The Doom of Kings: Legacy of Dhakaan - Book 1

by Don Bassingthwaite

  The lhesh laughed. “I already have a sword!” he said, patting the weapon that rested nearby. “It will go to my successor as a symbol of his connection to me, but its history extends no farther than a weaponsmith’s shop in the town of Rheklor. The symbol I seek must be older.” His gaze stayed on Geth. “The inspiration for the symbol I wish to pass on to my successor came from your rediscovery of Aram. Knowing that I needed a connection to Dhakaan, I sought a closer tie with the keepers of history, the Kech Volaar. For thirty years, I have tried to make alliances with the Dhakaani clans, but I was rejected. The Kech Volaar, the Kech Shaarat, and the other kech saw no value in aligning themselves with an upstart warlord who had drifted from the pure traditions of the empire.”

  “Until you came to the Kech Volaar with a true appreciation for the power of history,” interrupted Senen. “Don’t portray us as isolationists hoarding knowledge as a dragon hoards gold. We have kept the history of Dhakaan until it was time to bring it forth. That time is now.”

  “As you say,” Haruuc said. “We found common ground. The Kech Volaar would benefit from the resources of Darguun. Darguun would benefit from your stories and the inspiration of the Empire of Dhakaan.”

  “And you thought you would benefit from access to our vaults and the artifacts of Dhakaan.”

  Haruuc’s ears flinched. “The candor of the Kech Volaar is famous,” he said to Senen, then to the rest of them, “To put it bluntly, yes. I was disappointed, though. There are many wonders in the vaults of Volaar Draal, but none were exactly what I needed. Still, the potential for an alliance grew steadily. Then one day, a duur’kala returned from the west with stories of a tainted dragon and of a shifter who had recovered the blade Aram.”

  Ekhaas felt her face grow warm, and Haruuc nodded to her as he continued. “The duur’kala was Ekhaas, of course, and the shifter was Geth. At that time, I only knew Aram as a distant legend, but the Kech Volaar assured me that there was more to the story and that Aram might be the key to gaining what I needed.” He looked to Senen.

  “Taruuzh, who forged Aram,” the ambassador said, “was the greatest of the Dhakaani dashoor, wizard-smiths whose secrets modern artificers haven’t duplicated. He was the creator of many marvels, the three greatest of which were the binding stones that defeated an army of monsters during the ancient Daelkyr War, the grieving tree that we still use in a different form today, and the sword Aram. But our histories record that when Taruuzh forged Aram, he didn’t forge it on its own.”

  Senen’s voice rose into the cadence of a storyteller. “Raat shi anaa—the story continues. It is said that Taruuzh found inspiration in all things. It particularly pleased him to work in the mines, where he could handle the raw material of his creations, and he was so working in the mines of Suthar Draal when he found a vein of byeshk so pure that he named it Khaar Vanon, the Blood of Dusk. Taruuzh spent a year beneath the ground in the mine, extracting all of the ore from Khaar Vanon with his own hands. And while he worked, he saw the shape of new creations within the vein’s twists and turns. At the end of the year, he returned with the ore to his stronghold at Taruuzh Kraat, where he spent another half a year smelting it, again with his own hands, refining his ideas as he refined the metal. Then, when the byeshk had been formed into ingots, he retreated from his apprentices and went into seclusion.”

  “When he reappeared, he bore with him three great creations forged from the byeshk of Khaar Vanon. First and greatest of these was Aram, the Sword of Heroes, which he gave to his friend Duulan Kuun, and the deeds which Duulan and his descendants performed with Aram are legend. Aram represented the inspiration that heroes provided for the people.”

  “Second was Muut, or Duty, the Shield of Nobles, which represented both the fealty that the lords and ladies of Dhakaan owed to the emperor and the protection that was their responsibility to the people. Muut was given into the care of the nobles of Dhakaan.”

  “Third was Guulen—Strength, to all appearances a simple rod of byeshk carved with symbols that had been old when the first daashor took up a hammer and the first duur’kala sang. But Taruuzh gave Guulen to the emperor with the words, ‘In this are the glories of the people. Bear them in mind and the people will always know their king.’ And Guulen, the Rod of Kings, became part of the imperial regalia and the emperor held it whenever he sat on his throne.”

  Senen bowed her head. “Raat shan gath’kal dor. The story stops but never ends.” She looked up and her voice dropped into normal tones. “Over the centuries of the empire, the three treasures of Khaar Vanon were lost, as is the way with such things. The fate of Aram was well-known, lost by Rakari Kuun in Jhegesh Dol when he killed the daelkyr lord of that place. Muut was shattered and forgotten as Dhakaan slid toward the Desperate Times. Guulen remained the longest, but eventually it too was lost, vanishing along with Marhu Dabrak Riis, the Shaking Emperor, when he went out into the world to face his fears.”

  She fell silent. The room went quiet along with her until Geth lifted his eyes from Aram and said, “It sounds like this rod is what you need.”

  “It is,” said Haruuc somberly. “Except that even after thousands of years of searching, no one has been able to find it.”

  “But you think I might be able to because I carry Wrath,” Geth said. “That’s the task you want me to perform.”

  Haruuc nodded without speaking.

  “Because Aram and Guulen were both forged from the same vein of byeshk, they should still carry an affinity,” said Senen. “The duur’kala of Kech Volaar have studied the ancient songs of our ancestors. Aram is only just stirring after its slumbers. We believe we can wake it to its full power again and that it will lead you to Guulen if the rod still exists.”

  Geth looked at the sword again. “Tiger, Wolf, and Rat,” he said.

  “Will you do it, Geth?” Haruuc asked. “I doubt that it will be easy, but you’ll have whomever you choose at your side. Chetiin and Ekhaas will go with you—so will Dagii, and there’s no better fighter in my service. I’ll offer you gold or whatever reward you name, and you’ll have the gratitude of a king, which is no small thing.”

  The shifter met Haruuc’s gaze. “There are a lot of people in Khorvaire who don’t like Darguun. They’d like to see Darguun fall apart into a bunch of squabbling clans again. They’re afraid you’re just waiting for another chance to come over the Seawall Mountains and attack.”

  “All of the human kings and queens watch each other because they’re afraid of the same thing,” Haruuc said. “When will Breland invade Thrane or Aundair attack Karrnath? Those people who don’t like Darguun don’t see it the way I do. United, Darguuls can find pride again and climb back to the heights of culture we once knew, but if Darguun falls, the chances that my people will attack are even greater. Ekhaas has told me you’re a veteran of the Last War. You know the chaos of country fighting country, clan fighting clan.” The lhesh sat forward. “Give my nation the chance to win its place in Khorvaire.”

  Geth was silent, and Ekhaas felt as if a hundred needles were being pushed into her scalp and back—then the shifter took a deep breath and nodded.

  “I’ll do it,” he said.

  CHAPTER

  TWELVE

  The date for the ritual that would wake Wrath was set for three nights later when, Senen said, the moons would be at their brightest. At first Geth had felt a strange kind of elation. After his decision, everyone who had been in the room with Haruuc was slapping his shoulders and congratulating him. He had felt like … to be honest, he’d felt like a hero.

  That elation had worn off like a night at the tavern. He’d awakened the next morning and just lain in bed, staring up at the ceiling of the chamber he’d been escorted to and wondering exactly what he’d gotten himself into. The feeling reminded him of a time during the war when he’d agreed to go with other members of his mercenary company to have a piercing done. Specifically, it reminded him of a moment in the piercing artist’s shop when he’d looked up and seen the artis
t, needles and rings on a tray, working his way through the line of mercenaries. Too late to back out, too much time for second guessing.

  He passed most of the next three days flipping back and forth between elation and second guessing. Plans were being made for the journey in the hope that the Kech Volaar’s ritual would work and that Geth would, through Wrath, be able to sense the way to the rod, but he had little involvement in them. Chetiin, Ekhaas, and Dagii were handling the details. Geth wasn’t sure about Dagii. He was willing to accept Haruuc’s claim that he was the best fighter in his service and Chetiin’s assurances that he was a good man, but the hobgoblin seemed strangely stiff and formal around him.

  Midian, on the other hand, seemed to have adopted Geth as his best friend, and the gnome was always close, especially when Senen was around. He was no more obtrusive than Chetiin—though perhaps a little more talkative—and Geth caught him more than once observing everything that was going on around Khaar Mbar’ost with a great deal of interest. He would, of course, be going on the quest for the rod as well. Geth hoped that he and Ekhaas would get along. It seemed that Midian was going out of his way not to antagonize the duur’kala, but that might have been because he was still under Senen’s watchful eye.

  The majority of the shifter’s time over the three days, however, was spent keeping up the illusion of his cover as Ashi’s bodyguard. Ashi’s time, meanwhile, was spent trailing Vounn as the lady seneschal settled into her duties as House Deneith’s envoy to the court of Lhesh Haruuc. It seemed to Geth that she attended endless rounds of meetings with warlords—both Daavn of the Marhaan and Tugun of the Pin Galaac among them—and various independent mercenary captains, talking about very little. He might actually have enjoyed it if she’d been talking military operations with the warlords and captains, but if they discussed anything beyond the weather, the lay of the land, and the state of affairs in Khorvaire, it was usually issues of supply and personnel. Geth pitied Aruget, Thuun, and Krakuul. The three hobgoblins who had accompanied them from Sterngate had been assigned by Haruuc to act as Vounn’s personal guards after hearing Tariic and Chetiin’s reports on the attack by the rebellious Gan’duur clan. The three guards were around Vounn constantly. At least Geth had the chance to accompany Ashi on those rare occasions she left Vounn to do something on her own.

  Which were unfortunately rare. Vounn kept her close—neither she nor Ashi had forgotten the pledge Ashi had made back in Sigil-star to accompany Geth on whatever task Haruuc set for him. Only Vounn’s stern discipline had kept the two of them from breaking into an argument about it in front of Haruuc that first night. They’d argued about it many times in private, though. Geth’s chamber was close to Vounn’s, and he could hear their shouting. Now that Haruuc had met her, Vounn was ready to send Ashi back to Sentinel Tower as soon as Geth had departed on his quest and there was no need to provide a reason for his presence. Ashi had argued that if she were part of the party setting out on the quest, her presence would continue to disguise Geth’s as he would be the bodyguard to a lady of Deneith riding out explore Darguun. Vounn had pointed out that no one simply “rode out to explore Darguun.” Ashi had said she was going whether Vounn wanted her to or not because there was nothing Vounn could do to stop her.

  Geth had put a pillow over his head and tried to sleep.

  On the afternoon of the third day, though, he and Ashi did find some time to themselves. Vounn, under the watchful eyes of her three guards, had gone out into Rhukaan Draal to inspect an independent mercenary company and assess whether it was fit to accept into House Deneith’s service—technically something she should have left to Redek at the Gathering Stone, but which Geth suspected she would be doing on a regular basis anyway—and Ashi had been left behind as a kind of punishment. Geth, through Chetiin, had found an empty training yard and brought Ashi out for some sparring. He’d been told not to draw Wrath within Haruuc’s fortress for fear of revealing the weapon to anyone, so he had to make do with a mundane sword. After wielding Wrath, it was like swinging a steel bar, but the challenge felt good.

  Ashi, of course, used her grandfather’s honor blade, and the flashing of the bright blade in the sun added punctuation to her complaints about Vounn.

  “—to the dressmaker’s!” she said as she lunged at Geth. “Do you know I have fifteen dresses coming in the baggage from Sterngate? She made me bring them all!”

  Each word was a slash. Geth blocked them all with his gauntlet. “That does sound like a bit much, but you are supposed to be representing Deneith in a foreign court. You’re supposed to look like a lady.” He whirled to bring his sword around in a backhand circle.

  Ashi ducked under the swing. “I don’t want to look like a lady!” She popped up again and planted her foot against his backside, shoving him into a stumble, then following up with chopping blow. Geth got his arm up, and her sword went skidding along the black steel. She sprang away before he could counterattack. “She made me learn about fashion, Geth! I know the difference between Fairhaven sleeves and Sharn shoulders. I can recognize the three main styles of lace from Zilargo. I know that green is popular in Korth this year and that I should never wear yellow.”

  Geth got back to his feet and stood crouched, waiting for her next attack. “Why’s that?” he asked.

  “It makes me look sallow!” Ashi charged, feinted left, and struck right. He was ready for her and caught her sword between the serrated teeth on the back of his weapon. For a moment the two swords were locked together. Ashi clenched her jaw as she pulled, trying to free her blade. At just the right moment, Geth twisted his sword, releasing hers. She took an involuntary step backward, he hooked her leg with his foot, and a moment later she was glowering at him from the dirt.

  “Again!” she spat, standing up.

  “Vounn’s going to be back soon,” he said.

  “I don’t care. All that matters to her is the honor of Deneith.”

  She charged again, and once again Geth locked her sword with his. This time she resisted the urge to pull away and instead pushed toward him. Geth twisted away from her and let her sprawl forward. As she picked herself up for a second time, he stepped back, lowered his sword to take a rest, and asked, “Have you tried not fighting her all the time?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “If what Vounn cares about is the honor of Deneith, try finding an argument that agrees with that point of view instead of challenging it.”

  Ashi stared at him. “Are you on her side?”

  “Boar’s snout, no!” Geth bared his teeth. “I’m trying to find a way to make sure you can come with me.”

  The words were spoiled by a loud grumbling from his stomach. Ashi raised an eyebrow. “Hungry?”

  “Instead of breakfast this morning, I got a visit from Senen telling me not to eat today. I’m supposed to fast before the ritual tonight.” He gave Ashi a long look. “Think about trying a different argument with Vounn?” he asked.

  She scowled at him but nodded.

  No shouting came from Vounn’s chamber that evening. Geth, lying on his bed and resting in preparation for the ritual that was to come, took that as a good sign. He was considering going to look for Ashi—if only to distract himself from the hollow in his belly—when there was a knock at the door. The sound came from too low down to be human or hobgoblin, and Geth opened the door to find Midian. “So it seems there will be six of us on the quest,” the gnome said, strolling in under Geth’s arm.

  “Six?” Geth raised his eyebrows.

  “I passed Ashi and Vounn on their way to see Haruuc and make it official, but it looks like Ashi will be coming with us.”

  Geth couldn’t hold back a grin. “Do you know why?”

  “Vounn said something about upholding the special relationship between Deneith and Darguun. If you ask me, she’s decided to send Ashi along to get in even better favor with Haruuc.” Midian cocked his head. “Why do you ask?”

  “No reason,” Geth said with a shrug. It sound
ed like Ashi had taken his advice. “It will be good to have her along. She knows wilderness travel, and she’s a good fighter.”

  “About that—well, not so much about Ashi as about me.” The gnome hopped up into a chair. Given that it had been built for the comfort of hobgoblins and humans, it was as if Geth had decided to sit on top of a table. Apparently used to such inconveniences, Midian kicked his feet and looked at Geth. “I haven’t thanked you for standing up for me in front of Senen and Haruuc. I know that took some nerve. Twice tak, as they say in the Eldeen Reaches.”

  Geth took a seat on his bed. “It wasn’t nerve, really. I was just getting a little angry at being ignored, and sometimes I don’t know when to shut up.”

  Midian snorted. “It was pretty eloquent for not knowing when to shut up.”

  “I saw you take down at least two hobgoblins when the Gan’duur attacked us. I’d call that good fighting.”

  “I’ve had to learn some tricks. You might have noticed that Darguuls can be a bit protective of their ruins. Generally, I find it’s much easier to run. Not”—he added quickly—”that I’d run if friends were in trouble.”

  “You better not!” Geth gave a mocking growl.

  The gnome laughed, then asked, “Speaking of the Gan’duur, have you heard yet how they knew to come west and ambush us?”

  In fact, he had. Haruuc had just heard that morning and had passed the news to Vounn, who had announced it in Ashi’s presence. “There was a traitor among the officers at Matshuc Zaal, someone with sympathies to the Gan’duur. The Darguuls use falcons to carry messages—he sent one to the Gan’duur telling them we’d be riding to the Gathering Stone. All the ambushers had to do was ride west until they found us.”

  Midian cursed. “Let’s hope your sword doesn’t lead us into Gan’duur territory, then.” He slid from the chair. “Thank you again, Geth. A gnome remembers kindness.”