The Tyranny of Ghosts_ Legacy of Dhakaan - Don Bassingthwaite [60]
Tuura’s eyes opened wide. Without waiting for a response, Diitesh reached into her robe and pulled out a battered black box. She flicked open the lid and spoke a word of magic.
The sound of it echoed for a moment, then seemed to transform into a kind of sleepy hum. A heartbeat later, the hum had become a drone that filled the chamber. As Geth watched, as elders scrambled to get away from an impending battle, three glittering, green wasps as long as a finger rose up from the box. The dim light of the chamber flashed on lean, crystalline bodies formed of knuckle-sized gems fastened together with wires of gold. It shone through wings that threw off splashes of rainbow color as they blurred. Diitesh backed away, leaving the wasps hanging in the air.
Tuura narrowed her eyes and spat, “Your challenge is accepted!” She drew a sharp breath—and sang.
The drone of the wasps rose and broke into a thrumming dissonance. Tuura choked as if her song had been forced back down her throat. She reeled backward.
“Kapaa’taat!” Kurac Thaar jumped forward—Geth didn’t know what the rules for such a challenge were, but it didn’t seem like the warlord was going to let them get in the way of his axe. Diitesh just flicked a finger, though, and one of the wasps darted at him. Kurac swatted, but it skimmed easily around his axe.
It struck like an emerald flash, swooping at his unprotected neck and seeming to do no more than touch it before leaping away. Kurac staggered, clapped a hand to the place he’d been stung, then pitched forward. He hit the ground in a clattering of armor that seemed to go on and on as his body twitched and danced.
“Duur’kala have always led the Kech Volaar,” Diitesh called over the drone of the wasps. “They have songs and stories of the great empire, but the vaults hold so much more. Tools. Armor. Weapons of all sorts—some of them intended to counter duur’kala!” She flicked her fingers again, and the wasps buzzed around Tuura, toying with her as the leader of the Kech Volaar drew a sword.
“Now!” said Chetiin.
It was difficult to tear his eyes away from the duel before him, but Geth did. He spun around and ran for the door of the chamber. The guards who’d spilled inside were staring too. Their reactions were slow. One cried out and grabbed for him. Geth swung Wrath in an arc that opened a gash across the guard’s side. Ahead of him, Chetiin darted between two guards, spinning to slash at their legs as he went. Ekhaas didn’t draw her sword or try to sing a spell but just lashed out with fists, elbows, and knees at any guard who got in her way. Tenquis—
Tenquis wasn’t there. Geth twisted around, sliding to a stop.
The tiefling hadn’t moved, though he had drawn his wand. He stood watching the wasps, head moving to follow their darting flight as they evaded Tuura’s flailing sword. “Tenquis!” Geth shouted.
Tenquis paid no attention to him. But Diitesh did. Her head turned, and she scowled. One hand still pointing at Tuura, she gestured with the other at Geth.
One wasp broke off from the others and flew at him in a green streak. “Tiger!” Geth cursed. He stumbled back, raising both Wrath and his great gauntlet as if they would be enough to protect him.
Tenquis twisted and brought his wand up. For a moment, the tip of the implement tracked the wasp, then Tenquis stabbed at the air. A golden spark flashed from wand to wasp—and the wasp rattled off Geth’s gauntlet like a handful of pebbles. It hit the ground at his feet, a motionless collection of crystals.
Diitesh’s eyes seemed ready to bulge out of her head. They darted from Tuura to Tenquis, then she gestured with both hands at once. One of the two remaining wasps darted at Tenquis. The other plunged