The Doom of Kings: Legacy of Dhakaan - Book 1

by Don Bassingthwaite

  Vounn had shaken her head. “I’ve lived through war. Business goes on. Deneith will need a strong voice in Darguun now more than ever.”

  They were almost finished packing when the door of Ashi’s chamber slammed open. Ashi spun, her hand going for her sword. Vounn turned, too, harsh words on her lips. “Aruget! I told you no one—”

  But Aruget and Krakuul were still standing beyond the doorway, staring at the panting shifter who pushed past them. Geth pointed at Ashi. “Haruuc needs your dragonmark,” he wheezed. “Now!”

  “What? Why?”

  “I’ll tell you on the way. Come with me!”

  Ashi looked to Vounn. Her mentor pressed her lips together, then shook her head. “It’s your choice.”

  “Ashi, if you come with me right now we might able to stop a war,” said Geth.

  The muscles of Ashi’s jaw tightened. “Finish packing for me,” she told Vounn. “House Orien won’t be running any coaches yet.” She looked to Geth. “Go!”

  Their footsteps echoed in the empty corridors. Everyone who mattered was in the throne room or lurking in the antechamber. Servants were in their quarters. Guards were outside trying to control the celebrations of Rhukaan Draal. They went down the stairs two at a time. “Talk,” said Ashi. “What’s happening?”

  “The rod is trying to make Haruuc into a king—an emperor. That’s why he’s been acting the way he has.” In brief words, he described his argument with the lhesh.

  When he was finished, Ashi cursed. “We were so worried about Haruuc using the powers of the rod, we didn’t think about the rod using him!”

  “Why should we have thought of it? Grandfather Rat, why did we worry at all? Haruuc had all the power he needed without the rod!”

  A terrible scream came up the stairs. Ashi lifted her head. Geth put his head down and ran faster. He came to the bottom of the stairs and paused, looking between corridors that led right or straight ahead.

  “Straight!” said Ashi.

  “Right is shorter,” said a voice from above.

  Ashi and Geth looked up. Aruget was hurrying down the stairs after them.

  “What are you doing here?” Ashi demanded.

  “Orders of the lhesh. Krakuul or I are supposed to be with you or Lady Vounn at all times.” The hobgoblin leaped down the final few stairs with surprising agility.

  Geth grabbed him. “How much did you hear?” he asked.

  Aruget’s ears flicked. “Enough to know we shouldn’t argue. I already know more than I should about many things.” A thunderous chanting—Haruuc’s name, repeated over and over—filled the air, and Aruget pointed to the right. “Decide quickly. I know a shortcut.”

  Geth bared his teeth, then let him go. “You better keep your mouth shut.”

  The chant changed—

  “War! Haruuc! War! Haruuc! War! War! War!”

  —and grew closer as Aruget led them along the corridor, then cut through rooms and halls. They emerged into another hallway just in time to hear Haruuc shout, “Darguuls! Was our nation not born in war? Were our people not born in war? From ancient days, have we not spread our power across the land? Our strategy must be discussed! There must be an assembly!”

  “Tiger’s blood,” said Geth. “He’s holding them off!”

  “Here!” said Aruget. He swung around a corner and they were in the room off the dais of the throne room. Through the open door, Ashi could see Haruuc standing before his throne with the rod in his hands. She could see the grieving tree beyond—and Keraal as he hung on it, slowly writhing among the stone branches. She pressed her lips together and focused on Haruuc.

  “I need to touch him,” she said. She glanced at Geth. “You think this will work?”

  “I was going to ask you that.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll get his attention.”

  From the floor of the throne room, however, came calls from warlords not willing to wait for an assembly. “Breland!”

  “Zilargo!”

  “Northern Breland and then into Thrane!”

  Ashi saw Haruuc’s chest heave and his face grow tight, but she also thought she saw something in his eyes, some flash of inspiration. “Silence!” he said. “You think small! Are you hobgoblins or halflings! Breland, Thrane … what challenge would they be? Ancient blood demands an ancient enemy.”

  Ashi grabbed Geth’s hand. “Khyberit gentis, no.” They were too late.

  Haruuc’s voice rose to a triumphant shout. “As it was in the age of Dhakaan, goblins shall go into battle against elves!” He held out a fist wrapped around the Rod of Kings. “Let our blades fall on Valenar!”

  There was silence, then deafening cheers. Ashi looked at Geth.

  Except that the shifter was grinning. He shook his head and said into her ear. “Of all the nations that signed the Treaty of Thronehold, Valenar and Darguun are the least trusted. Haruuc can shake a sword at Valenar, and the elves won’t find any allies. And the only ways to get to Valenar are through the Mournland or over water. Haruuc has started a war that will never happen! He’s bought us time to find a way out of this!” He waved his free hand through the door at Haruuc.

  The lhesh saw him and smiled—with relief, Ashi thought. Haruuc looked back to the crowd in the throne room and raised his arms high above his head. The crowd cheered again.

  And the fletching of a crossbow bolt sprouted in the thin armor of his right armpit.

  The grin fell from Geth’s face. Haruuc’s arm collapsed and he stumbled sideways. The cheering of the crowd, caught up in its excitement, continued.

  “Haruuc!” Geth wrenched his hand from Ashi’s and threw himself out onto the dais, but he was too slow.

  From the gallery overhead, the small, black-clad form of one of the shaarat’khesh launched into the air. Geth caught a glimpse of a familiar, black-stained face, then a rope tied into the rafters arrested the goblin’s fall. Chetiin landed on the dais with a rolling tumble and came up with two daggers in his hands.

  The one in his left was curved and ugly. The one in his right, the one he had called Witness, was straight and set with a blue-black crystal, but uglier still.

  Geth froze for a moment, caught in the act of drawing Wrath. Below the dais, he saw Dagii, motionless with shock was well. The cheering fell silent. The throne room seemed like a scene suspended in glass.

  Haruuc bared his teeth and jumped back to put his throne between himself and the goblin. He groped for his red-stained sword, trying to draw it with his crippled arm. Chetiin slid forward like a cat stalking a mouse. Haruuc abandoned his sword and swung the Rod of Kings with his left hand. “Traitor!” he screamed.

  The word broke the glass. Wrath left its scabbard. Dagii vaulted up the steps of the dais. There were shouts in the crowd.

  Chetiin darted aside and rolled behind Haruuc. The lhesh tried to turn, to step on the goblin, but Chetiin’s feet lashed out in a sharp kick that buckled Haruuc’s knee. He fell forward onto his hands and knees. The Rod of Kings left his grip with a dull clang of metal on stone and rolled across the dais. Chetiin spun to his feet and lunged for Haruuc’s neck. The hobgoblin twisted onto his back, grabbing for him. Chetiin slashed at the grasping hands. Blood spattered on the stone of the dais.

  Then Geth was standing over Haruuc and Dagii was closing in on Chetiin’s other side. The goblin’s eyes darted between them; he spun and sprinted for the grieving tree. Dagii turned and went after him.

  Geth’s heart jumped. “Dagii! No!”

  Too late. Chetiin dropped flat and slid across the floor into a gap under Vanii’s bier. Dagii tried to pull himself back as he saw the danger, but couldn’t. With a grating of stone, one of the limbs of the grieving tree bent down and snatched him up. The metal of his armor squealed under the pressure. Dagii roared as he bashed at the carved branch that held him. More branches were already reaching for him.

  Geth knelt down over Haruuc. “Stop the tree!” he said. “You know the word—stop it!”

  Haruuc’s eyes flickered. Swea
t stood out on the yellow skin of his brow. “It burns!” he gasped.

  Geth cursed and pulled aside his arm. The crossbow bolt still embedded in his armpit had something black and gummy smeared along its shaft. Poison. Geth clenched his teeth and slapped the lhesh.

  “Stop the tree, Haruuc!” He twisted the high warlord around so he could see Dagii struggling—and Chetiin crawling out from under the bier. Haruuc’s face curled in anger. He spat a word.

  The tree shuddered and stopped moving. Dagii yelled as both he and Keraal tumbled out of its branches. Chetiin’s eyes narrowed. He darted at Geth and Haruuc.

  Snarling, Geth released Haruuc and lunged to meet the goblin. Wrath swung low like a scythe—

  —and Chetiin went high, leaping off Geth’s outstretched arm and bounding over his head like a monkey. Geth twisted around to watch him tumble in the air and come down right beside Haruuc. The injured lhesh’s eyes went wide. Bloody hands tried to grab at Chetiin, but the goblin twisted aside. The dull blade of the dagger named Witness plunged down and into one of the wide eyes.

  Lhesh Haruuc Shaarat’kor jerked, then lay still.

  Silence seized the throne room. Warlords who had been rushing to the dais stopped like statues, weapons still raised. Geth saw Ashi, who had been coming to his aid, slow and stop. Aruget, standing in the door behind her, was just staring.

  Only Chetiin moved. The goblin didn’t even try to pull Witness from Haruuc’s body. He looked up at Geth and said in his scarred voice, “We swore we would do what we had to,” then twisted away from the dead man and darted to where his rope still swayed. With sinuous swiftness, he scrambled up it and into the rafters.

  Geth’s voice came back to him. “Stop him!” he shouted. “Get up to the gallery! Stop him!” Someone was relaying his words back to the spectators and guards in the antechamber, but Geth had a feeling in his gut that, however fast they might be, they would still find the gallery empty and Chetiin vanished.

  You will destroy what you have built unless you are stopped. The goblin’s final words to Haruuc.

  Geth stumbled back to Haruuc and knelt down beside him. The lhesh’s remaining eye stared up blind, just like the eyes of the troll in the valley.

  Ashi came and knelt on Haruuc’s other side. “He said we swore we’d do what he had to.”

  “I think he thought Haruuc had discovered the power of the rod,” Geth said. “He didn’t know the rod’s real danger.”

  The shifter looked down from the dais. On the floor of the throne room, warlords were lowering their weapons. Some were dropping to their knees in silent shock. No one spoke. Not yet. Geth saw Ekhaas and Senen, staring. He saw Munta, trembling. He saw Tariic, staring as well—until Daavn of the Marhaan leaned over and murmured in his ear. Tariic’s eyes went to the throne, and Geth knew he would claim it if he could. The shifter glanced around the throne room. Tariic and Daavn weren’t the only ones whispering and looking at the throne. No tears had even been shed for Haruuc yet, and the warlords of Darguun were already appraising which of them would be the next lhesh.

  The next lhesh. The next to hold the Rod of Kings.

  Fear cut through Geth’s shock. The danger wasn’t over. He twisted around. “The rod!” he whispered to Ashi. “Where is it?”

  “There!” She pointed.

  It had rolled against the back of the throne. Geth thrust himself to his feet and strode over to it. The byeshk shaft lay in the throne’s shadow like a thick, purple slug. The sight of it made him feel ill.

  But he was the only one who could handle it. Anyone else might succumb to its power. He had to make sure that didn’t happen—and Haruuc had given him the means to do it. For a while at least.

  He squeezed Wrath’s hilt tight. Give me the right words, he thought, then scooped up the rod and stood.

  “Lords of Darguun,” he said in Goblin, “hear me!” His accent sounded clumsy and crude even to his ears. Some of the warlords looked up at him, but not enough. He raised his voice and tried again. “Lords of Darguun, hear me—”

  He felt Wrath’s power move into him. His words smoothed and became clear. Syllables he didn’t know formed on his tongue and slid between his lips. He tried not to think about it, tried to focus on what he wanted to say. On what he needed to say. Everyone, all of the great and powerful of Darguun, were staring up at him. He drew Wrath and held it high.

  “—I am Geth, who bears Aram. I am shava to Lhesh Haruuc Shaarat’kor. By all traditions, it is my sacred duty to tell his heirs that he is dead. But Haruuc had no heirs, so I speak to all of Darguun. Your lhesh is dead. The father of Darguun is dead.” He swallowed. “It is also my duty as shava to take charge of my brother’s affairs. Darguun must have a new lhesh. Until you lords determine which among you will take the throne, I claim it in trust.” He raised the rod up from where he had held it. “Let all bear witness! I am shava to Haruuc, and this is my duty!”

  For a long moment, no one said anything. The throne room was utterly silent. Geth looked around. There were a lot of confused faces watching him—and a lot of angry faces as well.

  Then a voice like cedar smoke rose from the throne room. “I witness it!” shouted Ekhaas. “As it was in the age of Dhakaan, I witness it!”

  “I witness it!” Dagii stepped up beside Geth. The young warlord gave him an uncertain look, but his stance was strong. Geth looked to Munta. The old hobgoblin’s ears flicked and stood.

  “I witness it!” he said, then jerked his head at other warlords around him. Their voices rose as well.

  “I witness it!” came a strong voice from the front of the room, and Geth looked down to see Tariic looking back at him. The hobgoblin gave him a short smile, then stepped onto the lowest step of the dais and faced the court that had been Haruuc’s. “Let none say that we do not respect tradition. Geth who bears Aram shall hold the throne in trust until a new lhesh is chosen. It is what my uncle would have wanted.”

  He turned back to Geth and bent his head, meeting Geth’s eyes as he straightened up. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said softly.

  “I’m doing what I have to do,” said Geth. Behind Tariic, a sea of heads was nodding in respect. He glanced over at Haruuc’s body. Ashi was still kneeling beside it, staring up at him. Geth set his jaw grimly and brought the Rod of Kings protectively against his chest.

  Raat shan gath’kal dor.

  “The story stops but never ends.”

  —Traditional closing of hobgoblin legends.

  From acclaimed author and award-winning game designer James Wyatt, an adventure that will shake the world of EBERRON to its core.

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  EBERRON, WIZARDS OF THE COAST, and their respective logos are trademarks of Wizards of the Coast, Inc. in the U.S.A. and other countries. ©2008 Wizards.

  In the shadow of the Last War, the heroes

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  EBERRON, WIZARDS OF THE COAST, and their respective logos are trademarks of Wizards of the Coast, Inc. in the U.S.A. and other countries. ©2008 Wizards.

  Sword & sorcery adventure from the creator of the EBERRON® world!

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