The Fifth Dawn (26 page)

Glissa nodded. “He’s with me for now.”

“Up to you. You’re the Chosen One,” Bruenna said. “Ready? We’re on.”

“Will you stop calling me the—” A metallic scraping that ended in a loud click interrupted Glissa, and the heavy clockwork lock on the double doors slid open. The elf girl straightened and shrugged her shoulders in an attempt to make the pack on her back a little less conspicuous. With a rush of equalizing air pressure, the bronze doors swung inward, away from them, with a clang that rang like a gong.

“Presenting Glissa of the Tangle,” bellowed a goblin crier, his voice sending tinny echoes resounding throughout the throne room. “And the Lady Bruenna,” the crier added, almost as an afterthought.

Glissa stood in the archway of a huge cavern. The rusty red walls were coated with centuries of smoke residue from burning flame tubes. Dozens, maybe hundreds of the tubes lined the jagged walls, and smoke from the flames rushed up a wide central shaft that opened overhead. Glissa couldn’t see the end, but the smoke was going somewhere. Cool air also rush in from both sides through vents carved into the walls at floor level.

She wasn’t sure what the cavern had once been, but it was now rearranged into a throne room. A path hewn from the rough
copper floor ran straight out ahead of her, watched on the right side by a line of twelve armored goblins carrying spears and shields. Along the left were an equal number of leonin warriors in glittering gold and silver plate. The leonin warriors, all males, clutched battle-scythes and stared straight ahead, chins slightly raised, matching the rigid attention stance of their goblin counterparts. The path ended in a short set of wide stairs leading up to a platform that looked like a small mountain of iron ore the the top sliced neatly off.

Atop the platform sat three ornately carved thrones. The largest, in the center, was plated in gold and held an alert but relaxed leonin male Glissa immediately recognized. A short male goblin was seated to the leonin’s right, and on his left, once again wearing the engraved slagwurm armor of the Tel-Jilad, was an elf. And elf with one eye but a face that was like looking at a mirror. So that’s why Bruenna had mentioned her sister and refused to go into details. If she hadn’t seen it herself, Glissa wouldn’t have believed it. She clenched her jaw to keep it from dropping open.

“Yshkar? Dwugget …” she gulped and forced herself to finish. “Lyese.” When none of the three responded immediately, Glissa followed Bruenna’s lead and bowed deeply.

“So, what’s new?” Glissa asked. “I mean, besides everything.”

Lyese rose from her throne—her sister was sitting on a
throne
—and walked with unusual dignity and grace down the hewn steps. The elf girl didn’t say a word, but when she reached Glissa, she stopped and stared long and hard into her older sister’s eyes. Glissa returned the stare, but after a moment she arched an eyebrow and asked, “Looking for something?”

Lyese straightened and called up to the platform, “It is Glissa.” She returned to the older girl and swept her into a hug. Glissa held her sister tightly, tears suddenly welling in her eyes. “Lyese,” she said, “I’m so sorry. Sorry I’ve been gone. I was trapped.”

“I know,” Lyese said, smiling through tears. “We had given up all hope, but then Bruenna found a way to get through—Glissa, you’re alive!”

“So why are you—”

“I’m the Khanha!”

“What’s a Khaha?”

“Khan
ha
. I’m married to—”

“You’re
married?”

“Yes, I’m the—”

“Khanha. You said that. You mean you’re married to—”

“The Kha,” Yshkar rumbled, striding purposefully down the steps. “We welcome you to our … temporary home. You
have come at an opportune time, Glissa of the Tangle.”

“Hold on a minute,” Glissa said, poking a finger into Yshkar’s chest, stopping the surprised leonin in his tracks. “Lyese, you
married Raksha?”

“Er, no,” Lyese said, and her eyes fell to the floor. “Raksha is—Glissa, Raksha is gone. Yshkar and I …” Her sister shrugged.

Glissa was floored. Lyese had displayed a crush on Raksha Golden Cub, but Yshkar? It was unexpected, to say the least. “Raksha’s dead? Bruenna, why didn’t you tell me?”

“We asked her to bring you here without delay,” Yshkar said. “Once you’d been detected, we could do nothing else.”

“Explaining about Raksha would have just slowed us down,” Bruenna explained sadly. “It is not a tale I enjoy relating. Truthfully, he may not be dead, but he is no longer with us.”

“Yes, but all say Glissa should know everything, huh?” Dwugget growled, hopping down from his own throne to join the impromptu discussion.

“Thanks, Dwugget,” Glissa said the wizened little goblin. “I think. Hey, why did your men attack me last—uh, decade?”

“You full of questions, huh? Just like the rest of us,” the old cleric said, nodding sagely. “But there is much to tell, from many angles, and much arguing, that always fun. And we have some time, huh? All talk over dinner. Then, action.” He winked. “All friends now, huh?”

“If you say so,” Glissa sighed. She didn’t know what to make of Dwugget’s presence, but he had helped her long ago, when her life had first gone crazy. And Slobad had trusted him. Still, the old goblin seemed filled with tension under his jolly demeanor, shifting on his feet a little too much. She would have to keep an eye on him.

Her belly rumbled. The goblin’s mention of food reminded
she couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten, but knew it was at least five year ago. “All friends now.” Glissa nodded. “So let’s eat.”

The meal was set out like a feast, though compared even to the meals that Glissa’s mother had prepared for special occasions, the pickings were sparse. The leonin royal family—of which Glissa guessed she was now a part—had obviously fallen on hard times, to say the least. Still, no food had tasted so good in quite a while.

“All right,” Glissa began without ceremony, “I’ll tell you what I know, or what I’ve been able to figure out. You fill in the rest, and we’ll go from there.” She arched an eyebrow when she saw her sister, Dwugget, Yshkar, and Bruenna exchange furtive looks. “We’re
all
going to level with each other,” she added.

Before she could continue, a goblin guard scuttled into the room and whispered something in Dwugget’s ear. The goblin rose politely with the gingerness of the aged. “Excuse, my friends,” the old goblin said. “A theological dispute has broken out.” Without another word, the goblin followed the goblin out of the dining room.

“Theological dispute?” Glissa asked.

With a wave, Yshkar dismissed the remaining goblin guards, who scuttled after Dwugget. The Kha nodded to Bruenna, who continued.

“When the green sun rose into the sky five years ago, the goblin tribes very nearly degenerated into complete anarchy,” Bruenna explained. “The event confirmed many prophecies that the shamanic leaders had long held to be heresies, and hundreds of goblins had been exiled or executed for espousing them.”

“The Cult of Krark,” Glissa said. “Heretics.”

“But the only surviving group of heretics out there, thanks to you,” Lyese said. “The goblins didn’t
want
to destroy their own society. Nor could they follow the old leadership. Dwugget saw an opportunity, and when he marched right into the shamans’ tunnels and started preaching to the tribes about Krark and his journey, about Mother’s Heart—well, the goblins lapped it up.” Her sister shrugged. “They made him the new shaman. Renamed the mountain Krark. But it wasn’t easy for Dwugget to maintain order at first. He’d be the first to tell you he worked with some shady characters to keep the goblins in line back then. Once Raksha and I managed to get in to see him, Dwugget was more than happy to talk about an alliance. For one thing, it let him get rid of thugs like Alderok Vektro.”

“Vektro is dead?” Glissa asked.

“Once the alliance was sealed,” Lyese said, any of the Vulshok mercenaries that Dwugget knew had been abusive or murderous to goblins ended up breaking ore in the mines. And now, Dwugget personally intercedes whenever theological arguments break out.”

“Why?”

“Have you ever seen a goblin theological dispute?” Lyese asked.

“Right,” Glissa said. From what Slobad had told her, such disputes were usually considered finished when one side was roasting in the Great Furnace.

Glissa wanted to ask again how her sister had ended up the wife of a leonin monarch, but she decided to wait until the two could talk privately. She catalogued everything else she knew for them, and finally, showed them Geth’s head after servants cleared the table of food.

Yshkar’s reaction was violent and immediate. “Abomination!” the leonion cried and drew a longknife.

“No, wait!” Glissa shouted. She held her arms protectively over Geth’s head. “He’s on our side. I know it stinks, but …”

“My Kha,” Lysese purred, placing a hand on her husband’s sword arm, “Please.”

The leonin growled, but relented at the elf’s touch. Keeping one eye on Glissa’s grisly companion, he replaced the blade and returned to his seat but still stared daggers at Geth’s head.

It wasn’t until then that Glissa noticed she’d readily protected Geth. She chalked it up to the fact that she was still convinced the necromancer’s head would prove useful somehow. And it wasn’t as if he took up much space, or ate anything. He hadn’t even talked for days. In fact …

Glissa flipped open the lid to make sure the smelly thing hadn’t finally expired. “You all right?” she asked.

“Don’t start that,” Geth’s head replied. Glissa shut the flap and set the bag next to her chair. Good thing they had finished eating. Opening Geth’s bag was always an olfactory adventure.

“Now what no one’s told me, but I’m starting to guess,” Glissa told them all, “is that you’ve learned something new. You thought I was dead, then you didn’t.” She locked eyes with Bruenna.
“Tell
me you’ve learned something. Tell me anything.”

“What would you like to know first?” Bruenna asked.

“What happened to Raksha?” Glissa said.

The dining room fell silent except for the clink of silverware on silver plates. Finally, Yshkar sighed. “Very well. We had hoped we could cover this later, but you have the right to know.”

“And Glissa, it’s important you know it’s not your fault,” Lyese added.

“How
could
it be my fault?” Glissa asked. “I’ve been frozen or something.”

“Our cousin, the noblest, most honorable Kha since the days Great Dakan walked the plains, disappeared three years ago,” Yshkar said.

“Impossible,” Glissa said.

“It’s true,” Bruenna said.

“He saw the end coming, I think,” Lyese said, “and decided he would rather all of us die than lose the den home. Glissa,
Raksha
destroyed Taj Nar. If I hadn’t caught him in the act, we all would have perished.”

“Raksha
destroyed Taj Nar? That’s insane!” Glissa said, slamming her goblet to the table. “How? Why?”

“I told you why,” Lyese said sharply. “I found him planting some kind of explosive—”

“It was called a mana bomb,” Bruenna broke in. “Apparently Raksha had gotten one from the vedalken. The vedalken created them, but never had reason to use them. Just one can wipe out several acres. Fortunately, Taj Nar itself protected most of us from the brunt of the blast, though at a terrible cost.”

“Afterward, Raksha blamed me,” Lyese said. “If it weren’t for Yshkar, he might have killed me.”

“Our cousin was raving, a madman,” Yshkar said. “But we could not execute him. Not even after what he had done. No Kha, no matter how insane, can be allowed to face death anywhere but on his feet. Yet we could not allow him back onto the field to face an honorable end, either.”

“For one thing, there was no battlefield,” Lyese added. “It was all we could do to get the survivors up here, to Krark-Home.”

“Exile was the only solution,” Yshkar said. “He was given a longknife, a zauk, and cast out in the dead of night.”

“That’s it?” Glissa said. “Do you know where he went?” Something about this was rubbing her the wrong way.

“A few of our scouts reported seeing a leonin on zaukback
headed into the Tangle the night he disappeared,” Yshkar replied bitterly. “That alone should tell you his fate. We should have sent someone to record his death, according to ancient law, but no scouts could be spared, of course. He was mad, but in the end he did the honorable thing. The creatures of the Tangle are fierce, our wife tells us.”