The Doom of Kings_ Legacy of Dhakaan - Don Bassingthwaite [109]
“That’s not normal behavior for trolls,” said Midian. “Trolls usually eat everything in sight.”
“I don’t think these trolls act normally at all. They show far too much discipline.” His big ears twitched. “In any case, if we want to do anything about the bugbears, we need to get past the trolls first. Or wait until the morning when they’re gone.”
“We can’t wait,” said Geth. “Midian, do you have anything else useful in your pack?”
“It depends on what you consider useful. I have a few more flash pellets, but no more stench bags. No more alchemist’s fire.”
“Grandfather Rat.” Geth shifted on the uncomfortable perch of the tree branch. “We can injure the trolls, but we can’t put them down permanently.”
“We can take some of the bugbears’ torches and pitch when we come back in,” Midian said, “but that doesn’t help us now.”
Geth looked at him sharply. “Wait. Come back in?”
“You’re coming back into the valley, aren’t you?” asked Midian. “The rod is still in here.”
“Past the trolls? That’s crazy.”
The words sounded hollow, though. In the pit of his stomach, he knew he’d come back. He’d promised Haruuc he would follow Wrath’s blade, and if the blade pointed into the valley …
“We’d need to avoid the trolls and maybe fight them on the way out,” he said, “then again on the way back in. We don’t even know what’s at the bottom of that staircase.”
“I do,” Chetiin said.
Geth looked him in astonishment.
“I went past the troll nest before I returned. There’s a rock wall at the bottom of the pit and some kind of shrine built against it.” The goblin returned Geth’s gaze and added slowly. “I think I have a way to stop the trolls.”
“Sage’s shadow!” Midian choked. “Why haven’t you used it already?”
Chetiin scowled. “It’s not something to be used lightly.” He held out his right arm, wrist turned up to show the sheathed dagger that was strapped there, the dagger that Geth had noticed he never used. “The shaarat’khesh call this Witness. It is a treasure of my clan, an honor to the one chosen to carry it. It is not drawn except to kill—and the soul of what it kills is trapped forever. Those slain by it are forever dead. No magic in the world can bring them back, not the prayers of priests or the wishes of wizards.”
He eased the dagger a little way out of its sheath. If Geth had thought the curved dagger the goblin wore on his left arm was a sinister piece of work, the dagger on his right brought an eerie prickle to his skin. It was a plain weapon in shape and color, dull metal forged into a tool with no other purpose than killing. The steel of the dagger, however, was etched with a single twisted rune—and set with a long blue-black crystal that resembled a slit eye peering out of the blade.
The crystal, Geth knew, was a Khyber dragonshard, valued by wizards and artificers for its affinity for magic of binding and trapping. The idea that such a shard would have been used in a weapon was somehow deeply troubling. He looked away.
Midian had turned from the dagger, too. “That’s a Keeper’s Fang. Why would you even have something like that?” he asked, his voice thick.
“When the shaarat’khesh kill, it’s a matter of pride to know that the task is complete beyond any doubt.” Chetiin pushed the blade back out of sight and lowered his arm. “Its power might stop a troll from healing—if it’s used to strike the killing blow.”
“Trapping the troll’s soul,” Midian said.
Chetiin frowned at him. “Do you think a troll would be less dead if we burned it to death? What about the troll you left by the steps? When we fled, it was still alive. It may never die or fully heal. Is that a kindness?”
Wolf and Tiger, thought Geth. He drew a breath and let it out before making a decision. “We’ll try to sneak past the trolls first, and use