The Killing Song: The Dragon Below Book III (26 page)

Dandra lifted her chin and stepped into the air. “Not a chance.”

  
I
f 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—

—and fell backward as the orc who had trapped ripped suddenly at his leg. His savagery brought new pain burning through Geth’s leg and knocked him off his already awkward balance. The shifter crashed back, and Kobus’s axe swung past in a flat arc just above his chest.

It caught Wrath though. The Dhakaani sword rang like a heavy chime as it was ripped from Geth’s grip and flung away into the shadows of the trees.

Geth came down hard on top of the wounded orc, the fall wrenching his leg out of the warrior’s grasp. He also came down on top of the warrior’s injured leg, bringing another scream out of him—a scream that ended sharply as Geth kicked him in the head. Geth got his gauntlet up, swept aside a blow from the warrior with the shattered cheek, and rolled across the ground as the second head of Kobus’s axe swung down. He felt a tug on his scalp as he moved and looked back to see locks of thick brown hair clinging to the axe as Kobus whirled it up again.

The big orc howled in frustration and spat something in Orc, but without Wrath Geth could no longer understand him. He bared his teeth and climbed to his feet, his chewed leg forcing him to limp. Kobus’s eyes flicked to his injury and his posture changed. He sank back on his tree-trunk legs and began to swing his double axe in slow circles. His eyes focused on Geth’s face, then he began to move forward, step by slow step. The other two orcs moved out to the sides, coming at Geth from right and from left. Geth backed up cautiously, but they followed, quicker than him with uninjured legs.

They weren’t, however, entirely uninjured. Geth feinted toward the warrior with the broken cheek. His face was beginning swell, squeezing closed the eye above the cheek. Geth took a fast step toward him, feinted with his gauntlet toward the warrior’s good side—then leaped at him, striking with the heel of his empty left hand straight at his broken face. Bones that were already shattered crumbled under his blow, driving inward. The warrior wailed and Geth swarmed around behind him even as Kobus and the final orc turned to help their friend. Geth took a firm grip on the warrior’s good cheek with on hand, wrapped the other arm around his throat, and twisted hard.

The orc’s neck snapped and his body went limp. Quick as thought, Geth bent down, grabbed the axe from his dead hand and hurled it the last warrior. The heavy-headed weapon hadn’t been meant for throwing, but at close range and with Geth’s strength behind it, it flew well enough to split the orc’s breastbone and sink deep into his chest.

The death of his final man didn’t slow Kobus down, however. His double-axe spun up, stopped at the top of its arc, then chopped down. Geth barely blocked it, and the force of the impact left his arm numb inside the gauntlet. He gritted his teeth and blocked a second blow, this one low, as Kobus whirled the second head at him. Then a third blow, high, and a fourth, low. Deceptively low. He left himself open as he tried to stop it and abruptly Kobus had turned his weapon and the edge was diving across Geth’s belly. He twisted to avoid it and the steel cut a deep gash across his hip instead. Geth staggered, then staggered again as he tripped over Pog’s still body. He slid down to one knee.

And without a moment’s hesitation, Kobus released one hand from the shaft of his double axe and clamped it around Geth’s throat, squeezing hard. It was the same tactic that had almost won him the challenge in the horde camp, but this time he kept Geth down, forcing him to his knees in Pog’s warm blood.

Shadows swam in Geth’s vision. Kobus grinned horribly, and his pin-prick mad eyes looked merry. He spoke in Orc, and while Geth couldn’t understand the words, he could guess at them.
We’ve been here before, you and I
.

It occurred to Geth that he wasn’t sure who did the speaking. Kobus had almost strangled him—but in their last meeting, Medala had almost suffocated him. Who spoke from Kobus’s mouth?

It didn’t matter. Geth met Kobus’s eyes and managed to force a few words out of his crushed throat. “Last time,” he croaked, “I wasn’t armed.”

His right arm brought up Pog’s axe, plucked from the ground, and swung it in an awkward but powerful arc.

The bit deep into Kobus’ upper arm, cutting through flesh and chopping through bone. Kobus screamed. His grasp went limp, and he staggered back. His arm hung from a tatter of muscle, fingers clenching wildly. His double-axe fell from his other hand as he tried to clutch at his maimed limb. Geth sucked air into his lungs and went after him. Kobus looked up, his eyes pools of insane hatred. Tears of rage washed his red horde marks. Geth’s gut twisted.

Kobus lunged at him, massive jaws snapping. Geth stepped back and swung the axe, burying it in Kobus’s skull. The speed of the warrior’s moving body carried him on to plow into the dirt, but when he stopped, he lay very still.

Geth groaned and staggered, releasing his hold on his shifting and sucking in his breath as the act tugged closed the worst of his wounds. Vulnerability rushed back to him—vulnerability and the ache of what he had done. He put his hands to his forehead and knotted his fingers in his hair. “Tiger and Wolf—”

“Geth!”

An orc’s voice, but not speaking Orc. Young. Clear. Familiar. Geth spun around, his heart lifting suddenly. “Orshok!” he said—then froze.

It was the young druid, but his face was cold and his eyes were as hard and insane as Kobus’s had been. As Medala’s were. Geth’s heart felt like it had been torn out of his chest.

In one hand, Orshok held a hunda stick. In the other, he held Wrath. He flung it in the dirt at Geth’s feet almost casually. Geth stared at it, then up at Orshok. The Gatekeeper smiled.

“No,” Geth groaned. “No.”

“Kill or be killed.” The voice that came from Orshok’s lips didn’t have the warm tones Geth had come to know in his travels. Instead, it was dry and harsh, the voice of a kalashtar who had traveled to the heart of madness and back. “Either way, I will have what I want.” Orshok’s eyes flickered—and a low song rippled out of his mouth. Geth realized he knew the rhythm, that he had heard it in the drums and flutes and rattles of the horde of Angry Eyes, but this was the first time he had heard it given voice and something about it chilled him to the bone.