Don Bassingthwaite - The Killing Song

Geth’s hand clenched hard around Wrath’s hilt, listening to the words of the Gatekeepers and the warriors. Every orc’s eyes might have been on the sun, but his-and Ekhaas’s-were on Medala. The mad kalashtar and her guards stood on the slope of the Sharvat close to the senior Gatekeepers. Geth knew that he wasn’t imagining the possessive intensity that shone in her face whenever she looked out across the horde.

“This is wrong,” he growled. “This is all wrong.”

“It’s not all wrong,” Ekhaas hissed back at him. “It’s almost entirely right. That’s what makes it so terrifying. The horde should be marching, the Gatekeepers should be acting against the Master of Silence-but not with Medala at the reins.” The hobgoblin’s ears laid back. “Khaavolaar , I almost admire her.”

“Don’t say that!” Geth glared at Medala. The rush of the horde to prepare for departure after Batul’s announcement had separated them from her. Not that he’d felt any desire to remain close to the kalashtar. All he’d really wanted to do was run and hide like a dog during a thunderstorm. He hadn’t even been able to do that.

The Gatekeeper on the slope shouted yet another impassioned, inspiring passage from the teachings of Vvaraak and yet another roar from the horde answered him. Some of the loudest shouts came from immediately around Geth. Kobus bellowed loud enough for three orcs. He punched at the air with a massive fist-the other held a nasty-looking double axe-then thumped his hand across Geth’s shoulders and shouted in his ear. He spoke in Orc, but Wrath translated his words. “This will be a fight, my brother! This will be a fight to tell grandchildren about!” The big orc looked around them. “We march with one who has been to the Bonetree mound before!” he said. “We march with one who fought a dragon! We march with Geth!”

And as they had done at least half a dozen times since Kobus had sought him out to claim a place at his side, the warriors around him-once the followers of Kobus and other orc champions-took up the chant. “We march with Geth! We march with Geth! We march with Geth!”

Geth pulled his hand away from Wrath and the words faded back into unintelligible Orc. “Ker’od Geth! Ker’od Geth!” It didn’t seem to bother them that he neither spoke nor, so far as they knew, understood their language. They made up for it with enthusiasm.

“You need to acknowledge them,” said Ekhaas. “If you don’t, they’ll just keep chanting.”

He clenched his teeth and raised his gauntlet-clad arm into the air. The chant broke off into a cheer and faded away. Kobus gave him another jaw-rattling slap on the back. Geth grimaced.

A few hours ago, he would have accepted this hero-worship. He would have-no, he had enjoyed it. After talking with Medala, though, it just ate at his guts like poison. Was it real, or was it just a part of Medala’s manipulations? Was the warriors’ admiration just a side effect of her power over the horde, or was this a deliberate ploy, trying to get him to lower his defenses?

He was no leader. Just the idea of being a hero to warriors like Kobus made him feel awkward. It was good-the warmth he had first felt last night still hadn’t gone away completely-but it was also frightening. To be hero or leader gave him a responsibility to the warriors. He didn’t want that. Besides, he already had enough responsibility pressing down on his shoulders.

He looked at Ekhaas. “Do you think Medala was right about what’s going to happen in Sharn?” he asked. “All those ‘possibilities’ and ‘certainties’-maybe she’s just wrong.”

Ekhaas’s ears flicked and her amber eyes narrowed. “Prophecy is a treacherous thing,” she said. “Medala was right about one thing at least. Until an event actually takes place, there’s always a chance that it might not. The tales of the duur’kala record many instances of mistaken or misinterpreted prophecy.”

“But do you think she was right when she said that anyone who stands against Dah’mir will die?”

Ekhaas turned to look at him, but hesitated before answering. “It would be foolish,” she said, “to dismiss that possibility. We should assume that Dandra and Singe will-or have already-died in Sharn. We should assume that Dah’mir will come to the Bonetree mound as and when Medala says he will.”

Another roar from the horde covered Geth’s groan. “That’s what I was afraid of.” He looked back to the slope of the Sharvat, to Medala, and to the senior Gatekeepers. Batul stood among them, his blind eye stark white in the shadows of his face, his good eye scanning the horde. Geth’s belly tightened with his own certainty. “We need to talk to Batul,” he said. “He needs to know what Medala told us. He’ll know what to do.” He glanced at Ekhaas. “Can you cast the spell you used to protect us on him? Would it free him from Medala’s control?”

She nodded. “It should. The way he tried to warn you before, it sounds like he’s at least aware of her influence already. Do you think we’ll be able to get close to him once the horde marches?”

“Once the horde marches, it may be too late to do anything.” He started forward. Ekhaas grabbed for him, but he just pulled her after him.

“You’re going to interrupt the ceremony?”

“If I have to.”

They were already near the front of the horde and close to the Gatekeepers, but the warriors were packed tightly together in an effort to be near the druids. Squeezing through them was a battle in itself. No one wanted to give up their place. He and Ekhaas made almost no forward progress-at least not until Ekhaas turned around and shouted in Orc at Kobus. The big warrior slapped some of his friends, and they began clearing a path through the crowd, roughly thrusting aside anyone who would not move. Geth could hear his name in Kobus’s shouts, and he glanced suspiciously at Ekhaas as they followed behind the orcs.

The hobgoblin shrugged. “I told them you wanted to talk to the Gatekeepers but needed their help. What good is having followers if you don’t give them something to do?”

They were through the crowd in moments and broke onto the clear ground of the slope just as the horde let loose yet another roar. The timing wasn’t the best. The roar of the horde seemed to shove them forward. All of the senior Gatekeepers looked down to stare at them.

So did Medala. Her face knotted up into a hideous tangle. Geth put his back to her and faced the orc druids. The Gatekeeper who had been speaking glowered at him and said something in Orc. “He wants to know what you’re doing here,” Ekhaas translated, but Geth was already facing Batul.

We need to talk , he attempted to mouth silently, his lips and face moving in exaggerated motions. Not for the first time, he wished he had Dandra’s power of kesh . He added gestures-pointing at himself, then at Batul, then making talking and walking motions.

Batul just scowled and the words on his lips were easy to read. Not now!

Geth opened his hands in pleading request, but Batul’s scowl only grew deeper. He shook his head emphatically and shaped the same words. Not now! The rejection made Geth’s teeth clench, but the fire in his belly was blazing. He stared at Batul as if he did have the power of kesh and mouthed two words: Medala lied!

The reaction wasn’t what he’d hoped for. Batul thrust his tusks forward and stepped up to whisper to the speaker for the Gatekeepers before melting back again. The speaker’s angry expression changed instantly, opening like an ugly flower. He raised his arms and barked something at the crowd. Kobus howled in gleeful response and in only moments the howl spread through the horde. Ekhaas stiffened, her ears springing upright. Hands grabbed Geth and her, pushing them both toward the Gatekeepers.