Dirge for a Necromancer - By Ash Stinson Page 0,123
shout and the sound of a scuffle. Diahsis tried to get up, but Vyrah put on hand firmly on his shoulder. “I’m sure it was nothing,” he said. “We were about to hear a story, Daeblau?”
“Are you insane? Something’s going on out there,” said Lorum. He moved to make for the door, but Daeblau caught him by the arm. Outside the room, the sound had died away, and now there was only the clatter of hooves on stone approaching them.
“Stay. We’re in the middle of telling stories,” said Daeblau, smiling. He’d drawn a knife and was holding it to Lorum’s throat. “It’d be rude to go off while I’m in the middle of my story.”
There was a dagger in Vyrah’s hand now, as well, and he was holding it to Diahsis’ temple. The unarmed general stared at Raettonus. “I don’t suppose you’ll help me here, will you, Magician?” he asked, his sharp ears flattening against the sides of his head.
“This doesn’t concern me,” Raettonus answered.
“Hm. That’s pretty much just as I was expecting,” responded Diahsis, voice emotionless, as the doors clattered open. The general let out a small sigh. “Oh, well. I had to ask just for thoroughness’ sake, I suppose.”
Five centaurs in Zylekkhan armor and adorned with red and purple banners bustled into the room, wielding swords and halberds. “Diahsis of Tahlehsohr, my name is General Ahkuriin of the Royal Zylekkhan Army,” said the lead centaur. “We are here to demand your immediate surrender of this fort.”
Diahsis glanced from Ahkuriin to Daeblau. “Well. I suppose it’s all on me that I lost it, isn’t it?” he remarked. “I surrender, of course. There’s a bloody knife to my head, and all I’ve got is a flute. Do you think I’m going to fight?”
Ahkuriin signaled for two of his men to take Diahsis and Lorum into chains and crossed to Daeblau. “The King would like to recognize you for your wits in dealing with this infiltration,” he said, clapping one gauntleted hand down on Daeblau’s shoulder. “You’ve been promoted to general. Congratulations.”
“It’s an honor,” said Daeblau, bowing his head.
“General Ahkuriin, what about this one?” asked one of the soldiers, nodding toward Deggho.
Ahkuriin regarded him distastefully. “A goblin?”
“He was a hostage taken by the late General Tykkleht,” Daeblau informed him.
“Whatever,” said Ahkuriin. “Kill him, release him. I don’t care.”
“Um, I’d rather prefer to be released,” Deggho ventured in a small voice. “I’ve died once before. Didn’t care for it.”
“Fine, fine,” muttered Ahkuriin, obviously not paying much attention. “Bebukh, escort him out.”
The soldier took Deggho by the arm and pulled him to his feet. Silently, he led the goblin out of the room. Deggho cast a worried look backward at Diahsis as he reached the door, but allowed himself to be taken away without any resistance.
Ahkuriin turned his attention to Lorum. “What’s your name and rank?” he asked.
“Lorum of Bhelstra. I’m a captain,” Lorum said reluctantly.
“Well, we can’t sell a captain into slave labor. It wouldn’t be right,” said Ahkuriin. “What hand do you fight with, son?”
“My right,” answered Lorum wearily.
“Remove the top two fingers on his right hand,” said Ahkuriin to his soldiers. “Same with the other captains. Get Nahruk and his division to lead them out to the Koa after dawn tomorrow. You can let them go there.”
“Yes, sir,” said one of the soldiers. He looked at Diahsis. “Do we do the same with him?”
“Him?” said Ahkuriin. “No, he’s a general. You can’t cut off a captured general’s fingers. It’s disrespectful.” He paused a moment, flicking his equine tail. “Hang him.”
Diahsis’ facial expression didn’t change. He stared at Ahkuriin with a controlled look on his face, much the same as if the Zylekkhan general were only an uninvited guest who had loudly interrupted his party. At Ahkuriin’s motion, Diahsis was hauled to his feet and escorted from the room. As Ahkuriin and Daeblau began to converse in Kaerikyna, Raettonus stood and slunk out of the room and made his way toward the stairwell.
Kaebha Citadel was filled with soldiers wearing the Zylekkhan colors. They were shouting and joking to each other as they rounded up the Tahlehson soldiers and chained their arms and legs. No one spoke to Raettonus as he passed, and when the Zylekkhans looked at him they’d quickly look away after catching sight of his pale red eyes. Vaguely, he wondered what kinds of stories they’d heard about him.
On a third floor landing, Brecan found him. “Raet!” exclaimed the unicorn, cantering over to him and nearly bowling over a