Word of Traitors_ Legacy of Dhakaan - Don Bassingthwaite [148]
Pinned on the rack, the goblin squirmed and flopped. His heels and the back of his head beat against the wood. His screaming mouth stretched so wide Geth could see the ragged root of his tongue.
Rage threatened to give way to disgust, but memories of agony twisted in him. Vengeance for himself—for Tenquis—rose to choke him. The torturer became Tariic.
Hot fury turned cold as death. One of the irons the goblin had used to burn him lay on the floor, smoking in Tenquis’s blood. The metal was still hot enough to sting Geth’s hand when he picked it up.
He didn’t think the struggling goblin even saw him as he brought the heavy end of the iron down on his head. The screaming stopped after the first blow, but Geth beat the iron against the torturer’s skull until bone cracked and sagged like a half-empty wineskin. Then he turned away, hurled the bloody iron across the chamber, and raised his voice.
“Ekhaas!”
Ashi caught the handle of the door at the first heavy impact of body against wood and would have thrown it open if Midian hadn’t caught her arm.
“Don’t,” he said. His face was pale.
“Get off me!” Ashi spat at him, but Ekhaas seized her shoulders and dragged her back.
“No,” she said. Her ears pressed against her head. “He’s right. Let Geth do what he needs to do.”
Ashi still strained toward the door. “Geth! Geth!”
The thin wail continued, punctuated by short thumps and Geth’s terrible snarls, only to end abruptly with the wet, pulpy crack of breaking bone. There was a clatter of metal. Geth’s snarl faded into a guttural groan—then rose in a call. “Ekhaas!”
The hobgoblin raced to the door and pushed it open. She froze in the doorway for a moment before she stepped through and swiftly closed it after herself. This time the only thing Ashi glimpsed was Geth standing at Tenquis’s side.
She heard him, though. His words were hoarse. “What can you do for him?”
Ekhaas didn’t answer immediately, but then she said, “I’ll need a knife.”
And she started to sing. The song was soft and soothing, with echoes of energy to it. Ashi could hear Geth’s voice through it, murmuring something that might be comfort and encouragement—until another voice, Tenquis’s, leaped high in a wail before trailing back into a series of sobs. Ekhaas kept singing.
Midian gave Ashi a nudge and put a flask into her hand. “Drink?” he asked quietly. Ashi nodded and lifted the flask, though she didn’t drink from it. She could only stare at the closed door. Fabric tore in the room beyond and she could imagine a shirt or a cloak being shredded for bandages. Midian bumped her elbow, reminding her of the flask in her hand. She raised it again.
A hand came past her and plucked it from her grasp.
She whirled around, drawing her sword as she turned, to find Aruget putting the flask to his lips. The disguised changeling paused, unflinching in spite of the sword at his belly. “Don’t let your guard down,” he said, lowering the flask untasted. “You’re not out of danger yet.”
Heart racing, Ashi returned her sword to its sheath. “I could have killed you.”
“I could have killed you.” His ears flicked. “You’ve already been rescued.”
“Twice. Vounn told me you’d be coming but Midian, then Ekhaas, got here first.”
“I had to stop for something.” Aruget swung a sack from his shoulder and opened it so she could peer inside. Peeking out from among the muffling folds of a cloak were Geth’s great gauntlet and the hilt of Wrath. “I knew Geth wouldn’t leave without them. Tariic had them displayed as trophies in