Word of Traitors: Legacy of Dhakaan - Book 2 Read Online Free

lhesh’s final words had stilled the tree and forced it to release Dagii. His face bore the beginnings of bruises and the limp in his walk—the result of a broken ankle healed in a rush by her magic during the quest for the Rod of Kings—was even more pronounced than usual.
    “Did the tree hurt you?” she asked.
    “No. It wasn’t able to get past my armor. Falling out of it hurt more.” His face tightened. “Keraal is worse off.”
    Ekhaas’s ears rose. In the madness of Haruuc’s death, she had forgotten the rebel lord. The command that had released Dagii had also released Keraal. “He’s alive?”
    “For now.”
    There was noise ahead, noise that grew louder as they approached the antechamber outside of the throne room. It seemed that not everyone had retreated to grieve. A final turn in the passage revealed the antechamber—and Geth, along with two old hobgoblins, under siege by a small mob of shouting warlords. The two old hobgoblins looked to be in their element.
    One, a thin woman, met the shouts of the warlords with calm, firm answers. “It is tradition! Would you do it differently in your clan hold? The period of mourning is dedicated to the dead—there will be no discussion of succession until Haruuc is in his tomb. Ten days of mourning Haruuc’s death, five days of games to celebrate his life, and then an heir will be selected. Until then the
shava
holds Haruuc’s power.”
    The other, a vastly old, rotund, yet vigorous man who wore the ceremonial armor of a warlord himself, replied to shouts as if he were on the battlefield. “The assembly will meet, Garaad! Tomorrow.
Maabet
, decide for yourself, Iizan! Honor him as you choose.”
    The thin woman was Razu, who had been Haruuc’s mistress of rituals. The fat old warlord was Munta the Gray, Haruuc’s closest ally for more than thirty years. Between them, shielded by them, stood Geth. The shifter gripped the Rod of Kings with one hand and the hilt of Wrath, the Sword of Heroes, with the other. Wrath was still sheathed but Geth looked ready to draw it. Ekhaas knew that animal instincts ran strong in Geth’s veins. His large eyes were wide and fever-bright, and his thick, coarse hair was almost standing on end. He looked like a wild thing backed into a corner.
    His expression brightened slightly when he saw Ekhaas and Dagii. He nodded toward a door across the antechamber, then turned to face the warlords. “Enough!” he said, his voice a snarl that cut through the clamor. He spoke the human language but many of the warlords in the antechamber had fought in the mercenary armies of House Deneith during the Last War and understood the tongue. They fell silent. Geth glared at them all. “Leave. You heard Razu. I’m not going to talk about the succession.”
    “Maybe not about the succession.” Ekhaas recognized the warlord who spoke—Aguus of Traakuum. “But what about the war?”
    “The war?” asked Geth.
    Aguus grunted. “It is as Haruuc said. We should turn our blades against the Valenar. If we must wait ten days or more before we make a decision, the Valenar will have an advantage over us.”
    “There is no war. How can there be a war when the man who spoke of it was cut down moments later?” Geth swept his gaze across the silent warlords. “Think about that during the period of mourning.”
    Aguus wasn’t finished. “Haruuc would have wanted it!”
    Geth froze for a moment, then growled, “You’re wrong.” He turned away from them, gesturing with the rod. “Leave now. A
shava
needs to mourn, too.”
    He pushed away from them without waiting for a response. Munta followed for a few moments, exchanging words with him, then turned back to block any of the more aggressive warlords from following. Geth came to join Ekhaas and Dagii at the door.
    “How are you?” Ekhaas asked him.
    “How do you think I am?” He opened the door and led them through into a short corridor.
    Along the corridor was another door and a hobgoblin