Sister of the Dead

by Barb Hendee

  Cowering inside the barren hearth's hollow was a boy dressed in tatters turned dark by dirt and grime. Gaunt, with filthy brown-black hair to his shoulders, he squirmed to the hearth's far side and pressed one shoulder tightly into the comer. He covered his face as he looked out in horror, only one eye peeking between stick-thin fingers. There were fresh slashes down his arm from Chap's claws.

  "Chap, what have you done?" Wynn cried.

  Magiere crept forward in a crouch, ready to lunge at the boy, and her voice sounded forced and slurred. "Leesil, let Chap go!"

  Wynn turned to Leesil, about to argue, but Leesil stood wary and tense with his gaze locked upon the cowering little figure. Wynn's own anger faded.

  The topaz amulet Magiere had given Leesil hung in plain view, and it glowed brightly.

  "It is only a boy, " she whispered, looking back to the hearth in disbelief.

  The boy shuddered continuously as he tried to force himself deeper into the hearth's corner.

  Magiere glared back at Wynn. "I don't care what it was. "

  Her irises were completely black, her words barely clear, as if her mouth wouldn't form them correctly. Wynn wasn't certain, but Magiere's teeth appeared longer between her moving lips.

  'Think, " Wynn insisted. "No one lives here. The village and keep were deserted long ago. Do you not find it strange that he is here alone?"

  "Wynn, don't you do this again, " Leesil warned.

  "No!" she shouted back, and jerked out of his reach.

  Chap tried to snap his jaws closed on her short robe's hem, but Wynn backed away to the wall by the hearth. She crouched down along the wall, set her lamps upon the floor, and peered around the hearth's edge. Languages came easily to her, and she had picked up enough Droevinkan now to converse in simple phrases.

  "If you... attack, " she said quietly, "They... take your head. Understand? Be still and we... not hurt you. "

  "Speak for yourself, " Magiere hissed.

  "Magiere, not now. " Wynn kept her gaze upon the boy. "What is your name?"

  He studied her and finally pulled his hands from his face, glancing now and then at the others. "Tomas, " he whispered, as if it were some secret he shared with her.

  "Did you eat... the rats?"

  The boy shrank back, eyes on Magiere. Wynn did not turn her attention away to see what had made him cower again. He shook his head.

  "No. My food all dead now. Can't find any but dead ones. " His voice cracked. "I starve now. "

  Pity washed through Wynn.

  "No toads, no rats, no snakes, and birds all gone, " Tomas whispered, and his eyes half closed in exhaustion. "I sleep. I starve. I sleep more. "

  His face was so coated with filth, it was dun colored instead of the pale shade Wynn remembered of Chane and the undead of Bela. His gaunt body would not stop quivering.

  Wynn dug blindly in her pack, watching Tomas cautiously. She felt the slick skin of an apple, and then another. When she had found three, she pulled them out.

  "We have nothing for you, " she said, holding out the fruit.

  "These come from... living tree. Fresh. Perhaps some life in them. "

  Tomas lunged at her.

  "Wynn, get back!" Leesil snapped.

  She felt his grip close on the shoulder of her short robe as Chap rushed forward with snapping teeth. Before Leesil could jerk her away, Tomas's narrow fingers seized the apples. One crashed in his grip as he quickly retreated into the hearth. Wynn thrust out her arm in Chap's way, and the dog halted.

  Tomas shrank into his corner. Sharp teeth and fangs sank through an apple's skin. His gaze fixed on Chap as he sucked, hunger overriding fear.

  "Wynn, what are you doing?" Magiere demanded, stepping forward.

  This time it was Leesil who held a hand out to stop her.

  "Who did this to you?" Wynn asked.

  Tomas looked at her, still sucking hard upon the apple, and his fingers made dents in the fruit from his tight grip. His brow furrowed over wide eyes, as if he did not understand the question. He glanced about the room before letting the fruit slip from his mouth.

  "Long time back... very long, " he said, staring at the floor before he looked up at Wynn again. 'Too many before me ran away. He said he would make me stay, wanted to be sure he could do this... good practice, he said. "

  Tomas set his other two apples on the floor. He flattened one hand there to lean in Wynn's direction.

  "He drank me—like a rat, " Tomas said firmly, as if the comparison had just occurred to him. "Like a toad, like a lizard, like a snake but not a bird, because those are too hard to catch. He made me be like him, Lord Massing, but I fooled him. Young master taught me how. "

  Wynn pressed her hand against the stone wall as a wave of cold sank through her, filling her with nausea. She looked up at Magiere.

  Magiere crouched low, creeping forward toward Tomas. "Massing? Is mat who lived here? Was he lord of this fief?"

  Tomas pulled back. He spat at her, pulling his spare apples closer to hold them between his bare feet.

  "Stay away, " Wynn warned Magiere.

  "Warm... the warm girl is better, " Tomas whispered.

  He stared at Wynn and, for an instant, she thought she saw his irises fade to colorless crystalline disks. Tomas held up his mangled apple.

  "Even nicer than the young master, " he added.

  "My name is Wynn, " she said. "The young master... Did Lord Massing have a son? Tomas, do you... know the lord's first name?"

  The boy shook his head and licked his fruit. "Don't know, didn't hear, never told. Wasn't here long before they went away. But the young master taught me of rats and lizards and snakes so I wouldn't need no folks from the village. Can't feed on kin, it's not right. Young master taught me. "

  "Cursed saints!" Leesil whispered. "Welstiel was here, and he had a son? Or was the son? What's the little monster telling us?"

  Tomas looked blankly at Leesil. He seemed unaffected by the names he was called and returned to sucking on the apple.

  "They left him here, " Wynn said. "They abandoned him, and he's been living here on rats. "

  "You're eating rats?" Leesil asked the boy.

  Tomas shook his head. "No more, just dead ones, all dried up the same day. All gone. "

  "All at once?" Wynn asked. "When?"

  "Not long back. " Tomas frowned and dropped his gaze from Wynn's face. "I sleep some nights. Too hungry. I wake, not sure if same night. Don't remember but not long back. "

  Wynn looked up at Leesil. "The trees are not as far gone as those we saw in Pudurlatsat, and this boy says the rats all died at once. You know what this sounds like?"

  "But you told us Vordana was destroyed. "

  "His urn was destroyed, and I watched him dissipate, yes. "

  Magiere still crouched, glaring at the boy, but when she spoke, it wasn't to him. "Welstiel... It's been Welstiel all this time. "

  "We don't know that for certain, " Leesil corrected. "All we know is that he was here long ago, and he had family. Or someone or something else using the same family name. "

  "Tomas, is there a man here?" Wynn asked. "Living... close, in the forest?"

  The boy leaned toward her, small face filled with urgency. "Don't go in that forest, Warm Wynn, " he said, either sadness or fear welling up in his eyes. "There's dead things that still move. Worse than me. That's why all my kin left, long time back, but I couldn't go. "

  Wynn had no idea how old Tomas was. He looked like a boy of no more than ten, perhaps younger, but he had been here a long time and might be older than any of them.

  "What dead things?" Leesil asked.

  Tomas shook his head, and Wynn saw his furtive glances toward the doorways at either end of the kitchen.

  "I don't think he can tell us much more, " she said. "We should let him go. "

  "Let him go?" Magiere rose up to her full height. "We don't let his kind go. "

  Wynn stood up, as well, and stepped directly in front of Magiere. "He is a v
ictim—like you! This is not his fault. He does not feed on anyone. We should help him. Leesil, talk to her. "

  "Haven't you gotten over this nonsense?" Magiere answered. "He's dead and was made to rise up and prey upon the living. He's not an innocent. "

  Leesil crouched down before the hearth. Wynn balled her hands into fists, ready to jump on him if he made a move toward Tomas. He lowered his blades, both still in one hand, as he spoke.

  "You're going have to leave this place and hunt deeper in the forests. That's all there is for you now. We hunt your kind. If we hear you've touched anything but an animal, we'll be back for you. Understand?"

  Tomas took in Leesil's words. Brown eyes wide, he nodded.

  Leesil tossed his head toward the kitchen's far door. "Go. "

  Chap's snarl rose sharply. Leesil scooted back to put his hand on the dog's muzzle.

  Tomas looked up at Wynn. He cringed, a look of shame on his gaunt little face, and then bolted for the far door and was gone.

  Beneath her relief, Wynn was miffed that Tomas had been allowed to go free only when Leesil stepped in. Magiere had not argued with him at all, but she'd brushed Wynn off without even listening to her.

  Magiere turned in a slow circle, examining the kitchen. "Welstiel. All this time, all this way, just to come back to him. "

  "We're still not sure, " Leesil said. "We only know he was involved somehow. "

  Wynn tried to put aside her irritation. "Your Aunt Bieja said there were three who came for your mother. Osceline said Ubad was present at your birth. If Welstiel was mere, as well, perhaps, then who was the third?"

  Magiere's gaze ceased roaming to turn upon Wynn. The lost look in her eyes faded, and determination returned. "When we find Ubad, we'll ask, as it seems he's not coming to us. "

  As they headed back outside, Wynn's thoughts were upon Tomas, who never had a choice in what had become of him. Much like another she had spent time with in a small room filled with books and old scrolls and peaceful quiet. She looked ahead in Tomas's existence and saw long solitary years in a dank forest.

  They should have done more. There should have been a way to take the boy from this place. Though he would never grow up, he deserved something more than what had been left to him in the wake of his lost life. Some day, Magiere— and Chap—would have to see the individual in place of the natural enemy their instincts drove them to hunt.

  They emerged in the courtyard, stepping out through the stockade's missing gate, and Wynn's breath caught as she saw Port and Imp in the light of her cold lamps.

  Still harnessed to the wagon, Imp had dropped to the ground, legs folded under her. Port's eyelids sagged, his head hanging, and his massive legs trembled. Wynn rushed over to them, and the others followed. Port blinked once at her but did not lift his head.

  Wynn gazed about the dark, fear creeping in upon her.

  "I do not feel tired, " she said. "Leesil?"

  He looked around, as well. "No, I'm fine. "

  Chap began to growl again.

  "Over there, " Magiere said.

  Both Wynn and Leesil turned toward the south side of the stockade as something gray walked forward through the trees. Its face was shriveled in upon its skull, so much so that its lips did not meet over the teeth of its closed jaws. There was no mistaking the wisps of long, white hair clinging to its scalp. Vordana.

  IChane woke the moment the sun set. They'd been forced by dawn to pitch their tent and hide for the day in this soggy forest, but Welstiel had told him they would reach Apudalsat shortly after dusk. Wynn might already be in danger, and Chane had no intention of waiting any longer.

  "Welstiel, get up. We need to go. "

  His companion rose, rubbing his face. "Give me a moment. "

  Chane strapped on his sword, wishing he'd had time to make another wolf familiar, or whatever large animal he could find in this dismal province. "While you're taking your moment, you can explain what we're facing. This sword, and my conjury... is that going to be enough?"

  Welstiel's silence was more than frustrating. Chane couldn't help Wynn if he didn't even know what waited ahead for them. Indecision weighed on Welstiel's face. He looked older with his hair askew, in a cream shirt that badly needed washing.

  "Do you know what a necromancer is?" Welstiel asked.

  "I've heard of conjurors who specialize in spirits of the dead. " Chane paused. "Is that what Magiere seeks?"

  "His name is Ubad, and he's much more than you suppose. He served my father... and helped create Magiere. "

  Once again, there was more to this than Welstiel let on, and he was giving up what he had to only at the last possible moment. Magiere had been "created"? Chane harbored doubts concerning any undead fathering a child. The involvement of a conjuror—a necromancer—told him little, but it hinted that there was considerably more to the dhampir's origin that Welstiel kept to himself.

  "When he finds Magiere, " Welstiel continued, "he will be most anxious after all these years. I'm uncertain of specifics, but I suspect it took Ubad a lifetime's preparation for her birth. He will try to persuade her to follow him for his own purpose. When she refuses, he will not let her—or anyone in her company—leave this land alive. "

  Chane glared out into the dark. They should have been planning their strategy nights ago, but Welstiel's selfish secrecy left them at a disadvantage.

  "I hope you have more toys than a brass disk and a ring!"

  He grabbed Welstiel's pack and threw it at him. He was almost certain the ring helped Welstiel to hide his presence from mantic and divinatory magics—or unnatural senses, such as those of other undead. Welstiel was not moved by his outburst and caught the pack in midair.

  "You do not know Magiere as I do, " he said. "Her powers will be strong when she faces Ubad. She is resourceful, and her experience grows. And my 'toys' are more useful than you imagine. We will assist from the shadows. "

  Chane cared nothing for Magiere. He cared only for Wynn.

  "I'll saddle the horses, " he said, "while you finish your moment. "

  ILeesil's topaz amulet glowed brightly. Vordana's appearance was no surprise. In the back of Leesil's mind, it had always seemed the undead sorcerer had gone down too easily. Now that they knew what this creature was capable of, Leesil's only worry was how to take its head. How could he fight something he couldn't get close to?

  Vordana smiled, little more than a lipless stretch of his mouth to expose grayed receding gums around clenched teeth. He raised one hand, and Magiere stepped out in front of Leesil.

  "Run!" she ordered.

  Wait.

  The word filled Leesil's mind.

  The topaz jerked upon the leather cord around his neck, extending in the air before his face. The cord snapped, and the amulet sailed into Vordana's upraised hand. Bony fingers closed around the stone, and he smiled again.

  Follow me.

  The voice echoed again in Leesil's head. He glanced to Magiere and then Wynn. They clearly heard the words, as well.

  "An escort, " Leesil said. "I think Wynn should stay here. "

  "No, " the sage replied, her eyes on the walking corpse.

  "It's all right, " Magiere said. "You thought you'd finished him, but you still saved us and the town. That's all that matters. "

  Wynn looked away. "Wait a moment. "

  She set one of her cold lamps down, ran to the wagon, and dropped her heavy pack and the other lamp inside. She returned with a crossbow and quarrel case, strapping both to her back, then retrieved the cold lamp, holding it out in front.

  Leesil nodded to Magiere, and they all stepped into the trees. Chap was silent, but his hackles stood up upon his neck. Magiere kept her falchion up, and Leesil gripped both his blades. Wynn and Chap followed behind him, the dog staying close to the young sage.

  Vordana's clothing had changed, and he no longer wore the stained shirt from the night Stefan had murdered him. His umber brown robes were cleaned of the soil from whatever secret grave he'd crawled fr
om. The state of his own form was another matter. The sorcerer's skin was more drawn and shriveled. He was no vampire, and his corpse succumbed to time, no matter how much life he bled from the world around him. A new brass urn hung around his neck.

  He motioned for them to follow and turned back into the forest.

  Strands of moss in the high branches hung down to the ground, like dark green curtains between the tree trunks. Vordana passed through them easily, but Leesil and Magiere had to hack a clear path with their blades. Soon their hands and sleeves were soaked from the damp foliage. Without sight of the night sky through the forest canopy, the dark was too thick for even Leesil's night sight. He was grateful for the illumination of Wynn's cold lamp.

  Wynn gasped and grabbed the back of his cloak. "Leesil!"

  She pointed beyond him, and he froze.

  "On the other side, too, " Magiere said. "And behind us. "

  In the half-circle of a sparse clearing, glowing shapes surrounded them. Leesil heard their whispers but couldn't make out their words as they drifted in and out among the trees.

  When Tomas said the villagers had left, and he couldn't follow, Leesil assumed they'd abandoned the village and the boy was left behind.

  Floating near a tendril of moss was the translucent figure of an aged soldier. His hauberk was slashed open, exposing internal organs that bulged, ready to spill out. Beside him was a short and tattered young woman with a ring around the skin of her throat where a rope had strangled her. She opened her mouth, trying to speak but her tongue was missing.

  A scarecrow-thin peasant boy glared in hatred at Magiere. He wore no shirt, and though his visage faded in and out, Leesil saw the ribs and telltale swollen paunch of starvation. Drifting out through a curtain of wet leaves came a pretty girl no older than Wynn, with dangling black curls. She reached out at Leesil, and he sidestepped quickly, though she couldn't possibly touch him. Her throat had been ripped open.

  Leesil smelled the strong scent of damp earth and decay as the cold sank into him, feeding despair. He heard Magiere's quick breaths beside him, and he looked back to Wynn.

  Her eyes were downcast, watching only the ground before her feet, and she held the cold lamp in front of her like a shield. Her free hand gripped the fur between Chap's shoulders, and the dog pulled her forward.