Don Bassingthwaite - The tyranny of ghosts

A hand closed on her arm and held it steady. Ashi looked up and saw Pater d’Orien’s round face as he winced at the touch of magical cold. “You want one of these, Ashi?” he asked. Thick, rough fingers fished the remaining two vials from her pouch. “Someone open one of these!”

Another hand, she didn’t know whose, reached past him and took both vials, then returned one to him opened. Pater put it to her lips and tipped it with surprising gentleness. Ashi slurped at the milky, pale blue liquid.

A kind of warmth spread through her. No, not warmth exactly-she was still cold, but she no longer felt it. She pushed Pater’s hand away and thrust herself upright. Viceroys and ambassadors were gathered around her. Behind them, the arena was a seething mass of confusion as Darguuls moved around. On their tier, where arena guards rampaged through the stands as if they were looking for something, the spectators surged back and forth to avoid them. On the tiers above and below, it didn’t appear as if the crowds were trying to escape at all, only to find the best view.

Pater’s forehead wrinkled. “Ashi, what’s going on?” he asked.

She grabbed his arm and drew on her dragonmark, sending its power through him. He gasped as the clarity of its protection settled on him. Ashi saw more questions form in his eyes, but she didn’t give him the chance to ask them. “Tariic has been controlling you-all of you-with a secret power of the Rod of Kings,” she said swiftly. “His defenses against the Valenar are really preparations for an attack on Breland that will take place in four days.”

“What? That’s ridiculous,” said Roole. Ashi ignored him and thrust the folded paper into Pater’s hand. Frost crinkled as the paper moved.

“Dagii has risked everything to get this to you,” she said. “You need to get it to Breland right now. Do you understand?”

Pater blinked, then his face hardened into determination. “I understand.” He heaved his bulk upright, drawing her up with him. “Ashi, I can take you with me if you want to come.”

She shook her head and stepped back. “No, my friends need-”

“You!” The guard who had stopped her at the head of the stairs burst into their midst, grabbing for her. “You were with the assassin!”

Ashi tried to pull away, but someone’s leg tangled with hers. She stumbled, tripping over a bench. The guard pushed past Roole and Kravin d’Vadalis to seize her.

Pater’s meaty fist cracked into his jaw. His sleeve rode up, and Ashi glimpsed the dragonmark that curled across his wrist. The colors of the mark seemed to shimmer-and the guard vanished with the punch, reappearing and crashing into the stands half-a-dozen paces away. Pater stepped back with a look of satisfaction.

“Learned that trick on caravan guard duty.” He checked the paper in his other hand and nodded to Ashi. “Thank you,” he said. “I’ll make sure Baron Breven hears about this.” He closed his eyes, and a distant expression crossed his face, then he took a step and disappeared.

Laren Roole shot up and took his place. “This is intolerable,” he said. “You’re meddling in Brelish affairs, and I don’t appreciate this fearmongering-”

Ashi pushed him back down and whirled around, trying to see what was happening. A battle cry drew her attention to the arena floor as the Kech Shaarat bore down on the Iron Fox. Other battle cries came as Darguun’s warlords charged in through the arena’s open doors to attack from the other side.

Ekhaas, Dagii, Geth, Tenquis, and Chetiin were right in the middle of it all.

And in his box above the combat, Tariic watched it like some kind of gloating puppetmaster with Pradoor at his side.

Ashi turned back to the viceroys and ambassadors. “Where’s Midian?”

“There,” said Esmyssa.

Ashi looked where she pointed and realized what the guards had been hunting for. Midian hung in the grasp of two big bugbear guards as they came across the stands toward the group of diplomats. Other guards were converging on them as well.

“I think they saw what happened to the one Pater punched,” said Roole. He looked around desperately. “If we give them Ashi-”

“Close your mouth, Roole,” said Dannel d’Cannith. She looked at Ashi. “Is what you said about Tariic controlling us true?”

Ashi nodded. “I can’t free you the way I did Pater, or I would, but it’s true. He’s been manipulating you since Vounn’s murder. Some of you”-she glanced at Roole-“more than others. He had Midian under his control for a long time too. If Tariic wins here today, he won’t let you get away.”

“Then we’d better fight for ourselves if we want to get out of here,” said Kravin. He slid a slim sword from a sheath at his hip. “Weapons?”

Esmyssa produced a pair of long needles from her thick hair. Dannel pulled off her belt and tossed it on the ground-Ashi watched segmented metal plates rearrange themselves and come to life as a steel serpent. Other viceroys and ambassadors drew more mundane weapons. The arena guards slowed their advance and spread out, suddenly wary.

“Go get Midian, Ashi,” said Dannel. She handed Ashi the last of the potion vials, then hissed a command at her steel serpent. It slithered forward like a vanguard, the various diplomats following it.

Ashi crossed behind them and came up through the stands to cut off the guards holding Midian from the others. She wished briefly that she had gotten a sword from Keraal, then realized she had something that was perhaps even more intimidating. Approaching the guards, she raised her hands, ready to strike.

Vapor from the cold of the wrist cuffs rose off them like eldritch smoke. When she swayed her hands through the air, the white mist left a short-lived trail behind. The guards backed off, eyes darting from her to the other guards who were trying to dodge Dannel’s steel serpent as it glided among them. Ashi jumped forward and grabbed the bare flesh of a guard’s arm, giving it a hard squeeze.

The trick worked. Shocked, if not actually hurt by the cold, the bugbear yelped, released his grip on Midian, and ran. The other guard hesitated only a moment longer before following. Midian dropped to the ground with a groan. Ashi dragged him up onto a bench, then slapped him lightly in an effort to wake him. “Come on, Midian,” she murmured, cupping her frigid hands around the back of his neck.

He yelped and his eyes flew open, the slack leaving his face. He focused on her but Ashi had the feeling he didn’t really see her. She jerked her hands away from his head just in time as he twisted and snapped at them with this teeth. He came up into a crouch, holding himself like a fighter but hunched and ready to spring like an animal.

“Don’t touch me!” he snarled. “Nobody touches me!”

“Midian!”

“Ashi?” His stance softened, and he actually looked at her with recognition in his eyes. “Sage’s quill, Ashi. They won’t let me rest. They’re always pulling at me.”

“They? You mean, Tariic?”

Midian tensed up again. “Tariic. Zilargo. Darguun. Dhakaan. They all say I serve them, but I’m not going to play their game anymore. I’m not!” His eyes went wide, and his mouth spread into a mad, savage grin. “I’m going to kill them. They want me to kill. That’s what I’m going to do. Let them see where my loyalty lies!”

The tearing influence of the Rod of Kings had unhinged his mind. Ashi stood and took a step back, then glanced down into the arena and the chaos there. At Tariic and Pradoor, safely raised above the battle on the sands.

An idea came to her. Even if he had slipped into madness, there was one thing she thought she could count on from Midian. One of the fleeing guards had dropped his sword. She picked it up. “Come with me,” she said to Midian. “I know where to start.”