Don Bassingthwaite - The tyranny of ghosts

He looked at her with disdain. His free hand went to his belt and drew his sword. “Alone? I’m not alone. I command the largest army in Khorvaire.” He looked back to the arena and raised the Rod of Kings, Midian’s blood and hair dripping off it.

“Darguun,” he shouted, “rise and destroy my enemies!”

“Darguun, rise and destroy my enemies!”

Fear stabbed through Ekhaas. Instantly, she thrust the shaari’mal into the air, concentrating all of her will on blocking Tariic’s command. She saw Chetiin, his wrinkled face pale, do the same thing.

They might as well have tried to stop the tide with a bucket.

The power of the rod blasted through her, too strong to be held back. The shield of Muut muted some of it, but not enough. On the floor of the arena, Kech Shaarat, Iron Fox, and warlords alike staggered and fell, the shield allowing them to fight-if not entirely resist-Tariic’s command. Above the arena floor, though… She twisted to look up into the stands.

All those who had remained in the arena to watch violence unfold were on their feet, eyes strangely blank. Ekhaas felt a crush of despair. Muut had failed them. Was this what had happened after the nobles of Dhakaan had abandoned their duty and the shaari’mal had been forgotten Hope sprang up inside her. She whirled around. Geth, protected by Wrath, still stood, his face twisting in anger as he stared at those writhing on the ground. One of them, right beside him, was Tenquis. Ekhaas saw Geth’s fist tighten on his sword, saw him put his foot on the first step of the phantom stairs Tenquis had conjured.

“No!” she yelled. “Geth, the third shaari’mal! Get it to Dagii!”

From the raised box came the fluting battle cry of the Bonetree Clan as Ashi rushed at Tariic. The lhesh caught her blow on his sword, though, and slid past her easily. Ekhaas’s gut twisted. Ashi might be able to prevail over Tariic, but if she didn’t do it quickly, none of them would be able to take on Tariic’s army.

She watched Geth look up at the sound of clashing swords, then down at Tenquis.

Every instinct told Geth to join Ashi against Tariic. Together, they’d be able to beat him.

In his hand, though, Wrath stirred with a life Geth had only felt a few times before. Memories of hobgoblin heroes, dead for thousands of years, flickered through his head. Memories of them performing great feats and defeating strange monsters, the tales of their exploits inspiring generations. The very reason that the Sword of Heroes had been created.

It was Wrath’s way of telling him that this wasn’t his fight. It belonged to someone else.

Geth bent down and reached into the pocket-fortunately still unsealed-where Tenquis had hidden the third shaari’mal. The tiefling’s hand grabbed his wrist as he drew the disk out. Tenquis looked up at him, his eyes narrow with the effort of fighting Tariic’s command.

The shifter eased his hand away. “I’ll come back,” he promised-then he sprinted across the sand.

Others in the arena had fallen to squirm on their sides or backs but Dagii had stayed on his knees, gripping his sword as he stared up at Tariic. Geth slid in the sand as he stopped beside the young warlord. “This is yours,” he said. He pushed the shaari’mal at him.

Dagii stared at it for a heartbeat, then reached out and wrapped his fingers around it.

One disk held brought a tremor through Wrath. Two disks brought a lightning charge.

Three disks was like holding onto a storm. Geth felt as though he were gripping all of the great artifacts that Taruuzh had forged from the vein of byeshk called Khaar Vanon. He could feel the connection between them, feel the power and the destiny that they shared.

Power pulsed out through the arena in an invisible wave. On the sand, warriors and warlords stirred and sat up. In the stands, Darguuls seemed to draw a single, unified breath as the influence of the Rod of Kings was blasted away. In the raised box, Tariic screamed in rage. Geth’s head jerked up, and he saw the lhesh batter Ashi with a blow that sent her sprawling one way and her sword spinning another.

Tariic didn’t follow up on his advantage, though. He whirled to look out into the arena. “Who dares?” he bellowed in Goblin.

“I dare!” Beside Geth, Dagii rose to his feet and glared at Tariic. He held the shaari’mal high and gestured with his other hand to Ekhaas and Chetiin. “We dare.”

“You can’t!” Tariic thrust out the rod again. “Darguuls, obey me!”

Nothing happened. There was no new pulse of power. Geth felt no tremor through Wrath.

Dagii slowly lowered the shaari’mal. “We stand between you and them,” he said, “as it was meant to be.” He turned to look at the warlords on the sand and the people in the stands. “Tariic has manipulated you,” he proclaimed. “He has placed Darguun in peril to satisfy his own ambition. He has forgotten his muut.”

“I will lead Darguun to a new age of empire!” Tariic roared.

“You will destroy us!” Dagii shouted at him. “Haruuc realized it when he discovered the curse of the rod, but you were so caught up in the rod’s power that you ignored the danger. Khorvaire is no longer the place it was when Dhakaan ruled. The Age of Dhakaan leaves its legacy, but an Age of Darguun, as Haruuc saw it, is the future.”

He threw back his head, raising his face to Tariic. “It is the ancient right of a warrior to challenge his clan chief when he believes the chief has failed the clan. The lhesh is chief of the clan of Darguun. Tariic Kurar’taarn, lhesh of Darguun, I say that you have failed us, that you are without atcha and without muut. I am Dagii, warlord of Mur Talaan, commander of the Iron Fox, victor in the Battle of Zarrthec. Here and now, I challenge you!”

The arena was silent for a moment, then Ekhaas raised her voice. “I witness the challenge!”

Chetiin raised his strained voice as well. “I witness it!”

Tariic looked down at the warlords who had stood beside him in the box and who had rushed to fight at his command. Geth saw Garaad of Vaniish Kai, leaning on his spear, lift his head. “I witness it.”

Tariic put his ears back and bared his teeth. “The challenge is accepted!” He raised the Rod of Kings. “But a chief who is challenged and wins has the right to take the life of his challenger.”

“I expect nothing less,” said Dagii.

Tariic swung his legs over the rail of the box and climbed down Tenquis’s phantom stairs to the sand below. Those near the base of the steps pulled back to leave a clear space. Ekhaas, Chetiin, and Tenquis came to stand with Geth and Dagii, but there was no other movement. Kech Shaarat and Iron Fox remained intermingled. Tariic stood alone in the cleared space, waiting.

“Geth,” said Dagii, “give me Wrath.”

Geth didn’t hesitate. He reversed the twilight blade and presented the hilt to him. Dagii took it. He looked at Ekhaas and nodded to her. She nodded in return, her ears standing high, then Dagii turned and stepped away.

Warlord and lhesh faced each other. They raised their swords, touching them together almost as if swearing an oath in the goblin fashion. Tariic sneered at Dagii. “You never understood power,” he said.

Dagii’s eyes narrowed, and his ears flicked back In that instant, Tariic dropped his sword and snatched at the shaari’mal held in Dagii’s left hand. “Resist me without this!” he screamed.

Dagii’s fingers tightened on the disk. His right arm raised Wrath and he struck.

At Tariic’s left hand. At the Rod of Kings.

Geth knew what would happen. He’d felt it in that moment when Dagii had gripped the third shaari’mal and completed the Shield of Nobles. The artifacts of Khaar Vanon were connected. The destiny of one lay within the others.