The Doom of Kings: Legacy of Dhakaan - Book 1 (45 page)

She saw the lhesh’s head turn, then Thuun had her hood up again. Had Haruuc seen her? The other false guards grabbed her. She resisted and kicked, not at them, but backward out from under the edge of the cloak. The enveloping fabric rode up, exposing not the clothes of someone seized on the streets, but the fine dress and shoes of a courtier.

“Halt!”
Haruuc’s voice was thunder. Vounn heard the whinny of horses turned hard, then a curse from Thuun. His hands released her. She spun as the other guards, not as quick to react, continued to grab for her. Her hood slipped back and she saw Haruuc riding straight for her.

The lhesh stood in his stirrups, as powerful a warrior as she had ever seen. The deep yellow of his skin was like dark gold against the steel of his armor. The spikes of his crown and those set into the joints of his armor flashed as if he were surrounded by blades, but only one blade really stood out—the
shaarat’kor
, the famous scarlet blade, was a streak of blood on the air as
Haruuc drew it. The hobgoblins grappling her saw him as well. They screamed and dropped her, fleeing after Thuun. Vounn fell, unable to catch herself, unable to take her eyes from Haruuc’s charge.

This was what the troops of Breland and Cyre had seen thirty years ago. A king among the goblins. An unstoppable force. A warrior clad in gold and steel and blood. Her breath caught in her throat. If she had been standing against him, she didn’t think she could have raised a weapon to save her life.

His horse passed so close she felt the drumming of its hooves in the ground and caught its smell on the wind of its passage. She twisted around, captivated. The first hobgoblin hadn’t gotten far. The
shaarat’kor
cut the air. Blood sprayed out, spattering her like warm rain. The hobgoblin’s body toppled back, motion arrested by the force of Haruuc’s blow. A section of his head landed on the ground just in front of her.

The second hobgoblin threw himself at the door of a house. The wood splintered under the impact but held. He pulled back to try again. Before he could, something hissed above Vounn’s head. The hobgoblin jerked back, then slid down the doorframe with one of Vanii’s axes splitting his breastbone.

Then there was just Thuun, running hard and weaving from side to side as he sought an escape. Haruuc galloped after him. He didn’t raise his sword again, but just ran him down. Thuun shrieked as the horse’s bulk knocked him to the street and the animal’s hooves hammered his body. He curled into a ball and stayed that way as Haruuc wheeled his horses around. Thuun screamed again, but Haruuc reined in his mount and slid from the saddle. Thuun’s scream faded away and he looked up to find the lhesh standing over him, red sword dripping blood onto the ground. Thuun whimpered.

Vanii dismounted beside Vounn and helped her stand. “Have you been harmed?”

The fumes of the rag still made her head spin a little, but they were easing. “No,” she said, then called out to Haruuc. “He kidnapped me in Khaar Mbar’ost by pretending to be Thuun. He’s a changeling.”

Haruuc’s ears went back. “Show me your true face,
gaa’ma,”
he growled.

Thuun nodded and his hobgoblin features seemed to melt and flow across his face. Nose and mouth faded, becoming almost half-formed. His eyes became wide and milky, his hair white. His skin turned soft and dusky gray. His body shrank a little as well, so that Thuun’s armor was loose on him.
Gaa’ma
, the Goblin term for changelings, literally meant “wax baby,” Vounn knew. It suited the creature that lay still under Haruuc’s sword.

The lhesh shifted the blade so the blood that ran off it fell in drops on the changeling’s face. “You were hired to kidnap Lady Seneschal Vounn d’Deneith?”

The changeling nodded.

“By who?”

“A hobgoblin—he wore a mask and called himself Wuud.”

“Like all the others,” Vanii murmured.

Vounn glanced at him, but he said nothing else.

Haruuc’s face betrayed nothing except anger and contempt. “You give away easily what you know,” he said.

“I was paid to snatch the Deneith envoy, not fight the lhesh,” the changeling said. “I’ll tell you anything you want, but there isn’t much I know.”

“I didn’t imagine there was. Where were you taking her?”

“A boat waiting outside of Rhukaan Draal, above the first cataract of the Ghaal. Wuud’s men will take her from there.”

Haruuc looked to one of the soldiers who had been with him. “You—gather a squad and investigate. Bring back anyone you find” His glance shifted to two others. “You take this
taat
back to Khaar Mbar’ost. I want him held in an isolated cell—we may need his word later.”

The soldiers hastened to obey their commands. When the changeling had been seized and led away, Haruuc came over to Vounn, still standing with Vanii’s support. “I apologize, Lady Vounn,” he said. “Such things shouldn’t happen in Khaar Mbar’ost. I can assure you that the real Thuun is no changeling.”

“I’m fine,” Vounn said. “I hope Thuun is too.”

The stiffening of Haruuc’s ears, however, suggested that he suspected the same thing she did: the real Thuun was dead,
removed so that the changeling could take his place without threat of being revealed. Vounn moved on to something else. “When the changeling mentioned a masked hobgoblin, Vanii said, ‘Like all the others.’ What does that mean? Have there been other kidnappings?”

Haruuc gave his
shava
a disapproving look and shook his head. “No, but all those captured near the burning buildings so far have been locals, all hired by a masked hobgoblin calling himself Wuud. The fires and your kidnapping were coordinated.”

“Keraal,” said Vounn. The Gan’duur had tried to kidnap her once before. The disappearance of a senior member of House Deneith would be as embarrassing for Haruuc now as it would have been then.

“There’s no evidence to prove it,” Haruuc said. “More important, how could he have been here to hire them? We’ve been watching Gan’duur territory.” He shook his head again. “But you should worry about these things in Khaar Mbar’ost. Go back to your chambers and rest.” He gestured for another guard. “Escort Lady Vounn. Let her ride your horse if she needs.”

“Thank you, but no,” Vounn said. “I need to get to the Deneith enclave.”

“We’ve been past it,” Haruuc told her. “It suffered less damage than the other targets we’ve seen. Your clerks know their duty— there were crates full of records being carried away from the flames. I offered them the shelter of Khaar Mbar’ost.”

Vounn nodded. “Thank you, lhesh.”

“Thank me by returning to Khaar Mbar’ost until the city is quiet again.” He held the soldier’s mount for her and she nodded her thanks again.

As she urged the animal around to face Haruuc’s fortress, a messenger on a wild-eyed horse came clattering along the street. “Lhesh!” he called. “There’s been an arrest—a group entering the city by the south who refused to surrender their arms. They claim they have come to see you.”

Haruuc stiffened and met Vounn’s eyes for a moment, then looked back to the messenger. “Two hobgoblins, a goblin, a gnome, a shifter, and a human?”

The messenger looked startled, then frightened. “They shouldn’t be arrested?”

“Did they have any message for me?” Haruuc demanded.

The messenger just looked more frightened. “They said, ‘Success,’ lhesh.”

Vounn saw the pallor that crept under Haruuc’s skin, but his face and the hand that he held on her horse were steady. “Take a message back to your commander,” he told the messenger. “The travelers are to be escorted to Khaar Mbar’ost immediately!”

“Mazo,”
the messenger said and rode off.

Haruuc looked to Vounn and Vanii.

“Maabet
, they’ve done it!” Vanii said. “They’ve returned!”

“So they have,” Haruuc said—and Vounn saw the glint of a plan form in his eyes. “Vounn, I need you to take a message to Munta at Khaar Mbar’ost for me. Tell him that Geth and the others are to be given refreshments but kept away from everyone. Tell him to recall the warlords immediately and to summon all the dignitaries in Rhukaan Draal to my throne room.”

“You want a full court to see the rod presented to you,” said Vounn.

“Cho
—that, too.” Haruuc’s eyes were very bright. “Tell Munta to order troops and supplies drawn up as well. Gantii Vus and Rhukaan Taash to start. I think others will join us, but I want an army ready to march north within four days.”

Vounn’s eyebrows rose.

Vanii’s ears stiffened. “We’re attacking the Gan’duur?” the
shava
asked. “But Keraal still has us trapped. The other warlords won’t accept—”

“Keraal has
me
trapped,” said Haruuc, “but Geth has brought something back with him that’s nearly as valuable as the rod right now.” He looked at Vounn. “Ride! Munta must act!”

T
heir return to Rhukaan Draal was not quite as triumphant as Ekhaas had imagined it might be. All the stories she knew told of heroes returning from quests to the cheers of the people and the gratitude of lords. It was peculiarly dissatisfying to have been greeted with detention, then an escort through nearly empty streets, only to be met at the gates of Khaar Mbar’ost by Munta the Gray and hustled away into hiding. Munta himself had brought them food, drink, and wash basins like a common servant. He didn’t even ask to see the rod.

Then again, most heroes did not return to a city with smoke hanging over it and signs of hunger and violence in the streets. The return journey to Rhukaan Draal had been too swift for them to stop and talk to people, but it had been hard to miss the unease that gripped Darguun as they traveled back north. Burned fields and holds, rotting bodies hung up like a warning—they’d even been attacked by bandits on the road south of the city, a sure sign of trouble if thieves were willing to ambush an obviously well-armed band. Munta, as he came and went, would give them no hint of what had been happening while they were away. No one else came to see them either. Not Haruuc, not Tariic, not Senen Dhakaan, not Vounn d’Deneith.

Which was probably just as well. Ekhaas looked around the chamber—luxurious enough that it must have been meant as a waiting room for visiting dignitaries—in which Munta had hidden them. She and the others had spread themselves out in the room’s
chairs and couches, each of them alone in their own private space and each of them, she suspected, thinking about the secret they had sworn to keep. They’d managed to make the hurried journey back to Rhukaan Draal as if nothing were wrong, but now that they were here, the decision they’d made in the hidden valley seemed to have grown heavier.

If asked for the story of what happened in the Uura Odaarii, they would speak only of Dabrak Riis’s use of the strange magic of the cavern against them. An omission wasn’t really a lie. No one beyond the six of them would ever know what power the Rod of Kings truly had.

The door of the chamber opened, and Munta appeared once again. If he felt the tension in the room, he didn’t let it show on his face. “It’s time,” he said. “We’re ready.”

“Ready?” Ashi asked.

Munta’s ears twitched and a smile spread across his face. “Ready to welcome you like the heroes you are!” He held out a tray polished to a high gloss, so freshly cleaned that Ekhaas could smell the wax, with a piece of rich gold cloth on it. “For you to carry the rod, Geth. We want everyone to see it.”

“Who’s everyone?” asked Ashi again.

“Everyone,”
Munta said with satisfaction.

Geth came forward with a long pouch fashioned from common wool, a strip torn from a blanket if the undignified truth had to be told. He loosened the simple twist of cord that held it closed, reached inside, and slid out the Rod of Kings. Munta’s eyes went wide at the sight of it. Ekhaas saw Midian and Dagii look away, though, and none of the others gazed too closely at the rod. If they’d found themselves avoiding discussion of their secret on the journey, they’d also found themselves shying away from the rod. As the first one to grasp it, Geth had been appointed the rod’s keeper with unspoken assent—no one else had wanted to touch it. Ekhaas and Midian had inspected the simple shaft and examined the runes on it, but not as closely as they once might have. Geth had held the rod for them.

Laid out on the tray, though, purple byeshk against rich gold, it did have a certain majesty. A sense of excitement rose
inside her. The rod wasn’t just an artifact of the great empire. It was something that had been held by the hands of countless emperors. It had seen the rise and fall of dynasties. And she had helped find it. Ekhaas of Kech Volaar had helped to bring it back into the world.

“This is what’s going to happen,” Munta said, passing the tray to Geth, then leading them out of the chamber and into the corridor. “Haruuc wants to have a very public presentation of the rod so that everyone who matters knows how important it is. The presentation will take place in the throne room. As you enter, a
duur’kala
will tell the story of the rod. When you reach the foot of the throne, Tariic—as a representative of the people—will take the rod and give it to Haruuc, who will then speak. After that, there’s no particular order of ceremonies you need to follow. Haruuc’s instructions will guide you.”