The Killing Song: The Dragon Below Book III by Don Bassingthwaite

nose. One eye was already swelling shut, but the other was open and it rolled toward Geth. Kobus’s face twisted and his body started to shake. His arms rose and swept aside the friends who had been trying to tend to him.
    “Geth! Watch out!” Orshok yelled.
    Geth just stepped up closer to Kobus, reached down, grabbed one of his arms—and hauled the orc to his feet. Blood sprayed him as Kobus’s shaking finally erupted into laughter. Geth joined in and then they were slapping each other’s shoulders and back like old friends.
    “Domad’ad,”
said Kobus.
“Domad’ad chuf.”
He started to pull Geth off into the camp.
    “Wait,” Geth told him, choking on his laughter. “Orshok, can you heal Kobus?”
    “Krepis will do it,” said a new voice. “We need to have a talk now.”
    “Batul!” Geth pulled away from Kobus. Batul stood with Orshok and Ekhaas, wrapped in a simple blanket, his white beard and hair wet, and his parchment-fine skin plumped and slick as if he had just emerged from a very long, very hot bath. All at once the infectious excitement of the horde camp and the easy peace of long travel seemed to vanish, replaced by the long suspended urgency of their mission. Geth pushed close to Batul.
    “We have news!” he said. “Dah’mir serves a daelkyr called the Master of Silence imprisoned beneath the Bonetree mound, but he’s stirring. Dah’mir wants to turn kalashtar into servantsof the daelkyr because he thinks their psionic powers—”
    Batul held up a hand. “Calm down,” he said. “We know. Why do you think we’re all here?”
    Geth stared at him in speechless shock, then glanced at Orshok and Ekhaas. Both of them shook their heads. Geth looked back at Batul. “What? But … how?”
    The old druid smiled. “Let’s find somewhere quiet and tell each other our stories.”

    Ekhaas was the one who told their story. She was a
duur’kala
after all, and even if she hadn’t been present for many of the events that unfolded since Geth and Orshok had last seen Batul, Geth had to admit that she recounted them better than he ever could have. She ended with their separation from the others outside Tzaryan Keep, with Singe and Dandra heading east toward Sharn to warn the kalashtar while they turned west to find Batul and the other Gatekeepers. “Except,” she concluded, “that it seems we didn’t need to.”
    “But I’m glad you did,” said Batul. “If only because it’s been many years since I’ve heard a story told by a
duur’kala
of the Kech Volaar, and I thank you for the experience.” He sat back and looked up at the dark ceiling of the tent in which they sat, his good eye seeming to contemplate the shadows while his milky blind eye stared into deeper mysteries. “Aryd the Seeress is a figure from some of our oldest legends. I know only a few of them, but the Battle of Moths … I don’t recall ever hearing such a tale, though I have heard that the circle that once stood where the Bonetree mound stands was raised to commemorate a great battle.”
    “The
duur’kala
take care to remember what must not be forgotten,” Ekhaas said.
    Batul looked back down at her. “The
duur’kala
would do well to remember other things as well. Like humility.”
    “Easy,” said Geth, straightening up from the basin where he had been washing Kobus’s blood off himself. “We’re all friends here.”
    Batul bent his head. “I’m sorry. Forgive a cranky old druid for being lectured by a child.”
    Ekhaas looked like she might be ready with another sharp comment, but Geth caught her eye and glared at her. She clenched her teeth and said, “I beg your pardon. My pride wasn’t meant to offend.”
    It was a pretty apology, though Geth noticed that her ears stayed resolutely erect. Batul said nothing, so neither did he.
    Seated on the other side of the tent, Orshok spoke up. “Does what we learned in Taruuzh Kraat agree with what you already know, teacher?”
    Batul nodded. “Yes,” he said.