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

“That the Master of Silence is stirring. That Dah’mir hopes, by driving kalashtar mad and drawing them to the service of the powers of Khyber, to give his master servants with the psionic powers of mind flayers but without mind flayers’ vulnerability to Gatekeeper magic. Those things we knew. They’re the reason why the Gatekeepers meet in council and why the horde was summoned while we debate.” He stroked his beard. “But that Dah’mir has found new—and more powerful—binding stones to use in his plans, that we didn’t know. I’ll need to take this to the other Gatekeepers.”
    Supporting himself with the stout length of his crook-headed hunda stick, the old orc rose to his feet.
    “Wait, what about your story?” Geth asked. “How do you know all this? It can’t have been a vision, can it?” He tapped his cheek under his right eye to indicate Batul’s own blind eye, the eye with which the druid claimed to have occasionally glimpses of the future.
    Batul blinked and shook his head. “I almost forgot. I’m sorry—so much is happening and the council’s debates …” He sighed and leaned heavily on his hunda stick. “No, it wasn’t a vision. The only clear vision I’ve had of late was your journey along the river, and even that wasn’t so clear as it might have been—I thought Singe and Dandra might have been with you, and I didn’t foresee Ekhaas’s presence at all.”
    “How then?”
    Batul looked up, the gaze of his good eye sweeping them, and nodded again. “Perhaps it’s best if I show you. Come with me. Leave your gear here, if you like. This tent will be yours.”
    Geth pulled on his shirt and picked up Wrath. They followed Batul out of the tent. As they passed through the camp,sporadic shouts and cheers followed them. Or at least followed Geth. The shifter returned the shouts with waves and said to Batul out of the corner of his mouth, “What did you tell them about me?”
    “The truth,” Batul told him. “Perhaps the rest of Khorvaire is jaded, but here in the Shadow Marches we still appreciate a hero’s story. The fight with Kobus will only add to yours.”
    Geth felt a vague flush of shame. “I don’t fight for glory. How much of the fight did you see?”
    “Nearly all of it. Orshok told me why you felt the need to take on Kobus.” He moved a little closer and added softly, “He said you were defending your honor so you could fight alongside the horde with pride—before you even knew what the horde was fighting.”
    “I didn’t say that exactly …”
    Batul shook his head. “But you said it nearly enough, didn’t you? Geth, you’re impulsive, but I know you think more than that.”
    Something flickered in the back of Geth’s mind, the fleeting shadow of curiosity. He looked at the old druid sharply. “What are you talking about?”
    “I’m talking about being aware of what you do. Have you felt the excitement in the camp?”
    Geth nodded and Batul smiled. “Incredible, isn’t it? Warriors arrive in the camp and fall into the horde as if they’ve been sharing a fire for days. The council is nearly ready to make a decision and getting a dozen Gatekeepers to agree on dinner usually takes weeks of debate. We’ll march soon, I think.” His good eye flickered in the firelight. “If I were you,” he added, “I wouldn’t let anyone else know how much Wrath lets you understand.”
    Batul’s soft tones vanished before Geth could even nod again. “Here,” he announced and stopped.
    They stood before a large tent. Unlike the others in the horde camp, it stood on its own, separated from its nearest neighbors by five paces of open ground on all sides. Two guards whose stony faces clearly indicated that they wanted to be somewhere else stood guard at the tent flap. Their presence, however, wasn’t the only protection for the tent. Two birds—one a hawk, the othera crow, both probably bound to druids of the council—perched on the roof pole. The outside of the