by Barb Hendee
“Mên Rúhk el-När . . . mênajil il’Núr’u mên’Hkâ’ät!”
With the last word, Wynn clenched her eyes shut.
The burst of light from the staff’s crystal was still sharp through her eyelids. Light quickly faded, and she opened her eyes and ran for the last place she’d heard Shade. And there was Shade, facing away toward a downed guard, who rolled on the ground with his hands over his face.
Even as Wynn closed from behind, Shade didn’t move. About to urge the dog to run on, Wynn saw Shade’s hackles on end and her ears flattened.
Shade snarled, and Wynn followed the line of the dog’s muzzle.
A dozen paces ahead, someone else stood among the trees.
The shadowy figure held one forearm before the hood of its long cloak as if shielding its face. Even before that arm lowered, Wynn thought there was something strange about it. Why was the bracer on its forearm so darkly colored instead of shimmering like steel?
The arm lowered to chin level and exposed a masked face.
Wynn tensed at the sight of Aupsha in her way. The mask and the cloak’s hood made it too hard to see the woman’s eyes.
Then someone shouted, “Over there!”
Wynn glanced toward the sound of the voice, and when she looked back ahead, in place of Aupsha’s dark masked and cloaked form was a fading apparition. It vanished like dust—or sand—blown away on the wind.
All Wynn heard was the wind and the shouts of approaching guards as she leaned close to Shade.
“Run!” she whispered.
• • •
Sau’ilahk grew anxious even in certainty that he had made the right choices. All four horses stood before him, and two of his Sumans had lifted the trunk as Hazh’thüm prepared to tie it down.
The guard on the horse’s near side suddenly squealed.
A black-feathered arrow appeared to sprout from his right haunch.
Sau’ilahk flinched in a back step.
The man released his end of the orb’s trunk, and the trunk fell before the guard on the horse’s far side could get a better grip. Hazh’thüm drew his sword and ducked behind the horse and out of sight. The guard in pain spun wildly, crying out again and grabbing at the arrow in his buttock, and the orb’s trunk hit the ground and rolled down the roadside’s slant.
Sau’ilahk rushed the other way.
He slipped behind the low branches of a roadside pine tree and carefully inched out to peer into the woods. He tried to trace the arrow’s trajectory from what he remembered of its angle when it struck, but he could not be certain and saw nothing among the trees.
A flash of light erupted in the forest to the south.
Sau’ilahk spun about. The overturned wagon blocked his view across the road, and the light had already faded, but it had come from somewhere in the south-side trees.
What had caused it? And who had fired that arrow out of the forest now behind him?
Backing farther around the pine, he inched along to look around the wagon’s front and the downed horses.
A cloaked figure rushed at him around the pine’s inland side, but all he saw in that instant was a mask inside a hood.
• • •
Chane bit down in anger as Osha’s arrow hit home, for he had not been ready. He pulled his glasses up into place, drew both swords, and charged through the forest as the struck guard cried out again. Even with Chane’s sight widened by hunger, it was hard for him to see through the glasses.
A burst of light came as he passed directly south of the wagon.
Chane barely flinched in reflex, for the flash had already died out. It had not come from close enough to the road’s south side. But he had agreed that, no matter what, he would use that distraction to get to the orb, and Shade had not howled in warning.
Chane stalled for an instant this time, for he felt something.
That tiny sudden emptiness made the beast within him stir and rumble. Had this been what Shade had sensed from far up the road? It did not feel like any undead he had ever been near. He angled right and rushed out upon the roadside inland from the wagon.
There was Duke Beáumie, and the duke saw him in turn.
One Suman guard—the one with the close-cut beard—came running, and Chane charged with a sword in each hand.
• • •
Sau’ilahk spun away, stumbling and slapping through the pine’s branches. How had that windblown assailant gotten around him to attack from behind? Sword in hand, Hazh’thüm came rushing past him along the wagon.
“Kill him if you must!” Sau’ilahk shouted. “Pin him if you can.”
If possible, he wanted to know who this lurker was before taking his life, and why and how that one kept appearing suddenly on the wind.
As Hazh’thüm continued his charge, Sau’ilahk paused to follow with his eyes.
The attacker did not look like the one who had earlier killed two of his men.
This one was cloaked and masked but taller than the first and broader shouldered. Instead of a curved Suman dagger, he wielded two straight-bladed swords, one long and one short. With almost a lack of effort, he swung with the shortsword first.
The blade collided with Hazh’thüm’s first strike and blocked it. Instantly the assailant brought the longer blade up and across. Hazh’thüm tried to slip his curved sword’s hilt up to catch the second strike on his own blade. The masked one rammed his shorter blade forward along Hazh’thüm’s sword with a screech of steel.
The shortsword’s tip bit into Hazh’thüm’s abdomen. The longer one came across high and struck his neck. His head was gone in a spatter of blood.
Sau’ilahk spotted the head only when it struck the wagon’s upturned bench and then tumbled to the ground before . . . Hazh’thüm’s body dropped, and the curved sword fell out of his limp hand. Sau’ilahk did not take his eyes off the newcomer.
The masked figure stalked toward him. Sau’ilahk retreated farther. Only then did he truly see inside the attacker’s hood.
Black-lensed glasses covered the eyeholes of a leather mask.
Sau’ilahk stalled in shock at the sight of Chane Andraso.
Wildly he looked around, but he had only two Sumans left—and only one of them was able-bodied. That one was running toward the trunk, and the wounded one dove out of sight behind the broken wagon.
Sau’ilahk needed to act.
He thrust out both hands and envisioned nested shapes, sigils, and symbols in his mind’s eye.
Chapter Twenty
Chane took in everything as one Suman ran toward the trunk—but he lost sight of the guard Osha had wounded. There were four saddled horses; a small chest lay beside one of them, and the slightly larger trunk had rolled off the roadside. The running Suman skidded to a stop behind the trunk with his sword drawn as the duke backed up to the right of the man.
But where were the keep guards?
Chane felt that same tiny emptiness in his gut.
The beast within him lunged to the end of its bonds as he stalled longer in staring at Karl Beáumie. What he felt now was impossible. His senses told him the duke was a living man; he could smell this. Even if he had still worn the ring of nothing, he would have sensed an undead this close, if not sooner. Then he spotted the ruddy thôrhk—an orb key—around the duke’s neck.
“Step away from that trunk, both of you!” he rasped.
Instead the duke thrust both hands outward as his mouth began to work without a sound.
Nothing learned so far suggested the man had arcane skills. Then those silent utterances became whispers.
“Osha!” Chane rasped as loudly as he could. “His hand!”
• • •
Osha reached over his shoulder as Chane charged and felt for an arrow without a thread ridge above its feathers—one without a white metal tip. He pulled and fit
it to the bowstring in one movement as he shifted laterally from tree to tree for a better line of sight. And he listened for any sound in the forest.
Too few guards of any kind were in sight, compared to the reported number that had left with the duke. One Suman stood over the trunk while another partially hid behind one of the saddled horses, but Osha saw not a single keep guard. Suddenly the Suman that he had hit with the first arrow came back into view—from a position crouched behind the upturned wagon—and this one reached for his sword.
Osha’s next arrow hit the thigh of the man’s same leg.
The Suman screamed out as he collapsed.
Hoping this might keep the other one near the trunk where he was, Osha drew another normal-tipped arrow as he shifted again.
He heard steel clash against steel just once and, when his sight line cleared again, he spotted Chane through the trees. Too much had changed in that instant, and a headless Suman lay on the ground.
Duke Beáumie faced away from Osha, and his empty hands were outstretched toward Chane, perhaps in fear and trying to hold off the undead.
Osha took aim at the armed Suman standing over the trunk.
“Osha!” Chane rasped. “His hand!”
Osha hesitated, quickly checking everything. Did that mean the duke or the Suman guard?
Then the duke’s head turned.
It took an instant before his gaze fixed. There was intent—not fear—in his eyes, and he twisted around with his hands outstretched toward Osha.
Osha’s aim shifted as the air between the duke’s hands began to warp. Before he could loose the arrow, fire erupted at the duke’s feet and then raced out through the trees straight at Osha.
Osha held his place as he released the bowstring.
• • •
Sau’ilahk spotted the elven archer out between the trees and immediately turned his conjuration on that new target. Flames erupted at his feet and raced into the forest.
His right hand lurched violently aside, and he cried out in sudden pain.
Shock chilled him at the sight of an arrow’s shaft through his malformed hand . . . and then he heard Chane coming.
Whirling back the other way, he saw his last able guard attempt to engage Chane . . . and actually block Chane’s first swing. The fight would likely last only a few moments at best.
Sau’ilahk reflexively reached for the duke’s sword on his hip, but he possessed no skill with such a weapon, and his hand was wounded, still impaled with an arrow. He was injured and outnumbered, and his body was not yet immortal. He doubted he could lift or drag the trunk with only his left hand.
The key he had once used to find an orb was still around his neck. He could use it again if need be.
With a hard swing, Chane sliced through the guard’s chest, and the man went down.
Sau’ilahk ran into the forest.
• • •
The instant the arrow left the bow, Osha threw himself aside. In his roll, he heard low branches and fallen leaves crackling as a heat struck his back. He came to his feet, still scrambling away before he turned.
All that was left of the racing line of fire were sizzling sounds, smoke, and bushes burning here and there. His first instinct as an’Cróan was to stomp out every last flame before the forest caught fire. Instead he drew another arrow and looked back along the fire’s path.
He spotted neither the duke nor Chane nor anyone through the smoke-hazed darkness.
Shock vanished at how the duke, a mere man, could send fire out of nothing into trees.
Osha fitted another normal steel-tipped arrow to his bow’s string and held it in place with the first finger of his bow hand as he ran for the road by the shortest route.
“Chane!” he shouted.
As he broke through onto the roadside a dozen paces west of the wagon, he did not have a chance to look for the undead.
The black majay-hì—and then Wynn—burst out of the forest on the road’s south side at a run. Osha veered toward them and then skidded to a stop as Captain Martelle came out on their heels.
Another guard came right behind the captain, and both men had swords in hand.
Wynn ran on for the overturned wagon, but Shade wheeled when she reached the road’s center.
Osha would never let anyone harm Wynn, or a majay-hì, but he hesitated at shooting men who were deceived in their duty.
He aimed and fired in front of the captain.
When the arrow struck the road, the captain stumbled in trying to halt, and the guard following behind collided into him. Both lost their balance and struggled to keep their feet.
Osha had already fitted another arrow and drawn it back, but he would not fire unless he had to. As he was about to warn them off, a swirl of dust passed him and rushed down the road.
A shape took form within it, and Osha stalled longer.
Dust in the darkness faded and a slender, cloaked figure clubbed the keep guard at a run. The guard collapsed as the figure halted two steps beyond him and turned.
Osha barely made out a mask obscuring the face within the cloak’s hood, but he did not mistake it for Chane.
Aupsha lunged before the captain could spin around—or Osha could take a clean shot.
She clubbed the captain with the heavy, dirt-coated branch in her hand. The blow struck the side of his head, and he went down and still in a blink. Shouts rose in the trees beyond the road’s far side.
Expecting more guards, Osha glanced away in less than a blink, and when he looked back . . .
Aupsha was gone.
He had no more time to ponder the way the masked woman had appeared. He ran for where Wynn had likely run behind the upturned wagon.
• • •
Wynn never slowed, knowing Shade would harry the guards long enough. She rounded the downed horses and ran behind the upturned wagon. Most of the flames from a fallen lantern were dying out, but . . .
A headless body in a yellow tabard stalled her. Another body in yellow lay not far beyond the first.
Chane stood between one Suman still alive on the ground and a trunk toppled on its side. The Suman leaned up against the wagon’s vertical bed just beyond another dead guard pinned under the wagon. He cowered away from the point of Chane’s longsword. A black-feathered arrow protruded from his thigh . . . and another from his haunch.
Chane’s head turned, and he pulled his glasses down upon spotting her. Only his eyes showed a little through the holes in his leather mask. She heard someone coming behind her and turned, ready to flash the staff’s crystal.
It was only Osha, and he stopped behind the downed horses, spinning around as he drew and aimed his bow back toward the open road.
“Shade!” he shouted.
The dog appeared within a breath and raced in at Wynn’s side.
Wynn had no idea what had happened here, but any relief that they’d all survived was short. The duke was nowhere to be seen, and she hurried to Chane.
He didn’t even look down and merely grabbed her forearm to pull her away from the wounded Suman as he tilted his head once toward the trunk.
“Open it quickly,” he said. “See that it contains the orb.”
“Wait,” Wynn countered. “Where is the duke?”
Shade started clawing at the trunk, and Osha soon came to help her. Wynn looked back and up to Chane, for he still hadn’t answered.
“Where’s the duke?” she repeated.
“Run into trees,” Osha answered instead, but Wynn still waited on Chane.
He brushed back his hood, stripped off his mask, and stuffed it into his belt. As he took a step toward the forest, she shifted Jausiff’s device to her other hand, holding it and the staff as she grabbed his arm with her free hand.
“Osha is correct,” Chane said. “But . . . perhaps so was Shade . . . so
mehow.”
Wynn didn’t know what that meant, but she let go of him and looked warily in all directions.
“Sau’ilahk is here?” she asked quietly.
There was a long pause. “No.”
She looked up and found Chane, with his longer dwarven sword in hand, still watching the trees.
“I sensed—felt—something,” he said almost absently. “I could smell the duke, and he was alive . . . but . . .” His narrowed eyes shifted toward Shade.
“Did the duke have an orb key?” Wynn asked.
Finally Chane looked down at her. “Yes. You stay with Shade and Osha and—”
As Chane’s gaze shifted again, Wynn followed it.
Both Shade and Osha had backed off from the opened trunk. There inside of it was the dark form of a globe and a spike, as if carved from one piece of stone.
“Get it to our wagon and guard it!” Chane rasped.
He took off into the forest before Wynn could make him explain the strange things he had said. Osha rose, bow in one hand with another arrow fitted to its slack string, and he stared after Chane.
“We have the orb, so the duke is no longer needed,” he said in Elvish. “Why did Chane go after him?”
Wynn ignored this and looked down at Shade. If the duke knew how to manipulate an orb with a key, had he also learned—from the wraith or on his own—how to use a key to track an orb?
“Go!” she told Shade. “Help Chane get that orb key, no matter what.”
Shade hesitated, but perhaps she knew enough to value what was at stake. Leaving Wynn and Osha alone with the orb, she bolted off after Chane.
“Martelle and that other guard could awaken any moment,” she told Osha. “There are more keep guards out there . . . and Aupsha. We need to move now.”
Osha crouched and grabbed one end handle of the trunk, then waited for her to do likewise as he eyed the one Suman left alive. Wynn didn’t turn to look at that man, who’d been watching and listening.
How much of what had been said had that one understood? What else, if anything, might he know to connect to what he’d heard? Her thoughts turned darker than she would have ever imagined.