Sister of the Dead

by J. C.

  Twice they'd been manipulated into battles with the undead. The last time they fought, in the king's city of Bela, had left them both with more questions than answers. Magiere learned more of her nature—dhampir, hunter of the dead— in being coerced into ridding Bela of its undead predators. In the end, Welstiel Massing, whom she'd once thought an ally, revealed himself as a Noble Dead akin to the ones he'd pitted her against. He'd staged the encounters to train her for his own purpose in acquiring an unknown artifact supposedly guarded by ancient Noble Dead.

  Welstiel had been less than forthcoming or even knowledgeable about her origin, but his actions stirred Magiere's desire to know.

  Leesil's eyes betrayed a twinge of dismay as he looked at her. "No... no. " He shook his head. "It's been too many years—"

  "Please, listen, " Magiere cut in. "This isn't just for me, but for both of us. There's so much we don't know about my past compared to yours. "

  "And we'll get answers, " he said, "but the living come first. "

  "I wasn't made by the living!" she snapped. "An undead used my mother to make me—to kill its own kind. I need to know why. "

  Leesil fell silent. Guilt over lashing out at him made Magiere calm herself before continuing.

  "Before we can head north through the Warlands and beyond to the elven territory, we must travel eastward and inland, around the Gulf of Belaski. That's halfway to Droevinka and my past, so close to my answers and less than a third the distance we will travel north. "

  She put her hands upon Leesil's cheeks and leaned in close until her forehead touched his. When she lifted her head again, he stared downward, not looking at her. His expression softened as his hand slid down her cheek, her long neck, and across her breastbone, and finally gripped her hand.

  "All right, it makes sense. If my mother is alive after all this time, likely she's in no danger. It makes no odds if we take a little longer to reach her. "

  Magiere scooted forward and wrapped herself around him, flesh to flesh, and held him. He understood, but it made her feel no better for having forced it upon him.

  "And I swear, " she whispered in his ear, "once we learn what we can for me, we'll hurry north for your mother. "

  She pulled back enough to look into his sad but resolved eyes. Although she spoke calmly, the scope of their impending journey left her feeling small and lost. He was about to answer when the thud of a door and running feet echoed from somewhere out front in the inn, and footsteps grew louder.

  "The innkeeper is up and about, " Magiere said, wanting to push away the outside world a bit longer.

  Leesil shifted her out of his lap and reached for his breeches as he swung his legs over the bed's side.

  "No, " he said. "It's probably—"

  The little room's door burst open and slammed against the wall.

  * * * *

  "Magiere... Leesil! I'm coming with you!" Wynn cried out, and she twisted the latch and shoved the door open with both hands. "Domin Tilswith gave me leave!"

  The instant the door struck the wall, Wynn Hygeorht, apprentice for the Belaskian branch of the Guild of Sagecraft, stopped cold.

  All her excitement drained away.

  Leesil clutched a blanket as he grabbed for his breeches, his wiry torso dark gold in the candlelight. Startled, Magiere jerked the blanket back over her own specterlike body. The blanket snapped from Leesil's hand, and he lost his grip on the trousers, as well. His amber eyes widened, and Wynn's cheeks flushed as all thought scurried from her mind.

  Leesil stood before her, stark naked.

  "Oh..., " Wynn stammered. "Oh... "

  The door recoiled from the wall and struck her shoulder, and Wynn stumbled back into the opening. A low grunt made her glance down long enough to see Chap standing beside her. A few burrs and twigs stuck in the dog's long silver-gray fur, and his crystalline eyes widened as he looked into the room.

  Wynn lifted her head again, and embarrassment overwhelmed all good sense.

  "Forgetful gods, Wynn!" Magiere snapped, still clutching the blanket as she stood up. "With all that learning, didn't those sages teach you to knock?"

  With a sudden inhalation, Wynn slapped her hands over her eyes at the sight of an exposed Leesil and an incensed Magiere heading straight for her. In less time than it took to announce her presence, she had lost the good graces of everyone she intended to join on the coming journey. How much worse could this possibly become?

  "Get out!" Magiere snarled.

  Wynn fumbled for the doorframe, too mortified to open her eyes. Two large paws thumped against her rear, and she stumbled into hallway. She heard the door slam shut behind her as she caught herself on the passage's far wall.

  When she turned about to peek between her fingers, Chap sat before the closed door. His translucent blue eyes were filled with something akin to an elder's disappointment. Wynn slid down the wall to slump upon the floor.

  "You should have warned me, " she said.

  Chap cocked his head, unblinking. His expression was too much like that of an old master sage waiting for a slow pupil to see the obvious answer to a stupid question.

  Wynn stared back at the closed door. "Oh, my, " she groaned.

  Chap grunted and licked his nose.

  "Oh, be quiet, " Wynn snapped.

  Leesil belted on his breeches and pulled his shirt over his head. "Well, now neither of us has any secrets from Wynn. "

  "You knew she was coming, " Magiere said in the same biting tone she'd used on Wynn.

  Leesil saw the accusing wrinkle of Magiere's brow as her own white shirt dropped around her neck. It was difficult to decide which response would spare him the worst of her coming assault. An uncovered lie would be dangerous later, but so was the truth in the moment.

  Looking at Magiere's uncanny beauty, at her black hair loose over her shoulders, and her pale face and dark eyes, such a choice was exasperating. Only the day before, he'd thought their previous night together could never have happened.

  As much as Leesil adored her challenging nature, and even goaded it at times to watch her smolder, this wasn't the time for another clash with Magiere. And worse, with the lingering memory of her pressed against him, he couldn't think of a convincing lie.

  "Yes, I knew, " he admitted. "I gave Wynn a necklace to sell, and she's brought us the coins from it. "

  "Necklace? What necklace? Leesil, what did you—?"

  "I took it from Sapphire's body before we burned her corpse in Bela. We've a long way to go, and we're not going to get there on your bad temper and my charm. "

  He jerked the door open before she could come at him again.

  Chap sat before the open door, his tail thumping. Wynn slumped against the far wall, her face buried in her hands. Barely twenty years old Wynn had a round face and brown braid hanging over one shoulder, and the sage's traditional long gray robe had been replaced with a shorter one that hung to the thighs of her new breeches.

  Her little hands slid down from her eyes and she peeked up at Leesil, her olive cheeks flushed, and she covered her face again.

  "You two get in here, " Leesil ordered.

  Chap trotted in, and, at the sight of Magiere's stern expression, he slipped past the travel chest and out of the way. Wynn entered more slowly.

  "I am so truly sorry, " she whispered.

  Magiere crossed her arms. Leesil tensed as he shut the door, waiting to see if she would continue with him or turn her ire elsewhere.

  "What's this nonsense about coming with us?" she snapped at Wynn. "You're supposed to be on your way to Miiska with our payment from Bela's city council. "

  Leesil and Magiere had been well paid for their services. Wynn had promised to take a bank draft to Miiska with a letter to their friend Karlin explaining their plans and other matters.

  "Domin Tilswith will go in my place, " Wynn blurted, plainly relieved that her poor manners seemed forgotten. "Your town council can begin building the community warehouse. He asked me to travel with you to th
e elven territory and serve as your translator. The elves here are different from those of my continent, so reclusive and secretive, and—"

  "You're not coming with us, " Leesil cut in, astonished. Wynn was little more than a sparrow barely out of its mother's nest—too innocent and naive to get involved in what he and Magiere didn't fully understand. "Now, did you sell the necklace I gave you?"

  The young sage stood silent. With only a brief hesitation, she frowned, pulled a pouch from her robe's pocket, and handed it to him.

  Leesil looked into it and found a fistful of coins, half gold and half silver, and mostly sovereigns. It was more than enough to see them through the coming seasons, or so he hoped.

  "I received a good price for it—and I am coming with you, " Wynn said. "Domin Tilswith assisted you both more than once and gave you shelter in Bela. He wishes me to—"

  "I doubt it was his idea, " Magiere scoffed.

  "We have other more immediate plans, " Leesil said. "And when we do turn toward the elven territory, it may well be winter. Wynn, you aren't fit for such a journey, and we don't have time to coddle a scholar on the road. "

  Wynn straightened her back, head up, embarrassment replaced by stubborn indignation. Leesil had seen this more than once during their time in Bela.

  "And how will you get your answers?" she asked. "Do you speak the elven language? Does Magiere?" Wynn pointed at Chap. "Ah, he does. Perhaps Chap can translate for you. "

  Leesil's annoyance was getting the better of him. "This is going to be dangerous. We're walking blind and don't even know who or what is toying with us, let alone why. "

  "And still, " Wynn said, "how many languages do you read and speak? Not that of your mother's people. Magiere can barely read at all. I can translate for you and speak with and for Chap, as well. In return, I will bring back new knowledge for my guild. I traveled nearly a year across land and ocean to reach this country with my domin and the other sages. I do not need you to—"

  "Aren't you listening?" Magiere asked. "We're not heading north. First, we go inland to my old home in Droevinka, which means a longer journey than you thought. There are places in my homeland where they don't speak Belaskian, and you'll be the ignorant one. So much for your services. "

  Leesil saw a strange concentration, or perhaps eagerness, fill Wynn's expression at the mention of Magiere's homeland. The sage's gaze fixed upon Magiere's face for a moment before she spoke.

  "All the more to learn of... this continent's people and cultures. Language is my strength as a cathologer, a sage skilled in the nature of knowledge itself. One more to learn is one more benefit of the journey. There is no choice in the matter. Leave without me, and I will only follow you. "

  Chap groaned, and his furry face wrinkled like Magiere's scowl.

  Leesil exchanged glances with Magiere, but neither of them said a word.

  Though half-elven, he'd never known his mother's people or learned their language. Wynn might prove useful, once they turned north out of Droevinka. But by the way the stubborn little sage reacted to Magiere's homeward purpose, there was more to Wynn's interests than fabled lands and foreign tongues.

  "Let's pack up the wagon and pay the innkeeper, " he said. "Save the rest of the talk, as we have to go back into Bela for more supplies. "

  The barest smile settled on Wynn's lips as she turned toward the door. "Come, Chap. I brought something for you. "

  As she stepped out, Chap glanced up, but Leesil shrugged. The dog whined and loped after the young sage as Magiere shook her head in disbelief.

  Leesil gathered their few belongings, carrying their chest with Magiere's help. Outside by the road, he shivered in the chill autumn air and spotted Wynn's pile of belongings stacked beside the inn's front door. He led the way around the side to the stable, a rickety shake roof on poles that leaned against the inn's weathered wall for support. Crude railings divided its weed-strewn space into stalls, and therein were the two horses for their nearby wagon.

  Wynn crouched upon the ground with a large piece of tanned hide rolled out before her. Its edges were cut square, and its length and breadth matched the reach of one arm. On it were rows of elegant and curved markings and symbols, either singular or in groups, and all drawn with ink. Some were organized into columns, and a few groups of symbols like scrawled words or phrases were set off to either side within small circles and squares.

  The markings were strangely familiar to Leesil, though for a moment he couldn't remember when or where he'd seen them. Then he remembered Wynn scribbling with chalk upon the floor of the sages' barracks. They'd stumbled upon Chap's little secret, a hint to his true nature as a majay-hi, a Fay in a dog's body. Wynn marked words and letters upon the floor so he could paw out answers to her questions, though the process had proved less than efficient.

  Leesil stepped closer, as did Magiere. The hide Wynn had made was more compact and orderly but still as unreadable to Leesil as the chalk all over the barracks floor.

  Chap cocked his head and began pawing at the hide.

  "Not bad, " Leesil commented. "But we need to get on with the day. "

  "I only wanted to show it to him, " Wynn said with puzzlement.

  She watched Chap's awkward pawing, and as she tried to catch up, she spoke in the odd lilting and chopped tongue of the elves.

  "A 'bithva, Chap ? A 'bithva jeannis? "

  Chap pawed more symbols, and Wynn followed with her eyes, lips moving silently. The dog stopped, poised on haunches, and looked up at Leesil and then Magiere.

  Wynn stood up with her small hands clenched.

  "You left him outside... all night?" The words caught in her throat as if she couldn't quite get them out. "How could you? With no food, no water!"

  Magiere stiffened and spoke so quietly that Leesil was immediately on his guard.

  "Is this what we can look forward to? That mutt gets to use her for his endless whining and begging?"

  Chap wrinkled his muzzle; then he licked his nose at Magiere. Leesil hoped it wasn't some kind of gesture, or at least that Magiere wouldn't think so.

  "I'm sure it will prove more useful than that, " he said.

  Despite her outward anger, Magiere rummaged in the back of their wagon until she procured some dried meat and a water flask.

  "At least we can question him more easily, " she said, and set out strips of jerky and a tin mug of water for Chap.

  Leesil wasn't so confident, as Chap hadn't been forthcoming so far. He kept this to himself as he helped Wynn haul her belongings to the wagon. The sage dug in her leather pack to bring out a waxed parchment. When she unfolded it, Leesil smelled the mint before he saw the wad of tiny leaves within.

  "I thought we were leaving, not setting up house, " he chided.

  "I left in a hurry to catch you this morning, " she said. "I assume none of us have had breakfast. "

  Magiere shook her head. "We'll get something in the city while we gather supplies. "

  "No, " Wynn argued, digging out yet another parchment pouch. "I need my tea. We can ask the innkeeper to send hot water to your room. A proper start for the day. "

  Leesil rolled his eyes and headed back to the inn to see if the old proprietress was about.

  "Please ask for three clean mugs, " Wynn called out, "so we need not unpack any of yours. "

  Leesil bit on his lower lip as he shoved the inn's front door open. So much for Wynn needing no coddling—and she'd been with them barely since dawn.

  * * * *

  That night, as the sun dropped below the horizon, Chane opened his eyes. His internal awareness was unusually precise, even for a Noble Dead. He fell dormant at sunrise and woke at sunset, but for the first time in memory, he felt a moment's uncertainty of his surroundings. Then he remembered.

  He was in a country barn that his new companion, Welstiel Massing, had led them to the previous night. An iron pitchfork, shovel, and hoe leaned against the weathered wall near the double doors, and the place smelled of stale hay, rust, and drie
d dung. In place of livestock, all he sensed were small lives, perhaps mice, and his own rat curled inside his cloak pocket. Sitting up in the loose pile of old hay, he watched a fat spider above him crawl across a web glistening with evening dew. The egg sac it approached seemed ready to burst with a hundred new lives.

  Chane had never awoken in such a place or such a state. He had plotted the death of his own master and creator to achieve freedom. Now he grew nostalgic for his clean cellar room in the lavish home back in Bela, regardless of the servitude and enslavement that had come with it. He pulled his cloak tighter about himself, though he felt no cold. Freedom had its price, so it seemed.

  "Welstiel?" he said, voice cracking the silence of the decaying barn.

  "Here, " a cultured voice answered.

  Chane started at the movement in the stall across from him. A figure stirred, arose, and stepped from those deeper shadows and into the open space between the stalls.

  As always, Chane sensed nothing of his new companion. Both of them were Noble Dead, both adept in their arcane arts. Welstiel could be seen, heard, and touched, but even to Chane's heightened awareness, nothing of his life force, or rather its lack, could be sensed. Chane did not know how this was so, and that unnerved him further.

  Welstiel brushed the straw from his black wool cloak. Of medium height and build, he appeared to be in his early to mid-forties by human standards. He wore his dark brown hair combed back, revealing his most distinguishing feature of two sliver-white patches at each temple. He wasn't wearing his gloves, and Chane's eyes strayed down to the man's one tiny oddity—the missing half of the little finger on Welstiel's left hand.

  Chane was taller, in his mid-twenties by appearance, with pale skin and red-brown hair halfway to his shoulders, which he tucked behind his ears. They had spoken sparingly the night before upon their first direct encounter following all that had happened in Bela. Now Chane was uncertain what to say or what came next in their newfound association. He reached for his sword nearby, pulled his cloak back as he got up, and strapped on the blade.

  "Where to now?" he asked.