“I cannot kill you,” said Dabrak, “but I can hurt you. You can still feel pain. You will be silent, rat, or your mistress will have to carry your quivering carcass out of here.” He seated himself and glared at Ekhaas. “As you can see, I am no longer the Shaking Emperor. I am without fear. You have heard my story. Now tell me yours, duur’kala. If you are not assassins, why are you here? Why have you used Aram to find me?”
Ekhaas pulled her eyes away from Midian, sitting pale-faced and wide-eyed on the ground, his mouth still firmly closed. She looked to Dabrak, and Ashi could tell that she was choosing her next words carefully. “Take no offense, Marhu Dabrak. We sought what we believed to be your grave. We come charged with a quest by a great ruler who seeks to prevent a terrible division among the people.” She bowed her head. “We come for Guulen, the Rod of Kings.”
Emotion flared in Dabrak’s eyes. His body shifted subtly and he held the rod close to him, as if Ekhaas might at any moment leap up and try to grab it away. “No,” he said softly, fearfully. “You can’t take it. I need it. I vowed that I would return, and I will. I’ve faced my fears.”
Ekhaas kept her voice low and soothing. “It doesn’t seem to me that you’ve faced your fears. You’ve only found a way to avoid them. Are you really ready to leave the Uura Odaarii?”
“I will be!” Dabrak looked up at her. “One day I will be. The rod is mine by right, and you won’t take it. I am the emperor!”
“Marhu, there is no more empire.”
Dabrak flinched in shock. “No more empire? By the Six Kings, what happened to it?”
“Time. Dhakaan has fallen.”
“Time?” His shriveled ears flicked and stood back in disbelief. “Dhakaan, the empire of ten thousand years, fallen in only a few centuries? How can that be?”
Ashi looked to Ekhaas. So did all the others. Ashi felt her stomach tighten into a wary knot. Ekhaas paused for a moment, then faced Dabrak again. “Is that how long you think it’s been since you entered the cavern? A few centuries?”
“Long enough,” said Dabrak defensively. “You said the world thinks me dead.”
“The world thought you dead more than five thousand years ago, marhu. The Empire of Dhakaan has been only memory for millennia.” Ekhaas rose to her feet. “The Kech Volaar preserve its lore. A few other clans respect its traditions. Most of the dar remember it only as an inspiring legend.”
“It’s not possible.” Dabrak clutched the rod even more tightly. “I’ve been aware of every passing moment. I would have known-”
“How many generations of trolls have there been? How long did Rhazala and your guards wait before they fled?” Ekhaas pointed at the discarded knife. “We found that among the offerings in the shrine. Rhazala must have left it behind. Everything of value had been taken.”
“Lies,” Dabrak whimpered. “Lies. There is no future in the Uura Odaarii. I have nothing to fear.”
Geth stood and spoke, his voice taut. He didn’t bother trying to speak Goblin. “Ekhaas, I’ve heard of something like this in the Eldeen Reaches. There are parts of the forest where a night in a fairy glade can turn into a year. What if this cavern is like that? We could come out and find we’ve been gone for months.”
Dabrak’s head came up. “What did the beast man say?” he demanded.
“He said that we’ve been here too long,” the duur’kala said grimly, her ears back flat against her head. “You have, too, Dabrak.”
Dry lips peeled back from sharp teeth. “Taat! You will address me as I deserve to be addressed!”
The rest of them rose as well. “What do we do?” Dagii asked, speaking the human tongue.
“We ask for the rod again,” said Chetiin. “If he won’t give it to us, we take it.”
“Your dagger…?” Geth asked him.
“Will work only if I can strike a killing blow, and we’ve seen that won’t work. I think we can overpower him.”
“Be careful,” Ashi warned them. “He’s stronger than he looks.”
Dabrak followed their words with his eyes. “What are you saying?” he demanded. “What are you doing?”
Ekhaas looked at him and Ashi heard the soft persuasion of a duur’kala enter her voice. “Give us the rod, Dabrak. It does you no good here, but if we take it, perhaps a new Dhakaan can rise again.” She stretched out her hand.
He stared at it, then looked up to her. His body began to shake, not from fear but from anger. “No,” he said. “No!” He started to rise from his chair. “I am Dabrak Riis, marhu of Dhakaan, twenty-third lord of the Riis Dynasty-”
“Get him!” roared Geth.
But the rod lashed out. “-and you will kneel all before me!”
The power of the rod drove Ashi down before she could even think of resisting. It slammed against her mind with as much force as her knees slammed against the cavern floor. She saw Ekhaas, struggling against the compulsion, draw breath, perhaps to blast Dabrak with a song of magic, but the withered emperor held out the rod again. “You are slaves,” he snarled. “You belong to me, You will not rise up against your master.”
Ekhaas sagged back, her lips falling slack. On Ashi’s other side, Chetiin drooped with a groan. Ashi tried to fight back against the rod’s power, tried to throw it off, but she could feel herself slipping under its influence. The marhu was her master. She couldn’t rise against him.
But beyond Ekhaas, beyond Dagii, one figure was still standing firm against Dabrak’s commands. Geth. For a moment, he looked confused, then he glanced at the sword in his hand and smiled. He lifted Wrath.
“Two artifacts forged from a single vein of byeshk by the hand of Taruuzh,” he said in broken Goblin.
Dabrak’s ears went back. “Even when the shield had been shattered and the sword lost, legends were passed from marhu to heir that they were the only things capable of resisting the power of the rod. It seems the legends were right.”
“Give me the rod.” Geth dropped into a fighting stance, Wrath’s twilight blade crossed over the black steel of his great gauntlet.
“Give me the sword, beast-man.” Dabrak reached into the folds of cloth that draped his chair and drew out a sword. It was a little lighter than Wrath and forged of steel instead of byeshk, but it was still a good blade. He stepped clear of the chair and those who knelt before it.
Geth followed, circling him like a wolf.
Dabrak turned to keep him in sight. “What will you do, beast-man?” he asked. “You can’t kill me.”
“No,” Geth growled, “but I can hurt you.” He lunged, byeshk ringing on steel as he spread his arms. The gauntlet rose to block Dabrak’s sword while Wrath cut low. Dabrak moved with surprising speed, though, kicking back to escape the blow. The sword caught only silk, and even that was left unharmed. Geth pressed closer to try another swing, but Dabrak turned sharply and was suddenly behind him on his sword arm side.
Geth got Wrath up in time to tangle Dabrak’s sword, but the sword wasn’t the hobgoblin’s only weapon. With the same strength that had thrown Ashi into a wall, he slammed the rod into Geth’s bandaged shoulder. Geth grunted and twisted away. The shifter and the hobgoblin circled each other for a moment, then crashed together again in another flurry of blows.
The pair was evenly matched, neither finding any advantage over the other, both invulnerable in the weird timelessness of the cavern. There was something about the battle that brought a new fire to Ashi’s heart, though. Every attack that Geth made, every blow that he took seemed to give her a little more strength to push back the domination of the rod. She wanted to cheer for Geth, even as the rod’s power reminded her that Dabrak was her master, that she must remain kneeling as he had ordered.
No, she told herself. Geth is fighting for us-we should be fighting for him.
And a bit of what Senen Dhakaan had said of the creation of Wrath came back to her. Aram represented the inspiration that heroes provided for the people.
She clenched her teeth and pushed harder against the hopelessness brought down by the power of the rod.