Word of traitors

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

3 Aryth

Horror mingled with rage in Geth’s gut and he latched onto the edge of the stone doorway to hold himself up. Tenquis, coming up behind him, grabbed his shoulder.

“Look there!” Tenquis pointed at a vast cloud of locusts that swarmed along the ridge.

Even as Geth turned his head, the cloud dissipated, the thrum of wings fading as fast as Pradoor’s chant. Some of the insects flew away, others dropped to the ground like a brown hail around the trio of bloodied figures that huddled at its heart. Geth’s fear surged again-then the figures stirred and Ashi, Ekhaas, and Aruget looked down at him.

“The rod?” called Ekhaas, her voice raw.

Geth pointed at Makka’s retreating horse.

“They have it?” Ashi asked. “After all that, they have the rod?”

Grim determination settled over Geth. “Makka has it, not Tariic,” he said. “We still have a chance to stop him.”

The other horses, calmer now that the locusts had gone, were still picketed. Geth let go of the doorway and moved for the stairs down to the ground-and would have pitched over if Tenquis hadn’t been there to catch him. The tiefling lowered him to the ground and pulled more flasks out of his pockets.

Geth pushed at him. Every moment they lingered Makka got closer to Khaar Mbar’ost. “There isn’t time for this!”

“You can’t stop him if you can’t walk,” Tenquis said.

“Listen to him, Geth. Tapaat te nuusha ka koor te hara-bind your wounds or bleed out your victory.”

Geth turned his head to see Chetiin climbing the stairs from the tomb. The goblin was bleeding himself. Long scratches tore the parchment-like skin of his face and a blood-soaked black sleeve clung to one arm. Far more astonishing, though, was the sight of Midian draped over the shaarat’khesh’s shoulder-limp and unconscious.

Chetiin answered Geth’s question before he spoke it. “This tomb was built for Haruuc, not his killer.” He dropped Midian. The gnome fell heavily, groaning as he hit the ground. Chetiin drew the dagger that had killed Haruuc and the blue-black crystal set in the ugly blade glittered. “Traitors die on the doorsteps of heroes.”

A desperate idea came to Geth. “Wait!” he said. “Don’t kill him.”

Chetiin and Tenquis both froze, the tiefling with surprise on his face, the goblin with cupped ears. Ashi, descending the ridge alongside Ekhaas and Aruget, cursed. Up close, Geth could see that the bloody appearance of the three came from dozens of tiny bites.

“Are you serious?” Ashi demanded as she slid down the last of the slope to land before the tomb.

“Yes.” Geth looked to Tenquis who held a flask motionless in one hand and a small heap of shimmering powders in the other. “Finish that,” he said, pointing at Midian, “then get out your orange dust and wake him up. Chetiin, do you know where his crossbow is?”

The goblin’s eyes narrowed and he gave a curt nod.

“Get it,” said Geth.

Chetiin didn’t move.

Geth saw the others exchange glances, then Ekhaas raised her voice. “What are you doing? Midian has turned on us three times.”

“Four,” he corrected her.

“And you still want to let him live?”

Geth struggled to his feet. “I’m trying to stop Tariic from getting his hands on the rod,” he said. “I don’t think Midian and his masters in Zilargo want it to happen any more than the rest of us do. We know him now. We won’t give him the chance to turn on us.” He moved unsteadily to Midian and nudged him with his toe. The gnome groaned again and Geth said, “If we can catch Makka, maybe we won’t need him. If we can’t, if Makka gets the rod to Tariic, I think we will.”

Midian’s features twitched-Chetiin dropped into a crouch, dagger ready to strike-and one bright blue eye opened, rolling around to look at them. “You’ll need me for what?” he croaked.

“Awake after all,” Geth said. He crouched down beside the gnome and bared his teeth. “If Makka gets the rod to Tariic, we’re going to need all the help we can get, including you and your crossbow. We’ll have to finish what you started.” He looked up at the others. “We have to kill a king.”

They galloped back into Rhukaan Draal on the horses left behind. Chetiin rode with Geth, Midian with Aruget. The gnome looked as grim as any of them. Geth knew he’d guessed correctly. Even if Midian was a Zil agent, even if he wanted to capture the Rod of Kings for his own people, he didn’t want the rod under Tariic’s control. Or Tariic under the rod’s.

Beyond that, Geth didn’t trust him any more than a dog with a sausage. Midian rode with his hands tied behind his back. His crossbow rode with Ashi.

“I don’t like this,” said Chetiin in Geth’s ear, his voice pitched just over the thunder of the horses’ hooves.

“Killing Tariic or working with Midian?” Geth asked.

“Both. And working with an agent of Breland.”

Geth glanced at Aruget. “We can trust him. Or at least we could trust Benti.”

“Exactly.” The goblin’s strained voice dropped even lower. “He did nothing until he was forced to.”

“When Ashi was in trouble.”

“When his source of information was in trouble. He works for Breland just as Midian works for Zilargo. Be wary, Geth.”

He said no more.

Ekhaas and Tenquis, knowing the city best, rode point. Makka was long out of sight. Any hope of catching him seemed gone, but Tenquis still led them toward Khaar Mbar’ost by the route he swore Makka would most likely have followed, although he’d warned them that it might be crowded.

“The city will come out to see Dagii return,” he’d said. “It will slow us but it will slow Makka, too.”

Except that the streets weren’t crowded. Most were less busy than when they had made their way out to Haruuc’s tomb. “Where is everyone?” asked Ashi.

A distant cheer answered her. “Dagii has crossed the Ghaal River,” said Ekhaas. “Everyone has gone to watch his procession.”

“By the sound of it, he’s near the Bloody Market,” Chetiin said.

Ekhaas’s face went hard and for a moment she looked like she might add something, but then she closed her mouth and put her ears back. Geth could guess what she was thinking. “Dagii needs to know what he’s heading into,” he said. “We need to warn him.”

“He already knows there’s danger,” said Ekhaas. Her ears flicked. “It’s best for him if he can deny any part in this.”

No one answered that. They all knew the same thing: the time for tricks and clever plans was over. If they wanted to keep the power of the rod a secret, to prevent Haruuc’s dream from destroying itself in the memories of a fallen empire, Tariic had to be the last to hold the Rod of Kings.

If they succeeded, they’d be the most famous assassins and thieves in Khorvaire-and the most hunted.

Riding alongside the noise of the crowd that cheered for the hero of the Battle of Zarrthec was like riding parallel to an unseen but rushing river. Along some of Rhukaan Draal’s straighter streets, Geth caught glimpses of the crowd, and once the flash of sunlight on spearpoints and armor like water seen through trees. After a long while, though, the shouting fell behind. Khaar Mbar’ost rose ahead-and the river fed into an ocean.

People packed the plaza before the red fortress. Off to their left, a wide path, kept open by bugbear guards, led directly to the gates of Khaar Mbar’ost. Warlords and dignitaries stood on a raised platform of about shoulder height, waiting for Dagii’s approach. As Geth and the others reined in their horses at the edge of the crowd, he saw familiar faces on the platform. Aguus of Traakuum. Garaad of Vaniish Kai. Iizan of Ghaal Sehn. Pater d’Orien. Senen Dhakaan. Munta. Vounn.

In fact, he knew all of the faces. Not so long ago, he would have been standing on the platform, too.

“I don’t see Makka or Pradoor,” said Ashi. “Or Tariic.”

“There,” Chetiin said.

The people on the platform parted to reveal the lhesh climbing up stairs at the back of the platform. Makka, looking around with the wariness of a hunter on edge, and Pradoor followed close behind him. The excited murmurs of the crowd turned into a roar of approval. Tariic stepped up to the front of the platform and raised the Rod of Kings. The roar of the crowd rose even higher.

“He has it,” said Chetiin.

Geth looked to Midian. The gnome’s lips pressed tight and he raised his eyes to scan the rooftops-also crowded with people-around them. He shook his head. “The plaza is too wide. Even with a more powerful crossbow I’d have trouble hitting him. With my little hand bow it’s impossible.”

“Don’t worry,” said Geth, “we’re going closer.”

“We’ll be recognized!”

“I’m counting on it.” A plan, desperate and dangerous but possibly their only hope, had formed in his mind. He slid from his horse and gestured for the others to do the same.

The hats and cloaks Aruget had used to smuggle them out of Khaar Mbar’ost had been abandoned by Haruuc’s tomb, but silver quickly procured more. Ashi kept her face down and her cowl-stinking of the hobgoblin beggar who been wearing it only moments before-well up as she fought her way through the crowd beside Ekhaas. A few paces away, Geth wore a similarly ragged and foul cloak. Ekhaas, along with Aruget, his features shifted to anonymity, blended into the crowd of other dar faces. Chetiin and Midian-arms unbound but now tethered to and closely watched by Aruget-simply moved unseen among the legs of larger figures. Ashi wasn’t sure if she envied Tenquis his role or not. Standing back with the horses, he didn’t need to wear a disguise, but it would be his job to get them out again once they’d done what they had to do.

Her palms were wet. She wiped them on the legs of her trousers.

“If we’d taken the rod and run after Haruuc died,” she murmured to Ekhaas in human language as bodies jostled them on all sides, “none of this would be happening.”

The duur’kala glanced at her. “If we’d taken the rod and run,” she answered, lips barely moving, “the succession would have been even more chaotic and Darguun likely would still have been at war with Valenar.”

“We’re going to force a new succession and we’re going to steal the rod.”

Ekhaas’s ears flicked and drooped. “But now we have war. Dar may not understand peace, but we understand war very well. There will be a new lhesh in days, and he won’t need the rod as a symbol to unify the clans. He’ll continue the war with Valenar and that will be enough. Darguun will follow him. And without the rod’s dreams of empire, Darguun will remain only Darguun.”

“If the war drags on, Darguun will weaken. Other nations could decide to take it on. It could fall.”

Ekhaas gave a thin smile. “Even Dhakaan fell eventually, Ashi. We can only make certain Darguun does not fall today.” She stopped. “We part here.”

Ashi raised her head a little, just enough to look around. They stood about fifteen paces from the platform and close to the line of guards that kept the path through the plaza clear. Geth and Chetiin had already pushed and slid their way to a position five paces nearer the platform. Aruget and Midian were a little to the right.

Up on the platform, Vounn chatted casually with warlords, ambassadors, and other envoys. Ashi knew her well enough now to recognize her apparent ease for the act it was. Her mentor’s back was stiff and her hands moved in small circles when she spoke. She knew something was amiss. If she didn’t know Tariic had regained the true rod, she at least guessed it.

Ashi felt a twinge of guilt for the trouble she was about to cause both Vounn and all of House Deneith. She glanced at Makka and at the sword-her sword, the Deneith honor blade-he still carried. Perhaps it was just as well she hadn’t recovered it. Her grandfather probably wouldn’t have approved of what she was about to do. Or maybe he would have. She forced the sword out of her mind, saying a silent good-bye to it and Vounn alike, then looked at Ekhaas and gave her a silent nod. The duur’kala returned it and moved to join Aruget and Midian. Ashi pushed through the crowd to Geth and Chetiin. The stench of her cowl actually helped-people shifted just to get away from her.

Beneath his cloak, Geth had Wrath already drawn. He turned his head and looked at her. “Ready?” he murmured.

Ashi concentrated, drawing on the power of her dragonmark. The bright lines that patterned her skin warmed and she felt the familiar clarity of the mark’s protection settle over her mind. She concentrated again, the warmth becoming an almost uncomfortable heat, and reached down to touch Chetiin. The goblin shivered as the shield of the Siberys Mark of Sentinel wrapped him as well. Even if Tariic had mastered the rod’s power, they would be safe from it, while Wrath protected Geth. Then she nodded and reached for her sword. “Read-”

A sudden roar erupted from behind them at the edge of the plaza. It spread quickly through the crowd. Heads turned, even among those on the platform. Ashi twisted around.

At the end of the path through the plaza, two hobgoblins rode at the head of a column of soldiers. One wore chains wrapped around his torso like a badge of honor. The other, mounted on a tiger, wore the horned armor of the warlord of Mur Talaan and raised his arms in triumph.

Dagii-and Keraal-had reached the plaza.

“Now!” snapped Geth. His gauntleted arm rose and fell, dashing a vial of dark glass, surrendered by Midian, against the paving stones at their feet. Ashi squeezed her eyes shut.

The intense light released by the shattered vial flared even through her eyelids. All around them, cheers turned into shouts of alarm.

Ashi forced her eyes open again, throwing back her cowl with one hand and drawing her sword with the other. She whirled the blade around her head and let the fluting battlecry of the Bonetree Clan ripple from her lips.

Geth thrust Wrath toward the platform and howled, “Tariic Kurar’taarn! We come for you!”

Shocked and dazzled by the burst of light, startled by cries and swinging swords, the crowd surged away from them. Chetiin drove them back further, darting and tumbling among them like a furious black cat, his dagger slashing at legs. The line of guards trying to hold the crowd back from the path through the plaza buckled and fell as people moved. Out of the corner of her eye, Ashi had a glimpse of Keraal’s horse rearing and Dagii fighting to control his tiger, even as he caught sight of them.

Chaos erupted on the platform as well. Warlords flinched in surprise, then pushed forward like the trained warriors they were, struggling for a moment with the envoys and ambassadors who were trying to get back. Makka forced Pradoor behind him and drew his sword. Tariic, rod raised to greet Dagii, froze for an instant, then moved. The others on the platform had closed in behind him, blocking access to stairs. He turned, crossing the front of the platform away from her and Geth.

And Aruget, waiting just at the edge of the open space cleared by the panicked crowd, waiting for just such an attempt at escape, lifted Midian up onto his shoulders. In one smooth movement, the agent of Zilargo braced himself, brought down his crossbow, and aimed over the heads of the crowd. Ekhaas stepped in front of the pair, drawing her blade to turn back blundering spectators. The crossbow tracked Tariic for a moment, then Midian squeezed the trigger.

Ashi couldn’t hear the crack of the bow’s release over the noise of the crowd’s confusion, but she saw Tariic jerk and sprawl backward. The fletching of a crossbow bolt smeared with Midian’s entire remaining supply of strandpine sap protruded from his throat.

Tariic’s hand spasmed and the Rod of Kings fell from it.

Still howling, still waving Wrath, Geth sprang for the platform. Ashi and Chetiin stayed close behind him, and the remnants of the crowd parted before them. Before the rod had even stopped rolling, before greedy warlords could do more than stare at the prize before their feet, the three of them had vaulted onto the platform. Chetiin took one side of Geth and Ashi the other, twitching her sword back and forth to keep Aguus of Traakuum and Garaad of Vaniish Kai at bay, as the shifter scooped up the rod.

Standing close beside Aguus and Garaad, calmer than any other envoy, Vounn stood and stared at her. Ashi drew a breath between her teeth. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

Vounn’s eyes opened wide. Her finger came up-and pointed at something behind Ashi. Aguus and Garaad stiffened as well. Ashi heard a soft curse from Chetiin. She threw a fast look over her shoulder. Like Vounn and the warlords, Geth had stopped and was staring. She followed his eyes down to Tariic’s corpse.

Red-brown flesh seemed to flow and turn dusky gray. Flat, harsh features became round and soft. Brown eyes so bright they were almost red turned white. Short, dark hair grew long and became pale.

A changeling, returned to his true form in death.

“Ko!” choked Geth. He flipped the Rod of Kings around to reveal the faint spiral Tenquis had made to mark the false rod.

Ashi gasped. “Where’s Tariic?”

“Here!”

Ashi whirled as those on the platform parted and the real Tariic stepped forward with the rod-the true rod-raised high. Protected by her dragonmark, she couldn’t feel the power of the true rod, but she could see it in the expressions of those around Tariic. It made the effects of the false rod seem as cheap and gaudy as gilded lead. The Darguul warlords who moved aside for Tariic stood straight, ears high, proud in his presence. The ambassadors and dragonmarked envoys looked even more frightened than they already had. A startled silence spread among the crowd as they saw that Lhesh Tariic still lived-and moreover that he stood before them like an emperor returned.

He swept the Rod of Kings across the platform and his voice almost trembled with eagerness. “Seize them, Darguuls! Seize the assassins!”

Within the arc that the rod described, every dar head-hobgoblin, bugbear, and goblin-turned to Ashi, Geth, and Chetiin. Those few envoys and ambassadors who hadn’t already retreated looked around in confusion. Vounn, still standing in front of Ashi, opened her mouth as if to speak, but anything she might have said was lost as more than a dozen of the most powerful and important warlords in Darguun surged forward.

“Run!” shouted Geth.

Ashi hesitated for an instant, as if she could seize Vounn and drag her free, then she spun and followed him and Chetiin in a desperate leap from the platform.

Too slow. Arms wrapped around her in a tackle that sent her sword flying from her hand and brought her crashing down.

“Maabet!” cursed Aruget.

Midian froze in the act of climbing down from his shoulder. Ekhaas felt a sudden nausea sweep through her.

The changeling who’d impersonated Geth. The false rod. Tariic had anticipated an attempt to recapture the true rod. He’d prepared for it.

And they’d failed.

“Seize them!” Tariic shouted. “Seize the assassins!”

The command spread from the platform, sweeping over the crowd. Out to the limits of Tariic’s voice, it gripped minds and souls. The crowd that had been scattering in panic turned and rushed back like the turning tide.

The line of Aruget’s jaw tightened, and he shook Midian off his back. “Ideas?” he said.

“One,” said Midian-and Ekhaas heard his crossbow clatter to the stones under their feet. She turned, but the gnome was already sprinting past her and racing into the crowd, darting among a forest of legs. Chaos marked his plunge, but he was fast, using his small size to evade the hands that grabbed for him.

Aruget looked at Ekhaas and his ears flicked. “We tried,” he said.

Then he was diving into the crowd, too. Even as he moved, though, Ekhaas saw his face and body shift and start to change. Adult hobgoblin became youthful bugbear. A few hands grabbed for him, there was a flurry of activity, but then nothing. His disappearance was even more complete than Midian’s-and it left an even greater hole in Ekhaas’s gut. She dragged her sword from its sheath and swung it in a wide circle, forcing the advancing crowd back for a moment, but where the blade passed, the crowd pressed in — until the roar of a tiger brought them and Ekhaas around. Above the heads of the crowd, Dagii appeared, his tiger mount leaping through the mob as if through grass. In his wake, led by Keraal, came the soldiers of the Iron Fox Company. Joy and anger warred in Ekhaas. Anger that Dagii had involved himself, opened himself up to Tariic’s retribution. Joy that he’d come to her rescue. The last ranks of the crowd scattered as the tiger came to a snarling stop before her. Ekhaas looked up at Dagii, her heart racing.

He stared at her with gray eyes as hard as the half-visor of his helmet and as cold as the Rod of Kings. “Ekhaas of Kech Volaar, assassin and traitor,” he said, “by command of Lhesh Tariic, you are my prisoner.”

The hole in Ekhaas’s gut swallowed her.

The day in the dungeon, the day he had spared Ko from the arena, came back to Geth. Tariic’s disapproval of his mercy. His own promise to the dungeon keeper-“I’ll be back to talk to him when I can.” But he’d never made it back and his mercy had returned to damn him.

There was no room in his fury-at Tariic, but especially at himself-even for cursing. He’d thought he was a hero. He was a fool.

His feet hit the stones of the plaza and he sank into a crouch, Wrath ready, his gauntlet up. Chetiin landed beside him. They were in the clear for the moment, but the crowd, summoned back by Tariic’s command, was swarming in fast.

“Geth!”

Ashi. He twisted to face the platform. Ashi lay near the edge of it, struggling desperately but held by half a dozen pairs of hands that tried to drag her back. Two of those pairs belonged to Aguus and Garaad.

The rest of the warlords caught in the rod’s power were jumping and climbing down from the platform.

“Geth…” Chetiin said in low warning.

“Watch the crowd,” Geth growled. “I’m going for Ashi.”

Before the goblin elder could say anything else, he moved, throwing himself against Tariic’s puppets. Confronted by Wrath, the Darguuls drew weapons, though they didn’t strike to kill-Tariic’s command had been to seize. Geth lashed out with the twilight blade, trying to drive them back while using the false rod, still gripped in gauntleted hand, as a club against those who got close. For a moment, it worked-until Munta the Gray thrust himself between the others. The old warlord’s sword caught Geth’s and held it. Dark eyes in a wrinkled face blazed. “Traitor!”

The hatred and ferocity in his voice made Geth bare his teeth. “Munta, it’s the rod! Tariic has-”

Nothing in Munta’s face or posture hinted that he even heard him. “You’re mine,” he snarled. “When I drag you before Tariic, he will know I’m still fit for battle!”

He threw back Wrath and swung his own sword with a strength and speed that Geth wouldn’t have expected in someone of his age. The shifter blocked the blow with his gauntlet, then jabbed at Munta with the false rod.

The old warlord’s sword whirled around and struck the rod at a sharp angle. The edge of the blade bit deep into the byeshk. Geth thought he felt a sting in his hand as the magic Tenquis had woven into the false rod unraveled. Munta must have felt something, too. He hissed and stumbled, dropping hard onto one knee.

“Sorry, Munta,” Geth growled. He swung the damaged rod down onto his gray head. Munta collapsed like an empty sack.

Geth let the false rod tumble onto him as he jumped over the old warlord’s sagging body. More hands grabbed for him. He struck them away with his gauntlet. Ashi saw him, and her struggles intensified. She freed a leg and gave Aguus a hard kick in the chest. She freed a fist, but Garaad grabbed it again.

“Ashi, I’m coming!” Geth roared, but the crowd was all around him now. Every step was a battle. Chetiin was fighting at his back, stabbing at knees and legs and chests whenever someone fell.

Somewhere a tiger roared. “Dagii!” said Chetiin.

Geth twisted his head around. Across the seething mob that filled the plaza, Dagii had drawn his mount up before Ekhaas-but one glance at the warlord’s face told him that his appearance was no rescue. “Tariic has him. I don’t see Aruget or Midian!”

Up on the platform, Tariic stood back with a look of supreme confidence on his face. To one side of him, Pradoor’s head turned back and forth, ears twitching as the blind goblin listened to the sounds of the fight. To the other, Makka strained like a dog on a lead, eager to join the battle but held back by his master. Geth grimaced. Tariic didn’t need Makka’s strength to defeat them-the sheer numbers of the crowd would drag them down. Soon.

Then somewhere behind Geth, hooves beat on stone and a voice rose in a rasping shout-“For the blood and line of Castalla!” Geth turned again, the other way this time.

Tenquis, mounted and riding at a full gallop, plunged through the crowd, splitting it apart. In one hand, he held a rope gathering together the reins of the other horses; they followed him in a bucking, whinnying wedge of muscle and hooves. The tiefling rode with his head low over his horse’s neck, gaze fixed on the platform.

Hands dragged at Geth as he turned his head between lhesh and artificer. Tariic raised the Rod of Kings and drew breath. One shouted command would halt the wild charge.

“Tenquis, watch out!” Geth roared.

But Tenquis had already released the other horses and pulled back on the reins of his own. The beast reared up on its hind legs. Tenquis’s free hand flicked out. Pale liquid spread out from a vial clutched in his ingers and seemed to evaporate on the air.

At the same instant, thick greenish vapor burst up in a smoky curtain around Tariic, Pradoor, and Makka. Whatever command Tariic might have issued disappeared in a strangled cough.

And the anger and energy of the crowd seemed to drain away, as if only Tariic’s concentration had sustained it. The hands that held Geth fell away. The forehooves of Tenquis’s horse clattered back to the ground and he urged the animal around in a tight circle, driving the confused crowd further apart. “Take a horse and mount up!” he shouted at Geth and Chetiin.

Geth glanced back to the platform. The warlords who had seized Ashi were as confused as the crowd below. Their grips went slack-and Ashi pulled away from them, punching at one, cracking an elbow across Garaad’s face, then twisting to her feet. Her eyes met Geth’s and she gave him a ierce grin. Relief spread through Geth, so sharp it made him feel almost sick. He turned and leaped onto the back of the nearest horse.

Dagii’s gaze snapped around at Tenquis’s charge, but as the tiefling artificer cast pale liquid on the air and Tariic choked on green smoke, the warlord blinked and his gray eyes cleared. He stared down and Ekhaas saw horror in his face. “Taarka’nu, I didn’t-”

The hole that had opened in her closed a little, but not all the way. Her legs trembled. Her head spun. Tenquis was already shouting at Geth. On the platform, Ashi was fighting free. Ekhaas looked up at Dagii and cut him off with curt words. “Tariic has the true rod. Ride or he’ll have you again!”

His ears pressed back. “If I ride, he’ll have you. Take a horse. I’ll cover your retreat.” He whipped up his sword, whirling it around his head. “Iron Fox, forward! Take defensive lines! Protect the lhesh!”

Soldiers already in motion changed their step with disciplined obedience, rushing toward the platform. Ekhaas stared at Dagii. His eyes narrowed and his mouth curved in a smile that was both fond and hard. “Go, taarka’nu! Fight another day.”

Her ears rose. “Great glory, ruuska’te,” she said, then raced for Tenquis and the horses. Geth was already in the saddle with Chetiin clinging behind him. Ekhaas’s foot found a stirrup and she mounted.

The green vapor that burst around Makka seared his nostrils and stung his eyes, but at least he didn’t choke. Tariic, caught mid-breath, sucked the stuff in deep and doubled over in wracking coughs. Pradoor coughed as well, wheezing between gasps “What is this? What’s happening?”

Makka held his breath, tore the sword from his belt, and leaped through the smoke. Wisps of it caught in his hair and scorched his skin, but he could see again.

He could see revenge slipping away from him.

Geth and Chetiin were already on horseback. Ekhaas of Kech Volaar was mounting. Dagii was rushing forward as if eager to meet his death. Ashi of Deneith — was still on the platform and the way between them was open.

The rage of the Fury fell over him. Tariic had denied him his vengeance for too long! Howling the anger that had seethed in him since these taat had destroyed his tribe’s camp and his power with it, Makka charged. The sword of Deneith flashed in his grip. Ashi turned. She was unarmed. Defenseless.

Good.

He lunged.