Don Bassingthwaite - The Killing Song

He glanced at the sun. It was settling down toward the western horizon. Dusk would come very soon, and they had to assume that the orcs would rise before then. They didn’t have much time. “Breff, I need you to get us down there.” He pointed out Batul. “I need you to take us to him.”

Breff’s eyes narrowed in thought and he studied the orcs below, but Ekhaas looked at Geth. “You’re thinking of what Batul said,” she murmured. “Are you certain this is the right time?”

“He’s asleep, isn’t he? He said I would bring the amulet back and wake him from sleep.”

“He might not have meant something so literal. He might have meant you’d free him from Medala’s control.” Ekhaas nodded toward the mound. “If we go down there now, it might be too soon. You can’t depend on prophecy and visions, Geth.”

“Medala is.” He met her amber gaze. “If we don’t go now, when are we going to go? When is the right time? If Medala’s right, Dah’mir will appear soon. This might be our only chance to even get close to Batul. Do you have a better idea?”

Her face tightened, but she made no reply.

Geth turned to Breff. “Can you do it?”

“We’ll need to move like ghosts-but yes.” He slithered backward down from the rise. “Come.”

Not all of the orcs were asleep. Each cluster of orcs had one or two sentries standing watch. Fortunately, not all of the sentries were as alert as they should have been. Breff exchanged quiet words with his hunters, then said to Geth and Ekhaas, “We can kill two of them without a sound. That will give us the opening-”

“No,” Geth said harshly. “We kill no orcs.”

Breff’s lips peeled back to bare his teeth. “It is the safest way and the quickest.”

“No.”

The huntmaster let out a hiss of frustration. “As you wish. Follow us then. Step where we step.”

He led them along the rise until it sank into the ground and they could pass around it without presenting a silhouette to the sky. A particularly lush growth of grass hid a shallow streambed. Breff melted into it, vanishing among the tall stalks. The youngest hunter-they had learned her name was Ahron-went after him, gesturing for Geth to follow her. Another hunter, Medi, took charge of Ekhaas, and the final two hunters, Tag and Bado, assumed position at the rear of their silent procession.

The streambed twisted frequently, and their progress along it seemed to Geth to be painfully slow. They crawled through an unending green maze, each movement made with deliberate care. He could see nothing over the tall grass. Once he tried to part it and peer up to check their position relative to the mound-following the rise had taken them farther from it than he would have liked-but Ahron moved with the speed of a serpent to strike his hand down. He gave her a glare. She gave it right back.

Finally, Breff paused. Geth saw him raise his head briefly, then duck down again. He glanced back at Geth and made two gestures, first flattening his hand out and pressing it down, then putting his fingers over his mouth. Geth understood. Stay low. Keep quiet. He nodded.

What he saw as they left the shelter of the streambed almost made him gasp in spite of Breff’s warning. They were among the Gatekeepers. Geth’s shadow as he stood up stretched across three of the slumbering druids.

His shadow … He twisted his head around and checked the sun. It had slipped well down in the sky. They’d taken too much time. His belly knotted. Maybe he should have listened to Breff’s suggestion. Maybe they should have taken the quicker approach. He glanced at Breff. The huntmaster’s face remained neutral. He pointed across the field of orcs to Batul, then turned away and began picking his way toward him.

Passing among the sleeping orcs seemed even more slow than creeping along the streambed. Being able to see around him, being aware of just how little time they might have left dug into his gut. The horde could wake at any moment. He focused on Batul, trying to block out the blanket swaddled forms around him, the soft snorts and grunts that rose from them, the familiar faces. The proximity of Medala’s tent. Maybe, he thought, they should forget about Batul. Maybe they should seize this chance to strike at Medala directly. It seemed like the same idea was in the Bonetree hunters’ heads. He saw both Breff and Ahron throw frequent glances at the tent. He turned his head for a moment to see if the other hunters were doing the same-

The distraction almost cost him his balance as his foot came down on something unsteady and unyielding. A stone. Maybe a bone from the previous battle. He froze immediately, his breath caught in his throat, every muscle straining to keep him upright.

He didn’t fall. He didn’t make a noise. The moment passed. Ahron gave him a scowl, but Geth ignored her. He looked down at the orcs on either side of him-still asleep-then swept his eyes across the other Gatekeepers nearby.

From a face he knew well, another pair of eyes hazy with waking looked back at him. Orshok and Geth stared at each other.

Ahron saw. She snatched a slim knife from the sheath at her side and raised it to throw.

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.