battlefield.
A memory of Breek washed over Geth, a vision of Adolan's eagle soaring high into the air before plunging down in a devastating strike. His stomach clenched. He beat back a flurry of attacks from a dolgrim, then hammered his armored fist into the creature's face. The dolgrim staggered back with the bloody imprint of his knuckles stamped over a shattered cheek. Geth leaped after the others. He peered ahead, trying to keep them all on a path through melee and toward the mouth of the mound.
There was a figure in the shadows, tall and powerful with long, dark gold hair. Ashi, watching the flow of battle. Her eyes met briefly with Geth's, and he felt a twinge of astonishment as the hunter gave him a slight nod before glancing back as if speaking to someone hidden deeper in the tunnel. 'She has her!' Geth said to Singe as the fighting pushed them together again. 'Grandfather Rat, I think Ashi has Dandra! They're just inside the mound!'
'If they're smart, they'll stay there!' Singe wheezed.
Blood flecked the wizard's lips and his face had gone pale again. Orshok's potion hadn't healed all of his wounds. Geth didn't think Singe could go on fighting much longer. Dah'mir's return wasn't the only thing they were racing. He swept his arm into the air, urging the others forward. 'Hurry!' he shouted. 'To the mound!'
'Wait!' said Krepis. He pointed with his hunda stick. 'There's Batul!'
Geth turned to follow the pointing stick. Surrounded by dolgrims, the old druid stood back to back with two Fat Tusk orcs. Geth bared his teeth, torn by a primal desire to seek shelter and the need to help an ally. He raised his sword and ordered, 'Break them free!'
He led the charge across the battlefield-now nearly empty of everything but dolgrims, the dead, and the wounded. He whirled and darted, slashing at the dolgrims with the heavy sword, sweeping their attacks aside with his magewrought gauntlet. A spear reached under his arm and creased shifting-toughened skin. Geth roared and lashed out with a kick that sank into the dolgrim's gut and doubled it over, both mouths screeching in pain. An overhand blow cut deep into the deformed skull of another dolgrim-and they were through, standing beside Batul and his guardians and fighting back the rest of the dolgrims.
Geth threw a glance at the elderly orc. 'Tell me you didn't expect this!'
'I didn't expect it!' Batul's hunda stick was smeared with gore and he was bleeding from a gash under his good eye. 'A true dragon leading a cult of the Dragon Below… not even the wildest tales of Gatekeeper lore hint at something like this!' A dolgrim tried to break through the circle of Batul's protectors. The druid swung his hunda in a sharp blow that sent it hopping back, then fixed his eye on Geth. 'There may be a way to escape Dah'mir-if you have the strength for it.'
Something in Batul's voice lifted the hair on Geth's neck and arms. 'What?'
'Gatekeeper magic and Dhakaani weapons together ended the Daelkyr War. Dah'mir isn't a creature of Xoriat or a creation of the daelkyr, but he carries their taint. I have Gatekeeper magic. You have a Dhakaani weapon.'
The flow of battle surged and shifted, leaving them in the clear for a moment. Geth stared at Batul. 'You want me to kill a dragon?'
'No.' Batul's hands tightened on his hunda. 'Nothing either of us can do could kill him. But we can wound him and give the others a chance to escape.'
The shifter caught the omission in his words. 'The others,' he said, 'but not us.'
Batul nodded. For a moment, Geth's heart thundered in his chest, then he nodded in return-
— just as Singe shouted out 'Twelve moons! He's back!' Geth's gaze snapped up to the sky.
Dah'mir's descent from the night came like a storm. He swooped in from the east, a dark and speeding mass in the cloud-shrouded moonlight. As he swept into the magical light that illuminated the battlefield, color seemed to explode across his scales-a lightning flash of dulled copper tinged with corroded black. Thunder clapped with the spread of his wings and rolled through the ground as he settled at the other end of the battlefield. His green eyes shone with rage and his blunt muzzle was open to expose huge teeth. Even the dolgrims scurried away from him, their cheers fading in fright.
An enormous, sharp-pointed tongue slipped out of Dah'mir's mouth and licked blood off the scales of his face. More blood stained his talons. Geth guessed that some of those orc raiders, maybe even some of the Bonetree hunters, who had fled the battlefield weren't fleeing any longer. The shifter dropped slowly into a defensive stance, sword and gauntlet raised together, as if an attempt at defense would do any good at all.
Alongside him, Singe, Natrac, Krepis, and Orshok raised their weapons as well. Geth glanced at Batul. The Gatekeeper had closed his eyes. Geth adjusted his grip on the Dhakaani sword, trying to settle his sweating palm around the hilt.
Singe's eyes were on Dah'mir. 'What's he waiting for?' he asked.
'He's waiting,' said Medala's harsh voice, 'for me.'
Battle-trained reflexes and nerves already on edge brought Geth snapping around. Medala stood like an iron pillar in the midst of the carnage of the battleground. Her body was rigid with rage, the veins and muscles of her thin neck standing out like cables. Her arms were stiff at her side, her eyes wide with an insane hatred.
As fast as his reflexes might have been, thought was faster. The crystalline tone of a chime seemingly so loud that it could have roused the dead shimmered through him-and all at once his chest squeezed tight, forcing the breath out of his lungs. Darkness swept around the edges of his vision and it was all Geth could do to gasp for air. The chime echoed in his mind, rolling on and on. Geth could see the others reeling around him as well. Krepis was clutching his throat. Batul sagged against his staff. Singe was on his knees, sucking in breath after wracking breath.
'You think you can escape?' spat Medala, her voice rising into a shriek. 'You think you can find shelter from my master's wrath? There is none! Khyber waits below all things and the lords of Khyber count Dah'mir among their greatest servants! There will be no more defiance from you!'
Every word seemed to grate across the lingering echoes in Geth's mind. He could feel Adolan's collar cold around his neck, but unlike the protection the Gatekeeper stones had offered from the mental attack of the mind flayer or Dah'mir's commanding presence, the ancient magic seemed to falter before Medala's psionic power. Geth tried to heave himself up straight, to swing his sword at Medala, but all he could manage was a feeble stagger.
Medala's eyes flashed and agony crashed through him in another ringing chime. He fell against the ground and his next breath sucked in gritty soil.
In the darkness of the mound, Dandra pressed her back against the packed earth of the tunnel wall and listened to the noises of the battle outside. Cheers of triumph from dolgrims, terrible cries from people dying a horrible death.
'He spits acid!' said Ashi in shock. The big hunter stood closer to the tunnel mouth, motionless in the thin shadows, describing what was taking place outside. 'Dandra, he spits acid!'
Dandra could hear the rage and fear that trembled in Ashi's voice. She squeezed her eyes shut, half-glad that she couldn't see what the hunter did, half-sick that she didn't even dare to look. Dah'mir's transformation hadn't diminished his fascinating, captivating presence at all-it might have even increased it. As the dragon had taken to the air, Dandra had felt his power tug on her. She'd hurled herself back into the shadows but she didn't dare look out on the battlefield again. 'Singe?' she asked Ashi. 'Geth? Are they still-?'
'They're alive and fighting,' Ashi said. 'They're coming this way-maybe trying to rescue you, maybe just looking for shelter!'
Dandra's eyes snapped open as new hope kindled in her heart. 'Where's Dah'mir?'
Ashi leaned out of the mound mouth slightly. 'I don't see him.' She glanced back. 'Dandra, Dah'mir's age, his power-the Bonetree thought they were gifts of the Dragon Below. We didn't know…'
'It doesn't matter now!' Dandra sprang away from the wall and up to the gaping mouth. The air outside was heavy with the smell of blood and battle, but compared to the air within the mound, it was sweet. She peered out cautiously. There was no sign of Dah'mir, but that could change at any moment. Across the battlefield, Geth, Singe, and their band of orcs had turned aside, going to the aid of an old orc who fought with surprising vitality in spite of his age.
Caught in the heat of battle, they didn't see Medala rise from the ground of the battlefield, fury gathered around her like a cloak.
