Don Bassingthwaite - The tyranny of ghosts

The final strands of rope parted. Tenquis ducked away, but Geth threw himself forward, rolling under Makka’s leap. He came to his feet beside Wrath, pulled the twilight blade from the ground, and dropped into a crouch as Makka twisted around.

“The Fury,” said Geth, “will need to come and take it herself.”

14 Vult

The shifter sprang for Makka. The two met in a crashing whirl of blades and bodies. On the other side of the clearing, Chetiin swept up the ropes that had bound him and flung them at Midian. In the instant that it took for the gnome to bat them aside, the shaarat’khesh elder was on him.

Tenquis dropped down at Ekhaas’s side, first slashing the ropes around her ankles, then moving behind her to saw at those on her wrist. “Ekhaas,” he said quickly, “I’m sorry I did what Midian ordered, but when he said he’d cut off my hand-”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I couldn’t have done what I needed to if you hadn’t.” Ekhaas forced her wrists apart as far as she could, straining the ropes so that they’d be easier to cut. She kept her eyes on Geth and Makka, Chetiin and Midian.

As they struggled, they were too close for her to use a song against an enemy without also striking down a friend, but at least the pairs were evenly matched. Shifter and bugbear roared and hammered at each other, catching blows on gauntlet and trident shaft as they surged back and forth across the little clearing. Both were already bleeding, trickles of red running from shallow gashes. In contrast, the gnome and the goblin fought in near silence, never moving far from where their duel had started. Midian’s knife flashed, and Chetiin slid out of the way, responding with a stiff-fingered strike that Midian deflected with his free hand. Neither had been injured that she could see, but Ekhaas knew in her gut that their battle would be decided with a single blow.

Beyond them, Marrow whined and writhed against her bonds. Tooth lay still, but his eyes-fever bright-were open and watching everything. Ekhaas’s ears went back. Sooner or later, Midian was going to remember that he still had two hostages to hold against them. “Tenquis,” she said over her shoulder, “we have to free Marrow and Tooth.”

The tiefling’s knife worked faster. The ropes fell away. Tenquis seized her hand and pulled her to her feet. Ekhaas grabbed for her sword, tore it free of scabbard and belt, then snatched up the fallen shaari’mal with her other hand Something had changed.

For a moment, the battle seemed to recede as she stared down at the notched disk in her hand. Byeshk that had felt heavy and cold before had a kind of lightness and warmth to it. It… pulsed against her touch, even though her fingers and palm told her it was just as solid and rigid as ever. She felt a sense of purpose push at her, not a compulsion, but just a feeling that there was something she was meant to do.

“Ekhaas!” hissed Tenquis.

The crash and surge of the fight rushed back over her. The sense of the shaari’mal in her hand didn’t go away, though. If anything, it was stronger. She raised her head and looked across the clearing.

Shadows seemed to cling to Makka and Midian-especially Midian. The bugbear trailed shadows, but the gnome was wrapped in them like a shroud. As if he felt her gaze, he glanced away from Chetiin to look at her. His eyes narrowed.

Tariic stared out from those eyes. Ekhaas’s stomach churned. Her grip on the shaari’mal tightened.

And for the briefest instant, the shadows parted. Just a bit.

Midian met Ekhaas’s eyes-and doubt tickled the edge of his mind. Not the doubt he would have expected, of whether he and Makka would be able to win this fight with two more enemies ready to enter combat. He’d already considered that, and if either of them could finish off their opponent in the next few moments, the duur’kala and the artificer wouldn’t stand a chance.

No, the question that slid like a worm into his head was whether he should be fighting at all.

His jaw clenched, and he tried to beat back the doubt, but it wrapped itself around him. Why fight? Why put himself in danger? What was so important?

Tariic was important, he told himself. Tariic Kurar’taarn, his lhesh and master, wanted Ekhaas and Tenquis and the others dead.

But did he want them dead right away?

Midian tore his gaze away from Ekhaas as Chetiin sent another kick at his head. Midian ducked under and feinted with his free fist at the goblin’s groin. Chetiin curled out of an instinct to protect himself, turning away as he landed. That gave Midian the instant he needed to step back and survey the clearing.

His eyes came to rest on Tooth.

Maybe Geth and his allies didn’t need to die immediately. He was getting tired of this open fight anyway.

Chetiin’s crouched landing turned into a leg sweep. Midian vaulted over it, not back or simply up, but forward. His free hand and all of his weight came down on Chetiin’s shoulder, shoving the goblin to the ground as Midian thrust off once more, tumbled through the air, and came down right beside Tooth. He heard Tenquis shout in alarm, but he ignored the tiefling. His knife plunged down-and stopped just above the sweat-slick skin of the stricken bugbear’s neck.

“Nobody move!” he commanded.

Ekhaas froze. So did Tenquis. Chetiin whirled and raised empty hands, but moved no closer. Geth and Makka’s fight crashed on. Midian raised his voice. “Geth! Makka!”

He saw Geth react to his name. The shifter’s eyes widened as he took in the threat to Tooth, and he tried to pull away. Makka wouldn’t let him go, though. The bugbear slammed his trident against Geth’s raised gauntlet again and again, every blow driving Geth back a step.

“Makka!”

“No!” roared the bugbear. “I swore revenge, and I will not be denied again. Tariic can keep you from me, but he can’t keep them. He promised them to me. The Fury promised them to me!” He bashed Geth again, forcing the shifter back once more.

Anger flashed through Midian-anger followed by a cold chill of fear. He glanced around at Chetiin, Tenquis, and Ekhaas. For the moment, they were all keeping their distance. Tenquis and Chetiin’s eyes were darting between him and the ongoing battle. Ekhaas, though, seemed to be looking only at him. He felt sweat roll down his back. “Makka, don’t be stupid!”

“Run if you want to,” Makka growled. “When they’re dead, Tariic’s command of alliance ends, and I will come for you.” He thrust his trident into the air. “Fury strike through me! I give my all!”

The symbol carved into his chest seemed to writhe. Dark radiance like black fire shot through with flashes of color flared around his weapon. Teeth bared, Geth brought up his sword, crossing it over his gauntlet. Makka whirled around, both hands on the trident shaft, and drove the triple points directly at him, all of his weight and power behind the blow.

At the last instant, Geth dropped his guard and turned, offering no resistance. Makka’s strike skimmed past the shifter, leaving tongues of black fire smoldering in his shirt and hair. Geth’s right hand seized the trident just below its blazing head-more fire licked up his gauntlet-and held it.

His sword slashed up under the trident’s shaft in a powerful backhand stroke.

The flames along the weapon vanished.

Makka’s black eyes opened wide with shock. For a moment, he just stood there, his mouth working. Nothing came out except for bubbling blood.

When he finally fell, he toppled backward, hands sliding off the trident. The wound from Geth’s sword stretched from his left hip to his right breast.

Bloodied and smoldering, Geth hurled the trident down on top of him. “That’s for Vounn,” he spat, then looked up at Midian and raised his sword.