by Barb Hendee
As Shade charged out, Ghassan lifted to the rooftops again. Half hopping and half floating over the shakes, he raced along above the street. Before he could halt and focus upon the figure, Chane emerged and the dog leaped at the wraith.
It vanished.
In one blink, it materialized beyond Wynn. She skidded to a halt as Chane rushed by her. And Wynn's pale companion rammed his hand through the black robe. The wraith vanished again as Chane collided into a shop.
Black wisps swirled in the street ten paces beyond as Shade charged past Chane.
Ghassan rushed across another two rooftops and dropped to the street behind those swirls.
He needed only to mask the wraith's sense of place and bind it in confusion. As it struggled to reappear, he banished the spell that let his will lift him and began building walls in his own thoughts.
The wraith swung down at the majay-hì as Ghassan closed his eyes.
The pattern of a new spell appeared behind his eyelids. He began to chant, murmuring audibly, so the sound of his own voice in his ears reinforced his intent. He opened his eyes and reached for the thing's thoughts—if it had any.
The wraith swiveled around.
Ghassan stared into the pitch-black hollow of its cowl—and choked for air.
Something twisted about in his mind.
Like worms trying to bore their way out of his head, they ate at his thoughts as they writhed and turned. Pieces of his spell's shapes and sigils rotted before his sight. The glimmering lines lost all color and decayed to dust.
Worms of rage and hate ate at him from within.
He had connected to this thing, found his target with his own thoughts—but he sensed nothing there, only the worms and their bitter hunger.
The street's lantern light began to darken before Ghassan's eyes.
Somewhere distant from his awareness, he felt the air turn cold. Chill seeped inward until it sank into his mind. Nothing he had ever touched by will or his arts could do this.
Ghassan retreated deep inside himself, behind the walls made of his own thoughts.
He let go of any reach for this undead. He used all that was left of his will and shored up the walls in his mind, until the worms' gnawing grew faint—like scales upon those worms scraping upon stone.
A voice cried out, "Throw it… now!"
Ghassan's sight cleared a little, as if called back, and the wraith slid toward him. Wynn trotted up behind Chane, trying to pull on the spectacles.
The staff—all he had to do was ignite the crystal. That thought made his will slip.
The night nearly swallowed him as the scaled worms cracked through stone inside his mind. He found himself staring into the dark space within the black figure's hood.
Ghassan hurled the staff—and the wraith froze, raising its cowl as the staff arced overhead.
"No," Wynn whispered.
The staff was coming down short.
The wraith twisted about, raising its cowl skyward, and it thrust a cloth-wrapped hand into the air.
Wynn's fright spiked as Chane threw himself into the wraith—and passed straight through it. His scream came on the tail of a rising screech that filled the street, seeming to come from everywhere around.
Wynn bolted forward, her eyes locked on the falling staff.
She couldn't look for Chane, Shade, or il'Sänke, not even to see if the wraith still stalled. She couldn't let the crystal hit the street's stones.
The spectacles jostled on the bridge of her small nose as the staff landed in her palms. She closed her grip tightly, too frightened to feel relief.
Then she saw the wraith… or through it.
It wavered, more shadow than illusory solid black. Its enveloping shriek still tore at Wynn's ears. Beyond it—through it—Chane was trying to rise off the cobblestones. Il'Sänke straightened himself, stumbling as he shifted around the wraith's left side. He was shaking, his lips parted over clenched teeth. Chane hobbled the other way, until he thumped into a shop's porch pillar.
Something had happened to il'Sänke, and Chane was still too close, but if she didn't ignite the crystal now…
The wraith solidified and fixed upon her—upon the staff's crystal.
"Do it!" il'Sänke shouted weakly.
The screech faded to a hiss, and the black undead lunged at her.
Wynn dodged away to the street's center, and Shade charged in, snarling. The wraith faltered and swung at the dog. Shade was too slow in trying to reverse.
The cloth-wrapped hand didn't go through this time.
Shade yelped as the blow struck solidly against her head. She went tumbling across the cobblestones as if she weighed nothing.
Wynn had no chance even to cry out as the wraith turned on her again. She tried scurrying out of reach to get even one instant to ignite the staff's crystal.
The wraith jerked to a halt. The hand that had struck Shade now trailed behind it. Its arm was pulled back taut, as if something unseen had taken hold of its wrist. Wynn heard a thrumming utterance coming from il'Sänke.
"Chane, get out of here!" she screamed.
She didn't dare look away to see if he'd listened. She kept her eyes on the wraith as she envisioned the circle and nested triangles, all wrapped around a final circle. Wynn thrust the staff's crystal out to rest it in the pattern centered on the wraith.
The black figure flickered, briefly transparent.
The last thing il'Sänke taught her was to speak her focus phrases in Sumanese, hoping a familiar tongue might startle this monster.
From Spirit to Fire.
"Mên Rúhk el-När…" she whispered.
Whatever hold il'Sänke had on its arm broke as it thrashed free.
…for its light of…
"…mênajil Núr'u… mênajil—"
"No one move!" someone shouted. "Keep your place. All of you!"
Wynn never finished the last word as a clatter of hooves broke her focus.
Three horses charged up the street, with Rodian in the lead on his white mare. He rode straight at il'Sänke with his sword drawn.
The pattern vanished from Wynn's sight as she shouted, "No, not him!"
Rodian heard howling from several blocks away and drove Snowbird through the streets until he burst upon a startling scene.
Il'Sänke stood closest, his back turned. Another man holding a longsword stumbled along the shops at the street's left side. And Wynn's wolf righted itself near a porch up the way.
"No one move!" he ordered, jerking his sword from its sheath. "Keep your place. All of you!"
Then Rodian spotted Wynn.
She held out a staff with a long piece of prismatic glass fixed atop it. Strange glasses with large lenses covered her eyes. Her lips stopped moving as her head turned toward him, then her face filled with panic.
What was she doing here with the Suman and these others?
Il'Sänke remained where he was. Rodian couldn't be certain whether the man was looking at Wynn or…?
Rodian spotted the black-robed figure. He hadn't seen it at first in the dimly lit street with so many others scattered about. Only the figure's hood pivoted toward him.
It was here—but so was il'Sänke. They weren't the same person, but the Suman still muttered a chant.
Rodian flipped his sword tip up and nudged with his heels. Snowbird closed on il'Sänke's back at a fast canter. He would bring an end to this chain of deaths.
"No, not him!" Wynn shouted.
Rodian hammered his sword hilt down on il'Sänke's head, and Snowbird skidded to a halt as the domin crumpled.
Chapter 19
Chane stumbled into a narrow path between two buildings, fearing the crystal might flash at any moment. But the burning light never came.
He flattened against one shop's dingy side as shouts and the sound of pounding horses' hooves grew in the street. The sting like iced needles still filled his body, but shock overcame suffering when he peered into the street.
Shade was on her feet, rum
bling instead of howling, and she limped sideways toward Wynn.
Wynn stood in confusion, holding the crystal's staff out. But she turned her widening eyes, behind the strange spectacles, toward the first horseman.
The man she called Captain Rodian—the same one who had set the trap at the scriptorium—sat on a fidgeting white mare, his sword in hand. And the Suman lay in a limp mass, clearly unconscious.
Amid all this, the wraith remained still, turning only its hood toward the captain, as two other city guards kicked their mounts, charging at it.
Everything had turned to a fool's chaos. There was nothing left but to get Wynn out of the middle.
Chane willed down pain, letting hunger rise to eat it, and he ducked out, bolting straight at Wynn.
Rodian looked up from il'Sänke's crumpled form as Garrogh charged with Lúcan flanking him. The two raced toward the black-robed man.
"Hold!" Garrogh shouted. "Keep your hands where I can see them!"
"Keep away!" Wynn shouted back.
Rodian wasn't certain whom she shouted at. The wolf hobbled quickly in front of her, but the black-robed figure slid straight into the path of Garrogh's bay gelding.
Garrogh's horse reared with a sudden scream, and the figure thrust out his hand.
His fingers pierced the gelding's chest, and then he slipped aside. As the gelding's foreleg came down, the horse collapsed.
"Garrogh!" Rodian yelled.
His lieutenant was tossed forward, slamming against the cobble and skidding along the street. Lúcan swerved his mount around the downed horse and charged at the black figure.
"Lúcan, no!" Rodian called.
The robed man swung with his hand, striking the head of the guardsman's horse.
The animal never made a sound as it skidded on its folded forelegs. Rodian jumped off Snowbird as Lúcan fought to pull his mount up. But the horse collapsed sideways, and the young guard cried out as his left leg was pinned.
Rodian ran for his men. The black-robed man closed on Lúcan, struggling beneath his mount.
Lúcan tried to pull his sword. The dark man slapped his face—and the guardsman screamed. Garrogh rolled over on the street and lunged up, drawing his blade as he turned on the robed one's back.
"Get away from him!" he shouted.
Rodian's mind went numb. He'd thought il'Sänke was the cause of all this, and that the black-robed man would surrender once his accomplice was put down. Wynn's earlier words echoed in his head as he ran to aid his men.
You're not hunting a living man! And you'll never stop it through your usual means.
Garrogh swung as Rodian tried to get in front of the black mage.
The figure reached back and caught Garrogh's blade. The sword halted instantly, as if no more than a child's stick. Garrogh's eyes widened as Rodian swung at the figure's front.
His longsword passed straight through the cloak and robe. Meeting no resistance at all, Rodian almost lost his balance.
In that brief instant the black one twisted. His other hand struck Garrogh's face… and passed straight through.
Horror closed Rodian's throat.
Garrogh's grip released his sword's hilt, and he crumpled.
The lieutenant's face turned ashen in the pattern of a hand overlying his slack features. When his knees hit the cobblestones his legs folded, and he fell backward with his eyes locked open.
The black figure finished its full turn back to Rodian with Garrogh's blade still in its grip.
Rodian backed up a step.
"Don't let it touch you!" Wynn cried, but her voice now came from behind him.
He retreated another step as the figure opened its hand. The blade didn't slide along the cloth-wrapped palm. Garrogh's sword dropped straight down, right through the hand, and clanged upon the street.
Rodian heard a loud snort and hammering hooves. Snowbird was coming. She would kill—or die—for him, but he couldn't afford to look back for her.
"No!" he shouted. "Snowbird, stay!"
Still he heard her hooves.
"Shade, go!" Wynn cried.
Rodian quickly glanced sideways.
Wynn's wolf bolted past him at the black mage, still limping on one foreleg, and began snarling and snapping. Rodian snatched Snowbird's reins as she tried to follow the wolf. He jerked her away and turned around. Wasted moments were foolish, but he couldn't let her be hurt.
Wynn's wolf harried the black-robed man, yet seemed hesitant to stay close for too long. It hopped about, staying out of reach, but in turn the black figure flinched each time the wolf made a lunge.
Rodian jerked Snowbird's head aside and shoved on her neck.
"Back!" he commanded. Then he turned and closed behind the wolf.
He had no idea how to fight this man if his sword couldn't connect. Instead of swinging, he feinted and jabbed. His blade tip slipped through the figure's whipping cloak, and whoever hid within the cowl never took notice. When the blade came out, there wasn't even a tear in the fabric.
The figure lashed out at him.
Rodian saw the hand of wrapped black cloth coming for his face and jerked his head aside.
Searing cold spread instantly through his shoulder.
He cried out as if frostbite had erupted inside his muscles. Searing cold strangled a cry in his throat as pain ran down his arm and up his neck. Fear struck him as hard as the cobblestones when he toppled.
Rodian vaguely heard the wolf's snarl, its claws scrabbling on the street, but he couldn't lift his head. He was going to die, and all he could do was lie there, waiting to see the empty cowl appear above him.
Someone leaped over him from behind. He caught only the sight of a whipping brown cloak.
"Shade, hold!" someone rasped, as if too hoarse to speak clearly.
Rodian struggled, curling up to pull his knees under himself. A tall man with jagged red-brown hair, wielding a longsword, held out his free hand toward the snarling wolf. He and the wolf shifted about, keeping the black figure between them. Of all strange things, the figure remained stuck there, hesitant to turn its back on either of them.
Something about the pale-faced man was familiar, and he appeared to have no fear of getting near the robed one.
What was happening here?
Rodian's pale protector lifted his booted foot and kicked Rodian in the chest. As he tumbled across the street, he heard someone whispering, and then…
"Chane, run!" Wynn shouted.
The man in the brown cloak glanced once to wherever Wynn called from. His face filled with alarm. With effort Rodian rolled the other way, lifting his head.
Wynn was supporting il'Sänke with her shoulder and gripped the staff in her other hand. A trickle of blood ran out of the Suman's hair and down his forehead, but he stayed on his feet.
The Suman sage was chanting in a breathy whisper.
Rodian heard an angry snort. Despair took him as Snowbird began to charge again.
From Spirit to Fire… for the Light of Life!
The wraith jerked to a halt, as a spark filled the crystal's heart.
The long six-sided prism flashed like an instant sunrise.
Wynn forgot to shut her eyes as the world was smothered in blinding light.
She heard Shade's sharp yelp as everything turned black in her sight.
A screech filled the street, nearly deafening her, and she took a few steps backward.
Even in the dark she held on to the pattern needed to keep the crystal ignited. Then she noticed that the darkness was only ahead of her, like a circle of black. At its center she saw the long crystal, aglow but muted. Everything at the sides of her vision was as brilliant as daylight, or even brighter.
Wynn remembered she was wearing the spectacles.
They'd darkened so suddenly, shielding her sight, and slowly they lightened only a bit—until she made out a wavering black form.
Il'Sänke was somehow holding it in place! Keeping it from vanishing again.
Wynn had nev
er taken pleasure in the death of anything. But for the first time she might have felt what Magiere had when a murdering undead's body burned to ash.
The shadow shape in her spectacles' dark circle began to fragment. Pieces of it spread like smoke in a whirlwind. Its illusory body began to break up as its scream continued to tear at her ears.
A black flash erupted before Wynn. The wraith appeared to burst apart in the night.
All sound ceased, and the sudden silence made her flinch.
It was gone. All she saw through her shielded sight was the crystal, almost too bright to look upon, even wearing the spectacles.
Wynn wiped the pattern from her mind—and the crystal winked out.
Pure blackness came. She couldn't wait for the spectacles to readjust, and she clawed them off her face, keeping her gaze fixed ahead.
There was nothing where the wraith had stood.
Farther out, Shade groveled on the cobblestones, rubbing her eyes with her forepaws. Rodian's horse backed away, thrashing her head, and her rump hit a shop's porch post. She was snorting in panic, her eyes blinking and wild.
Wynn turned around in time to see il'Sänke collapse.
Rodian gasped for air and couldn't see clearly. His sight was washed with colored blotches left by the sudden light from the crystal atop Wynn's staff. When his vision began to clear, he saw her.
But the black-robed mage was gone.
Rodian began to remember what Wynn and Nikolas had spoken of. That the murderer was…
What—some malignant ghost? How could he accept that?
He gasped for air again and could only watch as Wynn ran for the scriptorium. The wolf limped after her, weaving as it shook its head.
Rodian's shoulder burned and yet felt icy within. The figure had barely touched him, but he felt so weak he couldn't even try to stand. A scraping sound caught his attention.
Il'Sänke dragged himself up. The Suman looked terrible, pale even for his dark skin, and he glistened with sweat in the street's dim light.
"It is all right, Captain," il'Sänke said weakly. "It is over."
The sage had been working with Wynn—not with the black figure—but it didn't matter.