Chapter Nineteen

Sau’ilahk sat on a wagon bench while Guardsman Comeau drove the team of horses down the inland road. The coastal wind blew relentlessly at his back and made him wish he had thought to bring a cloak. What a strange thought that was after centuries of never feeling any physical sensation.

A heavy oil lantern rested between himself and Comeau and provided some light. Under the bench, behind his feet, was a small locked chest filled with gold sovereigns of Witeny—the Beáumie family treasury. And around his neck hung the orb key he had stolen from a forgotten dwarven seatt and learned to use to find the orb.

Three Suman guards, including Hazh’thüm, rode in the wagon’s back, where the orb was stowed in a small trunk beneath a tarp. The other three jogged behind the wagon, followed by four mounted keep guards, including Lieutenant Martelle.

Those last four, along with Comeau, believed they accompanied their duke, Karl Beáumie.

Sau’ilahk had purposefully chosen to turn inland and take the long way around through the duchy to the nearest port. There would be less chance of encountering anyone presumptuous enough to question the “duke” traveling by night with a contingent.

The magnitude of what Sau’ilahk had accomplished slowly began to sink in.

He possessed flesh again, which would soon need proper care, as well as the mending of any effects inflicted upon it by the orb. The extent of his success so far was almost overwhelming. Still, a few doubts and worries nagged at him.

For one, he had left Wynn Hygeorht alive.

That choice galled him, though he had seen no way to kill her before leaving. With his new body, he could not slip through the keep’s stone to take her life in the night, even if he had ordered her isolated from her companions. Nor, as the duke, could he simply have her executed, for others present would question such an act and likely speak of it later to others. The guild would hear of her death eventually, and for now he needed to remain an inconsequential noble in a nation that had abandoned its monarchy.

He was also uncomfortably uncertain about how much of his previous nature remained at his command now that he had taken living flesh. He had not considered this carefully enough in his maddened desire. Besides his ability to feed upon the living, how much else could he still do?

And last but foremost, what of Beloved?

Sau’ilahk no longer needed to slip into dormancy each dawn, only to suffer dark restlessness in the coils of his god until the next dusk—or so he assumed. Against all unknowns, he could accept other losses in exchange for that. Oh, yes, he would still serve his god, but only for his own return to power.

Looking down, he studied the unmarred left hand inside its black glove. As of yet, he had not wanted to examine the other deformed one too closely, though he would find a way to mend it soon enough. As the wagon rolled along, his thoughts turned to other things.

Using his teeth, he removed the glove from his left hand and rubbed his fingertips together. The hand was perfect, slender but strong. After a sidelong glance at Guardsman Comeau, attentively managing the wagon’s horses, Sau’ilahk reached down and flattened that hand upon the side of the bench.

There was one thing he could test now, in the dark, when no one would see.

Applying his will, as he had once needed in order to make his hand solid, he pressed against the bench’s side. Almost instantly he felt his fingers and palm sink as if pressing through mud instead of wood. Pressure soon mounted. He felt wood press around his flesh and begin to crush it.

Sau’ilahk jerked his hand from the bench.

“Something wrong, my lord?” Comeau asked.

Sau’ilahk saw only puzzlement in the young guard’s face. “No, merely a sliver from the old wood. I will tend it later.”

Comeau nodded, turning his attention back to the reins.

Sau’ilahk cradled that one perfect hand in his lap. It was enough to know he could still alter himself, though inversely from what he had once required when taking phyiscal action as only a spirit. Perhaps when sated on more life, he might come and go as he once had, unlimited by physical barriers. As with other things, learning more of what had changed would have to wait.

His thoughts turned to more immediate matters.

He knew very little of this land and nation, only that Witeny was a politically ambiguous place, maintaining its noble lines as part of its heritage but not as a governing class. All decisions of state were handled by a national council, which was reputed to be as corrupt as any aristocracy. He had no intention of remaining a minor lord in a remote duchy and collecting a pittance of taxes from the coastal villages under his stewardship. He intended to return to his native land, and for that he needed true wealth.

Whatever coin he had taken from the keep was hardly enough, but his title as a duke was something with which to work; titles could still open ways closed to commoners. Perhaps he could claim unrest in his province and seek advice and aid from those of Karl Beáumie’s station or above. That would be a start.

The wagon lurched and jumped under him, and he gripped the bench’s edge.

“Sorry, my lord,” Comeau quickly offered. “I can’t see all the little holes in the dark.”

Sau’ilahk offered no rebuke, as he continued pondering more important matters. Then something dark caught in the corner of his sight.

It was almost as if he had glimpsed himself—his former nature as a black spirit. He turned his head too quickly and too far, straining his neck as the wind at his back blew hard across his face. Slapping the hair from his eyes, he looked more carefully.

Something rushed through the night among the north-side trees along the road. Before he could utter a warning, a dark figure in a cloak and hood shot out toward the left horse before the wagon.

The animal lurched, threw up its head, and screamed.

The figure veered off, rushing back into the trees, as the horse began to fall.

“Whoa!” Guardsman Comeau called, heaving on the reins.

The wooden shaft in the falling horse’s harness snapped as the horse collapsed against its companion, and the wagon’s left front wheel struck the first struggling beast. The horse on the right was trapped by its harness as it went down.

Sau’ilahk’s eyes widened when the wagon lurched upward, nearly throwing him into the back. As the wagon toppled sideways, he jumped.

Inertia threw him toward the trees to the left, and by pure chance he missed any of their trunks in the dark. When he hit the earth, his feet gave way, and he tumbled out of control. Shock numbed his mind at the pain of being battered and whipped by bushes and leaves as low branches snapped under his wild fall.

Sau’ilahk rolled to stop on his stomach with cold, damp mulch against the side of his face and some in his mouth. He was too stunned at first to move, and then pain came back.

Was he injured, broken, harmed in any way? This could not be happening to him after waiting so very long to have flesh again.

Hearing the noise and shouts of men, he carefully pushed himself up and turned on one knee.

A fire burned at the front of the overturned wagon resting on its left side. At least one of the downed horses was screaming. The lantern had broken and its oil ignited, and flames threatened to reach the wagon’s bench. Two of his men tried unsuccessfully to free a third one pinned under the wagon’s side. Something dark, likely blood, leaked from the side of the man’s mouth.

Guardsman Comeau stumbled toward the wagon’s front and shielded his face from the flames as he tried to reach the horses. Amid confusion, the four keep guards dropped from their horses to follow the other three Sumans.

Looking about in shock, Sau’ilahk saw that the orb’s trunk had toppled to the roadside and was exposed from beneath the tarp still dangling from the wagon’s upturned side. One keep guard ran by, ignoring the chest as he tried to pull the tarp free and tamp down the flames.

Sau’ilahk struggled up, but not to run in and help. He turned all ways as he looked among the trees. The person who had caused all of this was still out there in the dark.

“Grab the bottom!”

Sau’ilahk turned back as Lieutenant Martelle was directing the others in trying to tilt the wagon to free the pinned Suman.

“Lift on the count of three,” Martelle shouted.

At the count, two of Sau’ilahk’s men and another keep guard heaved but to no avail.

Sau’ilahk had no interest in this, and he hurried toward the orb’s trunk. Then he spotted Hazh’thüm with two more Suman guards at the wagon’s rear.

“Retrieve and guard the trunk,” he ordered in Sumanese. “Then find the treasury as well.”

With a sharp nod, Hazh’thüm waved to his men and pointed toward the trunk. They both ran in, grabbing for its end handles. As the second man touched it, dust or a sudden mist appeared to blow in around him upon the wind.

The cloaked figure took shape before Sau’ilahk’s eyes.

The figure rammed a shimmering blade through the Suman guard’s yellow silk tabard, and the man dropped his end of the orb’s trunk and fell across it. Sau’ilahk stood frozen at the sight of the tall, slender, masked figure with a now-darkened blade in its hand.

Hazh’thüm shouted something that made Sau’ilahk blink and look away for an instant. When he looked back . . .

The other Suman had dropped his end of the trunk and reached for his sword’s hilt. The cloaked figure lunged in. The blade had barely sunk into the man’s chest when the cloaked one vanished in a whirl of dust swept away by the wind.

The second Suman guard toppled before Hazh’thüm arrived. No blade protruded from the man’s chest, though his yellow tabard began to darken. Blood soaked through and spread in a circle as his back hit the road. He lay still and silent, and his eyes remained open.

Hazh’thüm spun about, looking in all directions.

Two Suman guards were dead. A third was still pinned under the wagon and dying. Oil on the roadside still burned brightly. And Sau’ilahk shook off his shock and looked everywhere for any sign of the one who appeared to have blown away on the wind. Then he realized the wind no longer came straight in from the west.

It now came a bit more from the north. He and his contingent were on the road’s north side. As he stepped fully out of the trees, he peered southeast across the road and ignored the groans of the man still pinned under the wagon.

Three of his Sumans were functional and would obey unto death—for greater fear of him. He was uncertain how far the keep guards would obey their duke after what they had just seen.

“Hazh’thüm!” he barked. “Take your men and drag the trunk and treasury chest into the trees behind me.” He turned on Lieutenant Martelle. “Take your men and search the south-side woods more to the east. That has to be where this assassin went. Work your way west against the wind to flush out the assailant.”

Only then did any of them notice the sudden silence. The horses had gone quiet, and the pinned Suman lay still and slack with his eyes open and unblinking. Lieutenant Martelle, his expression unreadable, glanced at the man.

Without a word, he led his own men around the wagon’s back.

Guardsman Comeau began to follow, but Sau’ilahk stopped him.

“I have another need for you.”

• • •

The forest to both sides blurred past as the wagon raced along the road, and Wynn clung to the sidewall with one hand. With her staff lying beside her, she kept her free hand clenched around Jausiff’s—Aupsha’s—device made from an orb key.

On one knee, Chane gripped the wagon’s opposite wall. Every bit of him except for his eyes was now covered, and the glasses hung around his neck on a leather cord.

Wynn could barely make out Shade loping out ahead as Osha drove the wagon’s horses too hard. It wasn’t a safe speed, but she didn’t tell him to slow down.

Then, without warning, Osha leaned back sharply on the bench and pulled hard on the reins.

Wynn threw her free arm over the wagon’s sidewall to hang on.

“What is happening?” Chane called, his rasp muffled through the mask.

“Shade stopped,” Osha answered.

Once the wagon shuddered to a halt, Wynn grabbed her staff with her free hand and rose to see. Perhaps twenty yards ahead, Shade stood poised in the middle of the road.

Wynn jumped out the back and ran ahead to crouch as she touched Shade’s shoulder.

“What is it?” she whispered.

—Shouts . . . men—

Wynn didn’t hear anything, but she did spot a flickering light as from a small fire far down the road. At rushed footfalls behind her, she looked back.

Both Chane and Osha closed on her.

“I can hear and see it,” Chane said.

—Wagon . . . fall—

Wynn turned back to Shade. “The wagon has overturned?”

Shade huffed once for yes.

Wynn held out the device. At first it did nothing, but when she swung her hand left and right, she felt the device try to twist back each time, as if it was out of balance or invisibly longer and heavier on whichever side it wished to turn. It was in full balance only when she pointed straight down the road.

“It’s here . . . the orb,” she whispered.

Osha stepped up on Shade’s far side and peered down the road. Perhaps he could see and hear nearly as well as Chane.

“Shade says the wagon has overturned,” she added. “They’re delayed, and that means we have a chance to catch them unaware.”

“Osha,” Chane rasped, “if I come at them from the north side, and you from the south with Shade, we might take out enough before they spot us that the others will surrender . . . or at least I might get to the orb and run.”

“That is ridiculous!” Wynn argued. “From my count, the duke has eleven men with him. You’ll need me to—”

“You are staying here,” Chane cut in.

“Don’t even start!” Wynn shot back, and when Shade looked up, she added, “Not you, either!”

Shade still growled, obviously agreeing with Chane, and likely Osha, too, though he remained silent.

Wynn knew she had to put all of them in their place. Shade claimed to have sensed a Fay in the keep, but under the best circumstances, she would do almost anything to keep Wynn from being alone out of the wild. That was where the Fay preferred to appear, out of anyone else’s sight.

“Listen,” she began again. “You need a distraction, and I—”

Shade suddenly dashed a few strides down the road. She halted, her whole body stiff with her ears fully upright. Wynn didn’t even have time to follow or ask anything, for Shade whirled and charged back, snarling. Wynn retreated two steps in reflex.

Osha rushed in and held out his bow to block Shade. “What she do?”

Wynn held out her hand, trying to halt the dog, and then she stiffened at one memory-word in her mind.

—Undead!—

Shade looked to Chane, and Wynn couldn’t help but do so. Chane was staring down the road and turned only his eyes to her.

“She senses something more, yes?” he asked.

Wynn hesitated before she answered. “She says there’s an undead out there.”

“Undead?” Chane repeated.

“Is it Sau’ilahk?” Wynn asked, turning to Shade. “Is it the wraith?”

A moment passed before . . . —Different—

“Undead?” Osha repeated as well.

He had not heard—nor would he have understood—the earlier exchange between herself and Chane in the wagon’s back. Chane appeared somewhat stunned, or as much as she could tell from his posture and eyes. Perhaps he had donned all the gear without really considering how someone could have located the orb of Spirit hidden among Aupsha’s sect.

“What do you mean, ‘different’?” Wynn asked Shade. “Like Chane?”

—No . . . Different—

“What is wrong?” Chane demanded.

Wynn shook her head. “I think Shade doesn’t know . . . or isn’t sure, whatever it is. Only that it’s some kind of undead, perhaps one she has never sensed before.”

Chane stepped straight at her. “Enough! Shade, take Wynn back to the keep now.”

Wynn backed away, almost ramming into Osha, and held out the staff like a spear. “I’m not going anywhere!” she warned.

Chane halted barely beyond the staff’s crystal.

“What happen?” Osha asked, looking among everyone before fixing on Wynn. “What new danger to you?”

With a grimace, Wynn rapidly explained a little about Sau’ilahk, the wraith who had tracked her over the past year, and his possible presence here.

“But that’s not what Shade senses,” she added. “Even if he or some other undead is out there, I have the only weapon that will work against any undead. They cannot get to me, so long as I can use the sun crystal.”

Still watching her, Chane let out a breathy hiss.

“We do this my way,” she said. “The orb means more than any overprotective nonsense from any of you! Chane, take the north side, as you said, but Osha goes with you.”

Both of them tensed.

“Not another word!” she warned. “Take a position where you can see the wagon and whoever is there and then try to spot the orb. It will probably be covered or in a container, and you both know the rough size of one. Shade and I will cut through the south-side trees. If Sau’ilahk—or any undead—tries to come for me, Shade will know and I’ll ignite the staff. If not, once Shade and I close on the wagon from the south, I’ll ignite the staff anyway.”

She paused, waiting for her words to sink in—or for any more futile arguments.

“If Sau’ilahk isn’t here or doesn’t attack,” she continued, “igniting the staff will cause chaos, maybe momentarily blinding some guards. Osha, do not look for me or to the south, as only Chane has protection for his eyes. Once the staff ignites, Chane goes for the orb. Osha, you keep the remaining guards off of him. Once you two have it, get out of there and don’t look back. Shade and I will meet you at our wagon.”

For a few breaths no one spoke, and she finally asked, “Agreed?”

It wasn’t really a question.

Wynn knew this was the best they could do with this unexpected opportunity. Each of her companions had reasons for not trusting the others, even though Shade and Chane had learned to work together. All of them, including Osha, had reasons for staying close to her, and those reasons were now getting in her way.

Wynn noticed that Osha didn’t have the bundled sword on his back this time. He must have left it in the back of the wagon.

Chane was still glowering, but his gaze finally shifted. “Shade, one more thing.”

He reached over to remove his left glove, exposing the ring of nothing on his left middle finger. This arcane object shielded his nature as an undead from anyone or anything with the capability of sensing him—such as Shade. Obviously he was giving the dog fair warning, for he pulled the ring off.

“I want all my senses unimpeded,” he explained, “and I do not care who or what senses me. If there is an undead out there, my presence may draw it out.”

Wynn wasn’t certain she liked that. Shade grumbled only once, for by now she’d become accustomed to suddenly sensing Chane’s true nature when he removed the ring.

Chane tucked the ring into his coin pouch and dropped that inside his shirt. As he slipped his left glove back on, he looked directly at Shade.

“Howl at the first hint of an undead anywhere near you.”

Shade’s jowl twitched with an indignant growl at that unneeded reminder.

Osha didn’t look happy at any of these arrangements, but he didn’t argue, either.

Wynn ignored all of them; the only thing that mattered was the orb. “And don’t kill the duke unless you have to,” she added. “Take him alive.”

• • •

With his hand on the man’s chest, Sau’ilahk held Guardsman Comeau pinned against a tree. Comeau’s flesh aged and his hair turned ashen as his life drained away. Sau’ilahk stepped back, fully sated, and Comeau’s withered form crumpled in the night forest.

Sau’ilahk ignored Hazh’thüm and the other two Suman guards watching fearfully out among the trees. He tilted his head and listened for the keep guards somewhere off in the forest on the road’s south side.

Would mere keep guards, likely no more than country peasants with a little training, be able to catch an assassin who seemingly moved on the wind? Should he attempt to create a servitor to search as well? What specific but simple instructions could he give such an elemental construct to find what the guards might not?

Nothing he pondered justified wasting his bolstered energies, and only mundane solutions remained. Of the wagon’s two horses, one was now dead, and the other was tangled and hobbled beyond use. But the mounts of the keep’s guards were still sound.

“Hazh’thüm,” he called, walking off toward the orb’s trunk. “Gather the saddled horses and bring them here.”

He did not even have to look, for he heard his servant guards rushing through the trees behind him. Perhaps they wondered whether killing him was even possible now. They knew only what he had once been . . . an untouchable being of death who commanded them.

A simple but effective plan was the only recourse. He would tie the orb’s trunk and the treasury chest to one horse and then take another mount for himself. That left only two mounts, and obviously one was for Hazh’thüm. The fourth he would leave behind as a tease for the other two Sumans to use together, if they survived in covering his escape.

A noble of Witeny appearing before others of his rank but without adequate guards would only add credence to a tale of insurrection.

• • •

Wynn crept behind Shade through the south-side trees, as the dog had much better vision at night. Shade understood the plan as well as anyone and always remained just within sight of the road.

“This is about the orb,” Wynn whispered, “not me. You remember that.”

Shade didn’t answer.

Gripping the staff was difficult for Wynn while still holding on to Jausiff’s device. But she wasn’t about to lose contact with it, for fear it might go dormant. If something went wrong, she might still need the device to track the orb.

Shade suddenly stalled, and Wynn bumped into the dog’s haunches and stumbled. Hesitant to speak, she reached down and touched Shade’s back.

—Men . . . walking . . . in the trees—

From what little Wynn could see, she and Shade were only halfway to a position directly across from the wagon. It was vital that they get into position in time to blind the guards for the orb’s retrieval. She hoped Chane and Osha were already set.

Wynn closed her fingers in Shade’s fur to push the dog onward.

The snap of a branch carried through the trees.

She quickly dropped low, and her eyes followed as Shade’s head swung. The dog backed up into her.

—Ahead . . . to . . . right—

Wynn peeked over Shade but saw nothing in the dark forest. Then she heard twigs and leaves crackling damply underfoot. Between the low branches of one tree and the thickly barked trunk of another, she spotted a lighter shape moving.

A keep guard in a gray tabard came forward in halting steps as he looked about. A moment later another appeared farther off to the left and halfway to the road.

Wynn wondered what they were doing out here. Had she given herself away somehow?

“Distract them,” Wynn whispered. “Draw them away from me.”

—No— . . . —Not . . . leave you—

Wynn yanked on Shade’s tail. All Shade did was swing her head around, bare her teeth, and refuse to move.

“All right!” Wynn whispered. “Get us around them . . . without being seen!”

And if that failed, well, she would have to use the staff sooner than planned.

With a huff of agreement, Shade veered away from the road and deeper into the forest.

• • •

Chane made good time, and Osha had no trouble keeping up. It did not take long before they spotted the overturned wagon by a fire burning near it. As they crept closer, Chane heard a horse whinny. He ducked low behind some brush among the trees when he spotted the tall Suman with the close beard leading four saddled horses between the wagon’s near side and the tree line.

Two other Sumans and Duke Beáumie stood waiting.

“Down at . . . feet,” Osha whispered behind him.

Chane rose a little and saw a small trunk and an even smaller chest at the duke’s feet.

As the Sumans struggled to get the horses close, Chane looked about for any keep guards. He saw none, and this bothered him, for there should have been five. Where were they? Moments passed as the Sumans stood talking lowly among themselves, and one produced a rope.

Chane gripped the dark glasses dangling against his chest. Wynn should be in position by now, but nothing happened. He remained waiting, and the only sound that took him by surprise was when Osha pulled an arrow and fitted it to his bow.

Talk among the Suman guards ended abruptly. Two of them lifted the trunk and managed to settle it atop a horse’s saddle. The third began uncoiling a rope and preparing to tie the trunk down.

Chane grew instantly edgy. Between the trunk’s size and that of the smaller chest, only the former was big enough to hold an orb, and it was heavy enough, judging by the way it was handled. One of the Suman guards let go of his end and turned, though he cowered strangely before the duke as he retrieved the smaller chest.

There was no time left for Wynn’s plan.

Chane glanced over his shoulder at Osha. “We cannot wait. We must—”

Osha rose suddenly. Drawing his bowstring, he fired.

• • •

Wynn had gained only a short distance deeper into the forest when Shade halted and backed into her knees. The wind rustled too many branches, and it was two breaths before she heard what had stalled Shade. With booted steps ahead, another keep guard came into sight between the trees to the south.

Wynn ducked back behind the low branches of a fir tree as Shade retreated to join her. How many guards were out here—and why?

“Anything?” the man called softly, and his voice sounded familiar.

“No, sir,” another answered, even closer off to Wynn’s left.

There were at least three of them now, and they were spread out. With no way to tell whether more were out here, Wynn realized that sneaking past this many wasn’t going to work.

—Chane . . . waiting—

Wynn almost uttered a frustrated retort. Yes, Chane had to be in place by now and was likely wondering when she would act. She had to do something—something desperate—and she crouched to whisper in Shade’s ear.

“When I say, charge the closer guard to the left. You’re dark enough that he may not see you at first. Snarl and growl all you want but do not howl. The first guard’s shouts should draw the other two. Once they come running, I’ll be right behind and flash the crystal once. That should blind them for an instant, and hopefully Chane and Osha will act while we run for the wagon.”

Shade growled low, but not a word popped into Wynn’s head. Wynn hoped a short flash wouldn’t panic Chane into thinking she was under attack. If she and Shade could hold these guards here for a moment, it might be enough for Chane and Osha to do as she expected.

Wynn knew she couldn’t risk using her glasses with their near-black lenses. While holding the device and the staff, she wouldn’t have a chance to pull them off before she had to run. In her thoughts she replayed the Sumanese phrases that Domin il’Sänke had taught her to ignite the staff’s crystal.

From Spirit to Fire . . . for the Light of Life.

“Go,” she whispered.

Shade ducked rightward around the tree and then veered left to weave around behind the underbrush. Wynn slipped the other way around the broad fir to hide from the guard ahead and the one deeper in the trees on the right.

All she heard at first was the infrequent soft rustling of brush in Shade’s passage.

“What’s that?” called the guard nearest the road. “Stay there, whoever—”

A snarl and clack of jaws was followed by a scream.

Wynn shuddered as shouts rose in the dark. She heard the other guards tearing through the brush toward the growls. She waited until the first of the footfalls was directly inland and east of her. She was already shouting in Sumanese as she rushed out.

“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.

Date: 2014-12-29; view: 727