Sister of the Dead

by J. C.

Wynn sat back with a deep sigh of frustration.

  "Perhaps our search leads to something he thinks we are not ready to know, and that knowing would place us in danger... Or the search would reveal us to this enemy?"

  'Too late for that, " Magiere said. "Considering what we faced in the last village. "

  Wynn rubbed her brow as if it ached. Chap whined, sniffing at the hide and tilting his snout at her. He hung his head, shifting from paw to paw as his gaze wandered over the hide.

  "Don't you start that again, " Leesil said. "Wynn, make him tell us—"

  "Enough, Leesil!" Wynn snapped, her sharp tone startling even Magiere. "He is an eternal spirit with no use for spoken words—using an animal's mind to handle a written language... and in a dialect I do not speak well myself. There is something he cannot find the words for. "

  The wagon lurched suddenly backward, and both Port and Imp screamed out.

  Magiere grabbed the bench to keep from being spilled forward onto the wagon's hitch. Port snorted and reared. He thrashed out with his forehooves, and both horses whinnied again in panic.

  A large wolf circled into view on the road and rushed in at Port. The wagon lurched again, rolling backward as the horses retreated.

  "Wynn... Leesil!" Magiere shouted as she righted herself. "Someone get my sword!"

  Chap lunged forward, front paws on the wagon's bench. He snarled, and his ear flattened at the sight of the wolf.

  "Brake!" Leesil shouted. "Pull the brake!"

  Magiere saw the wolf harry the horses as she blindly reached back with her hand. The falchion's hilt smacked against her palm, and she closed her fingers around it, not knowing who'd retrieved it. She grabbed for the brake with her free hand.

  The wagon lurched to a halt with the sound of splintering wood. Magiere pulled the brake too late. Her grip on lever kept her from falling backward, but that was all, for they'd already hit something.

  "Chap, go!" Magiere shouted.

  The dog scrambled over the bench as she dropped off the wagons' side, running to get in between the horses and the wolf. It was snarling and snapping at their hooves.

  "Get back!" she yelled, trying to attract the wolf's attention.

  Chap rushed around her and charged. The wolf turned on the dog, and the two became a mass of growls and teeth. Magiere couldn't strike without risking injury to Chap.

  Port and Imp tried to back away, and the wagon's rigging creaked under their struggles. Magiere glanced back to see wagon's corner grind against a tree trunk. Wynn clung to the wagon's side, reaching for a grip on the bench, and Leesil was nowhere in sight. Magiere grabbed for the horses' harness. The wagon twisted sideways and dropped as the outer rear wheel fell free from its axle.

  A loud yelp carried above the horses' frantic snorts. Magiere saw the wolf break away and Chap roll to his feet, prepared to charge again. She released the horses and swung her blade, aiming for the beast's throat. It dodged, but her blade tip clipped its left shoulder.

  The wolf yelped, and then dashed off into the trees. Chap scrambled after it.

  "No!" Magiere shouted. "Let it go. "

  Chap circled around her, panting, his eyes on the forest where the wolf had fled.

  Magiere turned back to the wagon. There was still no sign of Leesil, but Wynn lay in the road amongst half their belongings, toppled out the wagon's back end. The rear right wheel lay flat on the road.

  "Wynn?" Magiere called. "Are you all right?"

  The sage sat up, her short robe's cowl flopped over her face. She pushed it back and looked about as if lost.

  "Yes... yes, I am fine, " she said.

  "Where's Leesil?" Magiere asked.

  Wynn peered about again, climbing to her feet, and Chap ran around the wagon's back.

  "Valhachkasej'a!" came Leesil's irate voice from the forest. "I'm in the damn bushes!"

  He rose into view from behind the tree their wagon had struck, with dirt on his face and clothes. Stray leaves stuck out in his white hair. He walked stiff-legged as he stepped out onto the road, and held his right buttock as he scowled at Magiere.

  "Did you ever manage to set the brake?" he asked through gritted teeth.

  Magiere glared at him, though she was relieved that he was all right. "That wolf must have been starving to attack a wagon. "

  "Am I ever..., " Wynn said, head shaking in disbelief, "ever going to have one safe night around the three of you?"

  Magiere had no answer.

  Chap sat down next to the sage and licked her hand, but Wynn pulled it away. She looked at the wheel lying on the ground. Leesil squatted down and poked at the axle's end. Magiere was about to ask if they could fix it, but Leesil was already shaking his head in disbelief.

  "Yes, this makes perfect sense, " Wynn continued. "Who else would become stranded in the wilderness by one famished wolf?"

  Bitterness was unusual enough coming from Wynn, but the words hung upon Magiere as she looked toward the woods where the wolf had vanished. There was nothing else to be done, and she began unharnessing Port and Imp.

  "Oh, I am sorry, " Wynn said. "It is a bit too much to face right now. "

  "I could use your help, " Magiere replied.

  Wynn came forward to inspect Port's right front leg. It was bleeding.

  "Only the skin, " she said. "Proper tending and rest, and he will recover quickly. "

  "We're here for the night anyway, " Leesil said, glaring at the wheel and axle.

  He collected their belongings off the road and began setting camp as Wynn dug through her things to find salve and a bandage for Port's leg. Magiere stroked the animal's long forehead, but her gaze was still on the forest.

  * * * *

  Chane knelt upon the ground, seeing through the wolf's eyes as he directed its assault upon the horses. He had made the wolf his own familiar and felt what it felt while merged with its awareness. When the dhampir's blade bit the wolf's shoulder, Chane recoiled in pain and severed his bond with the animal.

  But he had seen the wagon smash against the tree.

  Through his own eyes, he saw Welstiel standing a short distance off, holding his cloak closed about himself, watching Chane with tight lips and eyes narrowed with impatience.

  "It's done. " Chane panted. "One horse is injured, and the wagon has lost a wheel. No one was hurt, and they are stranded. "

  Welstiel nodded. "Well done. Can you ride?"

  "The wolf is bleeding. "

  "Will that affect you?"

  Chane still felt the pain from the dhampir's blade, but it was fading. He did not answer and crawled to his feet to repack his components and mount his horse. Welstiel followed his actions.

  "Go, " Chane said, exhausted and angry.

  He did not want his efforts wasted and, once they passed the dhampir in the night, Welstiel would no longer have a need to take matters into his own hands. Wynn would be safe—for now.

  "How far ahead are they?" Welstiel asked.

  "Perhaps a few leagues or more. I'll warn you when we get close, and we can move off the road through the forest. If we press through the night, we will be long ahead of them by dawn. "

  Welstiel kicked his horse forward. Chane gripped his reins with one hand and his saddle with the other and followed.

  Chapter 11

  Leesil awoke well past dawn and felt like he hadn't slept at all. He rolled over beneath the wool blanket to find he was alone.

  Magiere was already up and examining the wagon's dislodged wheel. Her hair hung loose about her shoulders, unbraided since the night before when they'd faced Vordana. The small cuts on her face were nearly healed, but the left side of her chin was still tinged red.

  The damp air bothered Leesil more than usual, and it was difficult to put on a cheerful front as he got up. They needed to get the wagon fixed and be on their way. He crouched beside Magiere before the axle's exposed end.

  "What do you think?" she asked.

  "The wheel is intact, " he answered. "But I don't see how we're go
ing to lift the wagon enough to remount it. "

  Wynn and Chap gathered beside them.

  "How is Port?" Magiere asked.

  "Doing well, " Wynn replied. Her eyes were sleepy, and she had not braided her hair either. "The salve helped, and he is not even limping. "

  "Any ideas?" Leesil asked her, returning to the wagon's wheel.

  Wynn led the way into the woods until they found a fallen log. Leesil helped her drag it back. After Magiere hacked it clean with her falchion, Leesil scavenged a stout branch long enough for a lever. They rolled the log up to the wagon, set the branch in place, and all three of them put their weight on it.

  The wagon's corner lifted, but when Leesil tried to set the wheel to the axle, it was clear they wouldn't get the axle high enough. More scavenging followed, as they tried to find a way to lift the axle higher. By midmorning, they stopped in frustration for a late breakfast, settling together on a blanket with apples and biscuits.

  "If we can't fixed it soon, " Magiere said, "We'll have to pack up Port and walk, take turns riding Imp. "

  "Now wait just a—, " Leesil began.

  "Listen, " Wynn said.

  A chattering carried from a distance, almost like the sound of birds. Leesil stopped to listen, and me more he paid attention, the clearer the sound became. The tones took on a distinct tune, and a voice carried lightly above chords both joyful and melancholy.

  Leesil got up from the blanket. "Singing?"

  The music carried up the road from behind them. The first thing he saw was a small house being pulled along by four mules. It was more of an enclosed wagon with walls and a roof overhead. Dark-haired people hung out of shuttered windows or sat atop its roof or walked beside the wagon. Faded and worn, their clothes were a motley array of colors and patterns.

  The man atop the roof strummed a tamal, a narrow-necked four-stringed Belaskian lute, and the boy beside the driver bowed upon a well-worn fiddle. A woman walking beside the mules alternately hummed or sang in a language Leesil had never heard, though it sounded akin to Droevinkan.

  "Tzigan!" Wynn said with her usual eager curiosity. "I mean Mondyalitko... like Jan and his mother, from the keep above Magiere's village. They have to be. "

  There were times Leesil found Wynn's need to label everything a bit tiring, but it was more bothersome that they'd run into these vagabonds in the middle of nowhere. He'd lifted a few purses in his days, but only when necessary and not out of habit. Who better to spot a thief than a thief? Any help was better than none, but somehow this seemed like putting out a fire without knowing if there was water or whiskey in the bucket.

  The house wagon slowed at the sight of the stranded trio and their broken rig. Leesil made his best effort to appear gracious as he stepped into the road and raised a hand in greeting.

  "Can we beg a bit of help?" he called out in Belaskian.

  "I don't know about this, " Magiere muttered behind him. "There are quite a few of them. "

  "Do you see anyone else coming our way?" Wynn asked.

  Most of the Mondyalitko appeared as openly friendly as had Jan, and in a blink, they climbed from the windows and the back of the wagon in a flurry of chatter. When the fiddle boy tried to hop down and join the gathering, the driver grabbed him by the breeches and pulled him back onto the wagon's bench.

  The man from the roof came to greet Leesil, slinging his tamal over his shoulder by its strap. He had a bushy mustache that nearly hid his mouth and trailed to his cheeks like the tips of wings. His hat was little more than a yellow felt sack that flopped to one side, its bottom edge sashed to his head with a mottled blue kerchief.

  "I am Giovanni, " he said, as if expecting them to recognize him immediately. Only his bottom teeth showed beneath the mustache when he grinned, and he swirled a quick hand through the air at those around him. "Of the Lastiana clan. And you seem to have damaged your home. "

  Leesil raised an eyebrow as he looked back at their broken wagon. Two men already inspected it closely, one scooting on his back beneath the tilted vehicle.

  "We're off to Keonsk for the autumn festival, " Giovanni continued. "The last of the squash and pumpkins are in, and people will pay well for entertainment. "

  "Really?" Wynn said. "Magiere, could we observe this celebration? Domin Tilswith would be so interested. "

  Leesil suppressed a groan, and Magiere glared at the sage.

  "We could use some help, " Leesil said, still keeping an eye on those gathered close to their wagon and belongings. "If you can spare a bit of time. "

  "When the world puts something in your path, " Giovanni answered seriously, "best face it as fate rather than trip like a fool rushing on. "

  "What?" Magiere said.

  Leesil grabbed her hand and squeezed it sharply. "Most kind of you, " he answered politely.

  Soon five men helped lever the wagon up. When it was high enough, they braced it with cut logs scavenged from the forest, and all grabbed hold to lift the wagon's side again. When Magiere stepped in to assist, several of the men exchanged surprised smiles.

  Bit by bit, pushing braces farther under the wagon with each lift, the axle rose high enough for the wheel to be mounted. All the while, the Mondyalitko spoke little of the task at hand, as if each knew what to do without discussion. It was clear to Leesil they were used to dealing with such things as part of daily life. Instead they chatted about the coming festival in the capital, or asked questions of Leesil and Magiere. They studied both with curious amusement, until Leesil grew concerned over Magiere's mounting irritation made plain by her curt answers. Tools were unloaded from the little rolling house and, just past noon, the wagon was roadworthy once again.

  Leesil traded some of their apples and extra jerky for a bit of spice tea and a few other supplies, while Wynn chatted amongst the Mondyalitko. Chap was more than occupied with children circling about him. Two young girls tried desperately to get him to fetch a stick, for which he showed no interest at all. But both dog and sage appeared equally disappointed when Leesil announced it was time to move on.

  Leesil offered their thanks to Giovanni. "We're grateful you happened by."

  Magiere pulled two silver pennies from their purse. "Please take this for your trouble."

  Giovanni held up a hand in refusal. 'To help a traveler is good luck. This time, threefold. "

  "I insist, " she said.

  Leesil tensed. Magiere hated being indebted to anyone, and he worried that she might be insulting them. Giovanni searched her pale face for a moment and then took the coins.

  "Our thanks, " he said.

  "Can we reach Keonsk by nightfall?" Leesil asked.

  'Tonight? No, too far. Perhaps tomorrow. "

  Concealing his disappointment, Leesil nodded. After cheerful farewells, he clucked Port and Imp into a brisk trot. Wynn sat in the wagon's back, scribbling on parchment as she watched the Mondyalitko's rolling house fade in the distance behind them. She was quiet for a while and then closed her journal to gaze wistfully down the road.

  Leesil counted them lucky that the bucket they'd been blindly handed held water instead of whiskey. But with trouble averted, there was little to keep his thoughts from wandering once again back to the nightmare forest and his mother's dust.

  * * * *

  Welstiel had ridden hard through the previous night and then slept in their well-hidden tent all day. He awoke precisely at dusk and stepped from the tent with his pack in hand. He needed to scry for Magiere, check her direction and distance, and realized there was neither time nor opportunity to do so outside of Chane's presence.

  Watching Chane conjure the wolf's spirit had altered Welstiel's evaluation of the tall undead. Chane's resourceful nature was matched with notable skill, making the creation of a large familiar appear effortless. Welstiel knew better.

  Allowing Chane to see how he tracked Magiere would give away none of Welstiel's true secrets. And few others of his acquaintance had studied the arcane arts to the degree that Chane clearly had. H
e took out the brass disk, turned it over on the ground, and cut the stub of his little finger. Chane paused from packing to eye the brass dish as a drop of Welstiel's fluids struck the center of its dome.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Scrying, " Welstiel answered, and he chanted softly until the droplet shivered and moved west. "We're still ahead of her. We will reach Keonsk first. "

  Chane crouched down, examining the disk more closely. "How does it work?"

  "You primarily use ritual, but I work my conjury through artificing, creating useful tools. I created one amulet Magiere wears and this brass disk. A drop of my fluids forms a connection. It is dragged in the direction of the amulet. "

  Chane clearly wished to inquire further but did not. "We should go. "

  They rode hard through half the night, tiring their horses, until Welstiel spotted lights ahead. He felt relief that at least he had arrived ahead of Magiere.

  Although Welstiel was not fond of Droevinka, his father had served the most ancient house of Sclaven in the eastern province for many years before they had schemed their way into the good graces of the Antes. He knew well the history of Keonsk. It was the largest city in Droevinka, less than a third the size of Bela and less developed, and surrounded by a thick wall of rough mortared stone. Its position on the Vudrask River allowed for ease of trade and commerce. Barges from Stravina and Belaski brought goods inland from those countries' main ports.

  The stone wall was less than a hundred years old. The castle keep had been constructed centuries before, and the city had slowly spread outward around it. In long-gone days, any prince who managed to take the throne would rule for life, or until the next house waged a successful insurrection. Although civil wars were less frequent then, they were brutal and extensive, and all houses fought to take power. If a weak prince lead a victorious house, the nation had been known to suffer for decades—should he live that long.

  Then a gathering was called between the five strongest houses. It was agreed that a ruling grand prince, rather than a king, should be selected by the consent of all. He would serve nine years or until his death, whichever came first. A successful solution overall, though small-scale upheavals still occurred from time to time, especially if an overzealous house tried to keep its prince on the throne rather than surrender power.