Don Bassingthwaite - The Grieving Tree

They traveled the last stretch of the road to Tzaryan Keep in the dark. Rather than make camp when they were almost within sight of their destination, Robrand pushed Tzaryan’s troops onward as the sun sank below the horizon. Night or day made no difference to the ogres-they could see as well in the dark as shifters or orcs. Those few traveling with the column who couldn’t rode together, laughing like revelers, in the pale glow of magical light called by Singe.

Geth rode alone beyond the light. Dandra watched him for a long while as Robrand spun out an account of how he had bested a squad of knights in Thrane as a young man on his first command. The others hung on the old man’s words. When Dandra leaned over to Natrac and murmured, “I’m going to talk to Geth,” the half-orc just nodded and grunted. Dandra urged her horse away and trotted ahead to join Geth.

He looked up at her approach, bared his teeth, and snarled. “Go away, Dandra.”

“No,” Dandra said. She pulled her horse around so that it walked beside his. “What’s going to happen when we get to Tzaryan Keep?”

He blinked. “What?”

“What are you going to do when we get to Tzaryan Keep?” She nodded back toward the others, now well out of earshot. “You’re supposed to be a guard. A guard’s place is with his master.”

The shifter growled under his breath. Inside Dandra’s mind, Tetkashtai gave a derisive snort at his sullenness. Pathetic. No concern for anyone but himself .

You’re not one to talk . Dandra pushed the presence away “This is part of what’s between you and Singe, isn’t it?” Geth stiffened. She pressed him. “You need to get past this. We need to work together. All of us.”

He glared at her. “Have you given Singe this lecture, too?”

“He’s not the one riding alone.” She paused, then added, “This isn’t just between you and Singe anymore, Geth. You’ve barely talked to any of us since Robrand revealed himself. It’s all part of what happened in Narath, isn’t it?”

He looked away-then back again. “If I say yes, will you leave me alone?”

His voice was thick with emotion. Dandra hesitated. “No,” she said after a moment. “I’m not going to leave you alone. When I said we need to work together, I meant it. You’re going to have face Robrand and Singe.” She reached out and laid her hand over the cold metal of his great gauntlet. “But I want you to know this: I’m not judging you. Whatever you did in Narath, you’ve proved yourself to me. The first time we met, you were coming to my rescue.”

Geth looked down at her hand, then covered it with his. The shifter’s palm and fingers were rough and calloused. He said nothing for a long moment, then lifted his hand and sat up straight, looking away from her and up into the night sky. “Robrand let you see Ekhaas today.”

Dandra knew a change of subject when she heard one-but at least Geth was still talking to her instead of falling back into silence. She turned her eyes to the sky as well. The night was bright: six of the twelve moons were full or very close to it. Their combined light cast deep shadows across the hillsides. “He did,” she told him. “We thought maybe we could persuade her to tell us what she knows about Taruuzh Kraat. If she’s the self-appointed protector of the ruins, she must know something.”

“Did she talk to you?”

“Only to tell us that she won’t speak with defilers of Dhakaan. We tried asking her about the Hall of the Revered and the Spires of the Forge. She didn’t even react.” Dandra shrugged. “But neither Robrand nor Chuut had ever heard of them either, so at least we’re not missing some other real place. Maybe they really are just names invented by Dah’mir to describe Taruuzh Kraat for the Bonetree.”

Geth smiled slightly. “If they are, then Chain was actually right about something. They really didn’t exist.” He paused, then added. “I don’t suppose you asked Ekhaas about …?”

His hand drifted toward his ancient sword. Dandra shook her head. “Should we have?”

Geth pressed his lips together and twitched his head. “No,” he said. “I suppose-”

His voice choked off suddenly as they came around the shoulder of a hill. Dandra knew that if she had been speaking, she would have done the same thing. Both of them reined their horses in and stared at the vista that spread out before them.

Below the hill, lay a wide, shallow valley. Moonlight shone on an irregular patchwork of fencerows and fields, on the meandering ribbon of a small river-and on the dark bulk of Tzaryan Keep.

The fortress crouched on hills of the far side of the valley like an animal waiting to pounce. It was massive in both size and presence, its lower levels all but featureless, a heavy plinth for the profusion of towers and halls that formed its upper levels. The keep reflected little of the moons’ light and, unlike a human structure, showed no light at its scattered windows The only illumination that Tzaryan Rrac’s stronghold cast into the night came from two bright fires that burned at ground level, presumably on either side of a deep gate, and a third, much dimmer, at the top of one high tower.

The others fall silent as they, too, came around the bend and caught sight of the keep. They stopped as well and Dandra turned her head just in time to see Robrand lean a little closer to Singe. “Are you ready, Etan?” she heard him ask softly.

“Yes.”

Robrand’s eyes flashed in the magical light. “You play a dangerous game. I hope you play it well.” He looked over his shoulder and called out, “Signal our return!”

In the front ranks of the column, several ogres put big, grotesquely curved horns to their lips and sounded a call like the dying groan of some massive predator. It was answered by an enthusiastic roar from the throats of the troops so loud that the ground seemed to shake. Off in the distance, a flock of startled birds rose, then settled again. The ogres’ pace quickened.

Singe and the others caught up to her and Geth. Dandra glanced at the shifter and tilted her head toward the riders. He grimaced but nodded, and together they slipped into the pack. Robrand’s expression remained studiously neutral, but Singe gave Dandra a narrow look. She reached out to him with the kesh. Geth belongs with us , she said stubbornly, not riding alone .

No one forced him away , the wizard pointed out.

Dandra felt a flash of irritation. She shaped it into a stinging barb and flung it through the kesh. Can you see what the anger between you is doing?

Singe flinched at the force in her mental voice. You wouldn’t understand, Dandra .

She hissed out loud in spite of herself. Only because neither of you have given me a chance to! She wrenched the kesh away from him.

Dandra? asked Tetkashtai, her light trembling. Are you-?

Dandra forced herself to breathe slowly and steadily, releasing the fury that burned in her like pent-up whitefire. I’m fine , she said. She reached and brushed her mind through Tetkashtai’s, soothing the presence-and herself.

By the time they reached the valley floor, she felt calm and a little bit ashamed for her outburst. At least Singe looked somewhat chastened as well. She was considering apologizing to him when Natrac, riding to one side of her, stiffened. Dandra looked up to see a huddle of huts at the side of the road. She supposed they belonged to the farmers who tended the fields they had seen from the hillside, but Natrac’s face darkened in anger.

“Those are orc huts!” he said. Dandra raised an eyebrow curiously. “Orcs aren’t farmers,” he added. “They’ve never been farmers. The only way orcs would farm is if they were forced to.”