Barb Hendee - Through Stone and Sea

Before anyone else spoke, a booming voice echoed across the cavern: "We have other matters first!"

Thorn-in-Wine strode toward them, phosphorescent light catching upon each polished steel tip of his hauberk's scales. Unlike the other Stonewalkers, he kept his dirt-brown hair cropped. A few curling strands looped around his ears and upon his brow to match his short beard.

"The constabularies in the access tunnel are dead!" he declared. "But the portal thänæ saw no one come through."

Cinder-Shard shook his head. "It evaded the warrior guard."

Reine peered toward the entrance to the main passage. She didn't need Chuillyon's cryptic babble to frighten her. The sage-killer may have followed Wynn Hygeorht to the seatt, but if the guards above had been killed, then the mage had followed someone else into the underworld.

The murderer had followed her.

"I must warn the conclaves," Thorn-in-Wine said, "and learn whether anything has happened in the settlements."

Cinder-Shard released the staff, letting it topple into Chuillyon's waiting hand.

"My lady," Cinder-Shard addressed Reine. "Thorn-in-Wine has need of your captain, at least until more guards are placed in the tunnel. Tristan has experience with pragmatic strategy that we do not."

"Of course," she answered, waving Tristan on.

But the captain remained planted. "My duty is to the life and blood of the royal line—above all else."

"You can best protect the prince by securing the underworld," she returned. "Chuillyon can ward against this mage's skills, and as to any mundane assault …"

She settled a hand on her saber's hilt.

Tristan's expression didn't change, and he didn't move. Lifting one knee, Reine pulled a narrow-bladed dagger from her boot and slipped it at the ready into her belt.

"That wasn't a request, Captain," she said.

He reluctantly nodded and turned away, following Thorn-in-Wine toward the main passage. But Chuillyon headed off in another direction.

"Where are you going?" Reine asked.

He paused without turning. "To speak with the sage."

"Why? She's done nothing but lie and connive. What could we possibly gain from her that we could trust?"

"Confirmation," he answered.

Reine quick-stepped to grab his sleeve. "You are a royal counselor, not my keeper, so answer me! What are you and Cinder-Shard hiding? What is this Ath … Athkin … ?"

Chuillyon whipped around.

"Âthkyensmyotnes, " he hissed, and Reine shrank back.

"The sovereign of spirits," he went on, "another forgotten word, like the sage's ‘wraith.' I searched it out in little-known Numan folktales, once I heard things concerning the murderer in Calm Seatt. By the time I found anything, Wynn Hygeorht and her associates had taken matters into their own hands."

Reine just stared at him.

Chuillyon's branch lay too far south in Lhoin'na lands, and she'd never gone more than two days without seeing him. If he'd gone to the Calm Seatt guild, she would've heard mention from High-Tower or Sykion. How and where had he learned this?

Or was it all some excuse? Had he learned that odd name some other way?

"There is no time for your disbelief," he warned. "Your husband's safety matters more than your own—more than the texts—and that thing cannot learn of him."

Chuillyon jerked his sleeve from her grip.

"My counsel, Highness, is that you keep that foremost in your thoughts." He looked to Cinder-Shard. "Are you coming? I assume you wish to hear the sage for yourself."

Cinder-Shard had watched the exchange in silence. Without a word, he fell in beside Chuillyon. Both strode onward.

Reine watched them in shock before hurrying to catch up.

Chane shivered, though he did not feel the cold. Along with Wynn and Shade, he'd been locked away in pure darkness. He could not see anything at all.

"Open the door!" Wynn shouted. "You have to listen!"

"Enough," he said. "They are gone. Light your crystal … I cannot see."

"What? But … you're undead."

"Even our— my —eyes require some light."

He heard clothing rustle, and a soft glow rose in the dark, orange-red at first.

Chane watched light build, filtered through Wynn's small, rubbing hands. When she opened her fingers, her face was illuminated by the cold lamp crystal resting in her palm. They both looked around.

Shade stood nosing the stone landing's left side. Just beyond her, stairs led downward along a curved wall. The landing itself was no more than six paces square, its front and right side dropping straight off into the dark. Though the crystal lit the wall around the arch, its light barely reached the high ceiling above.

Chane peered over the landing's edge and could not make out what waited below. His thoughts were overwhelmed.

The wraith still existed. At its barest touch upon the cavern floor, fire had erupted and been shaped in a way he could not imagine. Dwarves had emerged from cavern walls. A small stone creature with one glowing eye had done so as well and then broken apart in midair around the disturbingly serene elf.

But worse, Chane was hungry.

The effort to gain the underworld, as well as swiping his hand through the wraith, had taken much from him. Possibilities for feeding were almost nonexistent. He feared what might happen if he grew desperate.

Glancing back, he expected to find defeat in Wynn's round face. What he saw startled him more.

In the crystal's upward light, her features looked so hard. Wynn's bright, sweet face was filled with anger unlike anything Chane had ever seen in her.

"Imbeciles and idiots!" she whispered sharply. "They don't know what they're dealing with, and they lock up those who do!"

Wynn glanced at him. The dark taint in her expression lingered an instant longer before it finally drained away.

"We have no weapons at all, if the wraith attacks us here," she said, "nothing to hold it off without the staff."

Overstating the obvious accomplished nothing, but Chane kept silent. In truth, he felt vulnerable without his sword or the treasured belongings in his packs.

"How could it have survived?" she whispered. "I watched it burn to nothing!"

She did not seem to expect an answer.

"It is more than just a spirit, especially by its actions," he said. "If it is a Noble Dead, even my kind are not easily dispatched."

Her gaze flickered to his throat. Beneath his cloak and shirt collar, he bore the scar around his neck as proof of that point. He too had risen from death a second time.

"What was that other thing … that leaped at the duchess and the elf?" she asked.

"I remember scant references to … constructs of a kind, from my earliest studies. Conjured things of the Elements with awareness of their own." He paused and shook his head. "We should survey our surroundings … see if there is anything of advantage."

"Why is this place so dark?" she asked, stepping past him toward Shade. "The walls don't glow like most of the outer caverns."

Much as he valued her curious nature, it now wore upon him, like the beast pacing within him, pulling against its bonds in growing hunger.

Wynn held the crystal out above Shade, illuminating the wide stone stairs, and Chane studied the wall. It was hewn smooth, unlike the caverns. This was a created rather than a natural space. No moisture crept in to coat it with glittering mineral deposits, which seemed impossible at this depth.

Chane stepped past Wynn. Only a dozen stairs down, Shade scurried into the lead, sniffing every step they took. He had not counted the steps, but too many passed before Wynn's crystal began to expose the chamber's lower reaches. If she had stumbled off that landing, it would have been a very long first—and last—step.