• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

The unarmed one had seen her. He pointed, and the hammer wielder spun around, his weapon still raised over his head. Ashi thrust her sword up under his ribcage, then yanked it sharply out again. His mouth opened in a groan that never came, and he slumped backward.

The last bugbear, the one she had originally wounded, snatched up Aruget’s fallen sword. He backed away from her with fear in his eyes, sword held low to protect his belly from another blow. Ashi stalked after him, then lunged suddenly. Her first attack bashed the sword out of his hand. Her second pierced his right leg and he toppled over, screeching his pain. She reversed her sword, raised it—

—and a voice like the creaking of a door called out, “The Six curse you, Ashi of Deneith!”

Pain shot through her, as if someone had gathered all of her nerves in a fist and pulled hard on them. It ripped a scream from her, and she almost fell. She forced herself to stay on her feet, though, as she turned to face Pradoor.

The goblin priestess was on her knees, blood running in a dark red ribbon between her eyes. The expression on her face, however, was rapturous. “You try to defy Tariic,” Pradoor said. “You try to defy the will of the Six. But you won’t. You can’t. Tariic will bring in a new age, and Darguun will follow the power of the Six once more!”

It hurt to draw breath, but Ashi managed it. “The only power Tariic will allow in Darguun is him, Pradoor,” she spat. She dragged herself closer to the old goblin, raising her sword with shaking hands.

“Fool,” said Pradoor. “Tariic knows and fears the power of the Six—as should you!” She flung out a hand. Shadows flowed from the gesture.

The pain that shook Ashi seemed to intensify, sucking the strength from her limbs and driving her to the ground. Incredible weakness pressed against her. She couldn’t stay upright. She could barely breathe. She sank down against the soft carpet, her eyes level with Aruget’s.

The changeling looked disappointed in her.

Shuffling footsteps scuffed across the carpet behind her. Ashi tried to lift her head but couldn’t. Groping hands touched her shoulders, located her skull. Pradoor gasped with effort.

And something hard and heavy drove thought out of Ashi’s head.

A slap in the face woke her up.

Ashi started and opened her eyes to bright light. Shock rolled through her, and the habit she’d cultivated for weeks drove fear into her. It was morning. The sun had risen, and she hadn’t renewed the protection of her dragonmark—

No. She blinked and the light came into focus—an everbright lamp. She was lying on a cold, hard floor with the lantern close beside her, and someone was holding her arms up above her throbbing head. An open window in one wall showed the darkness of night beyond. Relief replaced shock. It wasn’t morning yet.

Then another slap hit her, and she saw who was striking her. Tariic stood over her, still in his tigerskin cloak, still wearing the spiked crown of Darguun, still carrying the Rod of Kings. He smelled of wine and meat as if he’d come straight from his feast.

The events of the night rushed over her. Tariic raised his hand for a third time.

“Do it,” Ashi said, “and I’ll bite you.”

He stomped down on her belly instead. Ashi convulsed and retched. Tariic stepped away from her. “You’re almost more trouble than you’re worth,” he growled. “Oraan is missing. I assume that changeling was him?”

Ashi twisted her neck to follow him. She wasn’t in his chambers anymore, that was certain. The room was small and cold. She could hear the night noises of the Rhukaan Draal, but they seemed distant. A room in one of Khaar Mbar’ost’s towers, she guessed. She lifted her head a little and looked down toward her feet.

Pradoor stood there. And Dagii.

Anger darkened the face of the young warlord of Mur Talaan, but he stood still and silent as Tariic paced the room. Ashi tipped her head back to see who held her. The last of Tariic’s three deaf bugbears bared his teeth