Don Bassingthwaite - The Grieving Tree

She mounted the last few steps then gratefully reached for Ashi’s hand as the hunter extended her arm. She couldn’t hold back a gasp of surprise, though, at the sight of Ashi’s skin. What she had glimpsed as shadowy stripes in the chaos of combat were actually bold and colorful lines that patterned her arms and her face.

“Il-Yannah, Ashi! That’s a dragonmark!”

“It’s a Siberys dragonmark,” Singe said, accepting the support of Ashi’s other arm. “The Siberys mark of Sentinel. I don’t think there’s going to be any question of whether you’re part of House Deneith now, Ashi.”

Ashi looked at Dandra. “It just happened,” she said. “When Dah’mir called you to him, I tried to stop you but I couldn’t quite reach you. I wanted to protect you more than anything else-and suddenly it was like something woke up inside me. It felt like I burned my fingers where I touched you, but instead …”

Dandra remembered the brush of the hunter’s touch on her back. She drew a long breath. “You did protect me, Ashi. Whatever power is in that dragonmark, it was enough to break Dah’mir’s hold on me.”

“And Tetkashtai’s hold on your powers?”

The breath Dandra had drawn hissed out. “Not exactly,” she said slowly.

Singe blinked. “Don’t tell me it reversed what Dah’mir did to you?” He stiffened. “No-if it had, you’d be Tetkashtai.”

Dandra raised her chin. “I’m not,” she said, then touched the dead crystal around her neck. “Not much anyway. I started out as part of Tetkashtai-now she’s part of me. I absorbed her.”

“She’s dead?”

“Only the worst of her.”

“Twelve bloody moons.”

They emerged into the great chamber of Taruuzh Kraat and Dandra stared at the scene revealed as Singe’s magical light joined guttering torchlight. Tzaryan Rrac, his chest and arm still burned, and Robrand d’Deneith, his face pale and his eyes hard, had their backs against the platform where the grieving tree had stood, held at bay by Geth. Wrath’s blade reflected only a dull purple gleam. Natrac, looking drained and weak, leaned against the platform as well, while on top of it, Ekhaas crouched over Orshok. As Dandra watched, she pressed a hand to the young orc’s chest and lifted her head in song. Once again, Dandra felt the raw energy of the duur’kala’s magic tug at her. Orshok spasmed and he cried out, but Ekhaas looked satisfied.

“He’ll survive,” she said.

Singe choked and cursed again. “Geth, what are you doing?”

“Holding prisoners,” the shifter growled. Singe let go of Ashi’s arm and staggered over to him.

“You’re not holding anybody,” he said. “First-that’s Robrand.” The wizard pulled Geth’s sword arm down, then pointed at Tzaryan. “Second-he’s an ogre mage. He can fly. Your sword’s not stopping him.”

Geth looked confused, then bared his teeth. “What’s he still doing here then?”

“I didn’t become a warlord of Droaam by not knowing when to talk instead of fight,” said Tzaryan. He drew himself up straight and his black eyes glittered. “Dah’mir abandoned me. I can’t forgive that. You’re no friends to me, but it seems to me that the greatest revenge I can inflict on him is to let you go.”

“Let us go?” asked Geth. He started to raise his sword, but Singe pushed it down again.

“Agreed,” he said. He stepped aside and gestured for the ogre mage to leave. Tzaryan bent his head.

“I’ll leave horses and your gear by the gates of my keep. Take them and ride. I don’t want to see you again.” He looked at Ekhaas and added, “You would be wise to go, too. My ogres are going to have orders to kill you on sight.”

Ekhaas’s ears stood up straight and her hand twitched toward her sword, but Tzaryan turned his back on her and strode toward the stairs out of the great chamber. After a few paces, though, he paused and glanced over his shoulder, frowning. “General, aren’t you coming with me?”

Dandra saw surprise pass over Robrand’s face. “My lord? I failed you.”

“My ogres failed me, General,” said Tzaryan. “They ran. You’re still here.”

Robrand stiffened and stood tall. “My feelings for Etan led me to conceal what I knew of his purpose here, my lord.”

Tzaryan’s eyes narrowed. “You said that you had given them no information or aid to dishonor our contract. Is that the truth?”

Robrand nodded tightly.

Tzaryan’s wide mouth curved into a somber frown. “Knowledge is gold to those who value it,” he said, “and I value what the lords of Deneith would cast aside. But your old command is gone, Robrand. I expect your full loyalty. Say your farewells.”

Robrand gave him another curt nod and turned to Singe. To Dandra it seemed that the hard, cold man she had first met in Vralkek had returned-the warm friend who had shared stories with them on the road was gone once more. Singe seemed to see that change, too. For a moment, he looked lost. “Robrand,” he said, “you don’t have to stay. Come with us. I understand why you didn’t think you could do anything-”

The old man’s lined face tightened. “If you understood, Etan, you wouldn’t speak of it. I have a contract to honor. And you-” His eyes darted past Singe to rest briefly on Geth. “-you have friends.”

Singe’s lips pressed together for a moment, then he stood respect and bent his head. “It was a pleasure to serve with you, commander,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You are the most honorable man I’ve ever known.”

An image of Geth, bound and bloodied in Tzaryan’s dungeon, rose in Dandra’s memory and anger made her catch her breath. Geth, though, glanced over his shoulder and shook his head sharply. Don’t say anything, he mouthed silently. Dandra reached out and touched his mind with kesh. Why not? she demanded.

Because Singe doesn’t need to know right now , Geth told her. He’s already saying good-bye to a hero .

Dandra watched Robrand return Singe’s nod-and turn away, falling in at Tzaryan’s side and climbing out of the great chamber without saying anything more. Pain filled Singe’s eyes as he watched his old commander go. Dandra’s anger faded. She stepped forward and put her hand on Singe’s shoulder. “We should leave, too,” she said.

The night was cool when they stepped out of Taruuzh Kraat. Dandra, Geth, and Ekhaas stared in amazement at the open trench that the entrance to ancient ruins had become. “Dah’mir,” Singe said wearily.

“Khaavolaar,” said Ekhaas.

Singe looked out into the night. Dah’mir’s herons were gone, perhaps after their vanished master. Tzaryan and Robrand were already distant figures, well on their way back to the looming bulk of Tzaryan Keep. The old man and the ogre mage had made much better time through the long passage than their wounded group had. He looked back at the others and counted the toll that their confrontation had taken. He felt weak, his very spirit lashed by Hruucan’s draining touch. Dandra was battered and bruised and looked utterly exhausted. Geth was as bloody as a surgeon and held his gauntlet arm gingerly. Natrac looked pale and drained. Thanks to Ekhaas’s magic, Orshok was conscious again, but the druid would need more healing before he could walk-Ekhaas and Ashi carried him between them. Only the hunter and the hobgoblin had escaped injury.

And injuries weren’t the highest price they had paid. Although they’d been strangely vague about how they’d come to join together and make their escape from Tzaryan Keep, Dandra and Geth had told him everything they’d discovered in the caves. Singe looked up at the moons and stars overheard, at the Ring of Siberys bright in the southern sky, and tried to hold back a grimace. He failed.