The Doom of Kings_ Legacy of Dhakaan - Don Bassingthwaite [112]
“How many trolls did we see, Dagii?” Ashi asked. “Ten?”
“Nine,” the hobgoblin said, speaking through his teeth. He was still crouched beside Ekhaas, his arms straining as if he were trying to snap the leather thongs that bound him—or maybe just stretch them enough to work a hand free. He relaxed for a moment and caught his breath. “Chetiin described a nest of them, but I don’t think there could be many more. Trolls are ravenous. Even if the bugbears are throwing meat to them, I don’t see how the valley could support many more.”
“There are at least twenty adult bugbears out there, and they’re armed with fire. Why do you think they leave the trolls in the valley? Wouldn’t it be easier to burn them out instead of trying to appease them?”
“There’s something strange about these trolls,” said Dagii. “They’re organized. They use tactics. I’ve never heard of trolls doing that before. It makes them more dangerous. Usually they just charge into battle and fight until their opponents are dead. You might as well ask why the trolls tolerate the bugbears living here.” He strained against the thongs again.
Ashi shifted to another crack in the wall and found herself with a view of the massive bugbear with the trident, presumably the chief of the tribe. He stood close to the fire with three other large bugbears. They were speaking emphatically, but with low voices as if they didn’t want other members of the tribe to hear. Every so often, one of them would gesture toward the hut from which she watched. Their fate, it seemed, was still being decided.
Then the chief turned and strode for the hut, two of the large bugbears following in his wake.
Ashi jerked away from the wall. “Dagii! The chief is coming!”
Dagii’s head snapped up and he rose awkwardly to his feet, wincing has he put weight on the ankle that had been injured. “Stand!” he said. “Don’t face him on your knees or he’ll think you’re submitting.”
Just like among the Bonetree clan. If you don’t fight, you’re too weak to live. Ashi rose and moved to stand beside Dagii just as the hide over the doorway was torn aside and the chief entered.
He was nearly as tall as a troll and big enough that the hut seemed small as soon as he was inside. The smell of pine pitch clung to the thick hair of his body. Big ears, not nearly as mobile as those of hobgoblins, turned like scoops in their direction. A black button-nose that was comically bearlike wrinkled as if the chief was sniffing them like a dog.
He had her sword thrust into his belt. “Khyberit gentis!” Ashi snarled. She might have hurled herself at him if Dagii hadn’t twisted to block her way.
The two bugbears who had entered with the chief stiffened and lifted their weapons, a big mace and a heavy sword. The chief growled at them. He planted the butt of his trident in the dusty earth floor of the tent and said in thunderous Goblin, “I am Makka! This is my territory.” His free hand pointed at Dagii. “You, low-lander. What is your tribe?”
Dagii stood against the roar of the bugbear’s voice like a wall standing against a gale. “I am Dagii of Mur Talaan.” He pointed at Ekhaas where she lay on the ground. “She is also Mur Talaan.”
A blunt lie. Ashi wondered if the bugbears of the Marguul tribes had some complaint against the Kech Volaar. Makka didn’t challenge Dagii, though. His black nose wrinkled again, and his mouth curved in a sneer. “This means nothing to me. I have never heard of the Mur Talaan.” Ashi saw Dagii bristle at this insult to his clan, but Makka’s thick finger shifted to point at her. “The human carries a dragonmark. What is her clan?”
Dagii’s ears rose slightly and he looked at Ashi sharply. “I don’t think he speaks your language,” he said in the human tongue before she could answer Makka in Goblin. “Don’t let him know you understand what he’s saying. It could be an advantage. Do you want me to tell him your House?”
Ashi watched Makka and the other two bugbears carefully for any sign of reaction to what Dagii had just said. The