Haruuc curled his hands and rapped his knuckles together pensively as he continued. “If I’d listened long ago, I would have realized that the answer had already been given to me by Fenic of Mur Talaan. After the battle to capture the town that has become Rhukaan Draal-one of the most hard-fought battles of my life- he told me that the town had not stood by its lord, but that it had stood by the history embodied in the symbol of a feathery helmet. Only recently have those words come back to me. The lhesh of Darguun also needs a symbol of our people’s history, something to tie the present to the glorious past.”
Geth started and bared his teeth. His grip on the sword shifted and tightened. “You want Wrath?” he snarled.
The lhesh laughed. “I already have a sword!” he said, patting the weapon that rested nearby. “It will go to my successor as a symbol of his connection to me, but its history extends no farther than a weaponsmith’s shop in the town of Rheklor. The symbol I seek must be older.” His gaze stayed on Geth. “The inspiration for the symbol I wish to pass on to my successor came from your rediscovery of Aram. Knowing that I needed a connection to Dhakaan, I sought a closer tie with the keepers of history, the Kech Volaar. For thirty years, I have tried to make alliances with the Dhakaani clans, but I was rejected. The Kech Volaar, the Kech Shaarat, and the other kech saw no value in aligning themselves with an upstart warlord who had drifted from the pure traditions of the empire.”
“Until you came to the Kech Volaar with a true appreciation for the power of history,” interrupted Senen. “Don’t portray us as isolationists hoarding knowledge as a dragon hoards gold. We have kept the history of Dhakaan until it was time to bring it forth. That time is now.”
“As you say,” Haruuc said. “We found common ground. The Kech Volaar would benefit from the resources of Darguun. Darguun would benefit from your stories and the inspiration of the Empire of Dhakaan.”
“And you thought you would benefit from access to our vaults and the artifacts of Dhakaan.”
Haruuc’s ears flinched. “The candor of the Kech Volaar is famous,” he said to Senen, then to the rest of them, “To put it bluntly, yes. I was disappointed, though. There are many wonders in the vaults of Volaar Draal, but none were exactly what I needed. Still, the potential for an alliance grew steadily. Then one day, a duur’kala returned from the west with stories of a tainted dragon and of a shifter who had recovered the blade Aram.”
Ekhaas felt her face grow warm, and Haruuc nodded to her as he continued. “The duur’kala was Ekhaas, of course, and the shifter was Geth. At that time, I only knew Aram as a distant legend, but the Kech Volaar assured me that there was more to the story and that Aram might be the key to gaining what I needed.” He looked to Senen.
“Taruuzh, who forged Aram,” the ambassador said, “was the greatest of the Dhakaani dashoor, wizard-smiths whose secrets modern artificers haven’t duplicated. He was the creator of many marvels, the three greatest of which were the binding stones that defeated an army of monsters during the ancient Daelkyr War, the grieving tree that we still use in a different form today, and the sword Aram. But our histories record that when Taruuzh forged Aram, he didn’t forge it on its own.”
Senen’s voice rose into the cadence of a storyteller. “Raat shi anaa-the story continues. It is said that Taruuzh found inspiration in all things. It particularly pleased him to work in the mines, where he could handle the raw material of his creations, and he was so working in the mines of Suthar Draal when he found a vein of byeshk so pure that he named it Khaar Vanon, the Blood of Dusk. Taruuzh spent a year beneath the ground in the mine, extracting all of the ore from Khaar Vanon with his own hands. And while he worked, he saw the shape of new creations within the vein’s twists and turns. At the end of the year, he returned with the ore to his stronghold at Taruuzh Kraat, where he spent another half a year smelting it, again with his own hands, refining his ideas as he refined the metal. Then, when the byeshk had been formed into ingots, he retreated from his apprentices and went into seclusion.”
“When he reappeared, he bore with him three great creations forged from the byeshk of Khaar Vanon. First and greatest of these was Aram, the Sword of Heroes, which he gave to his friend Duulan Kuun, and the deeds which Duulan and his descendants performed with Aram are legend. Aram represented the inspiration that heroes provided for the people.”
“Second was Muut, or Duty, the Shield of Nobles, which represented both the fealty that the lords and ladies of Dhakaan owed to the emperor and the protection that was their responsibility to the people. Muut was given into the care of the nobles of Dhakaan.”
“Third was Guulen-Strength, to all appearances a simple rod of byeshk carved with symbols that had been old when the first daashor took up a hammer and the first duur’kala sang. But Taruuzh gave Guulen to the emperor with the words, ‘In this are the glories of the people. Bear them in mind and the people will always know their king.’ And Guulen, the Rod of Kings, became part of the imperial regalia and the emperor held it whenever he sat on his throne.”
Senen bowed her head. “Raat shan gath’kal dor. The story stops but never ends.” She looked up and her voice dropped into normal tones. “Over the centuries of the empire, the three treasures of Khaar Vanon were lost, as is the way with such things. The fate of Aram was well-known, lost by Rakari Kuun in Jhegesh Dol when he killed the daelkyr lord of that place. Muut was shattered and forgotten as Dhakaan slid toward the Desperate Times. Guulen remained the longest, but eventually it too was lost, vanishing along with Marhu Dabrak Riis, the Shaking Emperor, when he went out into the world to face his fears.”
She fell silent. The room went quiet along with her until Geth lifted his eyes from Aram and said, “It sounds like this rod is what you need.”
“It is,” said Haruuc somberly. “Except that even after thousands of years of searching, no one has been able to find it.”
“But you think I might be able to because I carry Wrath,” Geth said. “That’s the task you want me to perform.”
Haruuc nodded without speaking.
“Because Aram and Guulen were both forged from the same vein of byeshk, they should still carry an affinity,” said Senen. “The duur’kala of Kech Volaar have studied the ancient songs of our ancestors. Aram is only just stirring after its slumbers. We believe we can wake it to its full power again and that it will lead you to Guulen if the rod still exists.”
Geth looked at the sword again. “Tiger, Wolf, and Rat,” he said.
“Will you do it, Geth?” Haruuc asked. “I doubt that it will be easy, but you’ll have whomever you choose at your side. Chetiin and Ekhaas will go with you-so will Dagii, and there’s no better fighter in my service. I’ll offer you gold or whatever reward you name, and you’ll have the gratitude of a king, which is no small thing.”
The shifter met Haruuc’s gaze. “There are a lot of people in Khorvaire who don’t like Darguun. They’d like to see Darguun fall apart into a bunch of squabbling clans again. They’re afraid you’re just waiting for another chance to come over the Seawall Mountains and attack.”
“All of the human kings and queens watch each other because they’re afraid of the same thing,” Haruuc said. “When will Breland invade Thrane or Aundair attack Karrnath? Those people who don’t like Darguun don’t see it the way I do. United, Darguuls can find pride again and climb back to the heights of culture we once knew, but if Darguun falls, the chances that my people will attack are even greater. Ekhaas has told me you’re a veteran of the Last War. You know the chaos of country fighting country, clan fighting clan.” The lhesh sat forward. “Give my nation the chance to win its place in Khorvaire.”
Geth was silent, and Ekhaas felt as if a hundred needles were being pushed into her scalp and back-then the shifter took a deep breath and nodded.