The Doom of Kings: Legacy of Dhakaan - Book 1

by Don Bassingthwaite

  Vounn’s lips pressed together, and she looked to Tariic. He shrugged. “Ban,” he said. “She’s right.” Vounn’s mouth turned into a thin white line. Ashi felt a small glow of triumph. Geth gave her a smile, Ekhaas a flick of her ears and a wink.

  Then the Deneith mercenaries were falling back and their party was riding alone across the last stretch of the plaza. Massive bugbear guards, each holding a halberd as big as a flagpole and wearing red cords fastened with bronze pins in the shape of Haruuc’s sword and crown crest around their upper arms, stood straight and tall as they approached the gates of Khaar Mbar’ost. The company rode through into a hall as big as a courtyard. The unfettered noise of Rhukaan Draal vanished behind them, replaced by the controlled echoes of a fortress. From the wall opposite, an enormous relief sculpture of a hobgoblin warrior glared down at the gate, as if challenging anyone who dared to enter. Everbright lanterns ringed the hall, but its ceiling still vanished into shadow somewhere above the great sculpture’s head. Tariic reined in his horse and looked back at them.

  “Welcome to the court of Lhesh Haruuc Shaarat’kor,” he said.

  A hobgoblin wearing the red corded armband of Khaar Mbar’ost led them deeper into the fortress, to a chamber where Tariic said they would be able to leave their packs for transfer to the quarters that awaited them. Basins of warm water and small pots of soft soap that smelled of herbs were brought so they could refresh themselves. A screen made of fine fabric that Ashi suspected had been imported from Karrnath was set up for them to change behind should they wish to do so. Most of their baggage had been left with the rest of the delegation in Sterngate and would arrive with them, but Ashi was disappointed to discover that Vounn had somehow managed to transport complete sets of formal clothing in her traveling pack.

  To her astonishment, however, the clothing Vounn produced for her wasn’t the gown that she would have expected, but clean trousers, a shirt, and a jacket reminiscent of a parade uniform. The lady seneschal seemed to take pleasure in her surprise. “Did you think a party gown would impress Haruuc’s court?” she asked Ashi. “I may have one if you prefer.”

  “No,” Ashi said quickly. “This will be fine.” She snatched the outfit before Vounn could take it back and retreated behind the screen.

  Vounn nodded when she came out. “Polish your boots,” she said, then took her turn behind the screen.

  Midian changed into a clean shirt and a brightly colored vest taken from his pack. Tariic, Aruget, Thuun, and Krakuul gave their armor a rapid polishing. Chetiin and Ekhaas did nothing except brush the dust from their clothes. Geth, Ashi suspected, would have done nothing at all except that Tariic produced the blue tabard of a House Deneith guard.

  The shifter growled at him. “Where did you get that?”

  “From a guard in Sentinel Tower. If you’re going to be Ashi’s bodyguard, you should look the part.” Tariic held out the tabard. “Put it on and be sure to walk behind Ashi.”

  Scowling, Geth pulled the tabard over his head and stuffed the fabric roughly through his sword belt—unlike in human courts, weapons were not only permitted here, but expected. He managed to catch and tear the tabard several times with the hooks on the back of his gauntlet, leading to a round of cursing that ended only when Vounn stepped out from behind the screen.

  Ashi stared in surprise. Vounn wore a dress that was as simply cut as any Ashi had ever seen, and yet somehow it flattered her. The dominant fabric was a blue-gray silk, plain in color and with only the barest hint of a pattern yet of fine quality and excellent weight. The overall effect was one of understated wealth, of power and influence hinted at but not quite revealed. Tariic slapped a hand against his chest in applause. Vounn acknowledged him with a nod and a shallow curtsy.

  Tariic dismissed the hobgoblin servant and led them himself to a large antechamber in which a number of goblins and hobgoblins waited, talking quietly together in small groups. At one end of the antechamber, a broad flight of steps rose to another hall. Ashi couldn’t see past the stairs, but she could hear voices speaking in Goblin. Tariic spoke to a goblin with a red cord armband who darted up the stairs and into the next hall. Tariic turned back to them. “The assembly of warlords is meeting. Haruuc will summon us when there’s a pause in the discussion.”

  He looked nervous for the first time Ashi could remember. “Is there anything we can do?” she asked.

  “Wait.” His ears twitched. “Vounn, sit with me. I’ll tell you who some of the warlords are that are here.”

  The hobgoblin and the lady seneschal went to a nearby bench. Midian shrugged, went to another bench, produced the little yellow book he’d been reading when they arrived in Sterngate, and began reading again. Chetiin nudged Geth. “There’s someone I want to find before we go in,” he said. “I’ll be back.” He walked away toward the end of the hall.

  In the next hall, a voice rose loud. Ekhaas’s ears twitched toward it, and her eyes narrowed. Ashi strained to follow the voice, but most of the speech was words she didn’t know yet. “What are they saying?” she asked.

  “Try this,” said Geth. He took her hand and placed it just below his on the hilt of his sword so they were both holding the weapon.

  Instantly, she understood the words as if she’d been speaking Goblin all her life. “… hold us back!” ranted the speaker. “Our clans are willing! Our warriors are waiting! There are riches to be had over the Seawalls. A swift descent from Matshuc Zaal would put Sterngate in our hands. I have reports from a scout who says that he’s worked out a path through the human defenses.”

  “Has he followed the path?” asked another voice. This one was calmer and deeper, speaking in measured, thoughtful tones. “Has he walked up to the walls of Sterngate?”

  “He waits only for confirmation of our interest in his plan before he makes the attempt!”

  “In other words, he hasn’t and he wisely isn’t going to throw his life away for no reason,” said the deeper voice. “Daavn, Sterngate’s deadliest defenses are the ones that can’t be seen from a distance.”

  The first voice paused for a moment, then changed tactics. “A strike around the northern end of the Seawalls then,” said Daavn. “With Skullreave as our staging base, we’re three days’ march from the colony the Brelish king is allowing to call itself New Cyre. You know their defenses are weak.”

  “Their defenses are weak because they’re poor,” shouted a third voice. “Sit down, Daavn.”

  “Respect the order of assembly,” said a fourth voice wearily, as if the speaker had repeated the words too many times.

  “Daavn, we will not attack Breland,” said the deep voice, almost as weary. “We are bound by the Treaty of Thronehold. Yield the pole and sit down if you have nothing new to say.”

  A murmuring of other voices agreed with him.

  Daavn was silent for a moment, then said, “Valenar.”

  The murmuring voices ended instantly, and Daavn went on more boldly. “The ancient enemies of our people have taken up residence across Kraken Bay. When the Valenar elves claimed their territory, they even did it on the basis of blood spilled fighting against our ancestors. They claim a victory they didn’t earn. We should take ships and teach them what it means to fight hobgoblins!”

  This time the murmurs that rose were excited and voices called out support to Daavn—but they all ended as the deep voice shouted. “There will be no attacks outside our borders! Valenar is also a Thronehold nation!”

  “My clan cries out for war!”

  “If the Marhaan want war, Daavn,” said the deep voice, “look for it in the Mournland. Push back the mists and seek all the riches you wish.”

  Daavn had no answer, and there were no more murmurs. The deep voice grunted and said, “Lower the banner of the Marhaan. Their warlord has finished, and Aguus of the Bound Cat clan wishes to speak.”

  Ashi released the hilt of Geth’s sword and the voices became incomprehensible once more. “Incredible. That deep voice, was that—?”

&n
bsp; “Haruuc,” said Ekhaas. “You see what he fights against.”

  “I didn’t realize that Darguun shared a border with the Mournland,” Geth said.

  Ekhaas’s ears twitched irritably. “Few people do, but in fact Darguun—”

  “—has the longest land border with the Mournland of any nation,” said a new voice, completing her thought.

  All three of them turned to face the speaker, a hobgoblin in armor that had been painted with Haruuc’s scarlet blade and spiked crown. By the unlined orange-red skin of his face, Ashi guessed he was relatively young, maybe a few years younger than Tariic and a few years older than her, but his hair was already a dark gray that made him seem older. Ashi thought she saw a cloud of annoyance pass through Ekhaas’s eyes, but then it was gone. She would have been annoyed as well, except that the speaker stood with Chetiin and the goblin’s face creased slightly as he said, “This one who speaks before he thinks is Dagii of Mur Talaan. He’s the best fighter in Haruuc’s personal guard, and a friend.”

  Dagii’s eyes—shadow gray like his hair—skipped past Ekhaas, drifted along Ashi, and lingered on Geth. The shifter bared his teeth. “Like what you see, roo?”

  “No,” said Dagii bluntly, “but I don’t have much choice, do I?”

  Ashi actually saw Geth’s eyes go wide as Dagii called his bluff, then narrow as his temper flared. Chetiin moved between them before anything could happen. “Geth, did I say Dagii is a friend? Dagii, Geth is a friend too.

  Dagii hadn’t moved at all. “Ban,” he said. “He carries Aram, but what does he know about Darguun?”

  “Grandfather Rat!” Geth cursed. “Does everybody know about my sword?” He glared at Ekhaas.

  The duur’kala shook her head, and when she answered, she didn’t sound happy. “Not everyone—he just happens to be one who does.”

  “And why’s that?”

  There was no missing the look that the three goblins exchanged. Ashi’s eyebrows rose, and Geth cursed again. “I really want to know what Haruuc has in store for me.”

  “You won’t have to wait long now,” said Tariic. He, Vounn, and Midian had risen from their benches. “I think we’re about to go before him.”

  Ashi followed their gaze. Another hobgoblin was coming down the stairs from the next hall, and Ashi was quite sure he was the oldest hobgoblin she’d ever seen. His hair and thick beard were gray as ash and his skin was faded orange. He carried a heavy sword on his belt but wore no armor, though to Ashi’s eye the bronze disks that decorated his long mantle and the bronze bands that circled his forearms looked heavy enough to block blows. He was also fat, with the body of a powerful man who had long since subsided into inactivity. He came down the stairs almost sideways, but his strides across the chamber to meet them were sure.

  He struck his chest with a fist as he approached. “Mo’saa, Tariic. It’s good to have you back. And saa’atcha, Lady Vounn.” He greeted Vounn with another salute. Like Dagii, his eyes slid over Ekhaas and Ashi but paused on Midian as if confused, and lingered with fascination on Geth.

  “Munta of Gantii Vus, also known as Munta the Gray,” said Vounn. She returned his salute in the goblin manner, earning an approving smile from him. “It is an honor.”

  “Is he ready for us, Munta?” Tariic asked.

  “Any moment,” confirmed the old hobgoblin. “You’ll want to be on the stairs.”

  Tariic moved like a miser afraid to miss the offer of free gold. The rest of them hurried after him, leaving Dagii behind. Ekhaas and Tariic had drilled all of them on what would happen. Compared to the reception ceremony for the Darguuls at Sentinel Tower, Vounn’s official greeting in Khaar Mbar’ost would be a simple affair, but it was bound by goblin tradition and had to happen in a very particular way. The three soldiers would enter first as an honor guard, followed by Tariic, walking on the left, escorting Vounn on the right. Ashi would follow directly behind Vounn, her head down to indicate that she was subordinate to Vounn, while Geth followed her, his head up to show that he was her watchful guard. Midian would follow Tariic, his head down as well. Ekhaas and Chetiin would come last, heads up and well back from Tariic and Vounn to show that they stood on their own. Ashi had the strong feeling that neither Chetiin nor Midian really wanted a formal presentation to Haruuc, but they had no choice. Tradition dictated that all members of a party arriving at a warlord’s court be presented together.

  They were only just assembled when a thin hobgoblin woman appeared at the top of the stairs and called out, “Tariic gaate Rhukaan Taash bozhuumo!”

  Tariic, son of Rhukaan Taash, is summoned! The words still sounded strange to Ashi, but only Goblin would be spoken during the formal greeting, and Ekhaas had made certain that she would understand everything that happened. When their party began moving up the stairs, Ashi was ready.

  With her head bowed, she could see nothing of the hall at the top of the stairs. She had a sense of a large space, of the presence of a small crowd of people attempting to be silent, of softly crackling fires, of the harsh odor of some strange blend of incense. All she could see was the stone of the floor underfoot, and that was still rough-edged, relatively new and not yet worn down by the centuries and the passing of countless feet. There were shadows—the room was dimly lit but not dark—and off to each side she could see ranks of heavy hobgoblin boots. Ahead of her, Vounn walked with calm assurance, as if out for a stroll. Behind her, Geth was swearing softly in amazement.

  She clenched her teeth and kept her head down for a good fifteen paces, but then she could stand it no longer. She lifted her head for a swift and surreptitious look around—only to find that she couldn’t lower her eyes again.

  The throne room of Lhesh Haruuc was as big as she’d imagined it, made larger by the deep shadows that spread up the walls to the ceiling and gathered between the pools of light shed by widely spaced everbright lanterns. Tall statues of hobgoblin warriors stood against the wall, the lanterns at their feet emphasizing the fierce faces that snarled down at those below. Between the statues hung banners with the crests of the clans of Darguun. There were easily two dozen or more of them—some large, most smaller—and for each banner there was a warlord.

  They stood in front of benches, heavily carved with images of battle, that had been placed at an angle to the front of the hall. Hobgoblins, some bugbears, a very few goblins, all of them dressed in robes and polished armor, all of them watching the party pacing the length of the throne room. Ekhaas had said that some of them were only warlords by formality, that many were really just clan chiefs given a place in Haruuc’s assembly by tradition. When the assembly wasn’t in session, they would return to territories often as small as a single crude holding.

  Clan chief or mighty warlord, it made little difference. Ashi felt as though she bore the weight of each dark-eyed gaze, and it was almost enough to make her lower her head again. Almost, but not quite. The throne rose up ahead of her.

  Benches, banners, and statues all seemed designed to focus attention on the dais at the end of the hall. Tall windows rose behind the dais, framing it with night’s dark skies and gently swirling draperies. On the dais stood a blocky throne, and on the throne sat Lhesh Haruuc Shaarat’kor.

  Ashi’s first thought was that she wouldn’t want to face him on the battlefield. Haruuc was powerfully built. He had big hands and wide shoulders, and his armor carried vicious spikes. A heavy hobgoblin sword, its blade stained red, leaned against one arm of the throne as if ready for use—the infamous shaarat’kor that had carved out a nation. Haruuc’s face was strong, the sharp lower teeth that pushed over his upper lip and a thin beard giving him an expression of perpetual ferocity. He wore a spiked crown on his brow that looked like it might have been fashioned from broken swords. His eyes were bright and intense, and when they settled briefly on her, Ashi felt for a moment as if she were the focus of all Haruuc’s interest.

  “Who comes to the court of Lhesh Haruuc?” he asked in the same deep voice she had listened to from the an
techamber. Without Geth’s sword translating his speech in her mind, she heard his words in Goblin and felt the power he put behind even such a simple, ritual phrase.

  “Tariic of Rhukaan Taash, son of Haluun, nephew to Haruuc, comes,” said Tariic. “He comes with guards and a scholar who serve him. He returns from Karrlakton in Karrnath with a guest to the court.”

  “Vounn of Deneith, daughter of Sigor, comes,” said Vounn in turn, her Goblin flawless. “She comes at the invitation of Lhesh Haruuc as the envoy of Deneith. She comes with Ashi of Deneith, daughter of Ner, and a guard who serves her.”

  “Ekhaas of Kech Volaar, daughter of the dirge, comes.”

  “Chetiin of the Silent Blades comes,” said Chetiin, the last to speak. “He comes alone but bears the peace of the Silent Clans.”

  The thin hobgoblin who had summoned them into the throne room stepped onto a corner of the dais. “Do you who come owe allegiance to Lhesh Haruuc Shaarat’kor?”

  Tariic and the three guards spoke in unison. “We owe allegiance to Lhesh Haruuc Shaarat’kor.”

  “Do you who come without allegiance pledge friendship to Lhesh Haruuc Shaarat’kor as guests to host in ancient bond?”

  “We pledge friendship to Lhesh Haruuc Shaarat’kor,” said Ashi along with the others.

  The thin hobgoblin turned to Haruuc. “Lhesh, do you accept as host these guests who come?”

  “I accept them.” He held up his right hand, taking all of them in with a sweeping gesture. “You are all welcome in my court,” he said—then added, “and throughout the land of the people as if you were beneath my roof.”

  The words weren’t part of the ceremony and it took a moment for Ashi to work out what Haruuc had said. Even as she puzzled it out, though, mutters were passing through the assembly of warlords and the thin hobgoblin’s ears were twitching in agitation. It wasn’t the only surprise Haruuc had for them, though. Rising from his throne, he stepped down from the dais, stood before Vounn, and smiled broadly at her. “Saa’atcha, Vounn d’Deneith. Ke chidar esaa roo, mo’esaa te.”