The idea of the insidious song’s hold on him only stiffened her resolve. Maybe Virikhad and Dah’mir weren’t working together, but if Tetkashtai’s lover was secretly helping the dragon, perhaps there was some connection between his plots and the dragon’s. Maybe they could even find a way to aid the victims of the killing song.
Or maybe not, she reminded herself. All of the kalashtar elders hadn’t been able to trace the source of the killing song, let alone aid its victims. Maybe she knew what-or who-was causing the song, but there were still too many pieces missing. Like how Virikhad had come to be in Sharn, waiting for them, or how he’d survived at all.
Or why he wasn’t still the screaming, shattered mind she’d unleashed against Medala.
A hand touched her shoulder. She looked up at Singe. The wizard’s face was somber. “Are you all right?” he murmured. “Ashi could come with me if you want to stay with Moon.”
Dandra lifted her chin and stepped into the air. “Not a chance.”
CHAPTER 14
If Kobus had expected Geth to stand in surprise or to lunge for the obvious threat, he was wrong. The instant of anticipation passed and battle burst over Geth. He whirled, spinning hard to the left and putting the entire weight of his body into a punch at one of the warriors who had walked on that side of him. The warrior had been drawing an axe from his belt, but Geth’s gauntleted fist took him in the side of the face. Bone cracked and skin split. Blood flashed on the air. The warrior went down, stunned, and Geth leaped through the opening he had made in the closing circle, drawing Wrath as he moved.
“Garu’s eye, he knew!” yelped one of the warriors. “How did he know?”
“Where’s Batul?” asked Pog.
“Doesn’t matter,” Kobus growled. Geth couldn’t tell which question he was answering. The big orc stalked forward, double axe at the ready. The weapon looked as vicious as Kobus himself: two battle-axes, each with a two broad heads, mounted at either end of a stout wooden shaft as thick as a woman’s wrist. Four sharp edges gleaming in the dull light. The other orcs were armed with lesser axes and heavy-bladed swords. The warrior Geth had taken down staggered back to his feet, blood coursing from a now misshapen face. His eyes were tiny and intent. Even Pog watched Geth with a cold hatred.
They reminded Geth of wolves circling their prey. Seven big, well-armed wolves-and in their pinprick eyes, he was certain he could see Medala’s mad malevolence. Gauntlet raised, Wrath ready, he watched them warily.
“Close around him,” said Kobus. “Don’t let him through. The tainted beast-blood isn’t leaving these trees alive-”
A low snarl crept out of Geth’s throat. One of the largest trees in the stand was just behind him. He stepped back against it and swept his arms wide, sword and gauntlet pointed at the nearest warriors. Kobus stopped and his eyes narrowed.
“He can understand us,” he said. He thrust his tusks forward. “Understand this, friend. You might have fooled us for a night, you might have fooled Batul, but you fool no one now. Whatever power you had has failed. We see you for what you are: an agent of the daelkyr. You die here. The horde of Angry Eyes will march-and we’ll carry your head on a pole before us!”
Geth clenched his teeth. His gut ached. If Ekhaas had been here, she might have been able to talk some sense into the warriors. She might have been able to break Medala’s hold on them. These were warriors he had drunk and sung with, whose campfires he had shared. “No!” he spat. They wouldn’t be able to understand anything he said, but he had to try. Memories of Pog offering him ale, of Kobus slapping him after their fight, were raw on his soul. “This is Medala’s doing! She’s your enemy, not me!” He spoke two words loud and slow. “Medala … enemy.”
His words fell on uncomprehending ears. Kobus grimaced and drew back as if in disgust at the alien words. Fear flashed in the eyes of one orc. “Magic! He’s trying to put his power on us again!” He screamed a battle cry and threw himself forward, axe swept back to strike.
It was a killing blow. Geth reacted the way he had to. He lunged forward, and Wrath flashed as he snapped his arm back across his body. The forked tip of the extended sword tore into the warrior’s shoulder and chest. Taut muscles broke beneath the blade. The orc’s arm, pulled by the muscles of his back, seemed to wrench itself backward for a moment before Wrath’s fork caught his throat and severed his windpipe. The warrior stumbled in surprise before finally collapsing, blood spreading out in a flood.
He hadn’t even hit the ground before the other orcs were swarming in. “Kill him!” bellowed Kobus.
Geth jumped back again and felt his backside strike the rough bark of the tree. He pivoted, putting the trunk between him and the orcs. His weapons felt as heavy on his arms as his heart in his chest. Seven to one were no odds for clean fighting-or mercy. He kept pivoting right around the tree, swinging Wrath more by instinct than intellect as he went.
The byeshk sword cut down into the soft belly of the first orc coming around the far side of the tree. Geth turned with the blow and whirled out into the open. It cost him the protection of the tree, but for a moment the dying orc offered him the same cover as his friends tried to get around him. A wide-bladed sword painted with the same red hordemarks that decorated its wielder swung at him-he turned it with his gauntlet and swung Wrath in reply, but the warrior was fast and leaped back.
Another orc started to shove forward and pulled up short. Geth caught a flash of wariness in his face and threw himself to the side just as one head of Kobus’s double axe flashed down from behind to slice the ground here he’d stood. The shifter rolled on his shoulder, came back up in a crouch, and before Kobus had a chance to recover, pushed himself forward again, charging to meet the two orcs who had come around the tree behind the big warrior. One of the pair tried to block Wrath’s whistling arc. The other tried to swing his axe under Geth’s gauntleted arm, aiming for his vulnerable torso.
Geth twisted aside and the axe skimmed past his ribs, slicing fabric and nicking flesh, but no worse. The steel-jacketed fingers of Geth’s hand, however, raked at the warrior’s head as he passed, caught on hair and ear, and spun him into Kobus. Both went down in a tangle. At the same moment, Wrath chopped deep into the thick wooden shaft of the other warrior’s axe. The orc was canny and turned his weapon sharply, trying to trap Geth’s sword. Geth didn’t bother fighting him for it. Already moving backward, he kept on turning, slamming the elbow of his gauntlet back into the warrior’s face and stomping down hard on his shin. Something-face or leg, maybe both-splintered loudly. The warrior screamed and fell.
His fall freed Wrath. Geth whipped the sword forward and hacked at the orc with the torn ear as he staggered clear of Kobus. Wrath’s edge sheared clean through his skull, spraying blood and bits of brain across Kobus’s massive chest. The dead warrior pitched over sideways, his limbs spasming-and Medala’s hatred, strangely, vanishing from his eyes like a candle flame in a windstorm. It wasn’t until his ruined head bounced against the leaf-covered earth that Geth realized he had just killed Pog.
A memory of the warrior offering him ale came back to him with terrible clarity. Tag domad’ad chuf! You can drink with me and my friends!
That moment of distraction cost him. Hands grabbed onto his leg from behind and sudden pain shoved a groan out of his throat as the orc he had knocked down sank big teeth into the meat of his calf. Shifting-toughened flesh resisted his teeth, but the orc gnawed like an animal. Geth tried to pull away, but the orc held on with hands and jaws. Kobus shouted and swung his axe.
Geth saw the heavy blades cut the air, saw the long shaft slide through Kobus’s fingers to extend the reach and power of the blow. The two remaining warriors, including the one whose cheek Geth had shattered, surged in at his side. Geth flung up sword and gauntlet to meet their attacks-