Don Bassingthwaite - The Grieving Tree

The duplicate flickered like a flame and vanished, nothing more than a fragile illusion. Ashi stumbled in surprise. The five remaining hobgoblins lifted their hands in arcane gestures and the chant of another song-like spell spun among the trees. Magic swirled around Ashi and froze her in place, muscles locked in the act of raising her sword.

Only one of the five had actually cast the spell, however. Geth roared and charged, slapping a powerful backhand blow from his gauntlet at the hobgoblin who had seemed to chant the words with the most vigor. In the instant of his charge, though, his target slipped back, passing through one of her duplicates as they rapidly rearranged themselves. It was like watching a nest of writhing snakes. Geth hesitated, then struck at random.

Another hobgoblin disappeared without a trace.

A sword darted at his side. Geth spun and blocked the attack with his gauntlet. Metal scraped on metal. His real enemy. His free hand lashed out in a punch.

This time he felt the impact and the hobgoblin staggered, a sudden trickle of blood running down the yellow skin of her chin. Her duplicates closed on her instantly, swapping places once again-and as soon as one passed through another, both bore the same trickle of blood. All of the hobgoblins turned back to him.

Geth snarled in frustration. He reached across his body with his free hand and ripped his sword from its sheath.

The ancient Dhakaani blade shimmered in the forest shadows. The four women facing him stiffened, eyes opening wide with sudden rage. “Chaat’oor!” they howled in a chorus. “Where did you-?”

Geth lunged, attacking on instinct alone. His sword tore through one duplicate and he jabbed a metal-clad fist at the belly of another. The illusions faded away instantly, leaving him facing only two hobgoblins. They seemed to swing at him in unison, both of them with teeth bared and ears back. Geth threw up his gauntlet and his sword, blocking both blows, then, with a roar, snapped out both arms.

The hobgoblin on his left parried desperately, thrusting her blade up to block his. The hobgoblin on his right caught the spiked forearm of his gauntlet across her face-and vanished.

Geth twisted his fist sharply, catching the real hobgoblin’s weapon in the deep notches that scored one edge of his sword and forcing it high. Spinning under his own arm, he stepped in close and hammered his armored elbow into her gut. As the air rushed out of her lungs and she struggled to draw breath, he whirled again and kicked her legs out from under her. She hit the ground hard. Geth snatched the sword from her hand and stood over her, both swords poised to fall. He nodded toward Ashi, still standing in the grip of the hobgoblin’s magic.

“Release her,” he ordered. “And don’t try anything else. I know a spell when I see it.”

Angry eyes never shifting from Geth’s face, the hobgoblin stretched out a hand and flicked her fingers at Ashi. The hunter staggered as the spell faded. Her face twisted in a scowl. “Magic is no way to fight!”

“Easy,” Geth said. He looked back down at the hobgoblin. “Who are you?” he asked. “Why are you following us?” He remembered her curse when he had first approached. “What do you know about Taruuzh Kraat?”

Her ears twitched and drew back. Her lips twisted. “I’ll tell you nothing, chaat’oor!”

Her eyes, however, went briefly to his sword. Geth glanced at the blades in his hands. Held side by side, it was apparent how little the basic design of hobgoblin weapons had changed over the millennia since the fall of Dhakaan. Both swords were heavy and wide with a forked tip, one edge sharp for cutting, and the other cruelly notched for ripping. Geth’s sword, however, was clearly the better of the two. It was heavier than the other blade, yet still perfectly balanced. The notching was evenly formed, the cutting edge fine, and the metal smooth and clear; in spite of its age, it was free of the tiny scrapes and imperfections that marred the newer blade.

His sword had also injured a dragon, though neither Batul nor Singe could say why. When he had drawn it in Zarash’ak, a gang of goblins had fled from him. Again, no one could explain it. The sight of the weapon had inspired outrage in the hobgoblin woman before him, however. She recognized the sword. Geth extended it toward her. “You know something about this, don’t you?” he said. “What?”

The hobgoblin’s eyes flashed, but she stayed defiantly silent. Geth ground his teeth, then growled, “Fine.” He gestured with his sword. “Ashi, get her on her feet. Maybe Chuut and the General can get answers out of her.”

The hunter sheathed her word and hauled the hobgoblin woman up from the ground, then briskly searched her for hidden weapons. She found a knife, but nothing else. The woman’s only gear was what she carried in a small satchel. Ashi scowled. “How could she have kept up with us all the way from Vralkek?”

The hobgoblin offered no response, but Geth glanced at her boots. They were finely tooled and decorated with Goblin script. “I imagine Singe could find something magical about those boots,” he said.

The hobgoblin’s eyes flickered with anger. “Thief!”

Geth snorted. “We don’t want your boots. Ashi, keep hold of her.” He turned back toward the road.

Singe, Orshok, and Natrac, along with Chuut and several other ogres, were waiting for them when they emerged from the woods. Singe stared at the hobgoblin with recognition on his face. “Her?” he said in surprise.

“She knows something about Taruuzh Kraat,” said Geth. He slid his sword back into its scabbard and moved to help Ashi hold the woman.

“Who is she?”

“She won’t say.”

“Her name,” rumbled Chuut, sounding displeased, “is Ekhaas.”

Geth looked up at the ogre. “You know her?”

“She’s a pest.” He stepped forward and glared at the hobgoblin. “Tzaryan Rrac ordered your arrest if you were caught interfering in his affairs again.”

Ekhaas glared back at Chuut fearlessly. “How was I interfering?” she asked. Now that she was calm, her voice was coarse but pleasant, like smoke from burning cedar. “I have no further quarrel with Tzaryan-only with would-be defilers of Dhakaan.”

Singe’s eyebrows rose and he shot a glance at Geth. The shifter nodded. Chuut, however, looked neither curious nor amused.

“Come with me,” he said. “You’re going to see the General.”

An idea turned inside Geth’s head. “Wait,” he said quickly. He gripped Ekhaas’s arm and met Chuut’s gaze square-on. “She’s my capture. If she’s going to the General, I want to hand her over myself.”

The challenge seemed to confuse Chuut. “The General said for you to stay in your place.”

“Then she stays with me,” said Geth. Chuut blinked and turned to Singe.

Geth was happy to see that the wizard wore a half-smile-he’d figured out what Geth was doing. “Tell your shifter to give her to me,” Chuut ordered him.

Singe shook his head and crossed his arms. “No. He’s right. We can either go to the General-both of us-or you can bring the General here, but until we see him the hobgoblin belongs to us.” He raised an eyebrow. “If I were the General, I know what I’d want done.”

Ekhaas turned her head to look at Geth. “I’m not a bone for dogs like you to fight over!” she hissed.

Geth glanced back at her. “You should have answered my questions,” he told her. Ekhaas’s ears stood up straight with indignation. Chuut groaned. His big finger pointed at Geth and Singe.

“You and you come with me,” he said. “We’ll take her to the General together.”

“She comes too,” said Geth, nodding to Ashi. “She helped with the capture.”