Barb Hendee - Through Stone and Sea

"No, she w—"

A squeak of shock was all Wynn finished with, as Shade lunged away.

Chane rushed by as Wynn's legs caught on the bed's foot, and her feet left the floor. Still clinging to Shade's tail, she shot forward and landed facedown on the hard pile mattress. Half of Wynn's breath rushed out in a grunt, and Shade's tail slipped from her hand.

Wynn rolled onto her side, trying to sit up. She heard Shade utter a vicious snarl and shrank away, flopping over on her back.

"Get back!" Chane hissed, and his hand shot out above Wynn.

She saw him try to shove Shade away.

"Chane, don't—" she started to warn.

Shade had already wheeled upon the bed.

Chane's hand barely lighted on her shoulder when she twisted her head and nipped him. He snatched his hand back, clutching it in shock. Before Wynn could react, large forepaws landed against her side and shoved.

With another squeal, Wynn slid sharply across the bed, over its side, and straight into Chane's legs. He toppled as she flopped on the floor and quickly scrambled over onto her hands and knees. Chane sat on his rump, staring at his shaking hand.

"It burns," he whispered, "like …"

Like Magiere's blade, Wynn thought, though Chane never finished. Then Wynn saw the smudge of oily black fluid above the base of Chane's thumb.

As far as Wynn knew, the only other things in this world beside Magiere's falchion that could sear an undead with a wound were the teeth and claws of a majay-hì. Shade had broken Chane's skin, and though she obviously hadn't intended serious harm, she'd gone too far.

"Damnation!" Wynn swore, clawing up and over the bedside. "How many pain-in-the-ass majay-hì do I have to fight with in one lifetime?"

Shade wasn't there—not exactly.

The tips of two tall, dark ears peeked above the bed's other side. For Shade's size, it was ridiculous for her to think she could hide there.

"Shade," Wynn said, "I'm your elder, no matter why your father sent you!"

The dog's head rose just enough to reveal her yellow-flecked blue eyes. She blinked slowly with mocking, sleepy-eyed disinterest, and swung her muzzle over to rest upon the bed.

Then she snorted.

Wynn lost her last grain of calm. "You will learn more words … if I have to pin your ears back and shout them into that stubborn head!"

Shade wrinkled her jowls—and her tongue flicked out and up over the tip of her nose.

Wynn stiffened. That impudent gesture was all too familiar—like the one Chap always used. She stabbed a finger across the bed, straight at Shade's nose.

"Don't you sass me, young lady!"

The following night, Chane trailed Shade up the jagged shoreline and helped Wynn along behind as often as she would let him. With her pack over one shoulder, she gripped both her staff and cold lamp crystal on that same side, leaving one hand free for climbing. The crystal's light leaked between her clenched fingers.

Chane was little burdened by his two packs, though he had lashed his broken long sword over his back. He also carried a long steel pry bar in one hand. This had cost all of their dwarven slugs and two silver Numan pennies. Hopefully, it would be stout enough for him to breach the tunnel's two grates.

Since Shade's revelation of the hidden tunnel, and the subsequent dispute over her awareness of language, Wynn had barely spoken to the dog. This, more than need of Shade's lead, was the reason for their procession's present order.

They had left the upper inn following Shade's tantrum, hurrying to prepare. While in the market, Wynn had tried several times to speak simple nouns to Shade, pointing to associated objects. She urged the dog to identify similar items in their surroundings. Shade complied a few times and then ceased altogether. She repeatedly tried to shove her head under Wynn's hand, likely to use memory-speak instead. Wynn always pulled her hand away.

As they had finally headed for the lift, Shade tried again to duck under Wynn's hand. When she failed, two steps later Wynn halted, turning on the dog in angry astonishment. Chane had not really wanted to ask, but he did. It seemed Shade had raised one of Wynn's memories about creatures seen in the Elven Territories—something called "fra'cise."

"She thinks I jabber like a monkey!" Wynn fumed, and stormed off toward the lift.

For Chane, dealing with those two was becoming exasperating. His hand still burned lightly from Shade's bite, and Wynn was being as obstinate as the dog. From what Chane gathered, Shade's memory of rediscovering the inlet had been more vivid than Wynn could verbally describe. But amid the pair's nearly silent form of bickering, Chane did have one realization.

Shade and her kind converted experience into memory more quickly and completely than other sentient beings—certainly more than humans. It made sense, considering their form of communication, and might well be the better way, given time, ability, and skill.

Perhaps it was Shade who expected Wynn to improve in that.

When they had finally headed for Sea-Side's lower port, arriving before dawn, they went to the same inn that Chane had used before, and slept away the day.

Now that they were out on the rocky shore, the black sky was moonless, and though the waves were calmer this night, salty spray still crashed with force. For some reason Wynn ended up more soaked than anyone as she struggled along last.

Chane could see that she was cold and exhausted.

"Take my hand," he said, reaching back.

Wynn was trying to clamber over a barnacle-covered shelf. Too winded to argue, she grasped his hand, letting him pull her up. Her cloak's hood had fallen back, and she kept trying to pull it up. Soaked hair clung to her cheeks and forehead. Fortunately she chose to wear her elven clothing in place of her longer, traditional robe, making climbing a little easier.

"How much farther?" she breathed tiredly.

"Not far," he answered. "But we must move quickly. Low tide came just past dusk, and it is already rising."

Wynn nodded and followed after him.

Shade barked loudly from ahead, and Chane paused.

"Is that it?" Wynn asked.

The dog stood atop the long rock backbone. Chane grabbed Wynn's hand, pulling her along. As they climbed up, Shade scrambled down the far side. Chane crested the rock and Wynn held up the cold lamp crystal.

Light exposed the inlet's overhang and the dark space beneath. Shade already picked a precarious path inward along the water's rolling edge.

The tide was higher than Chane had hoped. He had no idea how long the tunnel would be. Even looking up the massive peak to where Sea-Side was situated inward on the peninsula, he could not begin to guess. Another wave rolled in, breaking near the inlet's mouth.

He waited for it to pass before stepping down. When sure of his footing, he reached up for Wynn and helped her follow.

"Wait here while I look," he said.

Setting down the pry bar, Chane stripped off his packs, sword, and cloak.

"I don't think even you can see much in there," Wynn said. "You'd better take this."

She held out the cold lamp crystal.

Chane hesitated, but not because he had never held such a thing. Since following Wynn to the guild's founding branch, he had never been so aware of what the crystals represented. They were bestowed only upon sages who had reached journeyor status and above—those who had proven themselves superior to all others. This one crystal represented the world Chane wanted to be a part of, but it was also like holding a piece of Wynn.

He took it, watching it glow softly in his pale palm.

"Wait, on second thought," she said, and reached out to take it back.

Chane was confused, even hurt by this—until she briskly rubbed the crystal. She opened her hands, and it burned bright with the heat of friction and her own warmth.