The Doom of Kings: Legacy of Dhakaan - Book 1 (31 page)

“Stop!” she said. “Cover the lantern!”

“Are you insane?” Midian choked, but Ashi had already slid to a stop on the leaf strewn ground and slammed the shutter on the lantern. Colors disappeared as darkness blanketed them once more. The others stopped, too. Ekhaas’s instincts screamed at her
to stop and listen, to try to locate the pursuing trolls, but she didn’t need to listen to know the monsters were too close. If they were going to escape the valley, they needed to put room between them and the trolls.

She focused her will and sang again, softly this time, the song bright and urgent. A short distance away, a light blossomed among the trees like a second lantern.

A whisper sent it darting through the forest on a course away from theirs. Somewhere in the darkness, something grunted in confusion. The bait had been laid, but she needed to make it more tempting. Ekhaas concentrated, altering her song, and noise sprang up to follow the phantom lantern—the crashing sound of six people running.

There was a low hoot of triumph and the faint snap of a twig as the trolls followed her illusion. Ekhaas spun back to the others. “Open the lantern and run again!”

“They’ll see us!”

“As long as the illusion lasts, they’ll have to chase two lanterns. Now go—and everyone stay close to me!”

Just as she had expected, the trolls spotted them almost as soon as they began to run again. They howled at each other for a moment, then Ekhaas caught the sound of something bashing through a bush. The pursuit had split into two groups, but hopefully her first trick had bought them enough time to give them an edge. She began to sing once more.

The song of ages surged, and rushed out of her to wrap around the others. They fell into pace with each other, the measure of the music sustaining them and speeding them on their way. Faster and faster they ran, until it seemed that they were running like horses. Dagii and Midian wore looks of wonder, Ashi of excitement. Chetiin’s face was as unreadable as ever, but Geth, who had experienced this magic before during a grim race across the Shadow Marches, just kept his head down and ran. Ekhaas would have liked to look back and see where the trolls were, but she kept her eyes on the ground. The power of the song gave them the speed to outpace the trolls, but it would only take a snagging root or a turned stone to end her song and allow the trolls to catch up.

A howl of rage rolled out of the dark—the trolls chasing the false lantern had discovered the deception. Another howl answered them as the trolls on their trail realized their prey was pulling ahead of them. Trees crashed and bushes snapped as they abandoned silence for speed. Ekhaas raised her voice, singing her song to the night and pushing the rhythm as hard as she dared. Ashi still carried the lantern, and with her every stride, light and shadow danced. The pillars of the forest flashed by, one indistinguishable from the next. How much farther, the
duur’kala
wondered, until they were out of the forest? They’d entered slowly, carefully, and it had taken them through late afternoon and dusk.

The sounds of pursuit began to fall behind. They passed the heavy undergrowth that marked the fallen forest giant, darting into and out of the moonlight like fish striking the surface of a pond.

“Close!” Geth hissed between clenched teeth. As if they had realized the same thing, the trolls screeched and howled. New sounds came out of the darkness: thumps and cracks and crashes. The trolls were throwing things, trying to hit the fugitives as they raced away, but their hurled missiles fell far short.

The canopy started to thin out. Smaller plants appeared on the forest floor, moonlight came again in patches through the leaves, and there was once more a gentle but noticeable slope to the ground. The song almost caught in Ekhaas’s throat. They were nearly out!

Then she remembered the final barrier at the forest’s edge. The brambles. They wouldn’t be able to run through those!

And just as she imagined the thorns tearing at her, the fall that she had feared happened—except that it wasn’t her. It wasn’t even Ashi stumbling by lantern light.

It was Dagii. Running just in front of her, he staggered suddenly. There was a very audible
snap
, and Dagii was down. This time the song caught in Ekhaas’s throat. Between one step and the next, as she leaped high to avoid Dagii’s sprawled form, the magic disappeared. The rushing trees snapped back to a normal pace. The galloping horse slowed to a walk.

Ekhaas landed badly, sliding across the ground and scraping the skin from the heel of one palm. The sting was bad, but not as
frightening as the sound of the trolls still in pursuit. The others had stopped running, too, but Dagii was still down on the ground. He didn’t say anything—too much the warrior to give voice to his pain—but his lips were drawn back, his teeth clenched tight, and his ears were down against his head.

She scrambled back to him, barely rising up from her hands and knees. “Dagii?”

“Ankle,” he said shortly, his voice thick. “There was a hole.”

Ekhaas looked to the foot he had drawn up close to himself. His boot was stiff leather and showed no sign of the injury beneath, but it was surely a sign of how hard he had fallen that the metal greave above was wretched sideways, one leather strap snapped in two.

Geth, well ahead, came trotting back to them. “What happened?”

“I think his ankle is broken.”

“Grandfather Rat!” Determination crossed his face. “Chetiin, Midian—watch for those trolls! Ashi, scout forward and find the edge of the thorns. We’re close.” He squatted, dropped his voice, and spoke to Dagii and Ekhaas. “Can you walk, Dagii?”

“With help,” Dagii said. “But I can’t run.
Maabet!
You’re almost out—leave me!”

“No. Ekhaas, can your magic get him back up?”

The shifter had some idea of the capability of her songs to heal. She’d used them on him before. Ekhaas looked down at Dagii’s ankle, still encased in the boot, trying to guess at the damage. “I don’t know how bad it is, and I don’t think we have time to get the boot off to look. It would need to be set—”

Geth dropped Aram, grabbed Dagii’s foot by toes and heel, and pulled hard.

Dagii roared in pain. He reached forward, lashing out, but Geth rocked back away from his punch. “It’s set! Do what you can.”

“Geth!” shouted Midian. “The trolls have gone quiet!”

The crashing had stopped. The trolls must have realized they weren’t fleeing anymore. The monsters were stalking them again.

Ekhaas looked at Dagii. “I can heal it partially. You’ll still be in pain and you might hurt yourself more by trying to run.”

“Do it,” Dagii said through his teeth.

She wrapped his hands around his ankle and drew on the song again. She heard Dagii gasp and knew that he’d felt the touch of healing magic, as wild and sharp as if her song had drawn on the beginnings of life itself. His eyes opened wide. His ears rose again. Ekhaas held on as long as she dared, letting the magic do its work of knitting bones and flesh together, then released him. Geth was already standing, and he helped Dagii to his feet. Dagii put his weight on the ankle and winced, then nodded. “It will do. Where are the trolls?”

“Too close,” said Chetiin. He stared into the darkness, ears twitching, then pointed. “That way. They’ll break if we run, and I don’t think the thorns will slow them down. They’ll catch us before we’re through.”

Geth cursed. “We need to slow them. Ekhaas, can you make another phantom lantern?”

“It wouldn’t fool them again. I have an idea, though.” Her throat was raw from the power that she had channeled through it—from Dagii’s healing and the illusions she had cast, from the sustained song that had gained them ground on the trolls—but she had the strength for one more song. She focused her attention in the direction Chetiin had pointed and shaped her voice into bright and rippling notes.

Bright sparks of light condensed out of the air, like sunlight given form. The sparks drifted and floated, leaving a glittering dust on the undergrowth, but especially on the trolls.

The lurking monsters were caught off guard. Five of them stood confused among the sparks. They swatted at the glimmering cloud as if at insects, but the whirling lights only seemed to get thicker. Dust stuck to them, turning rubbery flesh golden. One of the trolls wailed and scrubbed at its eyes. An instant later, they were all doing it, blinded by the dust. The trolls didn’t stop, though. With eyes watering and arms groping ahead of them, they kept coming.

“It won’t last,” said Ekhaas. Her voice was a croak. “It will buy us time, though. Come.” She gestured at the lantern glow that was Ashi, waiting at the edge of the thorns.

Geth bared his teeth and his hand tightened on Aram. “It won’t buy enough time. You, Dagii, and Ashi go. Chetiin, Midian, and I
will see what we can do to slow them even more while they’re blind. It takes them time to regrow legs and heads, right?”

Midian looked aghast at the suggestion. Ekhaas would have protested herself, but Dagii met her eyes and silenced her with a shake of his head. He looked at Geth.
“Paatcha,”
he said and thumped a fist against his chest.

“We’ll be right behind you.”

The shifter charged at the glittering, dust-blind trolls. Midian, face pale, went after him. Chetiin paused for a moment, though, and glanced up at Ekhaas and Dagii.

“In case he’s wrong,” he said, “you should know I made it past the troll nest. The stairs end at some kind of shrine.”

Then he turned and followed Geth.

An old hobgoblin warrior’s proverb came to Ekhaas’s mind:
Chiit guulen pamuut ran
. “There is strength in honoring sacrifice.” She put her back to the goblin, the shifter, the gnome, and the trolls and hurried to Ashi. Dagii must have been thinking of the same proverb because he turned with her, moving with a grim expression on his face and a limp in his step. Ashi’s face was tight when they reached her. “What are Geth and the others—?”

“They’re buying us time,” said Ekhaas. “Go.”

They plunged into the thorns, moving as fast as they could. There was no need for silence now—Ashi swapped the lantern for Dagii’s sword and hacked at the brambles, clearing a path. The springy branches still leaped back and forth, leaving them all with bloody scratches on their hands and faces. The trolls were howling behind them and Geth was roaring, but Ekhaas refused to turn back and look. Abruptly, the sky was open above them, and they were out from under the trees. Only a few moments more and they were clear of the thorns altogether and racing up the grassy slope of the valley.

Flames burned on the valley rim, and big silhouettes stood against the rising disk of the orange moon Olarune. The bugbears, drawn by the howls and screams of the trolls, had emerged from their camp to stare down at the dark forest. A few of the bolder members of the tribe had crept a little way down into the valley, torches in one hand, small pots of pine pitch bound to leather slings
in the other. Confusion erupted as the bugbears spotted the three of them—clearly not trolls—climbing the slope. Ekhaas shouted at them in Goblin. “Brothers! Sisters! By the blood that makes us one people, help us! The trolls are coming! In the name of ancient Dhakaan, we need your help!”

The words were barely out of her mouth when a new crashing came from the forest and, like an explosion, two trolls erupted from the thorns. The confusion of the bugbears changed to rage and fear. A deep voice rose above the chaos. “Trolls, go back! By blood and fire, we have peace! Go back!”

As if they understood the words, the trolls came up short—then reared back, roaring and thumping big hands against their chests.

The owner of the deep voice repeated his warning. “Go back!”

The trolls whooped louder. “Torches and pitch!” the voice boomed out, and along the valley rim flames leaped higher as the bugbears began to wave their torches. The bugbears who carried them swung their pitch pots in whizzing circles, the motion fanning the smoldering flames and turning the pots into screaming balls of fire. The trolls’ cries faded and their flailing arms came down. It seemed that they grumbled to each other, then they backed away from the fiery display and disappeared into the thorns once more.

“Geth,” said Ashi numbly. “Chetiin. Midian. Where are they?”

Ekhaas turned away from the forest and climbed higher on the slope, scanning for the source of the deep voice. She found him—a big bugbear holding a massive fork-like trident.
“Chib!”
she called. “We have friends in the forest! They need help, too!”

The bugbear chief gestured with his fork.
“Utaa!”

One of the other bugbears moved, his arm whipping around as he hurled something. Ekhaas saw a heavy shape fly at her out of the night, then pain and darkness exploded in her head.

T
o Baron Breven d’Deneith, Greetings
.

The week since my last report has been eventful in Darguun. The rebel Gan’duur clan continue to raid out of their stronghold in the north of the country. Their leader, a hobgoblin named Keraal, claims the problem is with the individual warriors of his clan. He says that they are restless and that, while he disciplines them at every opportunity, their spirits will not be broken
.