The Grieving Tree: The Dragon Below Book II (27 page)

“That sounds like a good plan,” said Geth. He could see the General’s intention immediately. If they were going to turn the tables on whoever was following the column, swift and stealthy action was needed. Ogres would crash through the woods like a herd of cattle, but the General had clearly recognized his and Ashi’s wilderness experience. Geth swung a leg over his saddle and jumped down to the ground. “Ashi, we’re going hunting.”

Ashi’s lips spread in a thin smile and she dismounted as well. Singe grabbed Geth’s arm, though. “A good plan,” he agreed, but held the paper down in front of Geth, “except that this is Dandra’s writing.”

“Maybe he had her write it for him.” Geth held a hand up in imitation of the General’s clenched fingers. “He probably can’t do it very well himself.”

“Then why is he carrying paper and ink at all? Something’s not right.”

Geth growled. The hours of riding through the haunted landscape of Droaam dragged on him. He wanted to be off after their stalking enemy. “Save your conspiracies, Singe. The General isn’t the one sneaking through the woods behind us.” He slipped free of the wizard’s grasp and glanced at Ashi. The hunter slid the bright blade of her sword from its sheath. Geth turned back to Chuut. “We’re ready.”

The possibility of action clearly appealed to the ogre as well. His troubled face lit up and he spun to face the waiting troops. “Red squad, move!” he shouted, raising his mace and pointing back along the road. “Search south!”

About a third off the column split away and—with an enthusiastic roar—thundered back the way they had come, plunging off the road and into the woods with no attempt at stealth. A number of smaller trees came crashing down as ogres blundered into them. A blind and deaf man couldn’t have missed the commotion.

Whoever had been following the column was guaranteed to be watching the ogres. Geth gestured for Ashi to take to the woods on the north of the road. Singe, however, drew a sharp breath. “Geth—”

The shifter shook his head. “Ashi and I will be fine. You look after yourselves. We’ll worry about the General later.”

He darted for the trees.

A
shi was waiting for him, crouched down in the thick undergrowth that grew among the trees. Geth squatted beside her and took a glance back onto the road. Singe didn’t look especially pleased, but he seldom did. Sometimes, Geth thought, the wizard was too busy being clever to know when he needed to act.

At least Orshok and Natrac were doing something—they’d dismounted and were holding their horses on short reins close to his and Ashi’s, trying to disguise that there were now two horses on the road without riders. Geth twisted back to Ashi and murmured, “Follow me.”

Before plunging into the woods, he’d looked back and fixed in his mind the spot where he had seen the mysterious figure. He didn’t head that way immediately, though. Instead, he rose and slid deeper into the woods. He was counting on their stalker keeping his eyes on the column and holding his distance from the ogres. The dark-clad figure might be well-hidden from the road, but Geth was fairly certain he’d be much easier to spot from behind.

The shifter dodged from tree to tree and bush to bush, staying low and moving quickly. Ashi’s passage through the woods was smoother and more flowing—the hunter slid from one patch of cover to the next with the lethal grace of a snake. Neither of them made any sound, though if they had, Geth thought the woods might simply have swallowed it up. The silent, ancient eeriness of the land didn’t diminish away from the road. If anything, it
seemed to have an even greater presence. The chaotic thrashing of the ogres seemed like little more than a distant rustling, even though Geth could still see the creatures if he looked. He gestured for Ashi to stop before they got too far into the woods. He had a feeling in his gut that he didn’t want to lose sight of the road.

“Grandmother Wolf,” he said under his breath. “I
really
don’t like this place.”

“Che bo gri lanano ani teith,”
Ashi murmured in response. “This land remembers its blood.” Her eyes swept the trees and brush around them, then came back to him for a moment. “Geth,” she said, “tell me why House Deneith should be so worried at someone spreading its training.”

Geth growled softly. “This isn’t the time, Ashi! Ask Singe when we’re back—he understands the lords of Deneith better than I do.”

“But you give honest answers,” said Ashi. She eased a little closer. “I want to understand my new clan. Deneith carries the Mark of Sentinel. The Mark of Sentinel defends. Deneith must have greater concerns than one man teaching commands to anyone—even ogres.”

He clenched his teeth. “The dragonmarked houses are more than clans. They’ve turned their marks into a source of power and wealth. They have special knowledge in their area of skill. If other people start giving away those secrets, the houses lose power and wealth.” Ashi stared at him with a look of confusion on her face. Geth grimaced, trying to find a way to describe the vast power of the great house in a way the hunter would recognize. “They do it for honor,” he said finally.

Ashi’s eyes narrowed and her faced darkened. “There is no honor in wealth!”

“Talk to the lords and ministers of the dragonmarked houses and you talk to people who see something else. I wish you could have met Robrand, Ashi. I think you would have gotten along with the old man.” Geth jerked his head in the direction of their stalker. “Enough talk. Come on—we have someone waiting for us.”

They were deep enough into the eerie woods. Geth turned aside and began moving back parallel to the road. The tree that their stalker had vanished behind had a distinctive broken branch
just beneath the level of the forest canopy. It didn’t take long for him to spot it—and their stalker, pressed up against the tree and still intent on the column in the road. Geth paused again and bared his teeth as he studied the figure.

Big as a man and dressed in dark, close-fitting leather armor, just as he’d glimpsed. But he’d made a mistake in assuming the figure was a man or even human.

Their stalker was the hobgoblin woman from the Barrel in Vralkek, her orange-brown hair pulled back so severely that at a glance her head seemed shaved.

Geth stifled a growl. Between her presence in the tavern and her presence here, it seemed fairly clear that the hobgoblin’s interest was in their little group and not Tzaryan Rrac’s ogres. He gestured for Ashi to move around to the hobgoblin’s other side. They would come at her from two directions. Ashi nodded and slipped away through the trees. Geth waited a few moments, flexing his fingers and his arm within the great gauntlet, then closed in.

He was within half a dozen paces before the hobgoblin woman, alerted by some sense that something was amiss, turned to glance behind her, her wolf-like ears standing up straight. Her dark eyes met Geth’s for a fraction of a heartbeat and her ears pressed back flat—then she lunged away.

Ashi spun out from behind another tree, cutting off her escape with a naked blade. The hobgoblin reeled back. Her eyes darted between him and Ashi. Geth moved another step closer. “You’re looking for us?” he asked in a snarl.

The hobgoblin bared teeth as sharp as his own. “You will not defile Taruuzh Kraat!”

Her words brought both Geth and Ashi up short. “How do you know about—?” Geth began, but the hobgoblin didn’t give him a chance to finish the question. Her hands flicked the air and a low, musical word rippled from her lips.

For a moment, she seemed to shimmer and unfold as five exact duplicates stepped out of her body and spread out to surround her. Abruptly, six figures faced them. The hobgoblin drew a wide, heavy sword. So did her duplicates.

“Rond betch!”
cursed Ashi. Raising her own sword, she leaped for the nearest of the duplicates.

Geth had seen this magic before. “Ashi, it’s a trick!” he called. The warning came an instant too late, though. The duplicate swayed back before the first slash of Ashi’s sword, but the hunter whirled and brought her blade around in another fast strike that cut across the hobgoblin’s torso.

The duplicate flickered like a flame and vanished, nothing more than a fragile illusion. Ashi stumbled in surprise. The five remaining hobgoblins lifted their hands in arcane gestures and the chant of another song-like spell spun among the trees. Magic swirled around Ashi and froze her in place, muscles locked in the act of raising her sword.

Only one of the five had actually cast the spell, however. Geth roared and charged, slapping a powerful backhand blow from his gauntlet at the hobgoblin who had seemed to chant the words with the most vigor. In the instant of his charge, though, his target slipped back, passing through one of her duplicates as they rapidly rearranged themselves. It was like watching a nest of writhing snakes. Geth hesitated, then struck at random.

Another hobgoblin disappeared without a trace.

A sword darted at his side. Geth spun and blocked the attack with his gauntlet. Metal scraped on metal. His real enemy. His free hand lashed out in a punch.

This time he felt the impact and the hobgoblin staggered, a sudden trickle of blood running down the yellow skin of her chin. Her duplicates closed on her instantly, swapping places once again—and as soon as one passed through another, both bore the same trickle of blood. All of the hobgoblins turned back to him.

Geth snarled in frustration. He reached across his body with his free hand and ripped his sword from its sheath.

The ancient Dhakaani blade shimmered in the forest shadows. The four women facing him stiffened, eyes opening wide with sudden rage.
“Chaat’oor!”
they howled in a chorus. “Where did you—?”

Geth lunged, attacking on instinct alone. His sword tore through one duplicate and he jabbed a metal-clad fist at the belly of another. The illusions faded away instantly, leaving him facing only two hobgoblins. They seemed to swing at him in unison, both of them with teeth bared and ears back. Geth threw up his
gauntlet and his sword, blocking both blows, then, with a roar, snapped out both arms.

The hobgoblin on his left parried desperately, thrusting her blade up to block his. The hobgoblin on his right caught the spiked forearm of his gauntlet across her face—and vanished.

Geth twisted his fist sharply, catching the real hobgoblin’s weapon in the deep notches that scored one edge of his sword and forcing it high. Spinning under his own arm, he stepped in close and hammered his armored elbow into her gut. As the air rushed out of her lungs and she struggled to draw breath, he whirled again and kicked her legs out from under her. She hit the ground hard. Geth snatched the sword from her hand and stood over her, both swords poised to fall. He nodded toward Ashi, still standing in the grip of the hobgoblin’s magic.

“Release her,” he ordered. “And don’t try anything else. I know a spell when I see it.”

Angry eyes never shifting from Geth’s face, the hobgoblin stretched out a hand and flicked her fingers at Ashi. The hunter staggered as the spell faded. Her face twisted in a scowl. “Magic is no way to fight!”

“Easy,” Geth said. He looked back down at the hobgoblin. “Who are you?” he asked. “Why are you following us?” He remembered her curse when he had first approached. “What do you know about Taruuzh Kraat?”

Her ears twitched and drew back. Her lips twisted. “I’ll tell you nothing,
chaat’oor!”

Her eyes, however, went briefly to his sword. Geth glanced at the blades in his hands. Held side by side, it was apparent how little the basic design of hobgoblin weapons had changed over the millennia since the fall of Dhakaan. Both swords were heavy and wide with a forked tip, one edge sharp for cutting, and the other cruelly notched for ripping. Geth’s sword, however, was clearly the better of the two. It was heavier than the other blade, yet still perfectly balanced. The notching was evenly formed, the cutting edge fine, and the metal smooth and clear; in spite of its age, it was free of the tiny scrapes and imperfections that marred the newer blade.

His sword had also injured a dragon, though neither Batul nor Singe could say why. When he had drawn it in Zarash’ak, a gang of goblins had fled from him. Again, no one could explain
it. The sight of the weapon had inspired outrage in the hobgoblin woman before him, however. She recognized the sword. Geth extended it toward her. “You know something about this, don’t you?” he said. “What?”

The hobgoblin’s eyes flashed, but she stayed defiantly silent. Geth ground his teeth, then growled, “Fine.” He gestured with his sword. “Ashi, get her on her feet. Maybe Chuut and the General can get answers out of her.”

The hunter sheathed her word and hauled the hobgoblin woman up from the ground, then briskly searched her for hidden weapons. She found a knife, but nothing else. The woman’s only gear was what she carried in a small satchel. Ashi scowled. “How could she have kept up with us all the way from Vralkek?”

The hobgoblin offered no response, but Geth glanced at her boots. They were finely tooled and decorated with Goblin script. “I imagine Singe could find something magical about those boots,” he said.