away from you. You better let me help you.”

  “I can handle her,” Aruget growled. “Go back to your men.”

  “They can open a door.” The other hobgoblin’s footsteps closed on them. Aruget paused. “Yes,” said the hobgoblin. There was ambition in his voice. “Enough muut in this to share—”

  Aruget’s hand left her arm as he whirled. The other hobgoblin’s words ended in the sound of ripping flesh, a slight wheeze, and the clatter of a falling body. Ashi spun around—and froze, staring.

  Not at the hobgoblin sprawled with his throat slashed open, but at the other hobgoblin on the stairs. The one who carried Aruget’s bloody sword and wore Aruget’s armor, but who didn’t wear his face.

  He looked back at her for an instant, then his features blurred and reshaped themselves until Aruget faced her again.

  Ashi’s voice almost caught in her throat, but she forced it out. “You’re a changeling?”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-TWO

  28 Sypheros

  Not the place for explanations.” Aruget took her hand and tugged her down the stairs. As soon as she was moving, he let her go and opened his stride, jumping down two and three steps at a time. When they reached a floor with access to the back stairs they had climbed on the way up, he led the way to them—then off again only a few floors down. The same floor where Tariic had his quarters.

  “This isn’t a good place to stop,” Ashi said.

  “It’s the last place anyone would look for us.” He walked with light steps down the corridor, selected a dusty looking door, and tried the handle. The door was unlocked, the hinges stiff. Aruget eased it open a little way and slipped inside, beckoning Ashi to follow.

  She hesitated.

  He frowned. “Trust me,” he said. He slipped through the door. Ashi grimaced and followed.

  The room beyond had a musty smell, and by the light that leaked in from the corridor, she could make out fabric-draped bundles. Aruget pushed the door shut a little ways, leaving only enough of a gap to allow a thread of light into the room. He stayed close to it so that the glow fell across his face. Ashi had a gut feeling he did that deliberately, as if it to ease some of her fears.

  Then he did something completely unexpected. He bent his head and his features melted and reformed. His entire body shifted in stature and bulk. When he looked up again, he had red-blond hair and the fine features of a young half-elf. A young half-elf woman.

  A young half-elf woman that Ashi knew. “Benti?” she asked as softly as she could manage. “Benti Morren?”

  Benti smiled. “Hello, Ashi. It’s been a while—for you, at least.” Hard, cunning eyes narrowed. “You understand now, don’t you? I’m on your side. You can trust me. You must trust me.”

  The urge to sit down washed over Ashi, but she didn’t trust any of the dusty bundles in the dark room. She and other friends had encountered the half-elf—or at least the person they had all assumed to be a half-elf—in the city of Sharn almost a year ago. At the time, Benti had been posing as a renegade member of House Lyrandar selling her services as an airship pilot. After she had aided them—and they’d aided her in return—they’d discovered that she was more than she seemed. In fact, she was an agent of the King’s Citadel of Breland, one of the so-called Dark Lanterns. In short, a spy.

  And it seemed that hadn’t been her only secret.

  “How?” Ashi asked. “Why? When?”

  Benti held up a hand. “Fast answers,” she said. “We don’t have time. Let’s start with when: I’ve been Aruget since the night you were attacked by Gan’duur raiders on your journey from Sterngate in Breland to Rhukaan Draal.”

  “I remember that. We found you—Aruget—with a bashed skull after the attack. We thought the raiders had knocked you out.” Ashi pressed her lips together. “Where’s the real Aruget?”

  “Buried under a collapsed sandbank near the spot where you camped. The scalp wound was self-inflicted. The raiders”—she shrugged—“a coincidence.”

  The cool detachment in her voice made Ashi shiver. “Why?” she asked again.

  Benti made a strange expression, as if her face was straining to move in a way it wasn’t meant to. Her lips twitched and she put fingers to one slightly pointed ear. “Spend too long as one race and you forget how other bodies work,” she said. Her hand fell. “Why? Because the King’s Citadel was suspicious when we discovered Tariic was returning from a diplomatic mission with two ladies of House Deneith and a wandering shifter carrying an artifact sword of Dhakaan. I knew both you and Geth, so I was assigned to investigate.” Her eyebrows twitched. “It’s turned into quite the assignment.”

  Confusion churned in Ashi’s belly. “You couldn’t have told us earlier?”

  Benti’s voice went cool again. “I shouldn’t be telling you now, but it seems to be my only choice. You have information I need. I’ve put together almost all the pieces of the puzzle.” Her green eyes met Ashi’s, and Ashi felt like they were looking right through her.

  “The Rod of Kings,” Benti said, “tries to make its wielder into an emperor of Dhakaan. I heard Geth tell you that the night Haruuc died. Chetiin killed Haruuc to prevent a war, but when Tariic brings that war to life, no one tries to stop him. Instead, you, Geth, Ekhaas, and Dagii go to a tiefling artificer and have—what? a copy of the rod?—made with the power to enhance Tariic’s presence. Geth tries to pass the copy of the rod to Tariic at the coronation. Tariic discovers the substitution and sends Daavn to arrest Geth. Daavn fails, or so I assume, and Geth is replaced with a changeling to keep his disappearance quiet. Now Makka, who previously wanted to kill you, is trying to capture you—”

  Ashi’s lips curled back. “Wait. How long have you known that wasn’t Geth?”

  “I had my doubts since the evening after the coronation, but I wasn’t sure. Kill us and we return to our true form, but changelings can’t recognize each other on sight any more than you can tell what color smallclothes another human is wearing.” She flicked her hand. “Let me finish. Makka is now trying to capture you, probably because of something you know or something that Tariic thinks you know.”

  “Like where Geth might be,” Ashi said, the idea coming on her like a blossoming flower. “And whether he has the true Rod of Kings.”

  “That’s what I thought,” said Benti. “Which leads to the missing pieces of my puzzle. One”—she held up a finger—“where would Geth be? And two”—she held up another—“why go to so much trouble for the rod when ambition and history books can show any ruler how to be a tyrant?”

  Ashi shook her head. “I don’t know where Geth is. He might not even be
in Rhukaan Draal anymore. We thought about running with the rod at one point. He might have done that. And the rod—”

  She hesitated before saying anything more. Could she trust Benti with the ultimate secret of the rod? What if she couldn’t escape Tariic’s grasp? Benti knew everything else—and as long as they were conspiring against a throne, as Vounn had pointed out, a spy seemed like a good ally to have.

  “The rod doesn’t just show its wielder how to behave like an emperor, it gives him the power to become one,” she said. “The wielder of the rod can force people to obey his commands. The magic Tenquis put in the false rod is just an imitation of the true rod’s power. The true rod is irresistible. My dragonmark can block its power and Geth is immune because of his connection with Wrath, but those are the only defenses we know. When we found it, the rod was used against us. Its power crushes your will.”

  Even talking about the power of the rod, just contemplating what might happen if Tariic got his hands on it, left her feeling cold. Benti, eyes narrowed in thought, didn’t, but just narrowed her eyes in thought. Finally she said, “Midian knows all this?”

  Ashi nodded. “He was there. He felt the power of the rod. He took the same oath to keep it a secret that all of us did. It was his idea to substitute a false rod for the real one.”

  “Was it?” Her eyebrows came together. “Do you think he knows where Geth might be?”

  “If I don’t, he doesn’t.” Ashi’s lips curled back from her teeth. “And you left him to be captured by Makka. Tariic could find out the power of the rod.”

  “Don’t worry about Midian. Given how much interest Tariic is showing in the Rod of Kings, Ashi, I’d think he may already know.”

  Ashi stared at her. “That’s not possible. We kept it a secret.”

  “Possible or not, we should assume it’s a fact.” Benti drew a deep breath. “Thank you for your help. Now I think it’s time we got you to safety—and preferably out of Darguun.”

  She concentrated and her face blurred once more, taking on the familiar coarse features, ruddy tones, and long mobile ears of Aruget. Ashi found herself continuing to stare at the changeling, no longer in shock at the fluid transformation but at the harshness of her tone.