Don Bassingthwaite - The Grieving Tree

Geth gritted his teeth and shifted. The feeling of invulnerability that surged through him eased some of his pain. The flow of blood from his hand slowed. He glared at the bounty hunter, then felt a cold fear push up his spine. Chain sat against a heap of rocks that Geth couldn’t recall seeing before. The hole leading down into the ruins wasn’t particularly wide. It wouldn’t take much to block it. “Don’t trust him, Singe!” he said quickly. “It’s a trap.”

“Twelve moons!” the wizard called back. “You don’t say?”

Chain grinned at Geth. “You lot got on top of me in Zarash’ak,” he said. “You’re good. But when I say I’m the best, I mean it. You’re not getting out of this.”

“Chain!” shouted Dandra. “This isn’t just a simple contract. You don’t know who you’re really working for.”

Chain’s crossbow drifted lazily. Geth stiffened and tried to get his gauntleted arm up, but the bolt through his left hand made it difficult to support himself. He clenched his teeth and put his weight on the injured hand. The gauntlet was a poor shield against a crossbow at close range, but it was all he had.

“And you don’t know who you’re dealing with!” Chain spat.

“I’m dealing with an idiot,” said a strong, hard voice.

Chain and Geth both looked up at the same time. About ten away, Robrand d’Deneith was striding through the brittle grass of the ruins. “You must be Chain d’Tharashk.”

Chain’s eyes narrowed as they fell on the blue star of Tzaryan Keep pinned to the old man’s coat. “This is a legitimate bounty,” he said. “Leave us be.”

“You’re House Tharashk,” answered Robrand. “You should know better than anyone what happens to trespassers in Tzaryan Rrac’s territory.”

“Tzaryan recognizes bounties.”

“Not when they’re his guests.”

Chain stiffened. His crossbow steadied, pointed at Geth’s head once more. “Stay where you are or he dies.”

Robrand paused. Geth looked up at him. For the first time since Robrand had revealed himself on the road from Vralkek, their eyes met-and Robrand’s gaze was cold.

Geth’s arm sank slowly. His gut clenched. Nine years of running and hiding and it came down to this. Stuck in a hole with his life in Robrand’s hands.

He didn’t look away.

Robrand did.

The old man glanced back to Chain and started walking again. “You’re within sight of the keep walls,” he said. “Did you think you could get away with this? I have a company of ogres on their way. Surrender now.”

It was a blatant lie, an outrageous bluff. If Robrand had been sitting at a table playing cross, Geth knew, half the other players would have raised the stakes immediately. He’d done it himself before he’d learned not to gamble with the old man. Chain didn’t have that advantage. Geth saw his eyes flick briefly toward the looming bulk of Tzaryan Keep, then back to Robrand.

“You’re lying. If Tzaryan’s troops were coming, they’d be on top of us already.”

“And if you kill Geth, you’ve got nothing left to bargain with,” Robrand said smoothly.

“You’re right,” said Chain. He swung the crossbow toward Robrand.

Geth’s old commander lunged forward even as Chain squeezed the trigger. The air seemed to spit light over Robrand’s chest, then the bolt was simply rolling in the dust. Before Chain could reload or even grab for the sword at his side, Robrand had his sword out and at the bounty hunter’s throat. Chain fell back and his leg lashed out in a brutal kick, but Robrand leaped up over it with a master’s ease-and stomped down on Chain’s outstretched hip as he tried to whirl to his feet. The big man writhed in pain and thrust himself back the other way.

Right into Geth’s reach. The shifter roared and swung his right arm in a powerful backhand blow. He caught just a glimpse of Chain’s eyes-open wide and white-before his gauntlet cracked hard against his face. Chain flipped over, rolled, and lay still, eyes closed, face bleeding from the impact of the studs and ridges on the gauntlet. Geth spat at him.

“Respect, Blademark!” snapped Robrand.

Geth stiffened instinctively and shouted back, “Commander! Yes, commander!” before he even thought about it, then jerked and caught himself. He looked up at Robrand in shock. The old man looked startled as well. A grimace of distaste crossed his face.

“Old habits don’t die easily,” he said.

“No,” said Geth. “I guess they don’t.” His stomach roiled so intensely that he thought he might be sick.

To one side of them, the air seemed to fold and then part as Dandra stepped out of it, spear at the ready, the droning chorus of whitefire surrounding her. She blinked at the sight of Chain’s unconcious form and the chorus faded. “We heard Robrand-” she began, then her eyes darted to Geth’s hand, the crossbow bolt still piercing it. “Geth!”

The distaste on Robrand’s face vanished and suddenly he was once more the personable, pleasant old soldier he had been on the journey from Vralkek. “Get Geth out of the hole, Dandra,” he ordered. “Singe! Send Orshok up first to tend Geth’s wounds.”

The next few minutes were a flurry of activity. Robrand cut the cord of Chain’s snare, freeing Geth. Dandra took his free hand and hauled him free of the hole. A moment later, Orshok emerged, dusty and pale. As the others followed, the druid drew Geth away from the hole and examined his wounded hand, then took out a knife and carefully trimmed one end off the bolt so he could slide it free from the wound. Renewed pain burned through Geth’s hand, but he clenched his teeth until Orshok spoke a healing prayer. Magic like a cool breeze closed the wound.

Geth let out a sigh and flexed his hand. “Twice tak,” he said.

“There’s probably going to be a scar,” Orshok apologized. “The wound was almost too much for my magic. Batul or Krepis could have done more.”

“I can live with another scar,” said Geth. He jerked his head at Chain. The big man was groaning as Singe and Natrac tied his arms with his own cord. Blood and dirt had mixed to make a dark, patchy mess on the bounty hunter’s face. “Especially if I’ve given him more than he gave me.”

Singe finished tying Chain and stood up to face Robrand. “It’s lucky you came along, old man, but somehow I don’t think it’s an accident you were out here. And I don’t think Tzaryan knows you’re here. If this was his business, you really would have ogres with you.”

“I was looking for you, Etan,” Robrand said bluntly. “It’s Ekhaas. Tzaryan’s getting impatient. I think he thought you would talk to her before you started exploring the ruins.”

“There wasn’t time.”

“There’s going to be even less time. Tzaryan’s given orders to begin her interrogation.” He contemplated the hole in the ground. “Is this Ekhaas’s work, too? Tzaryan’s not going to be pleased with that.”

Singe let out a hiss. “He said he’d let me talk to Ekhaas before he tortured her-and you said he honored his word.”

“He has limits.” Robrand looked back toward the keep. “The ogres are waiting for my return-I was able to hold them back that long.”

“Then your timing’s good. We were going to talk to her when we got back anyway.” He pressed his lips together, then added, “We found what we needed in the ruins, Robrand. We’ll be leaving tomorrow. We have to get back to the Shadow Marches.”

Robrand nodded. “You can take the horses you rode here on. I’ll arrange for supplies-”

A loud groan from Chain interrupted them. The big man’s eyes opened and fixed on his bound hands. His muscles tensed as he strained at the cord. Nothing happened. He looked up to stare at them all angrily. His gaze settled you on Robrand and his lips twisted. “How-? You were close! I couldn’t have missed.”