The Killing Song: The Dragon Below Book III (2 page)

BOOK: The Killing Song: The Dragon Below Book III
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They weren’t alone for long, however. Also imprisoned in the dungeon was a bounty hunter who had pursued Geth and the others from Sharn, and as Geth talked with Ekhaas, he was shocked to see Vennet appear and free the hunter! And where Vennet was, Geth knew, Dah’mir couldn’t be far behind. Geth waited until Vennet and the bounty hunter were gone, then put his shame aside and went to warn the others. Rushing up the stairs from the dungeon, he was ambushed and dragged back down—by Robrand! The old man released Ekhaas, telling her to leave the keep, and imprisoned Geth in her place. Robrand had been biding his time, waiting until he could get Geth alone and take his revenge for all that he had suffered since Narath.

In the keep above, Dandra and the others encountered Tzaryan, but the ogre mage didn’t want to talk about Ekhaas, instead insisting that they accompany him to another part of the keep. Even Robrand’s appearance with claims that Geth had released Ekhaas and fled the keep with her would not deter Tzaryan.

It was a trap—Dah’mir waited for them. The dragon had guessed that they were trying to get to Taruuzh Kraat and had struck a deal with Tzaryan to betray them. Dandra’s sensitivity to Dah’mir’s presence gave her a moment’s warning of the ambush, however, and Ashi’s quick reflexes saved the two of them. Pursued by Tzaryan’s ogres, they fled into the bowels of the keep, where they would have been caught if not for the unexpected intervention of Ekhaas. The hobgoblin hadn’t fled when Robrand ordered her to but had stayed with the intention of rescuing Geth. She revealed that the Dhakaani sword he carried was an ancient artifact named Wrath, long believed lost—that he’d recovered it showed him to be a hero, not the coward Singe depicted.

Working together, the three women rescued Geth and escaped from the keep through a secret passage unknown to Tzaryan that led into the deeper caves of Taruuzh Kraat. They planned to hide and attempt to rescue Singe and the others when the time was right, but discovered that the caves were not as safe as they seemed. Geth’s sword had in fact been forged by Taruuzh himself and its presence in the cave roused the ancient
daashor
’s ghost in a storm of unnatural cold. Geth was able to convince the ghost of their good intentions and they escaped to a passage hidden off the hall of the Grieving Tree.

The ghost’s words revealed that Wrath was also part of the riddle in the hall, a riddle that concealed a lost cache of binding stones that had remained after the Battle of Moths. Dandra and Geth immediately realized the danger should Dah’mir ever learn this—but they were too late. Dah’mir had used magic to discover their refuge in the caves and while they discussed the sword, he’d been listening from the hall beyond. Tearing into the passage, he demanded that Geth surrender the sword or see Natrac, Orshok, and Singe die on the Grieving Tree, which was actually an ancient torture device. To spare his friends, Geth agreed to leave the sword outside Taruuzh Kraat for Dah’mir.

As Geth went to rescue Orshok from the Grieving Tree, however, Dah’mir’s guile was revealed. The dragon had figured out the full answer to the riddle. The presence of the Dhakaani sword and a Gatekeeper druid together beneath the Grieving Tree revealed the binding stones—they had been concealed in an ancient metal box within the tree itself. While Tzaryan and his ogres held Geth and the others at bay, Dah’mir ordered Vennet to seize the box and use one of the stones on Dandra.

Just as doom seemed certain, the desire to protect Dandra caused Ashi’s dormant House Deneith heritage to manifest and an extremely potent dragonmark—a legendary Siberys mark—to form across her body. Ashi used it to shield Dandra from Dah’mir’s power. The act also created a schism between Dandra and Tetkashtai, who had gone completely mad and was threatening to destroy Dandra. Confronting Tetkashtai within her mind, Dandra defeated her and absorbed her presence.

Their sundered mind was made whole, and Dandra assumed full command of her powers. She attempted to destroy the
binding stones but succeeded only in wounding Dah’mir. Geth also broke free and would have attacked Dah’mir. Fearing the shifter’s sword and knowing that he had the real prize of Taruuzh Kraat in his possession, Dah’mir used magic to transport himself, Vennet, and the binding stones away. Hruucan remained, still intent on killing Singe. Realizing that neither she nor Singe could damage the burning dolgaunt with their fire-based powers, Dandra tricked Hruucan into following them down to Taruuzh’s tomb where he was finally destroyed by the ghost’s icy cold.

The real fight was lost—Dah’mir had escaped with the binding stones. His magic might have taken them anywhere. Thanks to the magic of Wrath, however, Geth had understood Dah’mir’s final words to Hruucan, a riddle that Ekhaas solved. Dah’mir, they realized, was going to Sharn, the great City of Towers where Tetkashtai, Medala, and Virikhad had once lived and which was the home to the largest concentration of kalashtar on the continent. He would certainly try to use the binding stones against them to create servants for the daelkyr. The kalashtar of Sharn needed to be warned!

But the Gatekeepers of the Shadow Marches also needed to be warned of the danger presented by the Master of Silence. Reluctantly, they decided that they needed to separate. Dandra, Singe, Ashi, and Natrac—who knew the city—would go to Sharn while Geth, Orshok, and Ekhaas would go to the Shadow Marches to find Batul. Before they separated Singe confessed to Geth that what they had been through recently and his new disillusionment with his hero, Robrand, made him realize that perhaps there was more to the events at Narath than he knew. When Geth was ready to talk about it, he would listen.

Elsewhere the shattered remains of the Bonetree clan—devastated by the battle with the orcs, the vengeful attacks of Hruucan, and abandonment by Dah’mir—fled their camp at the Bonetree mound for good after watching a figure suddenly appear in the night before the mound in a flare of light. A figure that vanished just as quickly, leaving only a clashing crystalline music ringing on the air …

C
HAPTER
1

  
V
ennet d’Lyrandar stood with his eyes closed and surrendered himself to the wind. He let it buffet him, cool against the bare skin of his torso, let it pull at his long hair and push on him until he leaned. The breeze whistled into his pointed ears.
You grow stronger every day, Vennet!

The half-elf, former captain of the elemental galleon
Lightning on Water
, smiled and answered. “Just wait,” he said. “The power of my dragonmark grows. Soon I’ll have you dancing to my will.”

Dancing?
the wind asked in polite disbelief.

Vennet’s smile grew sharp. “Do you think you could resist the Siberys Mark of Storm?”

The wind had no answer for that. Its force eased. Their conversation was over for now. The wind was fickle. Sometimes it would answer, sometimes not. But Vennet had told it the simple truth. When his mark had grown into its power, the wind would be compelled to obey him. An early flush of power warmed him. He opened his eyes.

At his feet, the edge of the rough terrace on which he stood dropped away. He looked straight down into the dark depths of the canyon between Dura and Northedge, two of the plateaus on which Sharn had been built. The City of Towers soared high overhead—reaching up and up toward a narrow sliver of sky that had turned red with sunset. Across the width of the canyon and up and down its length as far as he could
see in the gloom, the huge bases of the towers spread out like the roots of an enormous forest. Night had already fallen in the lower city. Lights shone in a swarm of bright specks, lit by those who needed lanterns and cold fire to see. Around Vennet, the district of Malleon’s Gate, inhabited mostly by goblins, hobgoblins, and other creatures who were at home in the night, remained conspicuously dark.

He would rather have been amidst the heights of the towers, up in the open air where the wind was at its strongest, where the other members of House Lyrandar moved with the wealthy and powerful of Sharn and Breland. He belonged among their number. Soon, he told himself. Soon I’ll be with them.

He flexed his arms and felt the hot skin across his back and shoulders stretch tight. He could feel his dragonmark growing, transforming into a powerful Siberys mark. Such a thing was supposed to be impossible—centuries of lore said that a Siberys mark never manifested on anyone already carrying a lesser mark. Vennet almost laughed. He’d joined the cults of the Dragon Below in search of power, and power he’d received. Nothing was impossible for the dark lords of Khyber. The mark of Siberys was a gift from the master. When it had completed its transformation, there would be no more hiding. He would come forward and take his place as the greatest scion of Lyrandar that the house had ever—

“Vennet! Vennet, where are you?” Dah’mir’s voice interrupted his reverie. There was an edge to the oil-smooth tones. Dah’mir wasn’t pleased with something.

A lesser creature might have been afraid, but the Master of Silence had burned fear out of Vennet’s heart. “Here!” he called back. Only a few moments later, Dah’mir settled out of the shadows onto the terrace beside him. As he had for most of the time since they had arrived in Sharn, he wore the form of a black heron. His majestic true form would have caused too much excitement and attracted too much attention when his plans required stealth and discretion. The bird was still a dragon, however. Vennet bent his head to his master.

Dah’mir’s acid-green eyes flashed. “Speaking with the wind again, Vennet?”

Vennet was abruptly aware of his naked torso. He turned away
from the canyons and reached for his shirt, weighted down by a rock so it wouldn’t blow away. “Yes, master,” he said. He winced as the fabric of the shirt, as fine as he’d been able to get his hands on, scraped across his irritated shoulders. His growing dragonmark might have been a gift, but it also itched unbearably. “What do you need? What do you want me to do?”

When he’d first met Dah’mir, the dragon had possessed a human form that allowed him to walk easily among the lesser races. With the same power that had granted Vennet his Siberys mark, the Master of Silence had taken Dah’mir’s human form away from him as a punishment for failing the daelkyr. Vennet had become Dah’mir’s emissary to the world, his face and hands in Sharn. It was a role he played with relish, a service to the Dragon Below—a step on his path to glory.

“I want you to go to our host,” said Dah’mir. “Tell him to prepare.”

Vennet’s heart caught in anticipation. “We’re ready? So soon? But the plans—”

“Plans can be adapted. Give our host the details he needs. I will wait no more than a few days. My master waits for his new servants, and I will wear this body no longer than I must.” Dah’mir shook his wings. “Nothing must go wrong now.”

“What could go wrong?”

Dah’mir fixed him with a glittering eye, and Vennet felt his elation vanish. “Never ask that question in jest,” Dah’mir said. “I thought myself invulnerable and I was wounded. I will not allow it to happen again.”

“But Geth, Dandra, and Singe must be dead,” Vennet protested. “Hruucan or Tzaryan Rrac—”

“There’s been no word from Hruucan and no news of him either. If Hruucan failed, then Tzaryan Rrac wouldn’t have thrown his life away.”

“But we don’t know they’re alive—and they couldn’t know we’re in Sharn.”

Dah’mir’s bill clacked. “We don’t know they’re dead. And they seem to have a way of knowing things they shouldn’t. Learn, Vennet. Learn and make plans. I have made arrangements for our enemies.”

He spread his wings and hopped up onto the crumbled
remains of a wall, lifted his head and gave a whistling call. Within moments, another heron flapped out of the shadows and settled beside him. It looked similar to Dah’mir’s heron form—black feathers and green eyes—but it was subtly smaller and its feathers were ragged with a greasy sheen to them. Perhaps a dozen of the birds had accompanied them to Sharn, the remnants of a once larger flock. Vennet had often wondered if the herons’ similarity to Dah’mir was more than just coincidence. They were no ordinary birds; the one perched beside Dah’mir met the dragon’s gaze fearlessly, and it looked as if the two black birds were conversing. After a moment, the heron let out a call, spread its wings again, and flew off into the night. Other winged forms followed. Vennet watched them fly out over the raw canyon, then up among the towers until they vanished from sight.

“Plan carefully, Vennet,” Dah’mir said. “I will not fail now.”

C
HAPTER
BOOK: The Killing Song: The Dragon Below Book III
9.78Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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