Word of Traitors_ Legacy of Dhakaan - Don Bassingthwaite [164]
“Midian, we have unfinished business!” Chetiin called.
Now.
He squeezed the trigger of the crossbow. The light weapon kicked in his hand as the bent arms sprang straight and the taut string sang. His aim was good. He heard Geth try to call a warning. Too late. The bolt pierced Chetiin—and porcelain shattered, spilling coins across the tomb floor.
A tall vase. Not Chetiin. Midian’s jaw tightened. The scholar in him remembered the vase from his explorations when he’d first wormed his way into the tomb—Dhakaani, late empire, Riis dynasty. Beautiful work.
The assassin in him was already cocking the crossbow with a swift pull of the ratcheting lever, and dropping another bolt into the channel. His eyes didn’t stop scanning the cavern.
“You tried to kill me,” said Chetiin, and once more Midian thought he saw him, this time close to Haruuc’s throne. “You tried to make it seem like I’d killed Haruuc. I admire that. Among the shaarat’khesh you would be honored. But—”
Midian shifted his crossbow to cover the goblin, though he didn’t squeeze the trigger. He wouldn’t be tricked a second time.
Chetiin moved, the light of the moonstone shining full on his face. Again the crossbow snapped.
The bolt caught only a fold of Haruuc’s cloak. Midian cursed. Fingers flickered on crossbow once more. Chetiin was good.
He was better.
Chetiin’s voice, sourceless now, continued as if nothing had happened. “—you used my face to kill a friend. However much I respect your technique, I can’t let that pass.”
Then there was silence. Geth and Tenquis peered around the edge of the passage. Geth’s eyes flickered toward the rod but he didn’t move. Waiting for an opening, Midian knew. He was tempted to put a bolt in the shifter’s forehead.
Hold to your target.
Midian turned his head side to side, making a show of searching for Chetiin, before calling out, “Nothing about the Rod of Kings? Nothing about breaking my oath to keep it a secret? Nothing about Zilargo?”
“Nothing.” Nothing nothing nothing …
Chetiin’s answer echoed from a dozen places around the cavern at once, but Midian knew that trick. He twisted and loosed his bolt at the point where the goblin would be standing.
And from above him dropped Chetiin, breaking away from the cavern wall like some great spider. His feet struck the crossbow and forced it from Midian’s grip. His hands caught the lip of the crack in which the gnome perched and his body curved back up so that his ankles hooked together behind Midian’s neck.
Midian threw himself back into the crack, dragging Chetiin with him. He’d taken a dagger from the cache he’d hidden in the tunnel. If he could draw it … but Chetiin didn’t give him a chance. The goblin’s speed and strength belied his age. He wormed around Midian and grappled with him, a primal struggle in the dark, cramped tunnel.
There was no room to maneuver. Midian glanced back to the mouth of the crack, glowing with the light of the moonstone, and kicked toward it. Maybe Chetiin had the same idea because he kicked, too.
They burst out into the open space of the cavern as if spat out of the mouth of some huge beast. Even as they fell, though, they pushed themselves apart. Midian twisted his body in mid-air and hit the cave floor in a springy crouch that absorbed the impact of the fall.
So did Chetiin.
They drew daggers at the same moment and circled each other briefly. Then Midian leaped.
Chetiin caught him with one hand, guiding him in a sweeping arc, but Midian grabbed the goblin’s arm in return and held tight. The momentum of his body dragged Chetiin off his feet and they both crashed into piled plates of silver and gold. In an instant they were rolling and wrestling, Midian with bared teeth, Chetiin with flattened ears.
Midian didn’t hold back or offer mercy. He knew Chetiin wouldn’t. Their business would be finished here.
Geth saw his opening. He sprinted across the tomb, past Haruuc’s staring eyeless face,