Don Bassingthwaite - World of traitors

Each name was like a charm. In the tradition of the clans of the Shadow Marches, a bit of the power of each ancestor filtered down to her. The bloodline of House Deneith was the same, deeds accumulating in a heritage of honor, the magic of the Mark of Sentinel ebbing and flowing over time. As a girl, sitting and pointlessly sharpening the eternally keen blade of the sword that her father had inherited from his, had she ever dreamed that she would come so far and see so much?

She guessed that it was approaching the changing of the watch. Time to leave. She rose, slipped sword into scabbard by touch, and closed the shutters on the gathering storm. Hand on the door, she paused, gathered her will, and invoked her dragonmark. Warmth flashed through the pattern that covered her skin. She could almost imagine she saw a faint glow in the darkness, then the clarity that the mark granted settled over her like a splash of cold water. Silent as a shadow, she opened the door and crossed the sitting room.

Of the two guards on duty outside the chamber, only one-a young hobgoblin, new to the service of Khaar Mbar’ost-started when she emerged. The other was Aruget. He glanced at Ashi, then at the younger guard. “Remain,” he said in Goblin. “We will return.”

“Mazo.” The young guard thumped his chest with a fist.

They avoided the main stairs, instead taking the narrower flight of stairs that Ashi had raced up after Tariic’s coronation. Midian was waiting for them there and joined them in their silent climb. When she’d told the gnome about Geth’s message, he’d had the same suspicions as they had. Like them, he’d come ready for a fight. Just in case. In one hand he gripped a polished metal baton-a snap of his wrist, Ashi knew, would pop a slim curved head out of the shaft, transforming the baton into a deadly little pick. On his belt he wore several large pouches, a more convenient version of the backpack he’d worn during their quest for the rod and from which he’d produced a number of cunning magical devices.

“What are you carrying tonight, Midian?” she asked.

“What aren’t I carrying?” was his grim response. “I don’t think I entirely like this, Ashi.”

“I know I don’t,” said Aruget.

“Tell that to Geth when we see him,” Ashi told them both.

The stairs ended as they approached the top of the fortress’s central tower. They were forced onto the main stairs, but they encountered no one. When even the central stairs ended, only a dark, tightly wound spiral staircase remained. Midian produced a tiny everbright lantern from a pouch. A rotating cover allowed him to release a narrow slit of light, just enough for Ashi to see.

She put her foot on the first stair, only to have Aruget push her aside and take the lead, sword ready and ears high.

Ashi clenched her teeth.

Midian just nudged her. “If he wants to go first, let him!”

A trap door-closed-covered a final set of steep open steps above a small landing at the head of the stairs. Aruget waited until she and Midian were with him, then gestured for Midian to close the lantern. Darkness cloaked the cramped space. Ashi’s first hint that Aruget had opened the trap door was a sudden cool draft that carried the smell of imminent rain. The hinges had been well-oiled. After a moment, she could make out the slightly less dark gap of the raised trap, partly blocked by Aruget’s head.

The hobgoblin’s vague silhouette turned. “He’s already here,” he whispered. “He’s early, too.”

“I don’t blame him,” said Ashi. She drew her sword. “Go.”

Aruget threw the trap door open violently and surged through so quickly he was out and looking around before it had even crashed down on the stones of the roof. Ashi came up hard after him, alert as well. About fifteen paces away, on the far side of the roof, a figure whirled around. A covered lantern snapped open, its light glaring into their eyes for a moment.

Geth’s voice came out of the dark. “Ashi!”

She felt a burst of relief. The roof was clear. Beyond the light of the lantern, she could make out the distinctive crouch of the shifter’s body, his thick hair blowing in the wind. He didn’t move.

She took a few steps toward him. “Geth! Rond betch, what’s been going on? We’ve been trying to talk to you since the coronation.” She shaded her eyes with her free hand.

“I know. I’m sorry. Things have gotten… difficult.” Geth shifted the lantern and opened its other sides so that light spilled across the roof, catching him in its glow. He was dressed in clothing Ashi recognized, but just as Midian had told her, he wasn’t wearing Wrath. She opened her mouth ready to ask him where the sword was, when two more things struck her.

He carried a lantern-but he didn’t need one. Geth could see in the dark.

And not only wasn’t he wearing Wrath, he wasn’t wearing the collar of black stones that had belonged to his fallen friend Adolan. He might have left the sword somewhere. He would never have taken off the collar.

Her sword snapped up. “This isn’t Geth.”

Too late.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Aruget jerk, his hand grabbing for his throat as something looped around his neck. A strangler’s noose of fine braided leather. The hobgoblin’s fingers were too slow and the noose tightened before they could close on it. Ashi spun, following the dark line of the leather cord.

As if he’d materialized out of the night itself, Makka stood behind the trap door. Where had he-? She found the answer before she’d even thought the question. A waist-high wall surrounded the roof. He must have been hanging over it.

The bugbear’s muscles bulged and he heaved hard on the cord. Aruget flew back, dragged by the neck, and slammed down onto the roof. His sword went skittering away. Ashi had a brief glimpse of his contorted face, hands still grabbing for the noose, and of Makka, dropping the cord. Her sword hung at his side, but he ignored it and instead snatched a thick club from a thong hanging down his back.

Then whoever played at being Geth snapped shut the lantern.

Again darkness, this time overlaid by the bright afterimages of the lantern. The trap door banged shut, an obstacle to easy escape, and she could imagine Makka coming for her. “Midian, I need light!” she shouted, as she threw herself blindly aside. Just in time. Something heavy whistled past her. She lashed out with her sword, but found nothing except empty air.

“Close your eyes!”

“That won’t help!” A bulky shape shifted in the shadows. She struck again and came closer. This time her blow was blocked. The shape moved, angling for an advantage.

“Do it now!”

She squeezed her eyes shut-just as something shattered at her feet and an intense flash lit up the inside of her eyelids in shades of red. Makka roared. Ashi forced her watering eyes open again. Midian had his tiny lantern open and its light swung across the rooftop. Aruget, still down, dragged at the noose around his throat. Makka shook his head, blinked furiously, and backed away, club held warily in a guard position. Even though the glare of the flash still danced in her vision, she lunged for him.

He sensed her. The club slapped at her sword in an awkward parry. Ashi twisted and the blade skipped around to rip a thin line up Makka’s forearm. He growled and pulled back further. Dropping his lantern, Midian moved in on the bugbear’s other side with his pick held low.

Makka’s squinting eyes swung between them and he shouted, “Ko!”

At the far end of the roof, the figure that was not Geth bent and came up with a crossbow aimed at Midian. The bow steadied and snapped in the same movement.

Midian tumbled backward. The steelhead of the crossbow bolt made sparks as it hit the stone of the roof.