Don Bassingthwaite - The tyranny of ghosts

The sound of it echoed for a moment, then seemed to transform into a kind of sleepy hum. A heartbeat later, the hum had become a drone that filled the chamber. As Geth watched, as elders scrambled to get away from an impending battle, three glittering, green wasps as long as a finger rose up from the box. The dim light of the chamber flashed on lean, crystalline bodies formed of knuckle-sized gems fastened together with wires of gold. It shone through wings that threw off splashes of rainbow color as they blurred. Diitesh backed away, leaving the wasps hanging in the air.

Tuura narrowed her eyes and spat, “Your challenge is accepted!” She drew a sharp breath-and sang.

The drone of the wasps rose and broke into a thrumming dissonance. Tuura choked as if her song had been forced back down her throat. She reeled backward.

“Kapaa’taat!” Kurac Thaar jumped forward-Geth didn’t know what the rules for such a challenge were, but it didn’t seem like the warlord was going to let them get in the way of his axe. Diitesh just flicked a finger, though, and one of the wasps darted at him. Kurac swatted, but it skimmed easily around his axe.

It struck like an emerald flash, swooping at his unprotected neck and seeming to do no more than touch it before leaping away. Kurac staggered, clapped a hand to the place he’d been stung, then pitched forward. He hit the ground in a clattering of armor that seemed to go on and on as his body twitched and danced.

“Duur’kala have always led the Kech Volaar,” Diitesh called over the drone of the wasps. “They have songs and stories of the great empire, but the vaults hold so much more. Tools. Armor. Weapons of all sorts-some of them intended to counter duur’kala!” She flicked her fingers again, and the wasps buzzed around Tuura, toying with her as the leader of the Kech Volaar drew a sword.

“Now!” said Chetiin.

It was difficult to tear his eyes away from the duel before him, but Geth did. He spun around and ran for the door of the chamber. The guards who’d spilled inside were staring too. Their reactions were slow. One cried out and grabbed for him. Geth swung Wrath in an arc that opened a gash across the guard’s side. Ahead of him, Chetiin darted between two guards, spinning to slash at their legs as he went. Ekhaas didn’t draw her sword or try to sing a spell but just lashed out with fists, elbows, and knees at any guard who got in her way. Tenquis Tenquis wasn’t there. Geth twisted around, sliding to a stop.

The tiefling hadn’t moved, though he had drawn his wand. He stood watching the wasps, head moving to follow their darting flight as they evaded Tuura’s flailing sword. “Tenquis!” Geth shouted.

Tenquis paid no attention to him. But Diitesh did. Her head turned, and she scowled. One hand still pointing at Tuura, she gestured with the other at Geth.

One wasp broke off from the others and flew at him in a green streak. “Tiger!” Geth cursed. He stumbled back, raising both Wrath and his great gauntlet as if they would be enough to protect him.

Tenquis twisted and brought his wand up. For a moment, the tip of the implement tracked the wasp, then Tenquis stabbed at the air. A golden spark flashed from wand to wasp-and the wasp rattled off Geth’s gauntlet like a handful of pebbles. It hit the ground at his feet, a motionless collection of crystals.

Diitesh’s eyes seemed ready to bulge out of her head. They darted from Tuura to Tenquis, then she gestured with both hands at once. One of the two remaining wasps darted at Tenquis. The other plunged at Tuura.

Tenquis stabbed with his wand, and another golden spark engulfed the wasp coming at him. The thing’s body hadn’t even dropped to the ground before his wand was following the wasp that bedeviled Tuura. Tenquis took aim and stabbed the air for a third time.

The golden spark that leaped from his wand was as bright as a miniature bolt of lightning, but instead of thunder, it only brought silence. The last wasp fell, its crystal wings still. Tuura looked at it, then up at Diitesh. The High Archivist took a step backward, hands raised, fear on her face.

Tuura’s voice rose in a sharp, harsh song, and between one step and the next, Diitesh froze. She didn’t move, she didn’t blink. Tuura dropped to one knee beside Kurac Thaar’s still twitching body and sang again, softly this time. He relaxed immediately, her song dispelling whatever poison the wasp had injected into him.

Geth glanced over his shoulder. One of the guards had Ekhaas in his grip, but neither of them were struggling. Both, along with all the elders in the chamber, were watching Tuura. Geth gestured, and Ekhaas slid away from the guard, returning to him. Moving slowly, they rejoined Tenquis. As ever, the tiefling’s pupilless gold eyes were difficult to read, but Geth thought he saw a certain satisfaction there. A moment later, Chetiin joined them as well, though Geth could have sworn he’d made it out of the chamber entirely.

“You could have escaped,” he murmured to the goblin.

“I still can.”

Tuura stood up from beside Kurac. The warlord’s chest rose and fell in an easy rhythm. He seemed to be asleep. Tuura looked at Tenquis. “How?” she asked.

“Duur’kala know how to counter the magical songs of another,” Tenquis said. “Daashor of Dhakaan knew how to still another’s creations-at least temporarily.” He nudged one of the wasps where it lay near his feet. The crystal wings stirred feebly. “Put them back in the box. That should render them inert.” He returned Tuura’s gaze. “By Dhakaani tradition, you owe me.”

Tuura’s ears went back. “I don’t need to ask what you want in return.” She turned around and seated herself in her stone chair. “Lhurusk!”

An officer among the guards flinched, then stepped forward. Tuura pointed at Geth and the others. “They are to be escorted from Volaar Draal and shown out of Kech Volaar territory in whichever direction they choose. If they ever attempt to approach Volaar Draal again, they are to be killed.”

“Mazo!” The guard saluted her. Tuura looked back to Tenquis. The tiefling bent his head to her. Tuura’s gaze continued on to Ekhaas.

“Ekhaas, daughter of the dirge,” she said, “you are cast out of Kech Volaar. You have no muut to us. We have no muut to you. Your story ends.”

Geth saw Ekhaas’s amber eyes flick once to Kitaas before they went hard and distant. She turned sharply, putting her back to Tuura, the elders, and her sister. Geth thought he saw Kitaas’s mouth open for a moment, only to close before anything could emerge.

Then a bugbear guard stepped in front of him, cutting off his view, and gestured curtly for him to turn as well.

They were out of Volaar Draal more quickly than Geth would have thought possible. Guards stood over them in their quarters while they gathered their packs, then marched them up the long passage from the city to the gates. Goblin stablehands were still saddling their horses when they arrived, but the gate guards had already marched aside in preparation for their departure. Just beyond the gates, Marrow waited like an independent shadow in the sun.

“How did she know to be here?” Geth asked Chetiin.

The shaarat’khesh elder just spread his hands and shrugged.

The guard officer whom Tuura had commanded to see them out of Volaar Draal approached Tenquis. “Which direction will you be traveling?” he asked.

Tenquis looked at Ekhaas. Ekhaas looked at Geth.

There was only one place to go. “Suud Anshaar,” he said quietly. “The ruins of Tasaam Draet’s fortress. We need to see if there’s anything there.”

“The Khraal Jungle, then,” said Ekhaas. “Southeast on the other side of Darguun. But we can’t ride straight across the country. Tariic will be looking for-”