soldier tried to catch him off balance with a sweeping blow. Geth threw himself away-or tried to. The blood of the first hobgoblin slid under his feet. He fell to his knees, hand slamming into the gory muck to keep him from pitching forward onto his face. The soldier of Darguun loomed over him and raised his sword high — and jerked back as a crossbow bolt punched through his armor to bury itself in his chest. Geth reared up and slashed out with Wrath, shearing through chain mail, thick padding, and flesh. More blood soaked the ground. Geth rose and spared a glance for the source of the bolt. Tenquis cranked back the string of a crossbow for another shot while Ekhaas, sword out, moved to meet two more soldiers.
The hobgoblin who had led the patrol snarled and lunged for Geth. Most dar swords were forged in the same traditional style, millennia old, as Wrath-heavy blades sharp on one side and deeply serrated on the other, their broad ends slightly forked but not pointed. They were weapons for hacking and chopping and slashing but not for thrusting. The patrol leader, however, carried a human sword, narrow tip ground sharp. Geth jerked to one side as the sword darted at him, stepped inside the hobgoblin’s extended reach, and punched him hard in his flat-nosed, sharp-boned face. The hobgoblin’s ears sagged, his eyes rolled up, and he toppled backward.
Near the fire, the soldiers who faced Ekhaas hesitated. Half of their patrol was dead, and their leader was down. Geth saw them glance at each other, weighing the option of retreat.
Ekhaas didn’t let them decide. She thrust out her free hand and sang a burst of song that cracked and popped with wild energy. Brilliant light flared from her palm, bright at a distance, blinding close up. As the soldiers yelped and squinted, Ekhaas struck. One soldier went down with a bloody gash from shoulder to navel. The other got his sword up, parrying Ekhaas’s in a clang of metal. The two hobgoblins traded blows back and forth-until Ekhaas suddenly jumped clear. The soldier held his next strike, confused.
Then Chetiin slipped in front of him and thrust his dagger up under the soldier’s ribs. The soldier’s confusion drained away into the shock of death. Chetiin pulled his dagger free, and the hobgoblin sank to the ground.
The soldier Geth had kicked in the stomach, the last one standing, stared in dismay at the devastation inflicted so swiftly on his patrol. Still wheezing and hunched over, he turned and fled.
Tenquis raised his crossbow and whispered a word. Blue light flared, lighting the dark skin of his face. He pulled the trigger of the crossbow, and the bolt leaped away in a hissing blue streak — that missed. It hit the trunk of a tree and stuck there, crackling and spitting sparks. The soldier ducked and kept running.
He took perhaps six more strides before a shadow seemed to separate itself from the night and leap on him with a terrible snarl. Teeth flashed as they closed on the back of the hobgoblin’s neck. Powerful muscles bunched and shook the soldier like a toy. The snap of his neck was loud. Marrow tossed the soldier away, then sat back on her haunches and licked her bloody muzzle. Chetiin’s big, black, wolflike mount had caught up to them on the first day of their flight. Chetiin had been evasive about whether the worg had found them on her own or if he had somehow summoned her. Geth hadn’t pressed the question. One more ally was one more ally. Silence returned to the night.
“Better?” Ekhaas asked Geth as she wiped her sword.
“Not really, no,” he said as he straddled the unconscious leader of the patrol, and slapped the hobgoblin.
His eyelids fluttered open. Geth put Wrath across the hobgoblin’s throat, steadying the blade with his gauntleted hand. “How many patrols are in the hills?” he asked in Goblin. The words were awkward, his accent thick-Wrath’s magic might allow him to understand the language of the dar, but it didn’t enable him to speak it.
The soldier’s ears flicked as the others gathered around. His eyes darted between Geth and Ekhaas, with side trips to Chetiin and the dagger still in his hand, and to Tenquis, running fingers along his crossbow. Geth pressed down a little on Wrath to encourage a swift response. The soldier’s eyes widened and came back to him.
“Lhesh Tariic ordered the Gold Hand battalion into the foothills under the command of Daavn of Marhaan.”
Geth glanced up at Chetiin. The goblin gave a nod of approval.
Senen Dhakaan had told them to seek refuge in Volaar Draal, stronghold of the Kech Volaar-southwest of Rhukaan Draal. But Tariic, whatever else he might be, was no fool. Traveling south with a duur’kala of the Kech Volaar among them would have given away their destination. So they’d turned their flight from Rhukaan Draal to the northwest instead, hoping that the lhesh would believe they sought to reach Marguul Pass and Breland beyond it.
If Tariic had ordered one of his most trusted advisors into the mountains, their ruse had worked-maybe too well. A battalion’s worth of patrols searching the hills…
Geth looked back down at his prisoner. “Did you signal another patrol that you’d found us?” he asked.
Desperate guile stirred in the soldier’s face as he tried to think of an answer that would save his life. Geth pressed a little harder with Wrath. “Doovol,” he said. Truth.
“Daavn commanded it.”
Fresh anger twisted in Geth. He leaned hard on Wrath’s blade.
Sharp metal with the weight of a shifter behind it sliced through the hobgoblin’s throat. The patrol leader barely had time to look surprised before the sword crunched through bone and his head separated from his body.
It wasn’t as good as killing Tariic, but it was good enough. Geth rose. “More patrols coming,” he said.
“Khaavolaar,” Ekhaas said between her teeth. “I should have finished Daavn when I had the chance at Haruuc’s tomb.”
“Regret is the blade that wounds over and over again,” said Chetiin. “We haven’t come to the end yet.”
“The farther we go, the longer the journey back to Volaar Draal will be.”
“We don’t need to go farther.” Moonlight glittered on the golden orbs of Tenquis’s eyes, from the gold flecks in the polished horns that grew back from his brow, and on the short spikes that edged his chin like a goatee. “We can lay a false trail northward for a short distance from this spot and leave our fire smoldering in the morning. The smoke will draw other patrols here-the deaths will enrage them, and they’ll follow the most obvious trail. Vengeance blinds hobgoblins.”
Ekhaas’s grimace became a narrow glance, but Chetiin nodded. “It will work.” Ekhaas turned her glare on him. The old goblin just spread his hands. “He is right. It is how ghuul’dar will react. Tenquis would make a good golin’dar.”
Ghuul’dar and golin’dar-the ancient Goblin words for hobgoblins, the mighty people, and goblins, the quick people. Not just quick for their speed, but also their cunning. Geth was glad that Chetiin was on their side and not, as he’d thought after Haruuc’s death, an enemy. “That sounds like a plan,” he said, “but we should at least make a show of hiding the bodies. It would seem odd if we left them out in the open.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “There’s a gully back there. I’ll go find their horses-”
Marrow interrupted with a growl and a whuff. Her reddish eyes flashed in the firelight, and she turned to disappear into the night. “She says she’ll deal with the horses,” translated Chetiin.
Geth looked after the worg, then shrugged and sheathed Wrath. As Chetiin and Ekhaas moved to deal with the other fallen soldiers, he reached down and took hold of the patrol leader’s body by the ankles, ready to drag the decapitated corpse into the undergrowth.
Tenquis stayed close. “He died too easily,” he said. “You should have let me talk to him.”
Geth followed his gaze down to the head and body of the soldier, then glanced back up at the tiefling. His gut clenched, anger and sorrow coming back as if they would never leave him. The feeling almost choked him. “Maybe I should have.”
“Next time.” Tenquis seized the hobgoblin’s head by its lank black hair and held it up so that he could stare into the vacant eyes. Blood dripped from the severed neck, spattering fallen leaves at Tenquis’s feet. The tiefling stood looking at the head for a long moment, then spun around sharply and hurled it off into the darkness. It crashed through dry branches like some great clumsy bird before hitting an unseen tree with a solid thunk. Tenquis bent and hooked his arms under the dead soldier’s arms to help Geth carry the body.
Chetiin wasn’t the only one Geth was glad to have as a friend rather than as an enemy.
“Tenquis,” he said, “why are you doing this? Why are you still with us? You didn’t know Ashi. You met her- what? Three times? The only reason you even came to Tariic’s notice is because you created the false Rod of Kings for us.”
Tenquis, still bent over, hands under the soldier, twisted his neck to look up at Geth. “And because you came
