Barb Hendee - In Shade and Shadow

The wraith had entered the guild last night. Had it done so in the past, perhaps tracking those involved in the project? Obviously literate, since it sought folios, if it had once been Suman, then it could read its native language. Even il'Sänke could read some of the ancient dialects of his own tongue, but only if given enough time.

So why had the wraith been stealing translated passages, instead of going after the original texts?

It could walk through walls, and since Wynn's return surely it could have searched every corner of the guild's keep and catacombs.

Wynn slowed a little too much in her walk.

Any search of guild grounds, for a creature that could go anywhere, would have succeeded… unless the texts were stored somewhere else.

Wynn picked up her pace again. This wasn't the time to get distracted by more puzzles.

As she passed the perfumery once more, she slowed to glance at its front windows. The inner shutters were closed and barred, hiding displays of hand-blown glass and porcelain bottles filled with heady fragrances. With nothing to look at she moved on—and then stopped completely.

A column of night stood ahead in the middle of the street.

Wynn flinched, even though she was prepared for this.

Appearing solid and real, its cloak corners began to lift on their own around the black robe. Unlike what she'd seen with mantic sight, the hollow of its hood held only darkness. So alien—like spotting a black spider running up her arm. Wynn began to shudder.

It just waited, not even coming for her. Was it playing with her? Did it want her to smother in her own fear and run?

"What are you after?" she said, and her voice turned shrill. "What is worth murder?"

Not even an echoing hiss rose around her in response.

Where was il'Sänke? He had to see it. It was standing right there in the open.

The night's chill deepened around Wynn, biting at her exposed face and hands.

The wraith slid forward across the cobblestones, its speed increasing. Wynn turned and ran.

Chane tensed to keep from charging out, his left hand with the ring still resting on Shade's back.

Wynn raced down the street, toward his hiding place.

There was no sign of il'Sänke, and Chane forced himself to wait. But the wraith was closing too fast. He held back until Wynn blurred past him—and still no sign of il'Sänke.

"Now!" he rasped, and lifted his hand from Shade's back.

The dog cut loose a wail as she lunged into the street, and the sound made Chane quiver. He pulled his longsword, counted off two forced breaths, and bolted out after Wynn.

The blade would not affect the wraith, but his task was to do anything to divert it once it faltered amid too many adversaries appearing. He had to focus on that one purpose alone.

But it did not falter—not even as Shade charged after it, snapping and snarling. It reached out with its cloth-wrapped hand, until its fingers stretched to within a hand's length of Wynn's back.

And Chane was still too far off. But Shade closed the distance.

She leaped, arcing straight at the black figure—and it vanished. Shade landed with a frustrated growl and whirled about.

Chane did the same, quickly searching the street. Like some mockery of light, a black flash caught in the left side of his vision, and he saw Wynn stumble to a halt.

The wraith stood ahead of her, down the street.

Chane veered as Wynn backpedaled and began digging into her robe's outer pocket.

One thing was clear: This creature didn't want the majay-hì to touch it. That gave Chane an advantage. As he rushed at it, he shouted, "Shade!"

The wraith slid sharply to the right, trying to get out of his way as Shade's howl erupted again.

Chane thrust out with his empty hand, driving it toward the black figure. Part of him suddenly hoped the wraith would vanish to escape.

For an instant he thought he saw a darkened shop wall through its form. Momentum speared his hand through the black robe's chest.

A shock of cold stiffened his fingers. It shot up his arm as a brief screech surrounded him. Both the sound and the black figure vanished—but not the pain in his arm. Chane slammed into the shop wall beyond.

His numbed fingers rammed wood planking. He thought he heard one finger crack as his shoulder hit the planks. He rolled along the wall, looking frantically about as a thousand icy needles seemed to slide through his hand, arm, and shoulder.

Shade raced by, snarling like a rabid dog.

He never had a chance to look for Wynn. Coiling wisps like soot-laced smoke gathered into a column in the majay-hì's path.

But it was slower this time, not like the last. For an instant, the thin transparency Chane had glimpsed remained. Then it grew solid black as a screeching hiss exploded, filling the street along with its returning form.

The wraith's ability to vanish and reappear wasn't as quick as Chane had thought, and now it seemed to struggle even more to become real. And he had hurt it as well. But his fingers barely moved and his arm was nearly limp at his side. He would have to throw aside his sword to try again with his other hand.

Before Shade could leap, the wraith rushed forward and swiped down with its hand.

Shade ducked away, but one forepaw slipped. She fell sideways, quickly rolled over, and her rump hit a shop porch before she could scramble up. Chane lurched off the shop wall as the wraith circled wide around Shade.

Then it jerked to a dead stop.

The hiss grew again in the street, like water pattering upon a hot stove. It whipped about, facing toward Chane.

"Throw it… now!"

Chane glanced back.

There was Wynn, fumbling to pull the arms of the spectacles over her ears.

The instant the wraith appeared, Ghassan dropped to the street with the staff in hand—but not from where he had whistled to the others.

While waiting, he had wondered how this thing had learned so much about the folios. If it had skills as a mage of any kind, he did not want it locating him. And when it appeared, he would not have time to obscure his presence from its awareness. If it learned of Chane and Shade's location, that simply served as a further distraction.

In the last instant Ghassan slowed his descent and settled silently behind the robed undead. It seemed utterly unaware of him, remaining still and silent, watching Wynn.

Ghassan fixed upon its exposed back.

Before he even wiped away the spell's remains to call another, the wraith rushed forward down the street, and Wynn took off running.

Ghassan did not know how long Chane and Shade could keep this thing distracted, and Wynn was defenseless. He could not allow it to touch her, or this would all end too quickly with nothing gained.

As Shade charged out, Ghassan lifted to the rooftops again. Half hopping and half floating over the shakes, he raced along above the street. Before he could halt and focus upon the figure, Chane emerged and the dog leaped at the wraith.

It vanished.

In one blink, it materialized beyond Wynn. She skidded to a halt as Chane rushed by her. And Wynn's pale companion rammed his hand through the black robe. The wraith vanished again as Chane collided into a shop.

Black wisps swirled in the street ten paces beyond as Shade charged past Chane.

Ghassan rushed across another two rooftops and dropped to the street behind those swirls.

He needed only to mask the wraith's sense of place and bind it in confusion. As it struggled to reappear, he banished the spell that let his will lift him and began building walls in his own thoughts.

The wraith swung down at the majay-hì as Ghassan closed his eyes.

The pattern of a new spell appeared behind his eyelids. He began to chant, murmuring audibly, so the sound of his own voice in his ears reinforced his intent. He opened his eyes and reached for the thing's thoughts—if it had any.