The Doom of Kings: Legacy of Dhakaan - Book 1 (40 page)

Ashi could tell from the faces of the others that they had felt the rod’s power as well. Dagii seemed awed by it, Chetiin stunned. Midian looked gray with fear. She felt a little bit afraid herself. This was the power they would bring back to Haruuc?

Ekhaas struggled to speak again. “The Uura Odaarii,
marhu?”
she asked. “Is that this place?”

Ashi didn’t recognize the words. Chetiin was closest to her, and she glanced at him. “The Womb of Eternity,” he translated for her.

Dabrak’s attention was all on Ashi. “You haven’t heard of it. I’m not surprised. I traveled across the length and breadth of my empire just chasing down the rumors of it,” he said. He sat forward, the movement making the shriveled folds of his face slip like a loose mask. “Tell me, what stories do they tell of me?”

“They say that you left your palace to face the source of your fears, vowing to return and continue your rule,” said Ekhaas. “You were seen now and then across the empire—until one day you disappeared completely.”

“The day I finally located the Uura Odaarii,” said Dabrak. “You speak with the grace of a
duur’kala
. What is your name?”

“I am a
duur’kala
. I am Ekhaas of Kech Volaar.”

“The Kech Volaar. I don’t know that clan.” Dabrak sat back. “If you are a
duur’kala
, Ekhaas of Kech Volaar, you understand the nature of emotion. Tell me: What is the source of all fear?”

“The unknown,” Ekhaas said.

Dabrak gestured angrily, as though her word were flies he could shoo away. “Some would say that,” he said, “but it’s not true.
What about someone who was afraid of spiders? They are hardly unknown. He sees a spider and knows it, yet he is still afraid. What is he really afraid of?”

Chetiin answered. “He’s afraid of what the spider might do.”

“Well said,
golin’dar.”
Dabrak held up a finger. “He’s afraid of what might happen. His fear isn’t in the moment, it’s in the
might
. What might a spider do, what might happen in the dark, what might happen if I venture into the water? The source of all fear is the future, and the future is inescapable. Except here.”

He rose to his feet and gestured with both hands. Once again the power of the rod washed over them. Ashi thought she could feel an echo of the profound fear that had earned Dabrak the name of the Shaking Emperor. She shivered herself and pressed her hands against the cold stone of the cave floor to keep them from trembling. Dabrak noticed nothing, though thankfully he lowered the rod again.

“I first heard of the Uura Odaarii from an old
golin’dar
, a traveling midwife who came to the palace to deliver a son to my cousin,” he continued. “She cast an augury during the birth, as was customary, but as she did so, she saw my terror. She was the first to recognize all the fears that plagued me as a single fear of the future. She told me the scrap of a legend, that in the time before Jhazaal Dhakaan brought together the Six Kings, there was a secret shrine in an ancient kingdom where it was said all of the future was born. People would search out the shrine and make offerings there in hopes of staving off a bleak destiny.”

His eyes looked into the distance. “When I left my palace, it was to find this mysterious shrine. I consulted
duur’kala
and
dashoor
. I even ventured into the dark marshes to speak with orc druids and onto the dry plains to speak with halfling shamans. If it had been necessary, I would have crossed lines of ancient enmity and spoken with the undying elves of Aerenal. But it wasn’t. I found a name, the Uura Odaarii, and the hint of a location hidden only a day’s travel off one of the empire’s roads. But most importantly, I discovered a clue to its true nature. When I reached the shrine and broke through it to this place, I knew that I had conquered my fear.” He looked down at Ekhaas.

“What the ancient people believed to be birthplace of the future is far more than that. Within the Uura Odaarii, time has no power. The future is out there, but not in here. Within this cavern, there is only an eternal present.” Dabrak Riis smiled. “Within this cavern, I have nothing to fear!”

Ashi couldn’t hold her tongue. “But that’s impossible. Time’s passing right now.”

“Time passes, but it has no effect. Can’t you feel it? Can’t you see it?” The emperor pointed one gloved hand at her torch. “Fire is frozen as soon as it enters. While you are here, you won’t grow hungry or thirsty.” He touched his chest where she had stabbed him. “Nothing changes here. If you were assassins, you couldn’t kill me. However you are when you enter the Uura Odaarii, that is how you remain until you leave. The power even extends into the valley—I’ve always believed that’s why the trees around the shrine are so huge and ancient.”

“And why the stonework of the stairs and the shrine is so well preserved!” Midian burst out. “By the quill, it’s incred—”

“Ekhaas of Kech Volaar, silence your slave!” snarled the emperor.

“Silence yourself!” Midian said sharply. “If nothing changes in this cavern, you can’t hurt me.”

Dabrak thrust out the Rod of Kings.
“Be silent!”

Ashi felt the force of the command like a shiver in the air. Midian’s mouth snapped shut with such force that agony crossed his face.

“I cannot kill you,” said Dabrak, “but I can hurt you. You can still feel pain. You
will
be silent, rat, or your mistress will have to carry your quivering carcass out of here.” He seated himself and glared at Ekhaas. “As you can see, I am no longer the Shaking Emperor. I am without fear. You have heard my story. Now tell me yours,
duur’kala
. If you are not assassins, why are you here? Why have you used Aram to find me?”

Ekhaas pulled her eyes away from Midian, sitting pale-faced and wide-eyed on the ground, his mouth still firmly closed. She looked to Dabrak, and Ashi could tell that she was choosing her next words carefully. “Take no offense, Marhu Dabrak. We sought
what we believed to be your grave. We come charged with a quest by a great ruler who seeks to prevent a terrible division among the people.” She bowed her head. “We come for Guulen, the Rod of Kings.”

Emotion flared in Dabrak’s eyes. His body shifted subtly and he held the rod close to him, as if Ekhaas might at any moment leap up and try to grab it away. “No,” he said softly, fearfully. “You can’t take it. I need it. I vowed that I would return, and I will. I’ve faced my fears.”

Ekhaas kept her voice low and soothing. “It doesn’t seem to me that you’ve faced your fears. You’ve only found a way to avoid them. Are you really ready to leave the Uura Odaarii?”

“I will be!” Dabrak looked up at her. “One day I will be. The rod is mine by right, and you won’t take it. I am the emperor!”

“Marhu
, there is no more empire.”

Dabrak flinched in shock. “No more empire? By the Six Kings, what happened to it?”

“Time. Dhakaan has fallen.”

“Time?” His shriveled ears flicked and stood back in disbelief. “Dhakaan, the empire of ten thousand years, fallen in only a few centuries? How can that be?”

Ashi looked to Ekhaas. So did all the others. Ashi felt her stomach tighten into a wary knot. Ekhaas paused for a moment, then faced Dabrak again. “Is that how long you think it’s been since you entered the cavern? A few centuries?”

“Long enough,” said Dabrak defensively. “You said the world thinks me dead.”

“The world thought you dead more than five thousand years ago,
marhu
. The Empire of Dhakaan has been only memory for millennia.” Ekhaas rose to her feet. “The Kech Volaar preserve its lore. A few other clans respect its traditions. Most of the
dar
remember it only as an inspiring legend.”

“It’s not possible.” Dabrak clutched the rod even more tightly. “I’ve been aware of every passing moment. I would have known—”

“How many generations of trolls have there been? How long did Rhazala and your guards wait before they fled?” Ekhaas pointed at the discarded knife. “We found that among the offerings in the
shrine. Rhazala must have left it behind. Everything of value had been taken.”

“Lies,” Dabrak whimpered. “Lies. There is no future in the Uura Odaarii. I have nothing to fear.”

Geth stood and spoke, his voice taut. He didn’t bother trying to speak Goblin. “Ekhaas, I’ve heard of something like this in the Eldeen Reaches. There are parts of the forest where a night in a fairy glade can turn into a year. What if this cavern is like that? We could come out and find we’ve been gone for months.”

Dabrak’s head came up. “What did the beast man say?” he demanded.

“He said that we’ve been here too long,” the
duur’kala
said grimly, her ears back flat against her head. “You have, too, Dabrak.”

Dry lips peeled back from sharp teeth.
“Taat!
You will address me as I deserve to be addressed!”

The rest of them rose as well. “What do we do?” Dagii asked, speaking the human tongue.

“We ask for the rod again,” said Chetiin. “If he won’t give it to us, we take it.”

“Your dagger … ?” Geth asked him.

“Will work only if I can strike a killing blow, and we’ve seen that won’t work. I think we can overpower him.”

“Be careful,” Ashi warned them. “He’s stronger than he looks.”

Dabrak followed their words with his eyes. “What are you saying?” he demanded. “What are you doing?”

Ekhaas looked at him and Ashi heard the soft persuasion of a
duur’kala
enter her voice. “Give us the rod, Dabrak. It does you no good here, but if we take it, perhaps a new Dhakaan can rise again.” She stretched out her hand.

He stared at it, then looked up to her. His body began to shake, not from fear but from anger. “No,” he said. “No!” He started to rise from his chair. “I am Dabrak Riis,
marhu
of Dhakaan, twenty-third lord of the Riis Dynasty—”

“Get him!” roared Geth.

But the rod lashed out.
“
—
and you will kneel all before me!”

The power of the rod drove Ashi down before she could even think of resisting. It slammed against her mind with as much force
as her knees slammed against the cavern floor. She saw Ekhaas, struggling against the compulsion, draw breath, perhaps to blast Dabrak with a song of magic, but the withered emperor held out the rod again.
“You are slaves,”
he snarled.
“You belong to me, You will not rise up against your master.”

Ekhaas sagged back, her lips falling slack. On Ashi’s other side, Chetiin drooped with a groan. Ashi tried to fight back against the rod’s power, tried to throw it off, but she could feel herself slipping under its influence. The
marhu
was her master. She couldn’t rise against him.

But beyond Ekhaas, beyond Dagii, one figure was still standing firm against Dabrak’s commands. Geth. For a moment, he looked confused, then he glanced at the sword in his hand and smiled. He lifted Wrath.

“Two artifacts forged from a single vein of byeshk by the hand of Taruuzh,” he said in broken Goblin.

Dabrak’s ears went back. “Even when the shield had been shattered and the sword lost, legends were passed from
marhu
to heir that they were the only things capable of resisting the power of the rod. It seems the legends were right.”

“Give me the rod.” Geth dropped into a fighting stance, Wrath’s twilight blade crossed over the black steel of his great gauntlet.

“Give me the sword, beast-man.” Dabrak reached into the folds of cloth that draped his chair and drew out a sword. It was a little lighter than Wrath and forged of steel instead of byeshk, but it was still a good blade. He stepped clear of the chair and those who knelt before it.

Geth followed, circling him like a wolf.

Dabrak turned to keep him in sight. “What will you do, beast-man?” he asked. “You can’t kill me.”

“No,” Geth growled, “but I can hurt you.” He lunged, byeshk ringing on steel as he spread his arms. The gauntlet rose to block Dabrak’s sword while Wrath cut low. Dabrak moved with surprising speed, though, kicking back to escape the blow. The sword caught only silk, and even that was left unharmed. Geth pressed closer to try another swing, but Dabrak turned sharply and was suddenly behind him on his sword arm side.

Geth got Wrath up in time to tangle Dabrak’s sword, but the sword wasn’t the hobgoblin’s only weapon. With the same strength that had thrown Ashi into a wall, he slammed the rod into Geth’s bandaged shoulder. Geth grunted and twisted away. The shifter and the hobgoblin circled each other for a moment, then crashed together again in another flurry of blows.

The pair was evenly matched, neither finding any advantage over the other, both invulnerable in the weird timelessness of the cavern. There was something about the battle that brought a new fire to Ashi’s heart, though. Every attack that Geth made, every blow that he took seemed to give her a little more strength to push back the domination of the rod. She wanted to cheer for Geth, even as the rod’s power reminded her that Dabrak was her master, that she must remain kneeling as he had ordered.

No, she told herself. Geth is fighting for us—we should be fighting for him.

And a bit of what Senen Dhakaan had said of the creation of Wrath came back to her.
Aram represented the inspiration that heroes provided for the people
.

She clenched her teeth and pushed harder against the hopelessness brought down by the power of the rod.

Across the cavern, Geth raised Wrath and stepped back a pace as if searching for a weakness in his opponent’s defense. Dabrak lunged—and Geth struck, swinging his blade down against the hand that held Dabrak’s sword. In any other fight, Dabrak’s fingers would have been cut from his hand. In the Uura Odaarii, the blow passed harmlessly through flesh.

It struck hard against the steel of the sword clutched in them, though. Dabrak’s weapon was torn from his grip to fall, ringing, to the cavern floor. The ancient emperor flailed at Geth with the Rod of Kings, but his blows only rained down on the armored gauntlet. Geth tried to bring his sword back into play in the tight quarters, but Dabrak grabbed for it as if he could pull it out of the shifter’s grasp. His hand closed on Wrath.