Don Bassingthwaite - The doom of Kings

At the harbor, more officials of Deneith and even some of Karrlakton waited to make more farewell speeches. Tariic and Vounn stood to accept them while soldiers and councilors shifted with poorly disguised impatience. Eventually, however, they were all on board the ship and lines were being cast off. The ship’s captain, a half-elf of House Lyrandar, called hands to stations, then gripped the ship’s wheel. From where she stood on the deck, Ekhaas saw a look of concentration cross his face as he invoked the dragonmark of his house. The morning air stirred in response and the sails of the ship filled. They began to move, and Karrlakton fell away behind them.

The first part of their journey lay west along the long arm of Scion’s Sound that formed the border between Karrnath and what had once been Cyre but was now only the Mournland, blasted and cursed in the final days of the Last War. The captain kept his ship as close to the Karrnathi coast as possible without grounding her, but the arm of the sound was narrow and the unmoving bank of dead gray mist that cloaked the Mournland loomed over them. From time to time, weird cries and howls echoed out of the mist, provoking answering snarls from the tigers caged below deck. More substantial and threatening things had been known to emerge from the mists, and every Darguul soldier on the ship stood at the rail, eyes on the mist, ears raised, hands on weapons.

Ekhaas stood with them, all the tales of the Mournland that she’d ever heard running through her mind. When a quiet footfall came on the deck behind her, she barely noticed it. When Ashi whispered her name, she all but jumped. “Khaavolaar!”

“Sorry,” said Ashi. “Can I join you?”

She’d changed, Ekhaas noted, out of the formal robes she’d worn in the carriage and into clothes like those she’d worn the night they’d encountered each other at the memorial. Her scarf was loosened to show her face, and her sword was on her hip. She was ready to fight if necessary.

“Does Vounn know you’re up here?” Ekhaas asked her.

“She’s in her cabin,” said Ashi. It didn’t really answer the question, but Ekhaas suspected it was as close to “no” as Ashi was willing to go. She made room for Ashi at the rail, and for a time they watched in silence as the mist glided past.

Eventually Ashi spoke. “You lied,” she said. “Haruuc hasn’t asked to see me.”

They were the words Ekhaas had been expecting-and dreading-for the last week. She’d known Ashi would figure out the flaw in their plan sooner or later. Her ears folded back and she said, “He was curious about you when he heard my story of Dah’mir and the Master of Silence. He did say he’d like to meet the bearer of a Siberys Mark.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“Have you told Vounn?”

Ashi turned and looked at her. “If I’d told Vounn, do you think I’d be here? She hasn’t let me out of the inner halls of Sentinel Tower for the last week, though, or I would have asked you about it before this. What’s going on?”

Ekhaas didn’t want to lie to her friend, but she couldn’t tell her the truth. Not yet. Fortunately, Vounn’s stubbornness had given her time to work out what she could say. “Do you want to go to Darguun?”

“Blood in your mouth, yes! You know I was going mad stuck in Sentinel Tower.” Her eyes narrowed. “You didn’t do this just to give me a chance to get out, did you? You couldn’t have-you had Tariic working with you.” She paused for a moment as she thought, then added, “You’re not just here as a representative of your clan.”

Ekhaas cursed silently. Ashi could be uncommonly perceptive sometimes. She stuck with what she had planned to tell her, though. “Ashi, finding you in Karrlakton was an opportunity that Tariic and I couldn’t let pass. Having you here is important, or we wouldn’t have used Haruuc’s name to make sure it happened. We’ll explain soon, though. By the Blood of Six Kings, you have my word on it.”

Ashi grimaced. “How soon?”

“Soon. That’s all I can say.”

Breath hissed between Ashi’s teeth. “I trust you, Ekhaas. I don’t like not knowing what’s happening, but I trust you. I am really going to Darguun, aren’t I?”

“You’re really going to Darguun,” Ekhaas said with a smile. “And you will really meet Haruuc, too. We may have lied to get you there, but I promise that he’ll be happy to see you.”

“Good.” Ashi started to turn away, then looked back. “Is his invitation for Vounn to join his court real or is it a lie, too?”

“It’s real.”

Ashi grimaced again. “Too bad.”

The arm of the sound opened up late the following afternoon, and they sailed beyond sight of the gray mist of the Mournland. The mood on the ship lightened immediately, at least for the soldiers and crew. Ekhaas found herself exchanging glances with Tariic almost every time they passed each other. The time when they would have to reveal the whole truth of their visit to Sentinel Tower was approaching.

On the fourth day out from Karrlakton, they made harbor at Flamekeep in the nation of Thrane and the first leg of their journey was over. Officials wearing tabards with the silver crest of flame and sword boarded the ship to inspect their credentials. The ship’s captain and crew, Vounn, and Ashi were left largely alone while the officials focused their attention on the Darguuls. They’d had the same experience on their initial voyage to Karrlakton. Ekhaas held her tongue with difficulty, but she could see that even Tariic had little patience for the Thranes’ probing questions.

Eventually the officials ran out of reason to delay them, but there was one final indignity they could inflict. A squad of soldiers was summoned, and the delegation that had been cheered in Karrlakton was escorted under guard, packs on their shoulders and caged tigers on hand-drawn wagons, through the streets of Flamekeep to their destination at the lightning rail station.

Ekhaas’s ears quivered with fury as she marched. “Incredible,” she snarled at Ashi, walking beside her. “Once we ruled an empire that spanned this continent, and now we have to fight to be recognized as a nation by these… these…”

“Chaat’oor?” Ashi offered.

“Chaat’oor!” Ekhaas said.

To one side of the street, a stick-thin merchant raised her voice as if offering her opinions as much to the Darguuls as to the other Thranes around her. “Darguun? A nation of goblins? What filth! Flame forgive me, but you can’t civilize the uncivilized-Treaty of Thronehold be damned!”

A murmur of anger rose from the Darguuls who had heard and understood the comment. Ekhaas bared her teeth. “Uncivilized?” she said, her voice rising. “Maabet, the vaults of the Kech Volaar hold records and artifacts of a civilization that was old when your ancestors were splashing around in boats trying to get here!”

Ashi took Ekhaas’s arm, urging her onward. “You’re going to start a brawl. You know not every human thinks of goblins that way, Ekhaas.”

It was all Ekhaas could do not to shake her friend’s hand off. “Really? Did you ever wonder where that word or where the names you call our races come from? Before humans came to Khorvaire, we called ourselves dar-the people. Hobgoblins were ghaal’dar, the mighty people. Bugbears-what kind of name is that? — were guul’dar, the strong people. Goblins were golin’dar, the quick people.” Her ears bent down. “And they were the ones that humans met first. Your people mistook the name of our smallest race for the name of our entire people, and they didn’t even get that right. Now many of us use your names for our three races instead of our own. Even I do it!”

She gave a bitter little laugh. The rant and the admission left her feeling drained. Ashi patted her shoulder awkwardly. “You know,” she said as they turned a corner and the lightning rail station came into sight, “if I’m going to be in Darguun, I should learn to speak more of your language. Ghaal’dar, guul’dar, golin’dar… does ‘Darguun’ mean something in Goblin?”