Barb Hendee - Through Stone and Sea

She wasn't certain why, but there was something liberating about awaking in the day, even in a world without sunlight. As she rolled out of bed, stretching sore muscles from another night on a hard dwarven mattress, she wondered how to begin. She was worried about Shade—and Chane—but there was no way to know whether they'd arrived safely and acquired lodging.

Wynn looked at her gray robe lying across the bed's corner. Anyone in the duchess's entourage would spot her in an instant wearing that. But her yellow and umber elven clothing on a short human would attract as much attention. A notion came to her.

She donned the clothing, pulled the robe on as well, and then wandered out toward the inn's front room. Perhaps she could trade for or borrow something more from the dwarven innkeeper? She could then spend the day blending in with the locals—and watching for the duchess.

"Yes," she said softly to herself. "A dwarven disguise."

That night, just past dusk, Chane awoke in the portside inn. Shade sat poised at the door, watching him, as if she had done so all day. Chane scowled at her.

If Shade was as intelligent as Wynn claimed, did the dog find it strange—suspicious—that he slept all day? Young as she was, and aside from protecting Wynn, how much could Shade really know of the undead?

He rolled from bed and began dressing in salt-stiffened clothes.

The previous night they had scouted the rocky shore. Time had passed too quickly, and he had grown fearful. When he sensed dawn's approach, they backtracked to the inn, both of them soaked with sea spray. He procured a dry blanket for Shade before removing his wet clothing.

The blanket still lay in the room's far corner, only a little damp from the dog.

Shade growled and scratched at the door.

"A moment," he muttered.

An entire night now awaited them. Chane had to find the tunnel entrance—or be certain it did not exist within reach.

Wynn blamed herself for their failures, but he had not been much help to her. In truth, what little success they counted was mostly Shade's doing, ferreting out secrets from the memories of others. For the first time since reaching Dhredze Seatt, Chane was in a position to do something.

Between an undead and a majay-hì, he hoped the gap might not be so wide. Perhaps Wynn was enough common ground for Shade to put aside natural instinct, should she learn anything certain of what he truly was.

His clothes were not completely dry, but he would be soaked again soon enough. He donned his cloak, pulled up the hood, and wished he did not have to carry two packs. But he was not about to leave them behind.

Shade scratched the door again.

"I am coming," he said.

Opening the door, he followed as she trotted out. When they reached the common room, he paused to purchase a slat of smoked fish. He fed this to Shade as they traversed the port, passed the last pier, and climbed out onto the northward rocky shore.

It was a guess, considering he had no idea which direction was adjacent to the grate-covered tunnel of Shade's stolen memory. But north seemed more likely, by estimate of Off-Breach Market's position above in Sea-Side. It was a while before they reached where they had left off the night before.

Shade led the way, her eyes half-closed against wind that did little to ruffle her salt-stiffened fur. Soon enough, sea spray dampened them both. Chane carefully examined every inch they crossed while Shade nosed ahead.

They were utterly alone. No one else had reason to scramble across the sheer, barren edge between stone and sea. Often he had to climb or crawl on all fours over outcrops and through crags in their slow progress. His cloak grew heavy as it soaked in more spray.

When he pushed back his sagging hood and peered up, the waning moon, barely a sliver of light, had finally crested the peak above. The night was half gone. Amid the surf's noise, he had not heard any dwarven bells on the mountain ringing out the passing time.

Chane paused and looked back the way they had come.

Whatever lanterns hung upon the piers or docked ships were too far off to see, and panic crept in. The return would be quicker without searching, but if they did not turn back soon, he would be caught by the dawn. He had seen few crevices along the way large enough to hide him from the sun.

Shade barked three times from ahead, and Chane spun about.

His foot slipped on broken rocks and slid down before he regained balance.

Shade barked again, but with his sight fully widened, Chane still saw no sign of her. She suddenly appeared over the top of a steep rock backbone sloping down into the pounding surf. She stood perfectly still, waiting.

What little hope rose in Chane only heightened his fear of going farther from port, but he scrambled onward. As he climbed the backbone, Shade climbed down its far side. He crested it quickly, peering into a deep inlet, and his hopes sank.

The inlet cut so deep into the shore's steep slant that its back was pitch-black. There was no place to follow the rolling waterline. They would have to climb high upslope to get around it. The whole venture became more dangerous with half the night gone, but Shade kept crawling along the inlet's steep side.

"Get back here!" he called, though his rasp was barely audible over waves and wind.

Shade clawed along the water's edge, deeper into the inlet, and Chane dropped down the rocky backbone, boots scraping on wet rock. Waves broke and tumbled well before they reached the inlet's back, so it had to be shallow. It was still not something to wade across in the dark. Shade suddenly shuffled sideways, trying to get upslope as dark foam-laced water surged upward around her legs.

"Shade!" Chane called.

He gripped slick rock with his slope-side hand and pushed on.

Turning only her head, Shade barked at him and then gazed toward the inlet's back. As he came up behind her, the darkness in the inlet looked different. The rock above it did not meet the water's surface. A rough overhang created a low and wide opening over the undulating water.

The cave, or pocket, was half-filled by the sea.

Chane looked to the moon and then down into the water. There was no telling its depth.

Shade huffed at him, sounding impatient, and then pricked up her ears. Peering at the low cave, she cocked her head to the side and whined loudly. She barked once and began backing unsteadily across the backbone's side.

"What?" Chane called tiredly.

Shade backed another step, stopping only when she could go no farther without running into him. Clearly she had decided this was not what they sought. But Chane had to be certain and stepped down the sheer rock. He hesitated before he sank one booted foot into the dark, undulating water.

When he found his footing, he dropped waist-high into the water. Clinging to the backbone's side, he inched into the inlet until his eyes adjusted to its deeper darkness. Still, he could not see to its back, but he heard water slapping against stone somewhere deeper beneath the overhang. Shade's actions now made sense.

She had been listening for the path of the water flowing unobstructed. Even without entering, she had known there was no opening beneath the overhang.

Chane backed out in dejection and clawed up the backbone's side. Shade was already moving on. Scrabbling upslope, she began nosing out a way around the inlet, and Chane struggled after her.

They should have turned back, but the prospect of failure overrode reason.

Chane searched every nook, crack, and hollow, making certain they did not miss a single hole or odd patch of pure black. He forgot how dangerously far they had pushed on until he heard faint, distant bell tones rolling down the mountainside.

He froze, counting off the five tones.