Don Bassingthwaite - The Grieving Tree

Ashi’s lips spread in a thin smile and she dismounted as well. Singe grabbed Geth’s arm, though. “A good plan,” he agreed, but held the paper down in front of Geth, “except that this is Dandra’s writing.”

“Maybe he had her write it for him.” Geth held a hand up in imitation of the General’s clenched fingers. “He probably can’t do it very well himself.”

“Then why is he carrying paper and ink at all? Something’s not right.”

Geth growled. The hours of riding through the haunted landscape of Droaam dragged on him. He wanted to be off after their stalking enemy. “Save your conspiracies, Singe. The General isn’t the one sneaking through the woods behind us.” He slipped free of the wizard’s grasp and glanced at Ashi. The hunter slid the bright blade of her sword from its sheath. Geth turned back to Chuut. “We’re ready.”

The possibility of action clearly appealed to the ogre as well. His troubled face lit up and he spun to face the waiting troops. “Red squad, move!” he shouted, raising his mace and pointing back along the road. “Search south!”

About a third off the column split away and-with an enthusiastic roar-thundered back the way they had come, plunging off the road and into the woods with no attempt at stealth. A number of smaller trees came crashing down as ogres blundered into them. A blind and deaf man couldn’t have missed the commotion.

Whoever had been following the column was guaranteed to be watching the ogres. Geth gestured for Ashi to take to the woods on the north of the road. Singe, however, drew a sharp breath. “Geth-”

The shifter shook his head. “Ashi and I will be fine. You look after yourselves. We’ll worry about the General later.”

He darted for the trees.

Ashi was waiting for him, crouched down in the thick undergrowth that grew among the trees. Geth squatted beside her and took a glance back onto the road. Singe didn’t look especially pleased, but he seldom did. Sometimes, Geth thought, the wizard was too busy being clever to know when he needed to act.

At least Orshok and Natrac were doing something-they’d dismounted and were holding their horses on short reins close to his and Ashi’s, trying to disguise that there were now two horses on the road without riders. Geth twisted back to Ashi and murmured, “Follow me.”

Before plunging into the woods, he’d looked back and fixed in his mind the spot where he had seen the mysterious figure. He didn’t head that way immediately, though. Instead, he rose and slid deeper into the woods. He was counting on their stalker keeping his eyes on the column and holding his distance from the ogres. The dark-clad figure might be well-hidden from the road, but Geth was fairly certain he’d be much easier to spot from behind.

The shifter dodged from tree to tree and bush to bush, staying low and moving quickly. Ashi’s passage through the woods was smoother and more flowing-the hunter slid from one patch of cover to the next with the lethal grace of a snake. Neither of them made any sound, though if they had, Geth thought the woods might simply have swallowed it up. The silent, ancient eeriness of the land didn’t diminish away from the road. If anything, it seemed to have an even greater presence. The chaotic thrashing of the ogres seemed like little more than a distant rustling, even though Geth could still see the creatures if he looked. He gestured for Ashi to stop before they got too far into the woods. He had a feeling in his gut that he didn’t want to lose sight of the road.

“Grandmother Wolf,” he said under his breath. “I really don’t like this place.”

“Che bo gri lanano ani teith,” Ashi murmured in response. “This land remembers its blood.” Her eyes swept the trees and brush around them, then came back to him for a moment. “Geth,” she said, “tell me why House Deneith should be so worried at someone spreading its training.”

Geth growled softly. “This isn’t the time, Ashi! Ask Singe when we’re back-he understands the lords of Deneith better than I do.”

“But you give honest answers,” said Ashi. She eased a little closer. “I want to understand my new clan. Deneith carries the Mark of Sentinel. The Mark of Sentinel defends. Deneith must have greater concerns than one man teaching commands to anyone-even ogres.”

He clenched his teeth. “The dragonmarked houses are more than clans. They’ve turned their marks into a source of power and wealth. They have special knowledge in their area of skill. If other people start giving away those secrets, the houses lose power and wealth.” Ashi stared at him with a look of confusion on her face. Geth grimaced, trying to find a way to describe the vast power of the great house in a way the hunter would recognize. “They do it for honor,” he said finally.

Ashi’s eyes narrowed and her faced darkened. “There is no honor in wealth!”

“Talk to the lords and ministers of the dragonmarked houses and you talk to people who see something else. I wish you could have met Robrand, Ashi. I think you would have gotten along with the old man.” Geth jerked his head in the direction of their stalker. “Enough talk. Come on-we have someone waiting for us.”

They were deep enough into the eerie woods. Geth turned aside and began moving back parallel to the road. The tree that their stalker had vanished behind had a distinctive broken branch just beneath the level of the forest canopy. It didn’t take long for him to spot it-and their stalker, pressed up against the tree and still intent on the column in the road. Geth paused again and bared his teeth as he studied the figure.

Big as a man and dressed in dark, close-fitting leather armor, just as he’d glimpsed. But he’d made a mistake in assuming the figure was a man or even human.

Their stalker was the hobgoblin woman from the Barrel in Vralkek, her orange-brown hair pulled back so severely that at a glance her head seemed shaved.

Geth stifled a growl. Between her presence in the tavern and her presence here, it seemed fairly clear that the hobgoblin’s interest was in their little group and not Tzaryan Rrac’s ogres. He gestured for Ashi to move around to the hobgoblin’s other side. They would come at her from two directions. Ashi nodded and slipped away through the trees. Geth waited a few moments, flexing his fingers and his arm within the great gauntlet, then closed in.

He was within half a dozen paces before the hobgoblin woman, alerted by some sense that something was amiss, turned to glance behind her, her wolf-like ears standing up straight. Her dark eyes met Geth’s for a fraction of a heartbeat and her ears pressed back flat-then she lunged away.

Ashi spun out from behind another tree, cutting off her escape with a naked blade. The hobgoblin reeled back. Her eyes darted between him and Ashi. Geth moved another step closer. “You’re looking for us?” he asked in a snarl.

The hobgoblin bared teeth as sharp as his own. “You will not defile Taruuzh Kraat!”

Her words brought both Geth and Ashi up short. “How do you know about-?” Geth began, but the hobgoblin didn’t give him a chance to finish the question. Her hands flicked the air and a low, musical word rippled from her lips.

For a moment, she seemed to shimmer and unfold as five exact duplicates stepped out of her body and spread out to surround her. Abruptly, six figures faced them. The hobgoblin drew a wide, heavy sword. So did her duplicates.

“Rond betch!” cursed Ashi. Raising her own sword, she leaped for the nearest of the duplicates.

Geth had seen this magic before. “Ashi, it’s a trick!” he called. The warning came an instant too late, though. The duplicate swayed back before the first slash of Ashi’s sword, but the hunter whirled and brought her blade around in another fast strike that cut across the hobgoblin’s torso.