Don Bassingthwaite - The Grieving Tree

A sour taste rose in Dandra’s mouth as something else occurred to her. Madness was what Dah’mir had been trying to provoke in his kalashtar victims all along. Medala had found that strength and murdered her psicrystal to reclaim her body. Virikhad had eventually succumbed to madness as well and his fight for Medala’s body had destroyed both of them. If Tetkashtai fell, too …

Dandra lifted her chin, slid her spear into the harness across her back, and eased herself through the shaft onto the ledge beyond. The empty space of the chasm hung below her. For a moment, she wondered if giving in to Dah’mir’s power would be such a bad thing.

She choked that thought off. She’d held Tetkashtai back so far.

She turned slowly to face the hatch, then bent down, took the knotted rope between her hands, and slid backward off the edge. She could feel the rope jump and shudder as Geth continued his descent below her. Gut churning, she focused on moving her grasp from one knot to the next, sliding down into the cold dark.

With one arm outstretched and his eyes closed, Chain spun like child playing a game. Vennet couldn’t stop himself from laughing and chanting out the nursery rhyme that went with the game. “Warding, warning, breeding, keeping, making, healing, storm and shade. Striding, scribing, always guarding, all as dark an end they made!”

Chain’s face, already pale with fear, tensed at the mocking-but his spinning still stopped exactly when the rhyme ended. His eyes snapped open and he stared at his arm, the Mark of Finding seeming to shimmer on it, in surprise. It pointed down toward the floor. The big man swallowed and forced his eyes up to Dah’mir. “There,” he said. “She’s about a hundred paces away-and moving.”

Beyond Chain, Singe struggled to conceal an expression of dismay. Hruucan’s burned face was inscrutable, though the movement of his tentacles betrayed pleasure and anticipation-the closer they were to capturing Dandra, Vennet knew, the closer Hruucan was to being given his chance for revenge on Singe. Tzaryan Rrac, however, just looked confused. “That’s impossible!” said the ogre mage. “She’d have to be under the keep!”

Dah’mir’s eyes shone in the darkness. “She’s in the caves,” he said. His voice made eddies in the air, tiny whispers of wind that murmured the praises of the Dragon Below in Vennet’s ears.

Tzaryan’s confusion only seemed to grow deeper. “Caves?” he asked. “There are no caves-”

“There are caves, Tzaryan,” said Dah’mir impatiently. “I knew this area before you were a squalling infant. Chain, what direction is Dandra moving?”

The bounty hunter’s muscular arm traced an arc toward the northeast. Toward Taruuzh Kraat. Dah’mir’s breath hissed between his teeth and his thin lips pulled into a tight smile. “How fitting. This will end where it all began. Tzaryan, gather your ogres and get them into the ruins. There’s only one exit from the caves into Taruuzh Kraat. I want to greet our fugitives when they emerge in Taruuzh’s hall. Vennet, Hruucan-bring the prisoners.”

He thrust off from the courtyard, great talons gouging furrows in the stone, herons scattering around him, and leaped into the sky. Huge wings snapped out and caught the air. They beat twice, then stretched wide in a glide. Vennet’s heart thundered at the glory of the sight. He shoved Natrac toward Chain, and rushed to the edge of the courtyard to peer after the dragon. Tzaryan stepped up at his side-and let out a curse of amazement.

Under the light of the risen moons, with his herons circling overhead, Dah’mir landed and began to dig like a huge, scaly dog, reopening a passage into the ancient ruins.

Vennet whirled to sneer at Singe in triumph. “I told you once that you were too smart for your own good. Are you feeling smart now?”

The wizard’s face was pale. Vennet laughed.

Every movement that Geth made seemed to pull on something. Ekhaas’s raw magic had healed the worst of his wounds, but there was still pain. His head still ached and Lor hadn’t been gentle in stripping and binding him-it was a miracle the ogre hadn’t damaged his gauntlet. Probably the worst, though, were the tiny tugs and sharp pricks of hair and skin trapped in crusted blood. It was as if a swarm of gnats had found its way into the dim chasm beneath Tzaryan Keep. Every hand-under-hand motion as he climbed down Ekhaas’s rope brought on a new rash of torturous pinching. His head, his arms, his neck, shoulders, and chest-he craved water, not to drink but simply to wash.

Strangely, the pain that not so long ago had felt like it would consume him was easiest of all to bear. He’d finally faced Robrand. Narath had passed between them-not in words and not in a good way, but it had passed. Robrand’s threats of violence and torture were utterly unlike the man that he had known and deep in his gut Geth knew he was responsible for the change in his old commander. At the same time, though, he felt … open. Narath, or at least as much of it as anyone needed to know, had been laid bare. His past wasn’t something to suffer under anymore-it was something to fight against. He felt alive again.

Geth bared his teeth. Tiger’s blood, he thought, this fight might not last long, but it’s going to be a good one.

The floor of the chasm was under his feet. He let go of the rope and dropped the last short distance, landing in an easy crouch. The light of the torch high above gave him just enough light to see. He looked around the narrow space-if there was a door hidden down here, he couldn’t see it-then reached up to guide Dandra as she approached the end of the knotted rope. To his surprise, her arms and legs were knotted with tension as much as exertion. “Easy,” he said. “I’m here. Cousin Boar, why didn’t you just float down?”

Dandra grimaced as she stepped away from the rope. “Tetkashtai’s fear is blocking my powers.”

The hair on Geth’s arms and the back of his neck rose. His own brush with Tetkashtai had left him with a fearful respect for the presence’s strength. “She can do that?”

“I don’t think she’s doing it deliberately-but she’s more terrified than I’ve ever felt her.” In the dimness, the worry on Dandra’s face was undisguised. “The confrontation with Dah’mir might have been too much. I don’t know if I can calm her down this time.”

“Grandfather Rat.” A new chill struck Geth. “When Medala went mad, she had the strength to take back-”

Dandra cut him off. “I’ve thought of that.” She lifted her chin. “I’ve held her back so far.”

Ashi joined them on the floor of the chasm, her feet hitting the stone with a quiet thump. Overhead, Ekhaas pulled the hatch leading back into Tzaryan Keep closed behind herself, then leaned out over the chasm. “Geth!” she called softly. “Catch!”

He barely had time to react before she let the torch go. It plummeted down through the darkness in a streak of guttering flame. Geth lunged forward with a curse and snatched it out of the air, scorching his fingers in the process. He looked up to glare at Ekhaas, but the hobgoblin was already on the rope and making her descent. He turned back to Ashi and Dandra.

“Twice tak for standing with me,” he said simply.

Ashi’s pierced lips pressed tight. “I know something of being forgiven for past deeds, Geth. Who am I judge you?” She held out her hand and Geth took it, returning her grasp hand to forearm in a warrior’s grip. Ashi smiled. “I told Singe once that you were good enemy, Geth, but you’re a better friend. Do tai rond e reis -you have fierceness and strength. I’m proud to stand with you.”

“I think we all would have stood with you sooner if you hadn’t driven us away,” said Dandra. “Ashi, me, Natrac, Orshok-we were surprised, but we would have stayed to listen if you’d let us. I think the only one who’s really angry with you is Singe.”