Barb Hendee - Through Stone and Sea

Wynn had believed Shade and had known what they would find. But to actually see it made her choke.

The wraith slowly turned, watching the Stonewalkers. Shade suddenly lunged at a break between the dwarves.

"No!" Wynn shouted. "Stay!"

Shade halted short but didn't retreat.

The wraith's cowl turned at her voice, its opening darker than any cavern hollow.

The captain shoved Chane aside, and the second Weardas took his place as guard. Wynn tried to remember what the captain had called that one. Was it Danyel?

The captain dropped the sun crystal's staff and stepped out.

"We're here!" he shouted.

"Stay back!" Cinder-Shard returned. "Keep your people out of our way!"

The wraith's cowl cocked slightly, fixing on Wynn.

"The staff!" she shouted, and tried to step out for it. "Give it to me!"

The captain cast her a hard glare and set his boot on the staff. The third Weardas shoved Wynn back, pinning her to the wall with one hand. She heard a guttural rumble, but it hadn't come from Shade.

Chane's face twisted in his own snarl. The guards had taken his sword, but he could fight without it. His colorless eyes shifted from Wynn's assailant to the captain's exposed back.

Reine ignored Wynn and stood staring beyond Tristan and Cinder-Shard at a tall, black-robed figure. She'd heard scant details of a "mage" who'd murdered sages for translation folios. Through all of it, Wynn had insisted that it was something else… .

What had she called it—an undead?

Reine hadn't read Captain Rodian's final investigation report, but she'd been told that he claimed the perpetrator had died. Yet here was a likeness that could be no other. The culprit lived and was here in the underworld.

Wynn Hygeorht's follies mounted by the moment. She'd repeatedly muddled Rodian's investigation in trying to get access to the texts. There was only one way this interloper could've found the underworld.

Reine's fright turned to anger.

Wynn had led a murdering mage into the place of Frey's safekeeping.

Sau'ilahk fixed on Wynn; then his attention shifted again.

Beyond the black wolf, a tall royal guard in a helm and red tabard had dropped the staff and now held it down with his boot. Its upper section was enclosed in a leather sheath.

Sau'ilahk knew it even with its crystal hidden. That crystal had nearly burned him into oblivion the last time he had hunted Wynn. But she was pinned against the wall, and her ignorant new companions would not let her have the staff.

He took a fleeting instant of joy before spotting another small woman.

The duchess stood with saber in hand before an overly tall, white-robed figure. Though an Âreskynna only by marriage, she was still a royal. If the elder gray-blond dwarf could make the other Stonewalkers as impervious as himself, killing so many would be impossible, let alone taking one to torture for information.

Sau'ilahk's attention shifted erratically between Wynn and the duchess.

Could he seize someone more susceptible, someone he might even exchange for the texts? Tormenting Wynn would please him most, but even if she knew the texts' location, would the others sacrifice her and move the texts as a precaution?

He lost his train of thought as all of the Stonewalkers became still. They spread their arms wide and began a low, guttural chant in unison. It thrummed throughout the cavern as they stepped inward, closing around him.

Sau'ilahk did not know what they attempted, but their lack of fear concerned him.

Then Chane lashed out at one Weardas.

Sau'ilahk knew Chane would fight to get the staff into Wynn's possession. Too many sides were coming at him at once. He wanted to screech in frustration at more lost strength as he crouched and solidified one hand.

Sau'ilahk slammed his palm against the cavern's floor.

Chane could not believe the wraith had survived—not after all they had been through to destroy it. There was only one way to drive it off and give them time to learn why. Swords were worthless; regaining the staff for Wynn was all that mattered.

A Weardas still held her against the wall, but Chane needed to put his own guard down and reach the captain.

The Stonewalkers suddenly halted, and their chant rose. At the distraction, Chane twisted and slammed a fist into his guard's face.

The man teetered as his head whipped back, but he still managed to slash out with his sword. Chane felt the blade's point tear across his chest. Hunger rose quickly to eat that small pain. He crouched and drove his other palm into the man's gut.

The guard toppled, and Chane lunged for the captain's back.

"Tristan, behind you!"

At the duchess's shout, the captain started to turn, and another blade slashed across Chane's back. It failed to penetrate his cloak. Chane grabbed the captain's wrist above the sword, ready to strike the man down and snatch up the staff.

The cavern's glow brightened sharply with orange-red.

Chane hesitated as the Stonewalkers' chant died. He saw fire erupt from stone around the wraith's crouched form.

A line of flame spread from under its flattened hand and shot outward, racing and twisting around the wide bases of stalagmites. Cinder-Shard lunged out of the fire's path as the other Stonewalkers scattered.

Chane had hesitated too long.

A sword hilt struck the back of his skull—but the blow was too weak. He barely dropped his head as someone shouted, "Highness, keep away!" Chane knew who had attacked him from behind and did not care.

He wrenched the captain off balance as he thrust back with his elbow. But his arm slammed against something more solid than a small woman. He twisted his head in surprise, coming face-to-face with the young guard he had punched. Blood ran from the man's nostrils across his mouth.

"Chane, get out of the way!" Wynn shouted.

The line of fire raced toward the gathering at the entrance, steam shrieking off the wet stone in its path.

He glanced quickly beyond the bloody guard blocking him. The duchess and the elf stood in the way. There was not enough time to get through them, let alone get the staff to Wynn. The fire was coming too fast.

"Shade, free Wynn!" he ordered, hoping the dog understood.

Chane shouldered sideways into the young guard and charged toward Wynn.

Reine stiffened as the fire streaked between through the cavern. Blood ran freely down Danyel's face, dripping off his chin, and Tristan stared at the oncoming flames.

"Everyone out, now!" she commanded.

Then the wolf leaped at Saln.

He stumbled aside, fending it off, and lost his hold on Wynn. Chane slammed into Wynn, pushing her back against the wall, and he grabbed for the wolf's scruff. He tried to pull them both behind his wet cloak.

Reine took a step, and Chuillyon's light hand fell upon her shoulder.

"Be still," he whispered.

She spun, ready to grab him and flee, but faltered at his soft voice.

"Chârmun … agh'alhtahk so. A'lhän am leagad chionns'gnajh."

Chuillyon's large amber eyes closed as his other hand flattened over his heart.

Reine's Elvish wasn't good enough. All she caught was something about "grace," as if he'd whispered a prayer. She grabbed his robe's belt to pull him, but his grip on her shoulder closed slightly.

Chuillyon sighed, and a shallow smile spread across his thin lips.

When Reine turned her head to call the others, Tristan kicked the staff aside before he tried to leap clear. Onrushing flames raced over his boot, licking up his shin. He hadn't been wearing his cloak in Frey's pool, and the dry hem ignited. He ripped it off, letting it fall, and stomped on it. The stream of fire reached Saln, sending flames up his legs.

"Saln!" Reine cried. "Drop!"

He did, rolling on the floor as he screamed.