by Barb Hendee
Magiere looked upon and even recognized Wynn.
She’d wanted to say something but couldn’t. It took every effort just to breathe and keep her eyes open a little longer.
Even back on the first night, it had seemed strange—frightening—that Wynn didn’t look at her or Chap or Leesil. The last thing Magiere remembered of that night, when she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer, was Leesil calling out . . .
“Magiere . . . ? Magiere!”
Two more nights and days had passed, and she’d wakened sporadically.
There were times, as she heard bit by bit some of what had happened, that she’d wanted them to stop. She didn’t want to hear any more. All of that came after Chap told her that Leesil and the others had succeeded.
—This time . . . the Enemy . . . will . . . never . . . come back—
Leesil or Chap, and sometimes Wynn, were always there whenever she awoke a little longer each time. Fragments of memory returned that she’d rather have forgotten but couldn’t. They ran backward from a final instant of agony.
She’d nearly turned on Chap—and he on her—and she might’ve killed him.
She’d snapped the neck of another majay-hì a moment before he’d rammed her.
How many of the living had she killed among the undead that had driven her—the dhampir—into something worse than what it hunted?
The afternoon of the second day, with her one arm in a sling, she decided to try stepping out of the tent, no matter how much Leesil tried to stop her. She didn’t see the girl until too late.
Wayfarer nearly knocked her over when the girl slammed into and wrapped her small arms around her. At least Leesil had been right behind to hold her up.
Others around the camp rose, and that was when she saw their state. There were some greetings and good wishes, some questions and answers, but none of that really mattered as she kept looking all ways. Of course, Chane wasn’t there, likely hidden from the sun in one of the other tents, but someone else was missing.
Osha was gone.
Leesil wouldn’t let her go off and look. Instead, he forced her back into the tent and eventually shooed out Wayfarer, halting the girl’s fussing. After that, all Magiere could do was collapse, and it was dark out when she awoke again.
Now she sat up and remained there after rubbing the crystal left by the bedroll. The wound in her shoulder no longer pained her. For any of the others, it would have taken a moon or more for a wound like that to heal over and leave a scar.
She listened to the muted voices outside while Leesil kept pacing, likely caught between looking in on her and not wanting to disturb her rest. Or maybe he was just keeping the others from doing so. Finally, she couldn’t tolerate sitting there any longer, though she left the sling in place.
After taking a deep, shuddering breath, she crawled to the tent’s flap. She was only halfway out when Leesil stepped in, pulled the flap back, and grabbed her arm. She let him help her up rather than let the others see she was better off than they were.
Again, Osha was nowhere to be seen.
Some fussing ensued when she approached those around the campfire.
Wayfarer wouldn’t leave her alone, though she didn’t mind. She was too relieved to see the girl was unharmed. And then there was Wynn—blind—with Chane hovering at the small sage’s side.
During the time that she’d been recovering, Brot’an’s and Ghassan’s bodies had been rendered to ash. Leesil and Ore-Locks hadn’t cared much about Ghassan’s receiving proper rites, but for some strange reason, Chap had insisted. Chuillyon promised to attend to returning their remains to their respective peoples, somehow.
As Magiere now sat by the fire, Leesil began recounting everything that had happened in the mountain. He was just finishing when they heard horses’ hooves approaching. Magiere tensed, but Leesil shook his head as he stood. Four Shé’ith riders came upslope out of the dark.
The leader dismounted outside the ring of tents and stepped toward them. He was unusually tall with several wounds on his face and arms. Chuillyon rose, hurried around the campfire, and met him halfway.
“Althahk, I thank you again for your assistance. The Enemy is gone this time . . . for good and always.”
The tall one studied the strangely mixed group around the fire and perhaps fixed on Magiere the longest. It took effort for her not to glance away from his severe amber eyes, but he looked away instead of to the others.
“No one is to speak of what happened here—not ever to anyone,” he commanded. “We will not risk others coming to see . . . and search.”
Such arrogance might’ve once put Magiere on edge, causing her to verbally take him apart, but not now, not after what she’d done.
Chuillyon nodded politely. “We are all sworn to silence.”
Althahk looked about. “Where is Osha? Does he come with the Shé’ith?”
Wynn shifted, turning toward that voice. “I think not.”
Althahk hesitated. By the furrowing of his brow, Magiere guessed Wynn’s answer was less than satisfying. But if the sage hadn’t said so, Magiere would have—and not so politely—for she had something else in mind for Osha.
“What of the Foirfeahkan?” Althahk asked. “I have not seen her since last night.”
That seemed to distress him, and Magiere followed his gaze to Wayfarer.
The girl lowered her eyes and looked only to the fire. Stranger still, Shade rose up at Wynn’s side and growled at the tall Lhoin’na. Chuillyon was slow in answering.
“I have sent Vreuvillä and . . . and her tribe . . . home with their dead.”
Magiere knew that “her tribe” referred to the majay-hì.
Althahk remained silent a moment longer. “Then you will do the same for the Shé’ith at dawn.”
He turned back and mounted without another word. Those with him did the same, and all four Shé’ith wheeled and left.
Chuillyon was quiet after that. And no one noticed—or at least no one said anything—as Magiere looked about the camp and beyond it. They also wouldn’t know how far she could see in the dark, though she wasn’t watching the riders.
—He left . . . again . . . upon hearing . . . you . . . rise—
Magiere found Chap watching her.
—Are you . . . well . . . enough?—
She didn’t answer, merely got up, and in leaving said, “I need to walk.”
Wayfarer grasped her hand, and Leesil was on his feet instantly.
“No you don’t!” he warned. “You’re staying—”
Chap’s sudden snarl cut off everything, and even startled Ore-Locks.
“You keep out of this,” Leesil said to Chap.
Magiere grabbed her husband’s arm. “I’m all right,” she whispered. “Just stay with Wayfarer. Maybe it’s time to tell her some things, and I won’t be long.”
—Find him . . . before . . . it is . . . worse—
At that Magiere sighed in frustration, though she nodded to Chap. On her way out, heading west, she saw something more.
Her falchion lay in its sheath next to one tent. It didn’t matter that someone tried to clean the blood and other stains. That sheath would never come fully clean.
Magiere walked on into the dark.
She’d failed to control the horde and had instead driven it into a frenzy around her. That might have kept it from going after the others outside the mountain, but she’d killed more than undead out there. She’d endangered everyone, and what more could have happened if she hadn’t been stopped?
Everything that she, Leesil, and Chap had seen in those phantasms long ago in her homeland had been true. It simply hadn’t happened the way they’d seen. It hadn’t ended the same way either because . . .
Magiere slowed upon hearing someone ahead coming upslope in the dark. And that someone stopped in three
steps upon spotting her. Osha backed away and quickly turned.
“Stop!” Magiere ordered.
He dropped his head. She went for him, and when he heard her, he tried to walk off again.
She grabbed the back of his cloak and jerked him to a stop. When he refused to turn and face her, she forgot pretending that she was as unhealed as the others. Throwing an arm around him, she pulled him against herself.
“You listen to me,” she began softly.
• • •
Back in the camp, Leesil fidgeted and forced himself not to pace again, but he still kept looking off to where Magiere had vanished in the dark.
—Leave . . . her . . . alone—
He turned about to fix Chap with a stare.
—What she does . . . is necessary—
Leesil turned toward the open darkness again, though Magiere was long gone.
—The worst wounds . . . are not . . . of flesh— . . . —Healing his . . . will heal . . . hers—
Maybe Chap was right, if she found Osha.
“So, we are done,” Wayfarer whispered. “And everyone goes home, at least most.”
She sat staring into the fire.
“There is a place for all,” Chuillyon said, speaking to the girl, this time with his typical soft smile. “When I return the Shé’ith, I will take you to—”
“No,” Leesil cut in, also speaking to Wayfarer. “You’re going home, to a real home.”
She looked up at him. “I do not have a home anymore.”
“Of course you do! You’re coming with us.”
Everyone around the fire fell silent. Even Wynn raised her head. Shade’s ears pricked up, and Chap hauled himself up with a dog’s grumble.
Wayfarer’s eyes were locked on Leesil.
“If I don’t convince you,” he added, “I’ll never hear the end of it from Magiere. And if you’re around, maybe you can keep that mangy mutt clean.”
Chap growled and wrinkled his jowls.
• • •
Magiere tightened her arm around Osha every time he tried to pull free. He still hadn’t said a word.
“You stopped me when no one else could!” she told him. “No one else could’ve done what you did, made that shot . . . or I wouldn’t be here.”
She felt him shudder.
Magiere half pulled, half stepped around Osha. When he turned his face away, she took hold of it, though he was taller than she was. She forced him to look at her.
“You saved me,” she added, more softly this time. “Don’t you ever think of it another way.”
There’d been too much harm done because of her. He’d suffered more than most would for skills that no one else had. Certainly Brot’an, if he’d been there, could’ve taken that shot, but only Osha had done so with any thought for her life.
He’d missed her heart and still stopped her. An anmaglâhk wouldn’t have bothered. No matter what he thought he’d lost, he was better than they were.
Osha finally looked at her, his eyes glassy. Before his tears fell, and she couldn’t stop the same . . .
“Come on,” she added gruffly, “or they’ll start talking about us being out here alone so long.”
At that, Osha blinked, making one tear, but his eyes then widened in shock.
Magiere sighed. Leesil was the funny one, and she just wasn’t any good at it.
“Oh, forget it,” she grumbled, jerking him around to push him ahead.
By the time they’d neared the camp, they could already hear Leesil.
“What?” he half shouted. “That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you come up with.”
“It has to be that way,” Wynn countered. “We have to be certain.”
Magiere stepped around as Osha slowed. Chane stood behind Wynn, dour as ever. Ore-Locks was eyeing Chane, not Wynn, and he didn’t look happy. Chuillyon was the only one who appeared to contemplate whatever Wynn had said that set Leesil off.
Strangest of all, Chap was still and silent—and that worried Magiere the most.
“What’s going on?” she demanded.
Leesil threw his hands up, bit off something foul before he said it, and coughed an exhale instead. He jabbed a finger at Wynn.
“She wants to stay here . . . in the mountain!”
Magiere stopped in her tracks and felt her own mouth drop open.
“What?” she finally got out.
“I must,” Wynn continued calmly. “If the staff goes out, someone must reignite it. That can be only me.”
Magiere was still numb, and any outrage wouldn’t come out. Leesil got to that before she did.
“You can’t stay out here,” he snarled. “There’s nothing to eat, there’s no water, there’s no—”
“I’ll manage,” Wynn interrupted.
“And I will stay with her,” Chane added in his rasp.
Another shocked silence came and went, though not without Osha stepping past Magiere to look between Wynn and Chane.
“Oh, that’s even better!” Magiere finally erupted, fixing on Wynn and forgetting any sorrow for her friend’s loss of sight. “And where are you going to find enough livestock for him if you can’t feed yourself? A moon at most, and he’ll be hunting again.”
Chane’s answering rasp was more pronounced. “I have no need to hunt. There is one orb still exposed. It will sustain me . . . as I have not fed—in any way—since before we even arrived in the empire’s capital.”
“We’ll be all right,” Wynn said. “What would happen otherwise if the crystal goes out? We must stay to make certain it remains lit. There’s no one else who can do so.”
Magiere couldn’t find another argument, and as Leesil said nothing, he was at a loss as well. Even Osha didn’t make a sound and just stood there. But to Magiere, the pain on his face was evident until he looked to Chane.
Everyone knew the unspoken contention between those two concerning Wynn.
Wynn had made a choice. She’s chosen to remain here, and she’d chosen Chane.
But in addition to Osha, there was another affected by Wynn’s choice.
Magiere carefully glanced aside and found Wayfarer watching Osha. She hoped the girl didn’t see this as an opportunity. Leesil would’ve already told her where she was going, where her home was now—with them. But Osha would not forget this moment for a long time to come.
If Wynn wouldn’t be swayed, then something had to be done for her survival. The sage had already lost too much for what had to be done. A few ideas came to mind, though they might involve a small breach concerning Althahk’s demand for secrecy.
Still, that would have to wait as well.
Magiere reached out, grasped Osha’s shoulder, and pulled him around. “Take the tent with Wayfarer and Ore-Locks.”
He barely looked at her, not saying a word.
“Be packed and ready in the morning,” she added. “You’re going home—to our home—or I’ll come after you again.”
Osha walked off, and Magiere waved Wayfarer after him. She wasn’t certain of the latter choice but didn’t want him to be left alone.
“Ore-Locks,” Leesil said, “we need to talk about some . . . arrangements in the morning.”
“He and I have already spoken,” Chane interrupted. “If you have considerations we have not thought of, those are welcome.”
Magiere eyed Leesil, wondering whether he’d had notions similar to hers where Wynn was concerned.
“I would appreciate it,” Wynn began, “if all of you stopped fussing! I am not half as incapable as everyone keeps assuming.”
Magiere couldn’t remember how many uncomfortable pauses had passed, but there was another one. How they could part this way, even if there were plans as yet so that it wouldn’t be forever?
“Chuillyon,” Magiere said.
> The elder sage, who’d been watching in uncomfortable silence as he sat near the fire, looked up and blinked in surprise.
“You’ll be needed in what we have in mind,” Magiere added, exchanging a glance with Leesil. “I’ll tell you more tomorrow.”
Chuillyon frowned in puzzlement. “Very well.”
“And Shade,” Wynn began, catching all off guard, but then her voice began to falter, “you are going with them . . . little sister.”
“Wait, what?” Leesil cut in with a step.
Even Magiere had assumed Shade would stay with Wynn—and Chane. Wynn ignored Leesil, but Shade was already up on all fours, as was Chap.
“You have to go, Shade,” Wynn added.
The dog’s ears, though pricked up, flattened as Shade gave a mewling growl. She began barking, even snapping, but Wynn dropped off the stone she sat on and grabbed for Shade’s head. Fresh tears flowed down Wynn’s cheeks.
“You need to have a life of your own,” Wynn said. “It’s not here in the heat and sand. Go with Wayfarer and your father. At least, you’ll have trees, rain, forest . . . and I believe we will see each other again, somehow.”
Magiere then noticed Chane.
He looked down upon Wynn and Shade with an expression she couldn’t have imagined on his face, the face she’d see more than once turn into the bloodthirsty monster that he was inside.
Was that sadness?
The sight hit her hard as she thought on how the past few years had changed them all. Here they were at the end of it—the trials and battles they had never asked for, never wanted.
It was finally over.
Shade pulled out of Wynn’s hold. A strange mewling whine shook her all over. She turned and raced off toward where Osha and Wayfarer had both vanished into their tent. Chap just watched after his daughter for a moment and looked back to Wynn, who crumpled upon the ground in tears. Chane knelt beside her.
Battles were done, but there were still wounds being inflicted. Hopefully, time could heal those as well.
Chane raised Wynn up and started to see her off to their tent.
Ore-Locks cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I—I will look in on the younger ones.”
“I think I shall retire as well,” Chuillyon said.