The Killing Song

CHAPTER 20

Geth reacted without thinking, swinging around and slapping at the weapon. His open hand struck Ahron’s moving wrist. The knife flashed-and leaped from her grip as she stumbled back from the force of the blow.

Her foot came down on an orc’s hand. Her falling knife sank into the leg of another. Both orcs woke with incoherent yelps of pain even as Orshok rolled to his feet, shouting an alarm. In less than instant, druids all around them were awake and grabbing for their weapons. Sentries turned and yelled, spreading the alarm.

Breff whirled on Geth, his face wild with rage. “Rond betch! Fool!” He kicked the nearest Gatekeeper in the belly before she could rise. “Get to the old druid on your own!” He ripped his sword free and raised it high. “Sheids sutis! Su Drumas!”

He charged through the still-confused orcs, heading for Medala’s tent. Ahron paused just long enough to pull out a long fighting knife, and then she was after him. Medi, Tag, and Bado pushed past Geth as well, none of them gently. Some the druids went after the hunters, but Orshok’s attention was entirely on Geth. The druids immediately around the shifter had pulled back in confusion. Orshok moved in to take their place, his hunda stick raised across his body.

“What are you doing here, Geth?” he demanded. His eyes were cold, his voice harsh with the disappointment of a trust betrayed, though at least it was his voice and not Medala’s. “Kobus and the others weren’t enough for you? You’ve allied with the Bonetree clan now?”

Geth brought his gauntlet up. Instinct brought his left hand to the hilt of Wrath but he held it back. A sick sort of feeling ground into the pit of his stomach. “You don’t know what’s happening here, Orshok. Just stay back. I need to see Batul.” He took a sliding step in the direction he had last seen the old Gatekeeper.

“You’re not seeing anyone!” Orshok lunged at him, hunda stick spinning. The weapon’s two ends-angled crook and sharp point-blurred. Geth lifted his gauntlet, blocking high, then low, then twisting aside as Orshok tried to hook his ankle with the crook of the stick. His left fist jabbed out and connected with Orshok’s chin. The orc staggered away, then lifted his head, thrust out his jaw, and charged back for more.

Before he could swing again, Ekhaas stepped up beside Geth. Flinging her arms wide, she opened her mouth as if singing a single sustained note. For an instant, it seemed to Geth that although her body and throat strained with the song, there was nothing to hear.

Then a riot of sound burst out among the Gatekeepers before them. Geth clapped his hands to his ears, but the orcs staggered as if they had been struck. Orshok stumbled heavily and slipped to his knees, his eyes wide with shock. Other Gatekeepers were down as well. It didn’t look like any of them had been seriously hurt, though. Geth clenched his teeth and turned quickly, searching for Batul.

The old druid was closer than he had expected. He stood on the edge of a cluster of Gatekeepers. His face was stone. The sick feeling in Geth’s belly grew stronger. “No …” he whispered.

Batul spoke no condemnation, gave no sign of his anger. He just thrust forward his hunda stick, calling out a thick word of command that rang out over the chaos spreading through the camp. Geth felt the power of nature stir in response.

“Batul!” he shouted. “Don’t!” He dragged Wrath from his scabbard as a smell like fresh-turned earth washed over him-before turning wet and fetid as swamp muck. Under his feet, the ground seemed to slip, then to slump.

And abruptly he was sinking up to his hips in thick, clinging mud. It pulled at him and Ekhaas both, and even several Gatekeepers darted back to avoid falling in with them. Geth tried to surge toward Batul and the nearest solid ground, but movement only made the mud’s grasp stronger. Other voices called on nature’s power, and the mud seemed to stir and bulge of its own accord.

The figures that burst up from the mud were roughly human in shape but squat, powerful, and formed from the muck itself. Elementals-small ones, but still deadly. The mud didn’t slow them at all. Ekhaas cursed, drawing her sword and swinging at one. The blade sliced it in half, but the elemental drew new substance from the mud and reformed. When she tried to swing again, it flung a blob of goo at her. The mud spattered across her face, making her choke.

Another of the elementals vanished under the surface of the mud. An instant later, Geth felt something grab his leg in a strong embrace and wrench at. With a yell, he flipped Wrath around and stabbed down.

It was like sinking the Dhakaani blade into clay, except that clay didn’t groan. The mud exploded up, spattering his face and the nearest Gatekeepers, but the grip on Geth’s leg vanished. He turned, grabbed for the amulet around his neck, and held it up for Batul to see. “Look, Batul! This is yours! Take it. It’s time. Wake up!”

Batul’s eyes opened wide. “A thief and a traitor!” he spat. “This is how you repay the respect we gave you?”

Geth’s throat knotted. Maybe this wasn’t the right time. Maybe he had been wrong. Batul’s hunda stick thrust forward again-

Whatever spell he intended to call down was never spoken. The shriek of rage that shattered the air silenced the entire horde. Geth, Ekhaas, Batul, and every Gatekeeper gathered around them turned. Even the elementals grew still.

Between legs and past bodies, Geth could just see Medala’s painted tent. There were bodies on the ground. The Bonetree hunters had cut a bloody path through the orcs. Their swords and knives dripped and their clothes were stained with crimson. Breff had just cut down a druid who had dared step in his way. The orc’s body still twitched, cleaved from breast to belly. The huntmaster hadn’t moved quickly enough, though. The flap of the tent had been torn back. Medala stood in the gap, gaunt as a fever. Power surrounded her. Not a power that Geth could see, but one that he could feel in the back of his mind.

A crystalline ringing, a clashing cascade of sword blades, a broken rhythm. Words that were not words rose from the hollow of his belly, fighting to escape his unwilling throat. Aahyi-ksiksiksi-kladakla-yahaahyi-

Breff howled and leaped for Medala. Tag, Medi, and Bado moved to Medala’s side like wolves flanking their prey. Ahron went low, her long knife flashing.

The kalashtar’s face twisted. The song that plucked at Geth’s mind seemed to pulse-Breff and his adult hunters convulsed and stumbled. Medi and Bado fell, their mouths opening and closing uselessly. Tag dropped to his knees, body wracked with the effort of drawing breath. Geth knew what they were feeling. Medala had done this to him once. It had been as if he’d suddenly forgotten how to breathe, and it had taken all he had just to suck air into his lungs.

But Breff’s eyes were fixed on Medala. He thrust himself at her in single-minded determination. One step. Two steps … He pitched forward onto his face. The tip of his sword hit the ground at her feet.

Ahron froze for an instant and stared-then threw herself at Medala with screaming ferocity. Medala’s harsh gaze flicked to her. Silver-white light flashed.

Blood burst through Ahron’s skin, so much blood that it hung like mist in the air. Her scream rose to a thin shriek, then vanished entirely, and she collapsed as if her bones had lost the strength to support her. The bloody bundle that had been a girl didn’t move again.

Without saying a word, Medala stepped over Breff’s unconscious form and Ahron’s ragged remains. The other hunters toppled to the ground, succumbing to her power, and she swept past them. Gatekeepers moved back out of her way like courtiers before a queen as she advanced.

She stopped beside Orshok, opposite Batul, and looked down at the shifter and the hobgoblin. “Too late,” she said. She looked up at Batul. “Kill the traitors, then prepare for the battle. He’ll be here soon.”

The song in Geth’s head shimmered with her words. Batul bent his head. “Your counsel is good, Medala.”

“Batul!” Geth groaned.

Medala laughed, a brittle sound that almost matched the song of her power. “They’re mine, Geth. They believe what I tell them and do what they think is right. If you hadn’t resisted me, you could still be a hero among them, ready to bring down a dragon instead of dying like a pig in a mudhole.”

He glared at her and bared his teeth. “Better mud than mad!”

She laughed again. “Soon you’ll be dead, Geth, and I’ll be more powerful than you can imagine. Dah’mir has no idea what he created.”

Batul barked a command in Orc. Geth heard it through Wrath. “Morak! Uta! Have the elementals bind him and bring him close!”

Before Geth could struggle, the elementals surged back into motion. Arms of mud wrapped him and Ekhaas like stone. Geth tried to heave against them but couldn’t break the grasp. Ekhaas drew breath to sing out a spell, and a tendril of mud slapped over her mouth. The elementals pushed them both forward to Batul. The old Gatekeeper knelt down on the edge of the mudhole. His good eye was narrow.

“A tomb of stone waits for you,” he said, “but you will not carry the treasures of my sect into death.” He reached out and seized the amulet, ready to tear it from Geth’s neck.

The instant that his fingers closed on the ancient talisman, his body tensed. Both of his eyes opened wide and in the milky depths of his blind eye, Geth thought he saw something stir. The shifter’s breath caught. So did the druid’s. He blinked and his eyes met Geth’s.

His good eye was clear but determined. “You wake me, my friend,” he whispered. “The time is right.”

Sharp pain burned around Geth’s neck as Batul wrenched on the amulet, snapping the cord that held it. Still kneeling, the orc held the amulet high. “Vvaraak, Scaled Teacher,” he shouted, “show truth to your disciples!”

Something in the world … shifted. For an instant, Geth felt very small, like a child in the presence of an incredibly old, incredibly wise grandparent. A gust of wind came welling up out of the south. He smelled flowers and a hint of rotting vegetation. He heard the trill of a songbird, strangely mingled with the hunting cry of an eagle.

All around him, Gatekeepers groaned. Medala shrieked, clutching at her head and the weird crystalline song that had haunted his mind vanished. He twisted his neck around to stare at the kalashtar.

Her eyes were wide, though the pupils were tiny dark holes. Her fingers scraped slowly down from her temples to her cheeks, leaving long red scratches behind-then once again, she laughed. “You’ve freed them!” she said. “You’ve freed them, but you can’t shield them. They will be mine again!”

Geth felt like his heart was ready to stop. Medala’s face creased in concentration. The song of her power crept back into Geth’s head. It swelled into a chorus.

And vanished. Medala’s mouth dropped open. Her eyes lifted to the sky, focused on something far in the distance. “No!” she gasped.

Geth turned back to stare beyond Batul. Over the Gatekeeper’s shoulder, Rhaan shone like a blue pearl above the eastern horizon. There was something else in the eastern sky, though: a speck of brightness moving fast toward them.

“He comes,” said Medala. Her voice was harsh as the edge of a broken knife. Geth looked at her again, his skin scraping in the grasp of the elementals as he turned. Medala’s face was pale, her eyes blazing. Her lips were drawn back. She glared at Geth and Batul. “Darkness take you, then! Fight for me or fight for your lives, you will still fight-and I will still take what is mine!”

Silver-white light flared, and when it faded, Medala was gone.

The voices of the Gatekeepers swirled up around Geth. Some seemed angry. Most just seemed confused. Batul’s voice rose over them all. “Be quiet!” he shouted. “Be quiet! Don’t worry about her! Brothers and sisters, stay close. Morak and Uta, dismiss your creatures and help me get these two out. Someone spread word among the warriors-battle is on us!”

The old druid was still on his knees, the amulet of Vvaraak in one hand. He stretched the other out to Geth, as the elementals melted back into the mud. “Ring of Siberys,” he said. “Well done, Geth. You brought the amulet at the perfect time.”

Geth could only stare at him for a moment until he found words. “The perfect time?” he choked. “Batul, Dah’mir’s coming!”

There wasn’t much comfort in Batul’s grin. “Dagga,” he said, “but this was the right time.” The hands of other druids came down to help Geth out of the mud. The shifter slithered up onto solid land like an eel, and Batul leaned over him. “Medala was right. The amulet was able to break her power, but Gatekeeper magic isn’t able to block it. If you’d brought the amulet to me and I had used it any earlier, she would only have bent us to her will again.”

Ekhaas was hauled up out of the mudhole. She dropped down next to Geth, sputtering and wiping mud from her face, but her ears stood high and her eyes were bright. “But with Dah’mir coming, she couldn’t have fought a battle on two fronts,” she said. “She had to decide who she would fight. Khaavolaar.”

Batul nodded. “Your mind is quick, duur’kala.”

Geth looked away from both of them to a figure waiting nearby-waiting and visibly trembling. Orshok took a step toward him, then hesitated. “I tried to kill you, Geth,” he said. His voice broke.

“Twice,” Geth said. “But it wasn’t you, Orshok. It was Medala.” He climbed to his feet and held his fist out. “She’ll pay.”

Orshok thrust out his tusks and stepped forward to punch his fist against Geth’s. “Kuv dagga,” he said. “For Kobus, Pog, and the others.” He looked up at Geth and grabbed him in an embrace that sent mud squirting out from Geth’s clothes. “Word of Vvaraak, if I’d killed you, Geth, I would have killed myself when I realized what I’d done.”

“Tak, Orshok.” Geth slapped his arm against the young druid’s back. “I’m glad you didn’t have to.”

A hunda stick rapped against his shoulders. “Don’t get too used to living,” Batul said. “This isn’t over. Orshok, find Patchaka. I want you to stand with her and her warband during the battle.”

Orshok pulled away from Geth and started to protest, but Batul growled at him. “Obey your teacher! This is an honor, Orshok!”

The young druid didn’t look happy, but he snatched up his hunda stick and went jogging off. Geth looked around. The carefully set lines of the horde were in disarray, though younger druids like Orshok were slowly beating the orc chieftains and warlords back into position. Closer at hand, the senior Gatekeepers were clustered together, praying and girding themselves for battle. Geth turned to look up at the speck of brightness moving out of the east. It was considerably closer now and he could make out a sleek dark shape surrounded by a ring of fire.

“Rat!” he said. “That’s not Dah’mir! It’s an airship!”

“If Medala thought it was Dah’mir, I’m inclined to believe her,” said Batul. “I suspect Dah’mir is on board.”

“But why would Dah’mir need …?” Geth clenched his teeth and answered his own question. “He went to Sharn to capture kalashtar. Medala said he would succeed there. He’s got his captives on the airship.” He looked down at Batul. “Is there anyway for you to get me up there? If we can free Dah’mir’s captives, we can put an end to this.”

Batul shook his head. “Freeing kalashtar won’t end this, Geth. Stopping Dah’mir won’t end it. There’s only one way to end it.” He held out his hunda stick and pointed.

At the dark entrance in the side of the Bonetree mound. Geth growled.

“The Master of Silence,” he said. “That’s why you sent Orshok away. You’re going to fight the Master of Silence.”

“The seals on his prison must be renewed or his influence will continue.” Batul lowered his stick and leaned on it, looking even older than he was. “The younger Gatekeepers and the horde will try to hold back Dah’mir. The elder Gatekeepers will face the Master.”

“And what do we do?” asked Ekhaas.

Batul looked up at her. “It’s your decision,” he said, “but Gatekeeper and Dhakaani worked together to defeat the daelkyr. I would welcome you both.”

Ekhaas’s ears flicked forward. “Try to keep me away.”

Geth lifted his face toward the airship. Something pulled him toward her. Anyone on board was almost certainly in dire danger. He felt like he should try to help them, but Batul was right. The greatest danger was the Master of Silence. He looked toward the Gatekeepers who had remained nearby. Praying and girding themselves for battle, yes, but possibly for their last battle. Geth squeezed his hand tight around Wrath’s hilt.

“I’m with you,” he said. “What about Medala?”

Batul shook his head again. “I don’t know. If any of what she said is true, she’ll go after Dah’mir. More than that, I couldn’t say-”

A shout interrupted him. A handful of orc warriors dragged forward four limp forms. The Bonetree hunters. “They live!” called the lead warrior. Batul glanced at Geth.

Geth looked at Breff’s unconscious face, then growled, “Get them off the battlefield. Leave them somewhere safe to recover.”

“Breff won’t thank you for that,” said Ekhaas. “His honor-”

Geth snapped his teeth at her. “I’ve had enough of honor!” He turned to Batul. “I’m ready for blood.”