Child of a Dead God nd-6

by Barb Hendee

  Sooty jaws passed straight through Wynn's ankle.

  She screamed as frigid cold knifed deep into her bones.

  Get up! Chap ordered.

  He charged the shadow wolf, snapping his jaws over its muzzle- through its muzzle.

  Chap's yelp echoed down the corridor as he lunged away with a shudder.

  Wynn scrambled up, limping from the cold ache in her ankle. Smaller indistinct forms slithered in the dark around the white woman's leg-and she advanced.

  Keep away from her!

  Wynn retreated as Chap's warning filled her head.

  The shadows came no closer. They only shifted behind the pillars as the white woman stepped slowly forward. Wynn and Chap backed along the corridor as she herded them.

  Wynn barely noticed when the row of pillars ended and lost track of the twists and turns along the way. As they turned into a passage no wider than a common cottage, a shadow wolf appeared in their way.

  The only path left was a doorless opening on the right, leading into a room. No one-and nothing-followed them inside. Chap whirled to block the entrance as Wynn slumped to the floor in chilled exhaustion.

  The rest of the night was horrible for Magiere, listening to Leesil's tale of how she'd run off in her sleep and the others had gone looking for her.

  "I told Wynn to stay!" he finished, and Sgaile's amber eyes echoed Leesil's frustration.

  Neither of them blamed Magiere for Wynn getting lost. Indeed, they were both concerned for her state of mind. But it wasn't hard to see that each wrestled with heavy guilt.

  Osha sat near the canvas, often peering out into the night. Once, Sgaile had to stop him from leaving on his own.

  "Chap will find her!" Leesil said harshly. "But we won't find either of them in the dark. Chap will hole up with Wynn somewhere until morning and wait for us."

  Osha just kept peering around the canvas' edge.

  Magiere couldn't bear the sight and lowered her eyes. No matter what Leesil or Sgaile said, this was her fault.

  Something had taken her in sleep, in dream, until she couldn't tell what was real anymore. She'd put everyone at further risk after dragging them into this world of snow and ice. For all Leesil's assurances, Wynn might not survive long enough for Chap to find her. The thought of continuing without Wynn made Magiere want to weep, but she couldn't.

  "Don't let me sleep," she whispered.

  Leesil glanced over with a puzzled expression. Sgaile lifted his head and then sighed-he knew what she meant.

  "I can't…," Magiere whispered, biting down anger. "I can't take any more dreams. Not if I can't tell what's real anymore."

  Her sheathed falchion was still leaning against the depression's back wall. She snatched it up and tossed it to Sgaile. He caught the blade with a look of puzzlement on his dark face.

  "Don't give it back… unless I need it," she warned.

  Before Leesil could explode, Magiere put her fingers over his lips.

  "I remember… barely seeing Chap standing on me," she said. "The way he looked… he wouldn't have come at me, if I hadn't done something that scared him… unless you were in danger."

  Leesil sighed sharply in anger. "I should keep your-"

  "No," she cut in, and looked to Sgaile. "If I lose myself again, I might only recognize Leesil or Chap. Either way, I don't want them near me and carrying anything I might see as my own weapon, or I might try to take it and…"

  Sgaile understood, and closed both hands tightly around the falchion's sheath. He nodded. Not his usual curt bob, but slow and slight and all too resolute.

  Even Osha had turned to listen. The worried look on his long face suggested he understood most of her words.

  "Magiere… the dagger?" Sgaile said softly.

  She went cold, remembering she still carried it tucked in the back of her belt. If she'd thought of it out there in the dark, when Leesil and Chap came for her…

  Magiere reached quickly around her back, but the blade wasn't there.

  "It's under your pack," Leesil said.

  Sgaile pivoted over on one knee, retrieving the white-metal blade. He held it out to Osha, and Magiere sat upright in alarm. Osha could not stop her if she wanted it.

  "Better to divide your arms," Sgaile explained, "in case you try to come for them. I will keep your sword upon my back… for when you truly need it."

  Osha took the long war dagger with a nod to Magiere, but his assurance didn't squelch her doubt. He slipped it into the back of his belt beneath his cloak.

  Magiere slumped against the depression's wall, resting her head upon Leesil's shoulder. No one spoke, and morning was a long time coming.

  Finally, Osha glanced back at everyone. His jaw clenched and his brow lined determinedly. He jerked the canvas aside.

  The sky was tinted light gray, and the storm had died down.

  "Yes," Sgaile said, rising.

  Osha was out before the word finished.

  Sgaile strapped the falchion over his back, its hilt rising above his left shoulder. Then he pointed to the depression's back.

  "Take your new blades," he told Leesil.

  Magiere clenched up, anticipating Leesil's angry denial, but she glanced where Sgaile pointed.

  He had cut away the sheaths' bottom ends to make room for the gifted blades' longer tips. Halfway up each sheath's side, where the wings settled, were now small hollows to accommodate the half-circle bars that would brace outside of Leesil's forearms. Not the safest way to carry them, with those long points sticking out, but they were better than no sheaths at all.

  To Magiere's relief, Leesil gathered them without a word.

  She began to pack up and saw the metal circlet among her scant belongings. She hesitated and then slowly picked it up. She didn't want or need it but didn't care to leave it unattended. So she hung it around her neck over her wool pullover and hauberk, as this seemed the easiest way to carry it without a pack. Leesil watched her in puzzlement but didn't ask.

  With everyone geared for speed, they stepped out to find Osha waiting anxiously.

  "We together," Osha said in broken Belaskian. "No parting."

  Leesil pointed up and left. "If Wynn tried to follow me and Chap, she'd have gone that way."

  Osha took off in the lead.

  The going was slow in the blizzard's fresh snowfall. Osha did his best to plow a path for everyone else to follow. After a while, Sgaile took his place, and Osha fell back to the rear of their line. Later, when Sgaile paused, bending to catch his breath, Leesil moved up to take over, but then he stood there a while, just looking about.

  "Chap and I came this way," he said, pointing. "But I don't know how long or far Wynn followed before getting lost."

  "Then head toward where you found me," Magiere suggested. "We'll call out from there. If Chap is anywhere nearby, he'll hear us."

  Sgaile moved to the rear as Leesil pressed on. But when Magiere stepped forward, the first clear impression of what she'd felt the night before surfaced in her mind.

  Running… the need to go higher… to climb straight up through the cragged mountainside.

  She pushed that returning urge aside. Only the search for Wynn mattered.

  When they reached the boxed gully where she'd been found, they turned aside onto other paths. Sunlight broke through the clouds now and then, making the white snow too bright. They searched until the sun crested the sky and began its downward path west, toward the peaks upslope.

  Osha walked back along the base of an overhanging ridge.

  "Wynn!" he called.

  They kept in sight of each other as they spread out and began calling, but no one answered. Magiere returned to their central starting point as Leesil came jogging back, hopping across exposed rocks to avoid wading in the drifts.

  "This is no good," he said. "We need to backtrack and look for a different path up. I don't think she made it this far."

  Once the sun passed beyond the peaks above them, the slopes would be swallowed in false twili
ght by midafternoon. And they were no closer to finding Wynn and Chap.

  Sgaile returned as well, but when Leesil repeated his suggestion, Osha spit an angry string of Elvish. Instead of a sharp rebuke, this time Sgaile only frowned and shook his head at the young elf. They all headed downward, still searching for side paths. Osha often ranged too far, forcing them to wait on him before they could move on.

  A strange sensation flowed through Magiere, and she stopped.

  "Here?" she said to herself, turning around.

  Osha came running back to them from that same direction, his face flushed as he pointed back the way he'd come.

  "Look!" he panted, waving them to follow.

  They all trudged along through the broken snow of his path.

  "Fork here," he said. "This way go your path"-and he tipped his chin at Leesil. "Wynn may follow other!"

  Sgaile looked both ways separating around the point of a high-rising cliff. Even Leesil seemed doubtful and uncertain. Magiere studied the separate paths, but the one Osha chose made her feel warm inside.

  Was it just the pull within her, playing on her again… or was it hunger?

  No-there couldn't be an undead out here in broad daylight. And then the heat in Magiere turned sharply cold. Her stomach knotted as the chill spread.

  "Yes," she whispered.

  Magiere only realized she'd spoken aloud when Leesil stepped before her, watching her in wary concern. Osha's intense eyes were locked on her as well, and when she nodded slowly toward the path he'd chosen, he took off down the fork. Magiere lunged after him.

  Leesil and Sgaile followed in silence. Magiere looked back once at Leesil's chest, but the amulet hanging over his coat wasn't glowing.

  "What's wrong?" he demanded.

  She didn't answer-didn't know how-and tugged him forward by the sleeve as she hurried to catch up with Osha. She was right on top of the young anmaglahk when they crested a snow-choked saddle and clambered down into yet another dead end.

  "Magiere!" Leesil shouted, panting as he came up behind her. "Slow down!"

  She hadn't slept or eaten since the night before. None of them had. Perhaps she just wasn't thinking right, and the spreading chill was nothing more than fatigue.

  The world brightened sharply in her eyes.

  Tears slid instantly down her cheeks. Her mouth began to ache as she spotted a tall, wide crack farther along the gully wall.

  Leesil came around her side, and his eyes widened. She knew her irises had expanded and blackened.

  "What is it?" he whispered, following her gaze along the gully wall.

  Osha had already jogged ahead, but he came to a sudden halt. He stood there just short of the chute's opening, staring into it, and Sgaile appeared at Magiere's other side.

  Nothing marred the snow, but Magiere knew the blizzard had covered what had happened in this place. Osha turned, looking back at them in anguish.

  "It's blood," Magiere whispered to Leesil. "Just barely… I can smell it." Hkuan'duv sat in the tent as dawn broke.

  "Greimasg'ah?" Danvarfij said hesitantly.

  She crouched before the tent's opening, but he did not look up. He kept trying to understand what had happened in the night and the sudden deaths of Kurhkage and A'harhk'nis. This was no time to grieve or face his shame for leaving their bodies.

  "Hkuan'duv!" Danvarfij insisted. "Sgailsheilleache's group is on the move, but they did not break camp. They may still search for the small human, but we must know for certain."

  He breathed deeply, and she backed away as he crawled from the tent.

  After his return and the tale of what had happened, she had acted as both night watch and scout while he rested. But like Hkuan'duv, she was keeping grief locked away until their purpose was fulfilled.

  In truth, he had needed time alone, though it brought him no revelations. The white woman had taken two of his caste and disabled him-all before she could be struck even once. Her frail form was a deception, hiding startling speed and strength.

  Hkuan'duv stood up, facing the white, rocky world around him. Wind and snowfall had ceased by dawn. He ran a hand through his short, spiky hair, secured his face wrap, and pulled up his hood. Without a word, he and Danvarfij slipped along the white landscape and crouched to peer at Sgailsheilleache's abandoned camp.

  "When did they leave?" he finally asked.

  "At first light."

  He could not decide whether to wait or to follow their clear trail. "They must be searching for the small human and the majay-hi."

  "Both were alive when you escaped?" she asked.

  "Yes, but the majay-hi charged the… white woman. He could not have survived long, and the human would have died quickly after. We have only to wait until Sgailsheilleache discovers their bodies and returns to camp."

  "And the bodies of our fallen," Danvarfij added. "Sgailsheilleache will know his caste is following him."

  She was not blaming him for leaving their companions behind, but shame slipped past Hkuan'duv's guard just the same. It sickened him that he had left Kurhkage and A'harhk'nis where they lay, without even a hurried ceremonial call to the ancestors to come for their spirits.

  "They were lost," Danvarfij said, "and you were not. I would have done the same."

  "Your sympathy does not serve our purpose," he replied.

  Greater concerns plagued him. Two more members of his caste now searched the land where this savage white woman ranged. Sgailsheilleache and Osha had no idea what was waiting up there. His first instinct was to warn them, but he could not do so without exposing his presence.

  "Fulfilling our purpose will be more difficult," Danvarfij said. "A'harhk'nis was wilderness-wise, but so are you. Perhaps we should monitor the search?"

  "Not yet," he said. "We wait. Whether they find the bodies or not, they have to return. There is no point in risking ourselves."

  Danvarfij shifted closer beside Hkuan'duv to share warmth.

  Wynn stirred, memories of the past night flooding back-the slaughtered anmaglahk, Chap falling as if dead, and the white woman with black hair. She sat up in panic, opening her eyes.

  A dull orange glimmer dimly lit marred stone walls, but Wynn could not remember where she was.

  I am here.

  She spotted Chap across the room, staring out the entrance. Only remnants of hinges showed that there had once been a door.

  The orange light came from a wide and shallow tripod brazier sitting on the stone floor to one side. It had not been there when she collapsed to the floor, but the brazier did not hold fire.

  Instead, a pile of fist-sized crystals glowed like coals in its black iron depression. These filled the small room with more heat than light, raising the temperature above freezing.

  "How long have I been asleep?" she asked.

  Chap kept his gaze fixed outside of the opening. Day has come… I have seen traces of sunlight down the corridor outside.

  Wynn's stomach rolled slightly at his words. Her right leg throbbed painfully, but she could feel her toes again. She crawled over to where Chap sat vigil, remembering translucent wolves, ravens, and swirling dark forms.

  "Are they still out there?" she asked.

  They appear and vanish… but they are there, always.

  "What are they?" she whispered.

  Chap remained silent for a long moment. Undead… though I have never heard of animals as such… let alone ones like shadow and yet not.

  She rose up on her knees to peer over Chap. Nothing distinct met her gaze-but something like shifting soot moved in the dark spaces across the corridor outside.

  "We are prisoners," she whispered. "But why does she keep us alive?"

  Chap did not answer, and Wynn wondered where the white undead might be. She dug out the cold lamp crystal and rubbed it quickly.

  The room was perhaps twelve by fourteen paces with no other openings. Its old stone walls seemed deeply marred in places by wild swirls of tangled scratches. A decayed desk near the back wall had col
lapsed on one side, and its slanted top had long ago spilled its contents on the floor. Iron brackets supporting shelves were mounted on the right wall, but the lowest wooden board lay in pieces on the floor amid scattered papers and books grown brittle and tattered with age.

  "Where are we?"

  Chap growled at the doorless opening but did not answer.

  "Last night…," she said, "you kept looking, until you found me."

  He turned his head and quickly licked her hand.

  Wynn was thirsty, but she saw no sign of food or water. Then she spotted two small bottles among items near the broken desk. She crawled over and picked one up. Remnants of dried black stains flaked off its open mouth, and she realized it once had held ink. Quills lying in the mess were nothing but stems, the feathers rotted completely away.

  "We're in an abandoned study," she said, and went to inspect the shelves.

  A few books were so old that their covers were damaged with mold. They looked so weak and brittle she was afraid to pick one up.

  Another shelf held rolls of rough wood-pulp paper and animal skins stripped clean of fur. She knew enough about old archives not to touch them just yet, lest they crumble and break in her hands. Down another shelf she found stacks of old bark with markings on their inner sides.

  Other works were bound in sheaves between hardened slats of leather or roughly finished wood panels. One was sandwiched between what looked like scavenged squares of iron the size of a draught board.

  "Chap… come and look at these."

  Look to the walls first.

  Wynn glanced at him, but he had not turned around. What would she want with decaying walls? She stepped closer, holding the crystal high.

  The marks on the walls were not the etchings of age.

  The crystal's light spilled over a mass of faded black writing. Patches of words, sentences, and strange symbols covered the stones. They ran in wild courses, sometimes overlapping and tangling in each other. Wynn tried to trace one long phrase.

  It might have been a sentence, if she could have read it-but it seemed to go on without end. And the words were not all in the same language. Even the symbol sets differed, and some had faded, becoming illegible.

  One word was composed of Heiltak letters, a forerunner of Wynn's native Numanese, but the letters were used to spell out words in a different tongue, one that she did not recognize. A piece of old Sumanese was followed by an unknown ideogram, and then a set of odd strokes tangled with short marks. She found one possible Dwarvish rune, but it was so worn she could not be certain.