Geth turned to Tenquis. “We have to get up there. Follow me!”
“Wait.” The tiefling dug into a pouch and produced what looked like tiny glass rods. He flicked the rods into the air.
They vanished, but light streaked across the arena. In front of the raised box, the air shimmered, and stairs formed from planes of barely visible force.
Geth bared his teeth in a grin. Drawing Tenquis after him, he sprinted for the phantom stairs, bashing at anyone who tried to get in his way. Above, Tariic slammed the Rod of Kings down on the rail of the box. “Again, Pradoor. Call down the wrath of the Six. My enemies are their enemies!”
Anger crossed Pradoor’s blind face. “The Six are not your lackeys, Tariic.”
“Yes, they are.” He thrust the rod at her. “Do it!”
Almost at the foot of the stairs, Geth froze as Pradoor’s anger evaporated under the direct power of the Rod of Kings. Her arms rose stiffly. “Lords of the Dark Star!” she called, and Geth saw a kind of writhing darkness take shape around her as she spoke. “I invoke your-”
She never finished. A blur seemed to launch itself from the back of the box and smash into her. Pradoor hit the rail of the box. Her prayer ended in a moan, the writhing darkness vanishing. The blur became Midian. Putting one arm around the old goblin priestess’s bony chest, he wrapped the other across her head and twisted with brutal efficiency.
As she came through the back of the box, Ashi heard Pradoor’s neck snap and part of her felt a rush of joy at the goblin’s death. But Pradoor hadn’t been their target.
She watched Midian drop Pradoor’s body and turn to Tariic with death in his eyes.
Tariic brought up the rod. “Midian, stand where you are!”
The gnome stopped-for a moment. His face twisted. His hands squeezed tight, then spread into claws reaching for Tariic.
And he took a heavy step forward. “I,” he said between his teeth, “will not… be… controlled… again!”
Shock and rage flashed across Tariic’s face. Ashi felt a sense of triumph. She lifted her sword and stepped forward, a demand for Tariic’s surrender on her lips.
Then Tariic took two quick steps and slammed the Rod of Kings down on Midian’s skull. Bone cracked. Midian staggered, and Tariic did it again. Midian went down, his head broken in.
The entire arena fell silent. The spectators who had cheered for blood stopped moving. Combat on the sands came to a halt. Tariic turned to the rail and glared out at those below and above him. “Who will defy the lhesh of Darguun? Who will challenge the emperor of Dhakaan Reborn?”
Mouth suddenly dry, Ashi moved forward and spoke. “Surrender Tariic. You’re alone. This is over.”
He looked at her with disdain. His free hand went to his belt and drew his sword. “Alone? I’m not alone. I command the largest army in Khorvaire.” He looked back to the arena and raised the Rod of Kings, Midian’s blood and hair dripping off it.
“Darguun,” he shouted, “rise and destroy my enemies!”
“Darguun, rise and destroy my enemies!”
Fear stabbed through Ekhaas. Instantly, she thrust the shaari’mal into the air, concentrating all of her will on blocking Tariic’s command. She saw Chetiin, his wrinkled face pale, do the same thing.
They might as well have tried to stop the tide with a bucket.
The power of the rod blasted through her, too strong to be held back. The shield of Muut muted some of it, but not enough. On the floor of the arena, Kech Shaarat, Iron Fox, and warlords alike staggered and fell, the shield allowing them to fight-if not entirely resist-Tariic’s command. Above the arena floor, though… She twisted to look up into the stands.
All those who had remained in the arena to watch violence unfold were on their feet, eyes strangely blank. Ekhaas felt a crush of despair. Muut had failed them. Was this what had happened after the nobles of Dhakaan had abandoned their duty and the shaari’mal had been forgotten Hope sprang up inside her. She whirled around. Geth, protected by Wrath, still stood, his face twisting in anger as he stared at those writhing on the ground. One of them, right beside him, was Tenquis. Ekhaas saw Geth’s fist tighten on his sword, saw him put his foot on the first step of the phantom stairs Tenquis had conjured.
“No!” she yelled. “Geth, the third shaari’mal! Get it to Dagii!”
From the raised box came the fluting battle cry of the Bonetree Clan as Ashi rushed at Tariic. The lhesh caught her blow on his sword, though, and slid past her easily. Ekhaas’s gut twisted. Ashi might be able to prevail over Tariic, but if she didn’t do it quickly, none of them would be able to take on Tariic’s army.
She watched Geth look up at the sound of clashing swords, then down at Tenquis.
Every instinct told Geth to join Ashi against Tariic. Together, they’d be able to beat him.
In his hand, though, Wrath stirred with a life Geth had only felt a few times before. Memories of hobgoblin heroes, dead for thousands of years, flickered through his head. Memories of them performing great feats and defeating strange monsters, the tales of their exploits inspiring generations. The very reason that the Sword of Heroes had been created.
It was Wrath’s way of telling him that this wasn’t his fight. It belonged to someone else.
Geth bent down and reached into the pocket-fortunately still unsealed-where Tenquis had hidden the third shaari’mal. The tiefling’s hand grabbed his wrist as he drew the disk out. Tenquis looked up at him, his eyes narrow with the effort of fighting Tariic’s command.
The shifter eased his hand away. “I’ll come back,” he promised-then he sprinted across the sand.
Others in the arena had fallen to squirm on their sides or backs but Dagii had stayed on his knees, gripping his sword as he stared up at Tariic. Geth slid in the sand as he stopped beside the young warlord. “This is yours,” he said. He pushed the shaari’mal at him.
Dagii stared at it for a heartbeat, then reached out and wrapped his fingers around it.
One disk held brought a tremor through Wrath. Two disks brought a lightning charge.
Three disks was like holding onto a storm. Geth felt as though he were gripping all of the great artifacts that Taruuzh had forged from the vein of byeshk called Khaar Vanon. He could feel the connection between them, feel the power and the destiny that they shared.
Power pulsed out through the arena in an invisible wave. On the sand, warriors and warlords stirred and sat up. In the stands, Darguuls seemed to draw a single, unified breath as the influence of the Rod of Kings was blasted away. In the raised box, Tariic screamed in rage. Geth’s head jerked up, and he saw the lhesh batter Ashi with a blow that sent her sprawling one way and her sword spinning another.
Tariic didn’t follow up on his advantage, though. He whirled to look out into the arena. “Who dares?” he bellowed in Goblin.
“I dare!” Beside Geth, Dagii rose to his feet and glared at Tariic. He held the shaari’mal high and gestured with his other hand to Ekhaas and Chetiin. “We dare.”
“You can’t!” Tariic thrust out the rod again. “Darguuls, obey me!”
Nothing happened. There was no new pulse of power. Geth felt no tremor through Wrath.
Dagii slowly lowered the shaari’mal. “We stand between you and them,” he said, “as it was meant to be.” He turned to look at the warlords on the sand and the people in the stands. “Tariic has manipulated you,” he proclaimed. “He has placed Darguun in peril to satisfy his own ambition. He has forgotten his muut.”
“I will lead Darguun to a new age of empire!” Tariic roared.
“You will destroy us!” Dagii shouted at him. “Haruuc realized it when he discovered the curse of the rod, but you were so caught up in the rod’s power that you ignored the danger. Khorvaire is no longer the place it was when Dhakaan ruled. The Age of Dhakaan leaves its legacy, but an Age of Darguun, as Haruuc saw it, is the future.”