“If I need to,” the hobgoblin said. “But that torch will last longer than the spell would.”
“Rat,” Geth said again. He drew himself up straight. “I guess we don’t have much of a choice, do we?” He flicked his sword-Wrath-toward the top of the passage. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”
Every step that they advanced up the steep slope seemed to bring a drop in the temperature. By the time they reached the top, Geth’s sword wasn’t the only thing coated in frost. The cold silvered Dandra’s dark hair and brought a flush to Ashi’s face. Ekhaas was shivering as she paused beside a gap in the rock. “Through there,” she said. “You can see the tomb. The stairs up to Taruuzh Kraat are beyond it.”
Geth squeezed past her to peer through the gap. The wintry air stirred at his approach and Taruuzh’s ghostly voice tugged at him once more. Wrath-my beautiful blade. The words turned wistful and some of the longing in them gripped Geth as well. They call me daashor, but I was first a smith. I made wonders, but your pure perfection brought the most pride of all to my heart. Geth clenched his teeth and tried to ignore the voice.
The final cavern was small, no larger than a big room. Even if the eerie cold hadn’t stopped them, they wouldn’t have missed the tomb of Taruuzh. It dominated the chamber, a massive stone monument that would have rivaled some of the grand tombs Geth remembered from Sharn or Metrol. It stood upright, its tall sides carved with goblins and hobgoblins laboring at forges and over anvils-dozens of smiths at work, all depicted in flawless detail, an echo of the paintings in the deep caves. The stone figure of a hobgoblin stood out from the front of the tomb. Dressed in a smith’s apron with thick gauntlets and holding a heavy sword, it was a smaller version of the great statue in the hall of Taruuzh Kraat except that this carving hadn’t been defaced. Taruuzh’s effigy stared into the ages with an expression that was stern but alert.
Frost, however, had touched the statue as well, softening its features and rendering the effigy as tired and lonely as the haunting voice. A coincidence? Geth couldn’t imagine that it was.
Dandra pressed close, looking over his shoulder. “I don’t see anything,” she said.
“Not all ghosts are something you can see,” Ashi said from behind her. Geth didn’t look back at either of them, but just studied the chamber. Nothing moved. There were no more sighs, though the cold air seemed heavy, like a slow wind before a blizzard.
“At least Taruuzh doesn’t seem like an unfriendly sort,” he said after a long moment. Across the cavern, he could see an archway carved out of the rock, the foot of a worn stone staircase visible within its shadows. “There’s where we’re going,” he said, pointing. “Do you think the ghost would follow us up the stairs, Ekhaas?”
“The power that drew the early duur’kala here belongs to the caves, not to Taruuzh Kraat,” said the hobgoblin.
“And we didn’t encounter the ghost when we were in Taruuzh Kraat before,” Dandra pointed out.
“Good,” said Geth. “Then let’s hope Taruuzh is as pleased to see his old sword as he sounded. “He took a long breath, released it-and stepped out into the chamber.
Nothing happened. Geth raised his voice experimentally. “Taruuzh?” He stepped a little further into the cavern and called again. “Taruuzh!” His heart beating like thunder, he raised the sword over his head. “We have your sword, your beautiful blade. We have Wrath!”
The air tensed and rippled with another quiet sigh, but nothing else. Geth lowered Wrath and looked back to the others. “Hurry,” he said. None of them needed urging. As they spilled out from the steep passage and hastened after him, Geth turned and strode for the archway and the stairs beyond.
Between one stride and the next, the tension in the air broke. The temperature changed in an instant, so quick it was like plunging into icy water, so sharp it took his breath away. He stopped short, choking on air that stung his lungs. Behind him, Dandra stumbled and cried out. The light from her torch grew suddenly dim. Geth spun around. Ashi had Dandra and was holding her up, but both women were staring at Taruuzh’s tomb. So was Ekhaas as she pressed back against one stone wall. Geth stared, too.
The frost on the stone had spread and grown thick. In the wavering light of the failing torch. features that had been soft were now hard. Hard and angry.
Xoriat! Taruuzh’s voice rose in a sudden howl. I smell Xoriat! I know you, servants of the daelkyr! Wrath wakes me! I know you and I know what you seek! You may hold Wrath, but you shall not have the stones! They are saved up against the day that Aryd foresaw!
Cold unlike anything he had ever felt, more intense than the fiercest winter gale in northern Karrnath blasted Geth. It scoured his skin and bit into his very soul. He tried to turn to face Taruuzh’s tomb. “We’re not servants of Xoriat!” he shouted back at it. “We fight the daelkyr-we fight the servant of the Master of Silence, just like you did!”
It didn’t do any good. The air moved, churning into wind, whipping through the chamber and making the cold seem even more intense. Ashi flung a hand toward him, her other arm wrapped around Dandra. “Geth!”
He reached deep into himself and shifted, feeling the rush of his own ancient heritage flow through him, driving back some of the cold. He pushed forward against the wind and grabbed Ashi’s hand. The hunter’s fingers were like icicles.
“The stairs!” he yelled at her. “We have to try and get to the stairs!”
She nodded and pulled herself and Dandra toward him. Dandra looked the worst of all of them. She was breathing in shallow gasps, there were thick ice crystals on her eyelashes and the soft yellow-green glow of the psicrystal around her neck was brighter than the torch she cradled.
Geth’s breath hissed between frozen teeth. If Dandra failed, Tetkashtai might have her chance to break through and seize her body. He wrapped his arms around both women as best he could, trying to will his body to generate warmth, and pushed them toward the stairs up to Taruuzh Kraat. How far up the stairs might Taruuzh’s reach extended? He swallowed icy saliva and looked around for Ekhaas.
The hobgoblin was still huddled against the wall of the cavern, though as he watched she pushed herself away and stood upright, her eyes fixed on the tomb. “Ekhaas!” he called to her. “This way!”
She shook her head and drew herself up. “Ekhaas!” Ashi screamed, adding her appeal to Geth’s.
Ekhaas didn’t move except to draw a breath, open her mouth-and sing.
If the song with which she had healed him had seemed raw and energetic, the power behind her voice now was primal. Whatever magic had allowed him to understand Taruuzh’s sighs and wails let him comprehend the words Ekhaas sang as well. It was no spell that poured forth from her throat, but a martial anthem, a song of honor and glory. The power wasn’t in the words, but in Ekhaas’s voice. Her song touched him, setting his blood pounding and giving him strength. He could feel Ashi stand a little straighter, a little stronger, as well. Dandra, too.
More importantly, the song seemed to settle Taruuzh. The phantom wind in the chamber slowed. The sharp edge of the cold grew dull. Even Taruuzh’s wailing eased, then ceased, as if the unseen ghost was listening, caught up in the music.
Ekhaas’s gaze darted from the tomb to Geth and she stabbed a hand toward the stairs in an urgent gesture. The shifter blinked and tore himself away from the power of the hobgoblin’s song. “The stairs!” he said. “Quickly!”
The women nodded and stumbled forward. Geth glanced over his shoulder. Ekhaas was following at a slow and stately pace, timing her footfalls to her song. She gestured again for him to go. Geth swallowed and ran after Ashi and Dandra.
The cold faded even more the moment he was through the archway. Dandra and Ashi were already on the stairs and climbing fast. Geth heard Dandra gasp with relief. “Il-Yannah, it feels like summer!”