The tyranny of ghosts tlod-3

by Don Bassingthwaite

Dagii rocked away. Taak’s great blow passed just beyond his belly, dragging Taak around. Ears back, the warlord of the Mur Talaan stepped up and swept his own blade across Taak’s shoulders with precision and control.

  Taak Dhakaan’s body fell to the sand, still tumbling from the power of his last blow. His head rolled free to stare up at Dagii.

  “No!” Tariic’s voice rang across the arena. “Pradoor! Stop them!”

  Pradoor raised her head, and her milky eyes caught the light. “I call the teeth of the Devourer!”

  Only a few paces from Geth, whirling white blades burst out of the air in the midst of a knot of Iron Fox warriors. The warriors screamed and broke formation, blood streaming from flesh that looked as if it hadn’t been so much slashed as chewed. The Kech Shaarat they had been fighting cheered and fell on the scattered warriors.

  Geth turned to Tenquis. “We have to get up there. Follow me!”

  “Wait.” The tiefling dug into a pouch and produced what looked like tiny glass rods. He flicked the rods into the air.

  They vanished, but light streaked across the arena. In front of the raised box, the air shimmered, and stairs formed from planes of barely visible force.

  Geth bared his teeth in a grin. Drawing Tenquis after him, he sprinted for the phantom stairs, bashing at anyone who tried to get in his way. Above, Tariic slammed the Rod of Kings down on the rail of the box. “Again, Pradoor. Call down the wrath of the Six. My enemies are their enemies!”

  Anger crossed Pradoor’s blind face. “The Six are not your lackeys, Tariic.”

  “Yes, they are.” He thrust the rod at her. “Do it!”

  Almost at the foot of the stairs, Geth froze as Pradoor’s anger evaporated under the direct power of the Rod of Kings. Her arms rose stiffly. “Lords of the Dark Star!” she called, and Geth saw a kind of writhing darkness take shape around her as she spoke. “I invoke your-”

  She never finished. A blur seemed to launch itself from the back of the box and smash into her. Pradoor hit the rail of the box. Her prayer ended in a moan, the writhing darkness vanishing. The blur became Midian. Putting one arm around the old goblin priestess’s bony chest, he wrapped the other across her head and twisted with brutal efficiency.

  As she came through the back of the box, Ashi heard Pradoor’s neck snap and part of her felt a rush of joy at the goblin’s death. But Pradoor hadn’t been their target.

  She watched Midian drop Pradoor’s body and turn to Tariic with death in his eyes.

  Tariic brought up the rod. “Midian, stand where you are!”

  The gnome stopped-for a moment. His face twisted. His hands squeezed tight, then spread into claws reaching for Tariic.

  And he took a heavy step forward. “I,” he said between his teeth, “will not… be… controlled… again!”

  Shock and rage flashed across Tariic’s face. Ashi felt a sense of triumph. She lifted her sword and stepped forward, a demand for Tariic’s surrender on her lips.

  Then Tariic took two quick steps and slammed the Rod of Kings down on Midian’s skull. Bone cracked. Midian staggered, and Tariic did it again. Midian went down, his head broken in.

  The entire arena fell silent. The spectators who had cheered for blood stopped moving. Combat on the sands came to a halt. Tariic turned to the rail and glared out at those below and above him. “Who will defy the lhesh of Darguun? Who will challenge the emperor of Dhakaan Reborn?”

  Mouth suddenly dry, Ashi moved forward and spoke. “Surrender Tariic. You’re alone. This is over.”

  He looked at her with disdain. His free hand went to his belt and drew his sword. “Alone? I’m not alone. I command the largest army in Khorvaire.” He looked back to the arena and raised the Rod of Kings, Midian’s blood and hair dripping off it.

  “Darguun,” he shouted, “rise and destroy my enemies!”

  “Darguun, rise and destroy my enemies!”

  Fear stabbed through Ekhaas. Instantly, she thrust the shaari’mal into the air, concentrating all of her will on blocking Tariic’s command. She saw Chetiin, his wrinkled face pale, do the same thing.

  They might as well have tried to stop the tide with a bucket.

  The power of the rod blasted through her, too strong to be held back. The shield of Muut muted some of it, but not enough. On the floor of the arena, Kech Shaarat, Iron Fox, and warlords alike staggered and fell, the shield allowing them to fight-if not entirely resist-Tariic’s command. Above the arena floor, though… She twisted to look up into the stands.

  All those who had remained in the arena to watch violence unfold were on their feet, eyes strangely blank. Ekhaas felt a crush of despair. Muut had failed them. Was this what had happened after the nobles of Dhakaan had abandoned their duty and the shaari’mal had been forgotten Hope sprang up inside her. She whirled around. Geth, protected by Wrath, still stood, his face twisting in anger as he stared at those writhing on the ground. One of them, right beside him, was Tenquis. Ekhaas saw Geth’s fist tighten on his sword, saw him put his foot on the first step of the phantom stairs Tenquis had conjured.

  “No!” she yelled. “Geth, the third shaari’mal! Get it to Dagii!”

  From the raised box came the fluting battle cry of the Bonetree Clan as Ashi rushed at Tariic. The lhesh caught her blow on his sword, though, and slid past her easily. Ekhaas’s gut twisted. Ashi might be able to prevail over Tariic, but if she didn’t do it quickly, none of them would be able to take on Tariic’s army.

  She watched Geth look up at the sound of clashing swords, then down at Tenquis.

  Every instinct told Geth to join Ashi against Tariic. Together, they’d be able to beat him.

  In his hand, though, Wrath stirred with a life Geth had only felt a few times before. Memories of hobgoblin heroes, dead for thousands of years, flickered through his head. Memories of them performing great feats and defeating strange monsters, the tales of their exploits inspiring generations. The very reason that the Sword of Heroes had been created.

  It was Wrath’s way of telling him that this wasn’t his fight. It belonged to someone else.

  Geth bent down and reached into the pocket-fortunately still unsealed-where Tenquis had hidden the third shaari’mal. The tiefling’s hand grabbed his wrist as he drew the disk out. Tenquis looked up at him, his eyes narrow with the effort of fighting Tariic’s command.

  The shifter eased his hand away. “I’ll come back,” he promised-then he sprinted across the sand.

  Others in the arena had fallen to squirm on their sides or backs but Dagii had stayed on his knees, gripping his sword as he stared up at Tariic. Geth slid in the sand as he stopped beside the young warlord. “This is yours,” he said. He pushed the shaari’mal at him.

  Dagii stared at it for a heartbeat, then reached out and wrapped his fingers around it.

  One disk held brought a tremor through Wrath. Two disks brought a lightning charge.

  Three disks was like holding onto a storm. Geth felt as though he were gripping all of the great artifacts that Taruuzh had forged from the vein of byeshk called Khaar Vanon. He could feel the connection between them, feel the power and the destiny that they shared.

  Power pulsed out through the arena in an invisible wave. On the sand, warriors and warlords stirred and sat up. In the stands, Darguuls seemed to draw a single, unified breath as the influence of the Rod of Kings was blasted away. In the raised box, Tariic screamed in rage. Geth’s head jerked up, and he saw the lhesh batter Ashi with a blow that sent her sprawling one way and her sword spinning another.

  Tariic didn’t follow up on his advantage, though. He whirled to look out into the arena. “Who dares?” he bellowed in Goblin.

  “I dare!” Beside Geth, Dagii rose to his feet and glared at Tariic. He held the shaari’mal high and gestured with his other hand to Ekhaas and Chetiin. “We dare.”

  “You can’t!” Tariic thrust out the rod again. “Darguuls, obey me!”

  Nothing happened. There was no new pulse of power. Geth felt no tremo
r through Wrath.

  Dagii slowly lowered the shaari’mal. “We stand between you and them,” he said, “as it was meant to be.” He turned to look at the warlords on the sand and the people in the stands. “Tariic has manipulated you,” he proclaimed. “He has placed Darguun in peril to satisfy his own ambition. He has forgotten his muut.”

  “I will lead Darguun to a new age of empire!” Tariic roared.

  “You will destroy us!” Dagii shouted at him. “Haruuc realized it when he discovered the curse of the rod, but you were so caught up in the rod’s power that you ignored the danger. Khorvaire is no longer the place it was when Dhakaan ruled. The Age of Dhakaan leaves its legacy, but an Age of Darguun, as Haruuc saw it, is the future.”

  He threw back his head, raising his face to Tariic. “It is the ancient right of a warrior to challenge his clan chief when he believes the chief has failed the clan. The lhesh is chief of the clan of Darguun. Tariic Kurar’taarn, lhesh of Darguun, I say that you have failed us, that you are without atcha and without muut. I am Dagii, warlord of Mur Talaan, commander of the Iron Fox, victor in the Battle of Zarrthec. Here and now, I challenge you!”

  The arena was silent for a moment, then Ekhaas raised her voice. “I witness the challenge!”

  Chetiin raised his strained voice as well. “I witness it!”

  Tariic looked down at the warlords who had stood beside him in the box and who had rushed to fight at his command. Geth saw Garaad of Vaniish Kai, leaning on his spear, lift his head. “I witness it.”

  Tariic put his ears back and bared his teeth. “The challenge is accepted!” He raised the Rod of Kings. “But a chief who is challenged and wins has the right to take the life of his challenger.”

  “I expect nothing less,” said Dagii.

  Tariic swung his legs over the rail of the box and climbed down Tenquis’s phantom stairs to the sand below. Those near the base of the steps pulled back to leave a clear space. Ekhaas, Chetiin, and Tenquis came to stand with Geth and Dagii, but there was no other movement. Kech Shaarat and Iron Fox remained intermingled. Tariic stood alone in the cleared space, waiting.

  “Geth,” said Dagii, “give me Wrath.”

  Geth didn’t hesitate. He reversed the twilight blade and presented the hilt to him. Dagii took it. He looked at Ekhaas and nodded to her. She nodded in return, her ears standing high, then Dagii turned and stepped away.

  Warlord and lhesh faced each other. They raised their swords, touching them together almost as if swearing an oath in the goblin fashion. Tariic sneered at Dagii. “You never understood power,” he said.

  Dagii’s eyes narrowed, and his ears flicked back In that instant, Tariic dropped his sword and snatched at the shaari’mal held in Dagii’s left hand. “Resist me without this!” he screamed.

  Dagii’s fingers tightened on the disk. His right arm raised Wrath and he struck.

  At Tariic’s left hand. At the Rod of Kings.

  Geth knew what would happen. He’d felt it in that moment when Dagii had gripped the third shaari’mal and completed the Shield of Nobles. The artifacts of Khaar Vanon were connected. The destiny of one lay within the others.

  Within the Shield of Nobles, the Sword of Heroes struck the Rod of Kings. Muut, Aram, Guulen.

  The rod rang with a sound like a cracked bell and shattered. Shards of byeshk fell out of Tariic’s hand. The lhesh gasped, let go of the shaari’mal, and staggered away. Dagii drew back Wrath.

  “You never understood duty,” he said-and swung.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  28 Vult

  The death of Lhesh Haruuc Shaarat’kor had been followed by a mourning period of ten days during which no fires burned in Rhukaan Draal, the streets were empty between dawn and dusk, and no one entered or left the city.

  The death of Lhesh Tariic Kurar’taarn was followed by no mourning period at all.

  It wasn’t a case of spite. When Razu asked how Tariic’s passing should be treated, Dagii had been willing to allow for a remembrance of tradition, but there was too much to be done too quickly. Messengers were dispatched into the north of Darguun with orders that the troops Tariic had put in place be demobilized. More messages were rushed to King Boranel of Breland advising him of the change in power in Darguun and of the nation’s good will toward its neighbors. In addition, not everyone was convinced of Tariic’s villainy. The power of the Rod of Kings had swayed many Darguuls, but many more had needed no greater persuasion than Tariic’s promises of war and glory.

  “His memory will haunt you,” Chetiin had advised Dagii.

  “It already does.”

  Geth stayed close to the young former warlord-the young lhesh. Someone had the idea that because he’d held the throne for two weeks after Haruuc’s death, Geth was best suited to steer Dagii through his first days.

  “The best advice I can give you is to keep your head down,” the shifter told Dagii. “If it all gets to be too much, find a friend and duel for a while.” He patted Wrath at his side. “That works for me.”

  Munta the Gray was summoned to Rhukaan Draal and installed as Dagii’s chief advisor, which relieved Geth. The old warlord knew more about political maneuvering than Geth ever would.

  When it came time to try and appease the dragonmarked houses, though, Ashi was Dagii’s biggest help. The viceroys of the houses-and many of the ambassadors from the Five Nations-had a new respect for her. After the events at the arena, Dannel d’Cannith had personally seen to the removal of the icy cuffs Tariic had forced on her and promised an investigation into who in House Cannith had created such a device. If relations with the houses and nations beyond Darguun would take time to repair, the viceroys and ambassadors within Darguun were at least cordial. Most of them admitted to Ashi-sentiments she passed along quietly to Geth and the others-that they were embarrassed at having been manipulated by Tariic and suddenly faced a certain amount of suspicion from their monarchs and patriarchs.

  The Kech Shaarat appeared to find themselves in a similar situation. When Riila Dhakaan appeared before Dagii to tell him formally that her clan’s warriors would withdraw, she hinted that she would not have the warmest of welcomes from the warlord of her clan. Ruus Dhakaan seemed to feel that she’d fallen too much under Tariic’s influence, the power of the Rod of Kings not withstanding. Dagii offered apologies for the death of Taak, but she shrugged them off. “He died with honor,” she said. “Remember him as a strong opponent.”

  Messages of apology for the treatment of Senen Dhakaan were also sent to Volaar Draal, but there was no immediate response. Ekhaas admitted that she wasn’t surprised. “The Kech Volaar are not a forgiving clan. It comes of having long memories.”

  She hid her own sadness well. Geth, Tenquis, and Chetiin told the story of her exile from the Kech Volaar to Ashi, while Ekhaas told Dagii herself. Afterward, they’d come together and Ashi had tried to console Ekhaas. The duur’kala wouldn’t allow her. “It makes it easier,” she said.

  “Easier?” Ashi looked ready to ride to Volaar Draal and threaten Tuura Dhakaan until she took Ekhaas back.

  “Easier,” said Dagii. “Normally marriage between a lord of the Ghaal’dar and a woman of a Dhakaani clan would force some kind of political alliance, but since Ekhaas is exiled-”

  They hadn’t let him finish before they were offering their congratulations. Ekhaas had shushed them all down. “There are still complications,” she said. “Haruuc never married, so there was no need to figure out a female equivalent of lhesh.”

  “Lhesh’nu,” said Dagii.

  “Really?” asked Tenquis. “It sounds like you just made that up.”

  “I’m the lhesh. If I can’t make up words, what can I do?”

  There was one additional complication to the coronation-or rather, the wedding and double-coronation. On the third day after Tariic’s death, shortly after the date of the coronation was announced, three hobgoblin priests of Dol Arrah, Dol Dorn, and Balinor, the gods of the Sovereign Host that Haruuc had revered, sought
an audience with Dagii. They entered the throne room-where Tariic’s crest had been removed and the crests of the clan were being restored-almost tentatively.

  The priest of Dol Arrah took the lead. “We are concerned that you have chosen the day of 28 Vult for your coronation, lhesh.”

  “It’s the day that Tariic would have attacked Breland,” Dagii said. “It seems an appropriate day to begin a new reign.”

  Geth watched the priest search for the right words to respond. “We have heard that the servant of the Dark Six, Pradoor, was killed along with Tariic, so we hope that you do not intend to follow his support for her religion. Nonetheless, we should point out that 28 Vult is the third Night of Long Shadows and sacred to followers of the Dark Six.”

  “I’m aware of that,” said Dagii bluntly. “Are you trying to ask if I intend to include the rites of the Sovereign Host in my coronation?”

  The priest looked relieved. “Yes, lhesh.”

  “No.” He rose. “I respect the Host, but Tariic included one aspect in his reign that I will keep. The emperors of Dhakaan did not submit to religion and neither will I. I serve my people, not the gods.” He nodded to the priests. “You are welcome in Darguun and in my court if you wish, but not beside my throne. Saa’atcha, Vassals of the Host.”

  “That was nicely done,” said Geth as the priests retreated in some consternation.

  “I’m beginning to get a feel for it,” Dagii said, then turned to look at him. “Do you want to duel for a while?”

  On the night of 28 Vult, the newly crowned lhesh and lhesh’nu of Darguun swept into the small chamber where Haruuc had once spoken in secret of finding an artifact called the Rod of Kings and where Geth and the others had once spoken of how to defeat it. Geth gave them the best bow that he could as he, Tenquis, Chetiin, and Ashi rose in greeting. “Your majesties,” he said.

  “Sit,” said Ekhaas. “Khaavolaar, I wish I could.” She poked at the stiff robes stitched with silver plates, a fanciful approximation of armor, that she wore. “I’d rather wear my real armor than this.”