The Grieving Tree: The Dragon Below Book II (45 page)

Geth’s breath hissed between frozen teeth. If Dandra failed, Tetkashtai might have her chance to break through and seize her body. He wrapped his arms around both women as best he could, trying to will his body to generate warmth, and pushed them toward the stairs up to Taruuzh Kraat. How far up the stairs might Taruuzh’s reach extended? He swallowed icy saliva and looked around for Ekhaas.

The hobgoblin was still huddled against the wall of the cavern, though as he watched she pushed herself away and stood upright, her eyes fixed on the tomb. “Ekhaas!” he called to her. “This way!”

She shook her head and drew herself up. “Ekhaas!” Ashi screamed, adding her appeal to Geth’s.

Ekhaas didn’t move except to draw a breath, open her mouth—and sing.

If the song with which she had healed him had seemed raw and energetic, the power behind her voice now was primal. Whatever magic had allowed him to understand Taruuzh’s sighs and wails let him comprehend the words Ekhaas sang as well. It was no spell that poured forth from her throat, but a martial anthem, a song of honor and glory. The power wasn’t in the words, but in Ekhaas’s voice. Her song touched him, setting his blood pounding and giving him strength. He could feel Ashi stand a little straighter, a little stronger, as well. Dandra, too.

More importantly, the song seemed to settle Taruuzh. The phantom wind in the chamber slowed. The sharp edge of the cold grew dull. Even Taruuzh’s wailing eased, then ceased, as if the
unseen ghost was listening, caught up in the music.

Ekhaas’s gaze darted from the tomb to Geth and she stabbed a hand toward the stairs in an urgent gesture. The shifter blinked and tore himself away from the power of the hobgoblin’s song. “The stairs!” he said. “Quickly!”

The women nodded and stumbled forward. Geth glanced over his shoulder. Ekhaas was following at a slow and stately pace, timing her footfalls to her song. She gestured again for him to go. Geth swallowed and ran after Ashi and Dandra.

The cold faded even more the moment he was through the archway. Dandra and Ashi were already on the stairs and climbing fast. Geth heard Dandra gasp with relief. “Il-Yannah, it feels like summer!”

“Keep going!” he said. Ekhaas wasn’t out of the cavern yet. As the light of Dandra’s torch receded and the chamber fell into darkness, Geth realized that the tomb of Taruuzh was glowing with a pale, silver-white light. Against that light, Ekhaas looked almost spectral herself.

The mask of frost on Taruuzh’s effigy had changed again. The stone hobgoblin’s face was at peace, as if dreaming of ancient glories. Ekhaas, still singing, stepped past him. Geth fell in behind her, guarding her retreat more out of habit and respect than actual effectiveness—if Taruuzh’s anger had reached after them, he knew there wouldn’t be a cursed thing he could do about it.

But the ghost didn’t come after them and the temperature rose swiftly as they climbed. Dandra had been right—the cave air couldn’t have been more than cool, but it felt warm like summer. Geth let out a sigh of relief.

The stairs were steep, but not long; they opened into a short, unadorned hallway that ended in a wall rigged with a heavy iron arm much like the one that opened the hidden door in the chasm beneath Tzaryan Rrac. From this side, the door, with its latches and handles, was obvious. Dandra and Ashi were waiting for them. As Ekhaas stepped off the stairs and set foot on level ground, she finally stopped singing, took a deep breath and stretched.
“Khaavolaar!”
she groaned.

“Ekhaas, that was amazing!” said Dandra.

“I wouldn’t be much of a
duur’kala
if I couldn’t bring courage and calm when they were needed.” The hobgoblin’s old arrogance
was back, but also a hint of well-deserved pride. Geth could tell from her face and the set of her ears that she knew she had done something extraordinary.

Something in the wails of Taruuzh’s ghost gnawed at him, though, and left a sick feeling in his throat. “Ekhaas, did Taruuzh say what I thought he said? That his stones—” He tried to recall the spirit’s words. “‘—are saved up against the day that Aryd foresaw.’”

Ekhaas started, pride and arrogance vanishing into the shock of someone caught in a lie. Dandra blinked and stiffened. “Taruuzh’s stones?” she asked. “The original binding stones? Light of il-Yannah, they can’t still exist, can they?” She turned to face Ekhaas. “But your story of the Battle of Moths—you said they were all destroyed to create the Gatekeeper seal that imprisoned the Master of Silence.”

The hobgoblin’s ears twitched back. “I didn’t tell you everything. But what I didn’t tell you … it didn’t seem important. There’s an old legend—almost forgotten now—that Aryd convinced Taruuzh to set aside a small box of his stones before the battle, that she’d foreseen a second invasion of Eberron and that the stones would be needed again.”

Dandra’s eyes opened wide. Her mouth clenched tight in silent horror. Geth growled at Ekhaas. “How could you think that wasn’t important?” he demanded.

“Because no one believes it’s anything more than a legend!” Ekhaas said. “The Kech Volaar hold tight to our history, but even we know not everything is the whole truth. The tale says Taruuzh hid the stones before his death. Marg himself searched for them and found nothing. That’s why he tried recreating the stones on his own. Generations of
duur’kala
hunted for them, too. They were never found. The riddle that was supposed to be the clue to their location couldn’t be solved.” She spread her hands. “The legend was set aside as a wild treasure hunt.”

“No one listened to the ghost?”

Ekhaas bared her teeth. “Did you listen to me when I said I didn’t know about the ghost? This might be the first time anyone has ever encountered it!”

Dandra spoke suddenly, her voice hollow and frightened. “‘The time will come again. Three great works stand together
as allies: treasure, key, guardian, disciple, and lord.’ Singe read that on the statue in the great chamber of Taruuzh Kraat. Is that the riddle?”

“Yes,” said Ekhaas. “What drove those who hunted for the hidden stones is that the riddle of Taruuzh sounds so easily solved. ‘The time will come again’ refers to Aryd’s prophecy. The riddle says ‘three great works,’ wonders crafted by Taruuzh, but mentions five things, so two things aren’t works, but something else. The treasure is the stones, Taruuzh’s second greatest work after the grieving tree. The first grieving tree stands in Taruuzh Kraat and was thought to be the guardian. ‘Disciple and lord’ was believed to refer to Dhakaani lords and Gatekeeper druids, sometimes called the disciples of Vvaraak—the allies that put an end to the daelkyr invasion. The searchers believed that Taruuzh was saying that the Dhakaani and the orcs would need to ‘stand together as allies’ to find the stones, just as they’d need to ally to stop a second invasion.”

“So the riddle seems to tell where to find the treasure and who can find it,” said Dandra. “What about the key? Was that Taruuzh’s third great work?”

“It seems like it should have been.” Ekhaas shook her head. “But the problem was that no one knew what Taruuzh’s third great work was.
Duur’kala
compiled lists of the greatest wonders he created, trying to find a clue—but there was nothing. The riddle had no answer.”

The sick feeling that had gnawed at Geth turned into a terrible ache. “It has an answer,” he said slowly. “The
duur’kala
were just too caught up in legends to see it.”

Ekhaas’s ears laid back. “Are you joking?”

“No.” Geth swallowed. He lifted Wrath and repeated the wistful words that Taruuzh’s ghost had spoken. “They call me
daashor
, but I was first a smith. I made wonders, but your pure perfection brought the most pride of all to my heart.”

As if in confirmation, a long, ghostly sigh drifted up the stairs from the cave below.

“Khaavolaar,”
Ekhaas whispered in wonder.

Dandra, however, staggered back against Ashi, her eyes full of terror. “Il-Yannah’s perfect light illuminate us. If Dah’mir were to find out about this …”

“He may not know about the riddle,” said Ashi. “This may mean nothing to him.”

“The Riddle of Taruuzh isn’t well-known, but it’s no secret,” Ekhaas pointed out.

“Maybe he doesn’t understand the clues,” the hunter said hopefully.

Dandra’s face drew tight. “Dah’mir laired in Taruuzh Kraat. He studied Marg’s writings. He spent two hundred years working with the binding stone. He’s a
dragon
. How can he not understand the clues?” She stood up and paced across the width of the hallway. “Il-Yannah, we know what he was able to do with Marg’s imperfect re-creation of the binding stones. Imagine what he could do with Taruuzh’s originals!”

“He doesn’t have the answer yet,” Greth growled. He thrust Wrath back into its sheath. “All we have to do is make sure he never finds out about this sword—”

Terrible, deep laughter cut him off. Words rumbled through the hallway. “Too late, Geth.”

With a horrible crash, something huge slammed against the other side of the hidden door. The force of the impact shook the floor, sending them staggering. Great talons punched through the cracks that opened around the door, clenched on the rock, and heaved. A deafening bellow of exertion broke the air. The door ripped away, its iron arm twisting and snapping with an agonized squeal.

Acid-green eyes peered through the ruined opening. “Far too late!” roared Dah’mir.

T
he overwhelming strength of Dah’mir’s presence gripped Dandra. She was drowning, swallowed by the dragon’s irresistible personality. Her world dimmed. All she could do was stare in awe at the eyes that stared through a door too narrow for the dragon’s head.

There’d been no warning this time from Tetkashtai. Her creator’s terror had gone beyond rising and falling. The borders of Dandra’s mind were battered by a constant storm of yellow-green light and wailing screams. The eerie silence of the caves, the ghost’s frigid attack, Dah’mir’s sudden appearance—they were all the same to Tetkashtai.

And yet …

Dandra could see. She could hear. For the first time, it seemed that Dah’mir’s power hadn’t taken her completely. She couldn’t move, couldn’t lower the guttering torch still held above her head, could barely summon the focus to think, but she was at least aware of what was happening.

Ekhaas’s voice rose in a scream of horror as she faced Dah’mir for the first time. Geth shouted, a wordless mingling of shock and fear, and ripped Wrath back out of its sheath, raising sword and gauntlet in a barrier of cold metal. Ashi had her sword out, too. Dandra felt the hunter grab her shoulder and the short corridor whirled briefly as she was pulled back to safety, to the very edge of the stairs back down into the caves. At the top step, however, Ashi stiffened and Dandra knew why.

Bone-chilling cold swept up from below, carrying with it a seething, grasping anger. The effect of Ekhaas’s song on Taruuzh’s ghost had worn off—or had been shattered by Dah’mir’s appearance. Taruuzh’s terrible moans drifted up the stairs. There would be no easy escape back into the caverns!

Dandra stared at a wall, caught between the stairs on her left and unseen combat on her right. She could see nothing, but she could hear. Ashi’s hand left Dandra’s shoulder and there was the sharp sound of flesh slapping flesh. Ekhaas’s scream fell silent. Geth snarled. Dah’mir’s scales made a fast, dry hiss as the dragon turned, shifted, moved—

No!
Dandra yelled.
What’s happening?
She tried to reach out with
kesh
, to touch Ashi, but all she found was Tetkashtai’s storm of madness.

Let me in, Dandra! Let me in!
Words emerged from the storm for a moment and Tetkashtai thrust herself along the
kesh
, trying to breach the defenses Dandra had thrown up to hold her back. Apparently Dah’mir’s power had found no hold on the presence, either. Dandra hurled her back again, desperately pinching off the tentative connection of
kesh
for her own safety.

In spite of her efforts, her head turned anyway as if some primitive part of her unconscious sought out Dah’mir instinctively. It was a strange feeling to find her head moving without her control. The short length of the tunnel swung back into view—just in time for her to see Dah’mir thrust a foreleg through the ruined doorway and rake blindly at those inside. As the others cried out and pressed back, Dandra could only watch. It seemed that she could see every scale on the dragon’s leg. Embedded in his thick hide, dragonshards—two bright, one dulled like a soot-darkened lantern—made glittering streaks in the shadows.

Geth darted forward and slashed at the flailing foreleg. Wrath bit deep. Dah’mir roared and dark blood sprayed Geth. He slammed his leg against the wall, trying to crush the flea that had bitten him, but Geth leaped away. The dragon snatched back his leg.

“What’s he doing here?” Ashi gasped. “How did he find us?”

Dah’mir’s eyes returned to the shattered door. They shone with anger. “A dragon knows the value of a dragonmark!” he hissed.

Chain, Dandra realized. The bounty hunter must have located them for Dah’mir. She cursed silently, then felt a burst of fear as Dah’mir’s lips curled back and the sour, stinging smell of this breath gusted through the hall. They were an easy target for the devastating spray of his acid!