Don Bassingthwaite - The tyranny of ghosts

Her deaf jailer brought her food and water once a day, Pradoor waiting behind him with a prayer on her lips in case Ashi tried anything. Her days passed slowly and her nights, cold on the hard floor, even more so. Marks on the wall, scraped into the stone with the buckle of her belt, counted the days ahead to 28 Vult. The day of Tariic’s attack on unsuspecting Breland.

Maybe the Brelish weren’t so unsuspecting as she feared-but she doubted it. Tariic seemed awfully confident that his false aggression toward the Valenar, together with whatever misinformation he was providing through the ambassadors of the Five Nations, had fooled everyone.

Maybe the lhesh had been lulled into overconfidence by the Rod of Kings. Maybe the Valenar had gone to the lords of the Five Nations to tell them they had no intention of attacking Darguun again. Maybe Brelish scouts had slipped into northern Darguun and worked out Tariic’s plans on their own. Maybe Aruget had somehow survived, returning to his natural form to lull Pradoor and Tariic into a false sense of security before escaping from the castle and fleeing to Breland to warn his masters in the King’s Citadel…

“Maybe” could have driven her mad.

On the fifth day of her captivity, Ashi woke, watched the sun rise, and, for the first time since Vounn’s death, did not shield herself with her dragonmark. After so many days of invoking its protection, it felt odd. Her mark tingled as if it wanted to be used. The world beyond her window seemed a little less bright and sharp without its clarity. Ashi felt a bit more relaxed, though. There was little need for the mark. Tariic hadn’t come to see her since that first night, and even if he did come today, she could draw on her mark in an instant.

The irony of Tariic’s forged letter, she reflected as she watched the sun climb into the sky, was that the core of it was true. She would never betray House Deneith, but she certainly didn’t feel welcomed by it anymore. If Breven could turn his back on her, she could turn her back on Deneith. If she escaped Tariic’s trap, maybe she would. There was a lot of Khorvaire she had yet to explore. If she went back to Deneith, Sentinel Tower was all she was likely to see. She’d be more comfortable than in her tower prison, but no freer.

Movement in the courtyard below caught her eye. She leaned over the stone sill to watch as a parade of figures streamed out of the fortress and into the streets of Rhukaan Draal. Sunlight flashed on armor-not just the plain armor of guards but the fantastic, ornate armor of the warlords of Darguun. In their midst rode a figure in a bright tigerskin cloak.

Ashi wrinkled her forehead. Where was Tariic going? Out in the street, a crowd had gathered, the sound of their cheers reaching up to her window. She saw Tariic wave in response. As the end of the procession passed out of the gates, the crowd spilled along the street in its wake.

She looked at her scratchings on the wall, crossed one more off and counted them. It was 24 Vult. If the attack on Breland was to take place on 28 Vult, Dagii needed to leave Rhukaan Draal very soon to reach Skullreave in time. That very day probably.

Tariic would be riding to give Dagii his blessing before the young warlord departed.

Ashi closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. Tariic had put her in this room so she could see the Iron Fox ride over the Ghaal as they left the city. It was almost tempting to spite him by not watching-but by not watching, she would miss her last glimpse, however distant, of Dagii and his company.

She leaned against the wall to wait. The sun crept another handspan across the cool blue of the sky — and a sudden shout from beyond the door of her prison brought her jerking upright. There was a strange rattling, then the clash of falling metal. Another shout, cut short in a kind of wet grunt.

Ashi reached for the power of her dragonmark, feeling its heat flash across her skin and the clarity of its protection settle over her mind, before she realized that anyone who fought her guard was probably an ally. Still, she dashed quickly across the room and settled into a defensive stance at the side of the door, ready for whoever or whatever came through. Bolts and lock rattled. Ashi drew back her arm to strike. The door opened.

“Lady Ashi,” said a voice with a heavy Goblin accent, “I’m going to enter. Hold your blow.”

The speaker waited for a moment, long enough for her to grasp his message, then stepped through the door. Ashi let her arm fall. “Keraal?”

Dagii’s lieutenant thumped a fist against his chest in a salute. The chain that was his weapon rattled. “Dagii sends his greetings and asks you to come with us. There is little time.” He stepped aside, and three more hobgoblins entered, carrying the corpse of the dead bugbear between them. None of them wore a crest, but Ashi thought she recognized them as members of the Iron Fox.

“How-?” she began, then looked back up at Keraal. “Did Dagii tell you Tariic threatened to have him killed if I escape?”

She wouldn’t have put it past the warlord to keep that bit of information from his men, but Keraal nodded. “He expects the attempt will come from one of the Kech Shaarat, but he doesn’t intend to be around the Sword Bearers for long. He is turning his back on Tariic.” Keraal’s ears flicked. “Dagii also told me that you will be killed if he defies Tariic. That’s why you’re coming with us.”

Ashi’s head whirled. Had Tariic anticipated this? Without her, he had no hold over Dagii once the Iron Fox was beyond Rhukaan Draal-unless he wanted to come chasing after them with the Rod of Kings. But there was another problem. She held out her wrists, displaying the silver cuffs Tariic had forced on her. “I can’t leave Rhukaan Draal with these on,” she said.

“What Cannith made, Cannith can defeat,” said Keraal. He produced a pouch and opened it to show her three vials of pale blue milky liquid in its carefully padded interior. “Dagii procured these. They’ll help you resist the cold. Cannith magewrights travel with the Iron Fox. Once we’re beyond Rhukaan Draal and before we leave Tariic’s service, one of them will be made to remove the cuffs.” He put the pouch in her hands.

She stared at it for an instant. Keraal’s ears flicked, and he gave a thin smile.

“Dagii thinks in strategy,” he said. “Come.” He pulled her out of the door. In the room beyond, the other soldiers of the Iron Fox were cleaning up blood spilled in her jailer’s death. Bloody rags were thrown into the cell, and the door closed, bolted, and locked. Until that door was opened, there was no sign that the jailer hadn’t simply walked away from his post, leaving her safely locked up.

Keraal sent his chain wrapping around his torso with a quick flip of his wrist, then pulled on a bulky coat discarded outside the door of the outer room to cover the weapon. Another soldier whirled a cloak over Ashi. “Suspicious,” said Keraal, “but it will have to do.”

Ashi pulled a hood up over her head. “Where are we going? I saw Tariic riding out to give his blessing to Dagii.”

“The blessing takes place at the arena. We’ll join the Iron Fox there. You’ll be carried out of Rhukaan Draal in one of our weapons carts. While the Iron Fox receives Tariic’s blessing, though, there’s something you need to do.”

From a pocket of his coat, he took a familiar folded paper and handed it to Ashi. “Dagii instructs you to find Pater d’Orien. You won’t have difficulty-Tariic hasn’t bothered instructing his guards to watch for you, and all of the envoys will sit together in the arena. Once you find Pater, use your dragonmark to free him from the influence of the Rod of Kings. Tell him to use his dragonmark to leave Rhukaan Draal immediately and carry this warning to Breland. Once you’ve done that, return to us and hide. Faalo”-he gestured to one of the other soldiers-“will be waiting with the cart to hide you.”