Don Bassingthwaite - World of traitors

She wasn’t certain she trusted herself to speak. She nodded silently instead-a nod that froze as a slow wind stirred, and the ghost of a song touched her ears. At first it was thin, so thin it could have been an echo, but then it swelled with Senen Dhakaan’s voice, as full and distinct as if the ambassador of the Kech Volaar stood beside her.

The ghaal’dar Aruget brings news. Ashi d’Deneith has been arrested at Tariic’s orders. A changeling takes Geth’s place. Makka hunts. Beware, daughter of the dirge!

Breath caught in Ekhaas’s throat. Ashi arrested? A changeling replacing Geth? What was happening in Rhukaan Draal? Her gut twisted. Dagii rode to his doom. The friends she had left behind were in trouble. Chetiin had vanished once more. For the first time since they had found the Rod of Kings and discovered the dangerous secrets it held, she felt very, very alone.

“Ekhaas?” Uukam asked. “Is something wrong?”

She raised her head-and shook it. She’d been alone before. She’d traveled and fought alone for years before she’d met Geth, Ashi, and the others. Dagii faced his death. She could do nothing less. Whatever had happened to Ashi and Geth, she might be their only hope. Ekhaas pushed out the knots in her belly and forced herself to breathe again. She could still hear Senen’s song. As long as it lingered, the magic would carry back a reply. She looked down at the struggle on the battlefield, gathered her thoughts, and opened her mouth to sing Behind her, the music of the warpipes ended with a sudden moan from the pipes and a gasp from the piper. She whirled around, Biiri and Uukam moving with her.

The piper, throat slashed, hung in the arms of an elf. The drummer stood with the scimitar of a second elf at his chest. Six more of the Valaes Tairn crouched on the back edge of the hill, weapons ready.

Senen’s song faded.

The elves screamed and charged.

1 Aryth Uukam and Biiri drew their swords and moved in front of her with the reflexes of trained soldiers. Strategy flickered in Ekhaas’s mind. The elves must have made their way through the woods to the back of the hill. They were already too close to blast them with sound or sing fear into their souls. There would be no disabling all of them. This fight would be toe-to-toe and they’d need every sword at hand.

The elf whose scimitar hovered over the drummer’s chest drew back his blade, ready to strike, as the other elves charged. Ekhaas focused her will on him, drew on her magic, and let loose a wail like a ghost rising from the grave. The elf’s head snapped around, eyes wide. His scimitar paused, trembled.

And the hobgoblin drummer struck back. The short thick rods of brass that had beaten the great drum knocked the scimitar out of the elf’s hand, and cracked across his face. The elf reeled back but the hobgoblin stayed with him, raining blows with lethal rhythm.

Then the other elves were on her, Biiri, and Uukam. Curved blades crashed on the warriors’ shields. Two couldn’t hold back six-seven, as the elf who had killed the piper dropped his victim and joined the attack. Ekhaas snatched her sword from its sheath and thrust her free hand into the face of the first Valenar to come at her. Song burst from her throat, and light as bright as a sliver of the noon sun flared from her palm. Dazzled, the elf fell back a pace. Ekhaas stepped after him, chopping down with her sword. It screeched off of armor beneath the red robes, but the elf cried out and retreated.

Another took his place, swinging backhand as he whirled past. Ekhaas twisted her sword and the scimitar caught among the heavy teeth on the back of the blade. Biiri struck past her in a blow that sheared through metal and flesh. One elf down.

Two-Uukam cut through the torso of another, leaving her grasping at a terrible wound. Three-the drummer’s opponent didn’t rise as the hobgoblin straightened, drumsticks red with blood, chest heaving with exhilaration.

“Call for aid!” Ekhaas shouted at him. He dashed for his drum, but jerked and spun around between one step and the next. Two arrows sprouted from his back.

Where eight Valenar could go, more could surely follow.

Clenching her teeth, Ekhaas threw herself across the hilltop. Uukam and Biiri shifted instantly to protect their own backs. Four elves still faced them. One went after Ekhaas and hooked her foot with his. Ekhaas sprawled face first into grass and dirt. The impact knocked the wind out of her, but she forced herself to roll.

A scimitar gouged the soil a handspan behind her. She kicked blindly and felt her boot connect. The elf staggered back. Ekhaas got up on her hands and knees and scuttled to look over the back edge of the hill.

Six more of the Valaes Tairn were climbing the slope, two covering the ascent with arrows nocked. One swung his bow toward her. Ekhaas sucked air into her lungs, swept her free hand through the air, and forced out a thin, liquid song. The ground beneath and around the elves turned dark and shiny as greased leather. Their feet slipped out from under them, and they went tumbling back down the hill in a flurry of robes, scimitars, and wildly-loosed arrows. Ekhaas grinned -and pain like fire seared down her back with a force that knocked her to the ground. Gasping, she twisted. The Valenar she had kicked stood over her, raising his scimitar for another strike. Ekhaas kicked again, but he avoided her easily this time and shifted to get a better blow.

His foot came down on the pipes dropped by the slain piper. The sagging leopard skin bag collapsed under his heel and the pipes released one final startling bleat of sound. The elf leaped in surprise. Ekhaas pushed herself away from the edge of the hill and back to her feet. She could feel blood running down her back underneath the leather armor. Her back burned with every movement, but she could still raise her sword. The elf moved around her, picking the moment of his next attack.

“Ekhaas! With us!” shouted Biiri. From the corner of her eye, she saw him cut down one of the Valenar who menaced him and Uukam, just as Uukam struck out with his shield, forcing back the other two elves. The two soldiers turned as one, offering her a chance to reach their side.

Ekhaas took it. She feinted at the elf, then dodged past him to join Biiri and Uukam. Three hobgoblins fighting together now-but four elves circling them, death in the eyes that shone above red veils.

“We’ll force an opening,” Uukam rasped, his voice thick with exertion. “You run. Get to the woods.”

Fierce determination rose from Ekhaas’s gut up into her throat. Her ears stiffened. There would be no escape through the woods, but she also felt no desire to flee. Eight Valenar had taken them by surprise and they had still brought half of them down. They could take the other four. They would take the other four. “No!” she spat. “No running. We fight! We fight as the Dhakaani fought! We fight and win!”

Her voice rose in a song, harsh and martial, a song she’d heard Dagii’s soldiers chanting as they marched to the devastated clanhold of Tii’ator. It was no spell, but she wove magic into it, invoking the ferocity and discipline of an entire army prepared for battle. Biiri and Uukam stood straight as the song caught them up. New strength seemed to enter their arms, and Ekhaas’s as well. Her grip on her sword grew steady; the throbbing pain of her wounded back grew distant.

The Valaes Tairn appeared to feel the song, too. They glanced at each other, scimitars wavering slightly. Then one of them cried out in Elven, “For the glory of Kaelan!” and leaped forward.

Biiri’s shield snapped up to catch the falling scimitar-and Uukam’s sword cut beneath to tear open the elf’s belly. Without even a pause, he swung himself over the falling body, slicing with the lower lip of his shield at the next Valenar. The elf ducked under the sudden blow, only to meet Biiri’s rising sword. Ekhaas stayed with them, her back to theirs. The two remaining elves shouted and plunged at her as if to end the song. She dropped down and struck back in a low, wide arc. They moved like dancers, evading her sweep with ease.