Rebel Fay nd-5

by Barb Hendee

  He dropped to sit in the cold snow and closed his eyes, reaching out for his familiar's thoughts. When he found his way into its limited mind, he saw through the dog's eyes.

  At first, his sight was obscured by snow slanting through the dark as the dog scrambled forward. Then the animal halted at the edge of a precipice. Chane looked down through its eyes into a gorge at the canyon's top end, and vertigo overwhelmed him. The dog stood on a flat rock overhang, digging through loose snow.

  "What has it found?" Welstiel asked desperately.

  "I do not know… something." He opened his eyes reluctantly and stood up."Upward… ahead."

  Chane took the lead, holding the dog's thoughts to sense the way. When he spotted the animal's tracks already fading under the blizzard, he released the connection and picked up his pace. Ahead he thought he saw where the canyon's upper end spiked downward into the rocky range. Upon its near side, something dug wildly in the snow.

  Chane trudged quickly up and dropped beside the dog. He looked down with his own eyes to where the canyon opened into a deep gorge too wide to see its far side. He began digging by hand, clearing snow from the ledge until he exposed a piece of flat slate that did not match the ledge's basalt stone. The piece was half the length of his body and smoothly fitted to the ledge's edge-except for a hole to one side just large enough for a hand. Chane cleared the opening with his fingers and lifted the slate panel.

  Welstiel hovered above him as they looked down.

  Snow-covered ledges-wide steps-were carved into the gorge wall, though Chane could not be sure in the blizzard if they went all the way to the unseen bottom.

  Welstiel examined the piece of slate. "This was intended to hide the pas-sage:

  "I do not think so.More likely a marker to find it or perhaps shield the first steps from erosion. This path is used regularly by someone, for it took much work to carve it out, crude as it is. Let us hope it leads somewhere useful, though we will have to abandon the horse."

  Welstiel stared into space. "The Mondyalitko said we would step out to see the castle. It has to be down there somewhere… it must be."

  Between the darkness and the storm, Chane had no way of telling if this was true, and he was sick of blind optimism. "Do we try tonight or wait until we have more time tomorrow?"

  "Now," Welstiel answered instantly, and pulled their packs from the horse. "Move on. We leave the dog as well."

  Again, Chane had no voice in their decisions, and his anger seethed quietly. But he held his tongue. Perhaps they were close to Welstiel's coveted orb, and once they found it, Chane might give Welstiel a surprise or two of his own.

  Chane braced a hand against the steep rock wall and took two steps downward, peering below. He saw nothing through the blizzard-noteven the gorge's bottom, nor its far side. Snowflakes slanting across the night seemed to materialize out of the dark. The lower he went, the more the wind lessened, until the snow drifted lazily downward.

  Behind and above him, Chane heard Welstiel's boots scrape the steps.

  Sgaile headed for the third oak upstream from the docks, eager to be with his family once more and away from all others. He pulled the doorway drape aside, and there sat his grandfather, Gleanneohkan'thva, upon an umber felt throw as he wrote with quill on parchment.

  "Where is Leanalham?" Sgaile asked.

  "She went to find a few things for our journey," his grandfather replied. "It will be an early start. Will you come with us?"

  Sinking down, Sgaile untied his cloak and lifted the clay teapot from its tray.

  "I must first see Leshil and his companions safely off, then I will come home for a while. I wish to bring Osha with me-with your consent. Except for his training, I am considering a request to be relieved of duties for the remainder of winter… perhaps longer."

  His grandfather looked up, puzzled, but merely patted his shoulder." Osha is always welcome. And it would be good to have you home for a while."

  Sgaile poured tea into one of the round cups and turned its warmth slowly between his palms.

  Indeed, to have a little peace once again, even into the spring. Time to reflect on many things he had not been aware of before today. Strange animosity existed between Brot'an'duive and Most Aged Father-a revered Greimasg'ah and the founder of their caste.A rift that apparently had grown silently over time. Frethfare as well had some part in it, for her ardor in challenge had raised Sgaile's awareness in the worst of ways.

  He sipped the tea slowly, but it brought him no comfort.

  Leanalham fell through the door, breathing hard."Sgailsheilleache! Come-quickly!"

  He set the cup down, grabbed her hand, and pulled her inside. "What? Are you injured?"

  "No…" She gasped in another deep breath. "Urhkarasiferin gave me dried figs for our journey, and in returning, I saw Frethfare outside En’nish’s quarters. They did not see me, but I heard part of what they said. They go north after Leshil and Brot'an'duive."

  Sgaile sat back, whispering to himself. "Leshil has gone to tell Cuir-in'nen'a."

  "Tell her what?" his grandfather asked.

  Sgaile carne back to himself."Most Aged Father has released Cuirin'nen'a. She is forgiven. Leshil and his companions must have gone to tell her." He looked at Leanalham. "Brot'an'duive is with them, and Frethfare follows after?"

  "Yes," she cried. "And En’nish. But I do not believe Brot'an'duive knows they follow."

  Sgaile carefully set down his cup.

  "They spoke of not spilling the blood… of their own." Leanalham's voice quavered. "But why would they need to? And something in Frethfares voice… she only mentioned Brot'an'duive-not Leshil or his companions! Why would she say this to En’nish?"

  Sgaile stood up, rapidly tying the corners of his cloak. His first instinct was to go directly to Most Aged Father, but if Frethfare actedon her own, this would only cause more discord.

  "I will find Leshil first," he said. "I will uncover what is happening."

  "I am coming with you," Gleanneohkan'thva said.

  "No, I must run."

  "Are you suggesting that I cannot keep up? Your caste is at odds with itself. You need a clan elder, and I am the closest you have." He turned to Leanalham. "Do not leave our quarters, and do not tell anyone where we have gone. If asked, we have gone to gather supplies for the trip."

  Leanalham nodded quickly."Hurry!"

  Gleanneohkan'thva donned his cloak, not waiting for Sgaile's agreement.

  "Stay behind me," he told his grandfather. Perhaps he would need the voice of an elder.

  They left the oak, running along the river to the open forest, rather than through Crijheaiche.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Magiere ran beside Leesil, and a part of her still doubted such sudden good fortune. Their journey into her own past in Droevinka had uncovered horrific circumstances surrounding her birth. Their passage through the warlands and Leesil's past in Venjetz had only led to anguish and murder.

  She'd hoped the journey into the elvenTerritories would be different, and now it seemed Leesil would have what he wanted. The outcome was better than she had dreamed possible. Nein'a had been released with no bloodshed, and they were all promised safe passage out of the elves' lands to any destination they chose.

  All they had left was the issue of Welstiel's artifact, though Magiere had little idea where to begin. Then they could go home.

  Brot'an and Chap led the way, with Wynn in the center. Leesil and Magiere brought up the rear. Magiere wasn't certain how she felt about Nein'a's company, but she pushed the doubt away. Only Nein'a's freedom mattered now-or rather Leesil's relief from his long years of guilt.

  "Do you know where you are going?" Wynn called to Chap and Brot'an.

  Chap yipped once and tossed his head without slowing. Magiere saw a flash of white in the brush to her right, and then two more of silver-gray among the trees.

  "How long have they been with us?" she called out.

  No one answered, and they jogged onward a
t a pace meant for Wynn's short legs.

  "How do you think she'll take it?" Leesil asked. "Finally being free?"

  "What?"

  "My mother.She's been trapped here so long… I wonder if she'll even believe it at first."

  "Leesil-" Magiere began.

  A hissing in the air broke her attention as Brot'an turned and started to duck.

  A darting pale shaft struck the back of his head. He pitched forward and crashed limply to the earth.

  Magiere dodged the other way, as Leesil grabbed Wynn's cloak and pulled her behind a tree. Magiere peered back the way they had come. Leesil jerked out one winged blade as she pulled her falchion.

  Chap had vanished, but Magiere knew he'd be close by. She watched for movement but saw nothing in the forest.

  "He's been shot," Wynn whispered, and started to crawl toward Brot'an's prone form.

  Leesil pulled her back.

  Magiere couldn't see Brot'an's face, but he wasn't moving. Beside him lay an arrow on the ground. It hadn't sunk in on impact-good fortune perhaps, but that didn't seem likely.

  She hesitated at letting her hunger rise, but she did it. As her night sight widened, she focused upon the fallen arrow.

  In place of a narrow pointed head was a blunt gray ball of metal. Whoever had fired it wanted Brot'an left alive.

  "Is he breathing?" Magiere whispered.

  Wynn craned her head. "Yes."

  "Aruin'nas?" Magiere asked, and looked back down the path.

  "I don't see anyone," Leesil answered.

  A soft thud.Magiere whirled back.

  A figure clad in gray-green stood between her and Brot'an, with a stiletto in each hand. Amber eyes fixed upon Magiere. Even with the wrap across the figure's face, Magiere recognized those eyes.

  Freth charged straight for Leesil before Magiere could move.

  Leesil was forced to duck into the open to get clear of the tree, and Freth lashed out a booted foot into Wynn's head.

  Magiere heard a snapping sound at the impact. "No!"

  As Wynn twisted and fell into the brush, Chap leaped through the leaves above her and closed on Freth.

  In the corner of Magiere's vision, someone dropped from above behind Leesil.

  En’nish crouched with her overlong stilettos in hand.

  Magiere halted in hesitation over whom to go after.

  Good fortune was nothing but a fool's faith. If it wasn't the undead, it was the Anmaglahk coming at them from the dark.

  Leesil sucked in a sharp breath as Freth's foot collided with Wynn's jaw. The little sage topped into the brush. He heard either the crossbow or the quarrel case on her back crackle under her weight. Then Chap lunged out over the top of her, charging at Freth as Magiere skidded to a halt, looking in his direction.

  A glint of bright metal flickered in the corner of Leesil's vision. He whirled to see En’nish coming at him from him behind.

  Leesil twisted away.

  Her long stiletto pierced the shoulder of his cloak. She turned sharply, her body like the handle of a twin whip. The movement drove her lead arm onward as the other came under and up. The first blade tore free of his cloak, passing his head. The second arced upward for his throat.

  Leesil swept his winged blade upward, catching En’nish’s rising stiletto on its top edge. As he brushed her thrust up and away, she seemed to ride his momentum into the air.

  Her foot touched a tree trunk, and she pushed off. Leesil spun around as she came down behind him, his blade on guard. En’nish’s long, narrow stiletto screeched along the wing of his punching blade.

  She was sweating. Her face was twisted with rage, and the suffering in her eyes was too familiar.

  He'd seen it before, as he crouched upon the frozen ground outside of Venjetz, clinging to the skulls of his father and what he'd first believed was his mother. Only the face he saw then was Hedi Progae, who sought vengeance for her father, Leesil's first kill for Darmouth.

  He was tired of killing. He didn't want to be anyone's weapon anymore.

  En’nish rushed him, twisting like a cat to get inside his blade's reach and strike for his chest or throat.

  Leesil spun with her, letting her lower blade skid over his hauberk as he parried the upper one. He slammed his empty hand into the side of her ribs.

  En’nish tottered off balance as she swept past, but she pivoted with a scissoring slash of both stilettos to fend him off.

  Behind her, Leesil saw Chap raging and snarling after Freth.

  "No!" Magiere shouted."Guard Wynn!"

  Her voice was thick, her words awkward, and Leesil caught the black disks of her irises expanding. But he feared she might not best Freth even in a full dhampir state.

  And En’nish stood in his way.

  Leesil swallowed fear into cold dispassion, as his mother had taught him. He had to put En’nish down to get to Magiere-and killing was what he'd been made for.

  Hunger rose in Magiere's throat and rushed through her body. This time, she welcomed the ache spreading through her jaws.

  Her eyes burned as her sight widened, and the night lit up before her. She swung the falchion with all the speed and force she had. Not an effective attack, unless Freth was stupid enough to think she could block it.

  Freth quickly slid back out of the sword's arc and further from Wynn and Brot'an.That was all Magiere wanted from her first strike.

  Before Freth could come behind the falchion's swing, Magiere reversed, bringing its dull backside straight around.

  Freth winced as it smashed into her shoulder. She bent and turned with the impact, but the falchion's tip tore through her tunic.

  They both froze, eyes locked on each other.

  All Magiere saw was another murdering anmaglahk with a bloody tear across her tunic's shoulder.

  Freth flinched once at the sight of Magiere, and then her gaze fixed with determination.

  "Dead thing," she hissed. "You belong in the dirt, buried and forgotten."

  "You… don't know," Magiere grunted out, "how to deal with un-dead… and I'm much more."

  Freth darted sideways, heading for the nearest tree.

  Magiere had seen Brot'an use the same move on a column in Darmouth's crypt, stepping up to spring over her head, and drop behind her.

  She chopped downward as Freth lifted a foot.

  Freth jerked her foot back in midleap, and the falchion hit the tree's trunk. Bark and wood slivers sprayed off it. Freth extended her foot again, but it landed too high. All she could do was push off and roll back across open ground.

  Magiere whirled, blade up, facing off with Freth.

  Chap charged from the other side but stopped short, planting himself between Freth and Wynn. He had fought at Magieres side enough to know when to attack and when to stay out of her way.

  She feinted low and left, shifted right, and turned the falchion in an upward slash for Freth's midsection. The stroke missed, but Freth failed to get within arm's reach. They spun away from each other again.

  Freth was far enough away this time that Chap tried to close in.

  Wynn groaned, and Magiere couldn't help but look. The sage rolled weakly in the brush, but the crossbow on her back caught on something.

  "No!" Magiere shouted to Chap. "Guard Wynn."

  The instant cost her. When her eyes shifted back, Freth was gone.

  Blinding pain shot through her side.

  Chap dashed toward Wynn thrashing feebly in the brush. Blood ran from her mouth and spread through her teeth. She could not get free of the crossbow tangled in the bush. He bit into its strap, tearing at it until it snapped.

  Wynn rolled onto her face, trying to push up to her hands and knees.

  Load and fire ! Chap shouted into her mind.

  He was about to turn and pick an attack of his own, when Wynn faltered and fell to the ground again. Her olive face twisted in pain.

  Chap dipped into her mind, calling up her memories of contented moments.Quiet nights sleeping by campfires or in
the quilt-covered bed of an inn.Two kittens purring in her lap. Hot mint tea and spiced lentil stew.The smell of fresh parchment and the feel of a quill in her hand. Her fingers curled in his fur.

  Wynn lifted her head, clutching at the crossbow.

  Chap pulled an unbroken quarrel from the quiver with his teeth and dropped it beside her. She rolled onto her knees, heaving the crossbow's string back with both hands. With the string locked in place and the lever cocked, she grasped and set the quarrel.

  Wynn looked up and hesitated, gaze shifting between the two conflicts.

  Chap turned about.

  Leesil fended off En’nish as she slashed madly at him. He did not fight with the same quick instinct and brutality that Chap had seen in the past.

  Then Magiere stumbled as Freth stabbed her from behind. They were too close together now for Wynn's questionable aim.

  Chap panicked, shouting into Wynn's thoughts: En’nish!

  He heard the crack of a quarrel leaving Wynn's crossbow as he charged at Freth's exposed back.

  Magiere felt Freth's arm wrap around her neck and jerk tight. Then the blade slipped out of her side.

  Hunger ate away the pain. She rammed her elbow back, but it never connected.

  A bloodied stiletto came over her shoulder for her throat.

  Magiere wouldn't release her sword. Unable to whip it back, she tried to grab Freth's wrist before the stiletto touched her skin.

  Fear should have taken Magiere as she struggled for air. Instead, rage whipped hunger into fury. She would not let Freth win… or she would make her pay dearly for it.

  Freth's weight increased sharply as if her whole body lurched and slammed inward upon Magiere. The arm around Magiere's throat loosened as she toppled forward under the sound of snarls.

  Magiere hit the ground face-first. Freth's weight rolled off with an angry scream. Her voice was quickly drowned in growls and tearing cloth. Magiere spun on her hip, pulling her legs under as she twisted to a crouch.

  Chap darted away from Freth's wild slash, his teeth parted in a shuddering growl and fur bristling on his neck and shoulders. Freth scrambled to regain her footing. The back of her cowl was shredded, and she ripped it off, sidestepping to keep her two opponents in sight.