The Doom of Kings: Legacy of Dhakaan - Book 1

by Don Bassingthwaite

  “I accept it,” he said. He reached out and wrapped his left hand around the sharpened edge of the offered sword. With a slow, steady motion, Haruuc withdrew the sword and fresh blood ran along the blade. There was new applause from scattered warlords in the crowd—applause that Haruuc stopped with a gesture.

  “Dagii,” he said, “your new rank comes with a responsibility. Remind me—remind all gathered here—where the territory of the Mur Talaan lies.”

  Dagii’s ears stood high. “Lhesh, the territory of the Mur Talaan is the land beneath Rhukaan Draal.”

  “If the territory of a clan has been attacked, what must its warlord do?”

  Confusion and suspicion narrowed Dagii’s eyes, and his gaze flicked to the smoke still visible over Rhukaan Draal. “The warlord must defend his clan’s territory. If the attack cannot be defended against or occurs in his absence, he must strike back against the attacker—if the lhesh, by your law, grants him permission to do so.” Dagii drew himself up. “Lhesh, has the territory of the Mur Talaan been attacked?”

  “Today and in your absence,” Haruuc said solemnly, drawing out the words. The hall was absolutely still. “Warriors of the Gan’duur make free with your territory, lhevk-rhu. They threaten the peace by starving the people. Keraal of Gan’duur claims he has disciplined those responsible. As lhesh of Darguun, I must be satisfied with this.”

  Dagii clenched his wounded fist. Blood dripped onto the floor of the throne room. “Lhesh, my clan’s honor cannot be satisfied by words. A warlord may do what a lhesh cannot. On behalf of the Mur Talaan, I ask your permission to strike back against the Gan’duur.”

  The stirring among the warlords was like a wave, as if Dagii’s words had burst a dam. Haruuc smiled, looking almost smug. “You have my permission.”

  There was motion in the corner of Ekhaas’s eye as Munta the Gray rose. “Mur Talaan has few troops, lhesh. If Dagii of Mur Talaan will lead, the Gantii Vus will follow him to support his honor.”

  The offer came too easily to be spontaneous, but abruptly there were other warlords calling out their support. Haruuc, Vanii, and Munta were all smiling, and Ekhaas had the feeling that someone—and she suspected it was the Gan’duur—had just been outmaneuvered. Haruuc raised his voice, too. “The Rhukaan Taash will stand for the honor of the Mur Talaan as well. Let all see that the clans of the Ghaal’dar remember tradition.” He raised his sword high and held the Rod of Kings close to his chest. “Let all see that Darguun is strong!”

  The roar that shook the stones of the hall was deafening. The raw emotion of the crowd was like a song. Ekhaas turned around to stare, drinking in the moment of Haruuc’s triumph. Very nearly every Darguul was standing, their heads thrown back, their voices raised, their hands slapping their chests. But not everyone was so joyful. Ekhaas’s ears rose.

  Where the representatives of the Five Nations and the dragonmarked houses sat, reaction to the prospect of a strong Darguun was distinctly more restrained.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Over the next several days, it seemed to Ashi that she told the story of their quest for the rod—or at least the edited story they had all agreed to—so many times she felt like a duur’kala. The first time, along with the others, was to an audience of Haruuc, Tariic, Munta, Vanii, and Senen in the same small room in Khaar Mbar’ost where the quest had been planned. With excitement born of the rod’s presentation still echoing through the fortress, they drank in the tale, Haruuc interrupting with curses against the Marguul bugbear clans, Senen breaking in to beg details about Dabrak Riis and the Uura Odaarii. By the time the story ended with the last emperor’s destruction, however, they were silent and Haruuc bent his head before them all, then in return told them everything that had happened in Rhukaan Draal during their absence.

  The second time, alone, was to Vounn in her chambers that same evening. There was a knot in Ashi’s belly as she passed through the door guarded by Aruget and Krakuul. If there was anything she had dreaded on the journey back to Rhukaan Draal other than the fear that the rod’s true powers might be revealed, it was returning to the lady seneschal. The quest was over—she was back under Vounn’s command. The sight of her in Haruuc’s throne room had almost been enough to make Ashi stumble.

  And yet, as she sat across from Vounn before a crackling fire and the tale poured out of her, she felt the knot loosen. She’d crossed Darguun, fought bugbears and trolls, confronted an emperor with the power of five thousand years behind him, and in the end it hadn’t been her sword that had turned the tide, but the power of her dragonmark and the skills she had learned—unwillingly—from Vounn. What could she have done if she’d worked with Vounn from the beginning instead of fighting her?

  Unlike the Darguuls, the lady seneschal listened to the story without interrupting at all. When Ashi finished, she remained thoughtfully silent, looking into the fire. Eventually, Ashi added, “Vounn, could I stay in Rhukaan Draal a little longer before I go back to Karrlakton?”

  Vounn looked up and her lips pressed together briefly before she said, “Baron Breven is already wondering why you’ve taken so long to return.”

  Ashi’s eyebrows rose. “You haven’t told him what I’ve been doing?”

  “Not yet—but I think I will now. You’ve done well, Ashi. You’ve brought a great deal of honor to Deneith.” A smile crossed her face. “I’m proud of you.”

  The praise sent unexpected warmth through her, but also a strange sense of disappointment. “I want to stay to continue my training,” she said. “I want to learn more. From you.”

  Surprise pulled at Vounn’s smile, but Ashi saw her contain it. “There’s no denying you could benefit from it,” she said, “but I think we have to follow our own paths now. I still have work to do here. Deneith needs you in Karrlakton. You’ll find other teachers.” The older woman rose. “You’ll be here for a bit longer, though. I’m not sending you back until Haruuc’s soldiers have cleared the roads and engaged the Gan’duur.”

  “Don’t you mean Dagii’s soldiers?” Ashi asked.

  Vounn’s smile twitched again. “What do you think?” She took Ashi’s arm and walked her to the door. “You should have held back your frustration and kept negotiating with Dabrak Riis. A blunt demand betrays desperation.”

  Ashi felt the warmth in her flare up into a little of her old anger for her mentor’s arrogance. She bit it back. “I know, Vounn.”

  “Perhaps we can use this as a case study. We can go over it and see what you might have turned to your advantage.” Vounn paused, one hand on the door handle, and turned to look at her. “I’m sorry you lost your grandfather’s sword,” she said.

  The words and her sympathy were genuine. “Thank you, Vounn,” Ashi said.

  The third time Ashi told the story was in writing in a formal report, written with Midian’s help, to Breven d’Deneith. The fourth time was to Viceroy Pater d’Orien, at Vounn’s suggestion, as a way to persuade him to carry the report to Karrlakton. The fifth and sixth times—and all the times beyond—were to the viceroys of the other dragonmarked houses and to various ambassadors to Haruuc’s court over dinners as lavish as the food shortages permitted. She had Haruuc’s approval to share the tale. The lhesh might have wanted the quest for the rod kept quiet in the beginning, but now that the ancient artifact was in his possession, he wanted the story of its return widely known: it only added to the legend. At his request, she also did her best to assure the uncertain emissaries that Haruuc only sought stability for his people and peaceful prosperity for Darguun.

  Midian was her frequent companion at the dinners. The gnome scholar took to the attention like a cat. Tariic was often present as well, though his second-hand version of events seemed to grow in the telling. She overheard him relating to the ambassador from Aundair how her sword had been lost when it had lodged among Makka’s ribs after she’d driven it through him. Haruuc’s nephew, she discovered, was also passing the tale among the warlords and clan chiefs, sometimes with
Dagii and Ekhaas, sometimes not. Dagii was frequently busy preparing for the raid against the Gan’duur, while Ekhaas seemed to spend most of her time trying to correct Tariic’s exaggerations of their deeds.

  Ashi half-suspected that Tariic was working under Haruuc’s orders to turn the quest for the rod into an epic. There was one good side to his inflated stories, at least: Any hints of the power contained with the rod itself were buried under tales of the last marhu’s command of the cavern’s magic.

  Chetiin and Geth escaped the madness, Chetiin because the black-clad goblin seemed to be found only when he wanted to be, Geth because he was never far from Haruuc’s side. The first evening after the presentation of the rod, when they had all gathered in the small chamber in Khaar Mbar’ost, Haruuc had told him that the relationship between shava didn’t mean that he had to stay constantly close, that shava did generally lead separate lives and that he was even free to leave Darguun if he wanted. Geth had chosen to stay with Haruuc, though, and Ashi was certain it was precisely so he could avoid being constantly pestered to tell his story. Not that he seemed to have a problem with other people telling it—Ashi was equally certain he was enjoying his growing reputation as a hero. Wrath was on display almost as often as the Rod of Kings.

  With the promise of action against the Gan’duur at hand, the threat of unrest eased. Darguun’s warlords remained in the city, and when they met, Vounn pointed out the various members of the assembly who had claimed critical shortages of food only days before but who now had an abundance to spare. Fresh supplies for the city were promised. Haruuc even expanded the noon dole that he had established in celebration of this newfound prosperity— tales of the Rod of Kings were beginning to filter down to the general population of Rhukaan Draal. At Haruuc’s invitation and expense, duur’kala and common storytellers were sent out into the streets to tell legends of the emperors of Dhakaan who had once held the rod.

  With his warlords behind him, Haruuc also spoke out against the Gan’duur and other rebellious clans. Sympathizers were as much a threat, he told his court, as the Gan’duur themselves. He received thunderous applause. A bugbear was found beaten on the edge of the Bloody Market. Ashi heard one story that said he was a food vendor who had tried to raise prices to take advantage of the last days of the crisis; she heard another that said he had been an associate of the Gan’duur. A day later the story had changed again and he was declared the victim of Gan’duur sympathizers. The duur’kala telling tales in the street brought back rumors that certain groups were getting ready to hunt for these violent sympathizers before they could strike again. Haruuc went out into the city and walked in the market, telling people that if there were sympathizers in Rhukaan Draal, they were unlikely to make any moves. He left the market surrounded by a cheering mob that followed him all the way to the gates of Khaar Mbar’ost.

  Chetiin appeared in Ashi’s chamber. “The bugbear owed too much money to the wrong people,” he said. “It’s nothing more sinister than that.”

  “I used my dragonmark in the assembly today,” she told him. “If Haruuc was somehow tapping the power of the rod, it would have protected me. There was nothing.”

  “Haruuc has always been able to whip a crowd into a frenzy. People are just excited. Having an enemy creates unity.”

  On 22 Rhaan, less than a week after they returned with the rod, Dagii was gone again. He rode north out of Rhukaan Draal at the head of a column of soldiers almost three hundred strong—far larger, Ashi learned, than an inexperienced leader of his rank might normally command. The force was swollen, however, by troops from half a dozen clans, sent by warlords and clan chiefs eager to see the Gan’duur brought down. Most of the troops were infantry. An elite handful were Darguul cavalry, hobgoblins mounted on tigers and goblins mounted on leopards, separated from those officers mounted on horses. They left Rhukaan Draal with as much pageantry as Tariic had displayed on entering Sentinel Tower. Pipes wailed, drums throbbed.

  The column marched to battle, however, not just in parade. Ashi remembered the fanciful armor that Tariic had worn when he came before House Deneith, still functional but ornate. In contrast, Dagii wore armor scarred by fighting. It wasn’t the armor that he’d worn on their journey into the mountains, but something older and heavier. The only decoration it bore was the three horns of a tribex that must have been massive in life, mounted one behind each shoulder and one in the small of his back. They rose like banner poles and would mark him out in the swirl of combat, a mobile rallying point for his men.

  “It’s the armor of the lord of his clan,” Ekhaas said beside her as they watched the troops pass from the fire-scarred walls of the House Orien compound. “Mur Talaan means ‘horned shoulders.’ His father wore it before him, his father before that, and back through five generations.”

  Ashi glanced at the duur’kala. Before Dagii had ridden to the head of the column, she’d seen her approach and pass a small casket up to him. A casket that flashed in the afternoon sun like gold and iron. “Was that the reliquary of Duural Rhuvet you gave him?” she asked. “The one you took from the tower in Karrlakton?”

  Ekhaas’s ears bent. “I admire Dagii, but he will need inspiration if he’s to win this battle,” she said stiffly.

  “I would have thought it had already vanished into the vaults of Volaar Draal.”

  “I haven’t had a chance to present it to Senen Dhakaan yet. We left so soon after we arrived from Karrlakton, and we’ve been so busy since we returned.”

  Ekhaas’s voice remained level, but a flush crept into her face. Ashi raised an eyebrow. Ekhaas scowled and turned away. Holding back a laugh, Ashi looked along the street below to where Haruuc waited on horseback at the foot of the bridge across the Ghaal River, his two shava flanking him. Dagii stopped and thumped a fist against his chest in salute. The lhesh said something, and Dagii sat up straight for a moment, then nodded deeply and saluted again. At a glance from Haruuc, Vanii urged his horse forward to stand beside Dagii’s. The two of them saluted in unison and rode on, leaving Haruuc with only Geth behind him.

  Ekhaas, it seemed, had not been the only one who thought Dagii might need guidance in the battle to come.

  A week after Dagii had led his soldiers away to the north, it was Ashi’s turn to leave.

  Messenger falcons brought word that the new lhevk-rhu had engaged the Gan’duur, bottling Keraal up in his primary stronghold. Raiders who had stayed outside the walls to harry the attackers had been captured in a clever deception devised by Dagii. The roads were clear and safe. An Orien caravan, heavily guarded by Deneith mercenaries, was leaving Rhukaan Draal, and Ashi would ride with it back through Marguul Pass to Sterngate and the lightning rail.

  All of her friends—except Dagii, of course—came to the House Orien compound to say good-bye to her, and even Dagii had managed to send a message with a falcon. Geth brought it and another from Haruuc expressing once more his thanks and the thanks of Darguun.

  Chetiin emerged from the shadows to offer her a solemn good-bye. Midian tried to be somber as well but didn’t succeed. Until a few days before, it had seemed that he might be riding out with the same caravan, but the gnome had gone to Haruuc and begged a favor. By the grace of the lhesh, he would be allowed to remain for a few more months and venture into the south of Darguun to pursue a research opportunity—provided that he shared what he found with Haruuc as well as with the Library of Korranberg.

  That decision didn’t please Haruuc’s newest allies. The Kech Volaar had decided to formalize the alliance that had led to the discovery of the rod and had sent a message that they would swear allegiance to the lhesh. Their leaders, the duur’kala Tuura Dhakaan and a warlord Kurac Thaar, would travel to Rhukaan Draal. The announcement that Midian would be allowed to enter Dhakaani ruins provoked an angry outburst from Senen, but in the face of an outpouring of public enthusiasm for Haruuc and a surge in interest in the great tales and achievements of ancient Dhakaan, the Kech Volaar objections were like the sting of a mosquito
. Other modern Dhakaani clans—the militaristic Kech Shaarat, the shadowy Kech Nasaar—were also making hints at allegiance, and Haruuc was listening. If the Kech Volaar wanted a position as the first of the Dhakaani clans to ally with Haruuc, they didn’t dare be too loud with their objections to a single gnome scholar.

  The increased activity between the lhesh and the Kech Volaar had also kept Ekhaas busy. Senen had drafted her as an aide. She would be remaining in Rhukaan Draal, of course— unless Senen dispatched her to Volaar Draal. The ambassador seemed to regard the position as an honored reward. Ashi wasn’t certain Ekhaas felt the same way about it, but the duur’kala held her tongue. When the time came for them to say their good-byes, she offered Ashi a hug that was almost human. She also offered her a sword, not a heavy, notched hobgoblin blade but a slim, double-edged human sword.

  “Magewrought in Cyre before the end of the Last War,” Ekhaas said as Ashi slid the weapon out to examine it. “Not as good as your honor blade, but still good. It’s the least I can do after dragging you out of Karrlakton.”

  “You didn’t drag me out, Ekhaas. If you hadn’t let me come, I would have stowed away on your ship.” Ashi gave her another hug, then turned to the last of her friends still waiting for her.

  Geth smiled at her. He looked as reputable as she had ever seen him, his thick hair brushed and pulled back, his clothes clean and untorn. He didn’t wear the armband of red cords—a shava wasn’t a servant—but there was a heavy ring with the lhesh’s crest on his finger. “What about you?” Ashi asked him. “How long will you be staying?”

  “How do you know I won’t stay?”

  “Because I know you.”

  He laughed. “I’ll stay until the fighting’s over at least. All this standing around while people cheer Haruuc and talk about putting up statues in his honor is starting to bore me. There’s a letter to Singe and Dandra in the post with this caravan, but I want to get back and rub it in Singe’s face personally.”