Don Bassingthwaite - The doom of Kings

He was right, she realized. He couldn’t affect her with the rod or with his strange command of the power of the cavern, but at the same time, there was nothing she could do to him. She swallowed and squeezed her fists tight, trying to think of something. Her dragonmark was only defensive. The ferocity and fighting skills she’d learned among the Bonetree clan and honed in Sentinel Tower weren’t going to help her. The only thing she had left to rely on…

Ashi almost bit her tongue at the thought that came to her, but she could see nothing else. She dragged her wits into line, forced all expression from her features, and asked in the calm voice that Vounn had taught her, “What do you want, Marhu Dabrak?”

“What do I want?” The withered hobgoblin glowered. “Until you came, I wanted nothing more than to be left alone. What else did I need? I was safe in the Uura Odaarii. Nothing could touch me. I wasn’t afraid anymore.”

“Can you go back to that now?” Ashi pointed at Ekhaas. “She was right. You vowed to confront your fears, but you didn’t. You just hid from them.”

“Ban. What if I did? If what you say is true, my vow is meaningless. Dhakaan is gone. I’m emperor of nothing but a pack of trolls!”

“If you’re emperor of nothing, then you don’t need the Rod of Kings,” Ashi said. “If you give it to us, we’ll leave you alone. You’ll still have the Uura Odaarii. You’ll still be safe, and you won’t be afraid.”

His ears flicked and his eyes narrowed. “But as you say, it’s a false safety. Can I go back to that? You’ve also shown me that fear can come for me here.” He gestured with the rod, though this time Ashi, protected by her dragonmark, felt no swirl of power from it. “When you threatened to take this, I was terrified. That’s a future the Uura Odaarii can’t protect me from. It’s no safer in here than it was out there now.”

“Then come with us,” she suggested. “You must have learned something about controlling your fear from sitting here for five thousand years. The world has changed. Come see it! The Kech Volaar would probably give anything to learn about the empire from you, and I’m sure Lhesh Haruuc would welcome your experience.”

“Lhesh Haruuc?” Dabrak almost sneered. “That’s the name of the great ruler you follow?”

“Lhesh Haruuc Shaarat’kor,” Ashi said. “Yes. He united the dar and carved out a new homeland for his people.”

“And he claims the title of lhesh. A lhesh is a general. You think an emperor should be satisfied with giving advice to a general?” He held up the rod. “Do you think I would be content to share this? For generations of emperors, it was only a trinket. I’ve unlocked its powers. I’ve bonded with it-over five thousand years, if you’re to be believed. You think your Haruuc would be able to use the rod as I have?”

“He doesn’t want it for that,” said Ashi. “He wouldn’t use it that way. He only wants it as a symbol.”

Dabrak sneered. “If he won’t use it, he doesn’t deserve it-I wouldn’t show him how. I would as soon stay here.”

Frustration surged up her throat like bile, and she had to clench her teeth to keep it inside. “Marhu,” she said bluntly, “I think you lost all claim to the Rod of Kings when you abandoned your empire to hide in a cave like a mole. We need it. What do you want for it?”

He gave her a level glare. “Who taught you negotiation? They should be whipped.”

“We agree on that.” She met his eyes. “What do you want in return for the Rod of Kings?”

Dabrak Riis leaned forward. “I want you to die. Right here in the Uura Odaarii.”

Ashi started. “You want me to die? Here? But that’s-”

“Impossible. Yes.” He sat back. “But those are my terms. You die and I’ll give you the Rod of Kings. I’ll even release your friends.

She stared at him-then felt a flood of inspiration. “Done,” she said. “I accept. But I’ll need a sword and I’ll need her.” She pointed at Ekhaas a second time.

Dabrak smiled again. “Very well. She’s yours.” He gestured with the rod and Ekhaas sagged abruptly, then caught herself and looked at him with hatred in her eyes.

Ashi caught her arm and pulled her to her feet. “Not now,” she said in the duur’kala’s ear. “Have you heard what I’ve said?”

“Yes, but-”

Ashi shook her head, cutting her off. “Don’t argue. I need you to hold a rhythm for me.”

Ekhaas’s ears and eyebrows rose at the same time.

Ashi smiled. “You saw the sword dance at Sentinel Tower. While we were in the guard station, you clapped some of the drum rhythm from memory. Can you do that again for the whole dance? Slow opening, quick first part, slow second part, quick third part, slow end. Watch me for cues if you need to.”

“I can sing the viol part if you need me to. What are you doing, Ashi?”

“What Vounn had me trained to do. Give me your sword.”

Ekhaas started to draw the weapon, but Dabrak coughed like a courtier. “Not that sword,” he said. He pointed across the cavern to Wrath. “That one.”

Ashi looked at the twilight blade, then at Dabrak. Geth had put her hand on the sword once so that she could use its gift of understanding Goblin. That wasn’t exactly the same as trying to wield the weapon. Would the sword let her use it? She could only try. Bracing herself, she went over to the sword. Geth was still huddled and trembling beside it. She tried to ignore him, dropping her torch on the ground and bending over the sword. “Wrath,” she murmured. “I need to use you to help Geth and the others, and to get the rod. Please accept my touch.”

She felt stupid talking to the weapon, but her first light touch on the sword’s hilt was still tentative. Nothing happened. She curled her fingers around it and raised it, offering a mock salute to Dabrak. The emperor, risen from his chair to stand and watch her, looked disappointed. Ashi walked to an open part of the cavern and nodded to Ekhaas. It was time to see who had been right all those weeks ago in Sentinel Tower: Vounn, who’d said she couldn’t do it, or her old instructor Baerer, who’d believed she could.

Ekhaas took a deep breath and raised her voice in a long, clear note. Ashi swept into the rigid first position of the sword dance, held it for a long moment, then dropped her blade and walked around it.

Wrath wasn’t the best sword for the dance. A proper human sword would have been slimmer, with a pointed blade instead of the broad, forked tip of hobgoblin swords. At least the ancient weapon was well-balanced and surprisingly light for its size. She completed the walk-around without letting the blade waver at all.

In Sentinel Tower, the difficult step would have earned applause. Dabrak gave no reaction at all. Ashi ignored him and focused on the music. The hardest part of the dance was yet to come.

Ekhaas’s hands began to clap along with the rise and fall of her voice. Ashi moved into the attack phase of the dance, lunging and stamping her way across the cavern. Baerer had made this part of the dance look light and precise. She couldn’t match that precision. Instead, she threw herself into the raw energy that Baerer had said was her greatest strength.

She imagined that a sea of enemies stood between her and her goal. As they came rushing at her, she met each one, cutting her way through them. She could almost let herself go, could almost lose herself in the dance as Baerer had taught her. Her body knew what to do. She couldn’t do that this time, though. She kept her focus, and when Ekhaas’s song and rhythm slowed, she was ready. She entered the second part of the dance, the battle, as easily as stepping into real combat.

The unseen fight slowed along with Ekhaas’s song, but in Ashi’s mind it only became more intense. Each blow was deliberate, drawn out so that the audience could appreciate the sweep of the blade, the unfolding of a bent arm into an elbow strike, the long lines of her body as it extended into a kick. The battle was grace and power combined. Ashi didn’t look to see Dabrak’s reaction. She concentrated on the battle as if her life depended on it-which, in a way, it did.