Barb Hendee - In Shade and Shadow

The wraith swiveled around.

Ghassan stared into the pitch-black hollow of its cowl—and choked for air.

Something twisted about in his mind.

Like worms trying to bore their way out of his head, they ate at his thoughts as they writhed and turned. Pieces of his spell's shapes and sigils rotted before his sight. The glimmering lines lost all color and decayed to dust.

Worms of rage and hate ate at him from within.

He had connected to this thing, found his target with his own thoughts—but he sensed nothing there, only the worms and their bitter hunger.

The street's lantern light began to darken before Ghassan's eyes.

Somewhere distant from his awareness, he felt the air turn cold. Chill seeped inward until it sank into his mind. Nothing he had ever touched by will or his arts could do this.

Ghassan retreated deep inside himself, behind the walls made of his own thoughts.

He let go of any reach for this undead. He used all that was left of his will and shored up the walls in his mind, until the worms' gnawing grew faint—like scales upon those worms scraping upon stone.

A voice cried out, "Throw it… now!"

Ghassan's sight cleared a little, as if called back, and the wraith slid toward him. Wynn trotted up behind Chane, trying to pull on the spectacles.

The staff—all he had to do was ignite the crystal. That thought made his will slip.

The night nearly swallowed him as the scaled worms cracked through stone inside his mind. He found himself staring into the dark space within the black figure's hood.

Ghassan hurled the staff—and the wraith froze, raising its cowl as the staff arced overhead.

"No," Wynn whispered.

The staff was coming down short.

The wraith twisted about, raising its cowl skyward, and it thrust a cloth-wrapped hand into the air.

Wynn's fright spiked as Chane threw himself into the wraith—and passed straight through it. His scream came on the tail of a rising screech that filled the street, seeming to come from everywhere around.

Wynn bolted forward, her eyes locked on the falling staff.

She couldn't look for Chane, Shade, or il'Sänke, not even to see if the wraith still stalled. She couldn't let the crystal hit the street's stones.

The spectacles jostled on the bridge of her small nose as the staff landed in her palms. She closed her grip tightly, too frightened to feel relief.

Then she saw the wraith… or through it.

It wavered, more shadow than illusory solid black. Its enveloping shriek still tore at Wynn's ears. Beyond it—through it—Chane was trying to rise off the cobblestones. Il'Sänke straightened himself, stumbling as he shifted around the wraith's left side. He was shaking, his lips parted over clenched teeth. Chane hobbled the other way, until he thumped into a shop's porch pillar.

Something had happened to il'Sänke, and Chane was still too close, but if she didn't ignite the crystal now…

The wraith solidified and fixed upon her—upon the staff's crystal.

"Do it!" il'Sänke shouted weakly.

The screech faded to a hiss, and the black undead lunged at her.

Wynn dodged away to the street's center, and Shade charged in, snarling. The wraith faltered and swung at the dog. Shade was too slow in trying to reverse.

The cloth-wrapped hand didn't go through this time.

Shade yelped as the blow struck solidly against her head. She went tumbling across the cobblestones as if she weighed nothing.

Wynn had no chance even to cry out as the wraith turned on her again. She tried scurrying out of reach to get even one instant to ignite the staff's crystal.

The wraith jerked to a halt. The hand that had struck Shade now trailed behind it. Its arm was pulled back taut, as if something unseen had taken hold of its wrist. Wynn heard a thrumming utterance coming from il'Sänke.

"Chane, get out of here!" she screamed.

She didn't dare look away to see if he'd listened. She kept her eyes on the wraith as she envisioned the circle and nested triangles, all wrapped around a final circle. Wynn thrust the staff's crystal out to rest it in the pattern centered on the wraith.

The black figure flickered, briefly transparent.

The last thing il'Sänke taught her was to speak her focus phrases in Sumanese, hoping a familiar tongue might startle this monster.

From Spirit to Fire .

"Mên Rúhk el-När…" she whispered.

Whatever hold il'Sänke had on its arm broke as it thrashed free.

…for its light of…

"…mênajil Núr'u… mênajil—"

"No one move!" someone shouted. "Keep your place. All of you!"

Wynn never finished the last word as a clatter of hooves broke her focus.

Three horses charged up the street, with Rodian in the lead on his white mare. He rode straight at il'Sänke with his sword drawn.

The pattern vanished from Wynn's sight as she shouted, "No, not him!"

Rodian heard howling from several blocks away and drove Snowbird through the streets until he burst upon a startling scene.

Il'Sänke stood closest, his back turned. Another man holding a longsword stumbled along the shops at the street's left side. And Wynn's wolf righted itself near a porch up the way.

"No one move!" he ordered, jerking his sword from its sheath. "Keep your place. All of you!"

Then Rodian spotted Wynn.

She held out a staff with a long piece of prismatic glass fixed atop it. Strange glasses with large lenses covered her eyes. Her lips stopped moving as her head turned toward him, then her face filled with panic.

What was she doing here with the Suman and these others?

Il'Sänke remained where he was. Rodian couldn't be certain whether the man was looking at Wynn or…?

Rodian spotted the black-robed figure. He hadn't seen it at first in the dimly lit street with so many others scattered about. Only the figure's hood pivoted toward him.

It was here—but so was il'Sänke. They weren't the same person, but the Suman still muttered a chant.

Rodian flipped his sword tip up and nudged with his heels. Snowbird closed on il'Sänke's back at a fast canter. He would bring an end to this chain of deaths.

"No, not him!" Wynn shouted.

Rodian hammered his sword hilt down on il'Sänke's head, and Snowbird skidded to a halt as the domin crumpled.

Chane stumbled into a narrow path between two buildings, fearing the crystal might flash at any moment. But the burning light never came.

He flattened against one shop's dingy side as shouts and the sound of pounding horses' hooves grew in the street. The sting like iced needles still filled his body, but shock overcame suffering when he peered into the street.

Shade was on her feet, rumbling instead of howling, and she limped sideways toward Wynn.

Wynn stood in confusion, holding the crystal's staff out. But she turned her widening eyes, behind the strange spectacles, toward the first horseman.

The man she called Captain Rodian—the same one who had set the trap at the scriptorium—sat on a fidgeting white mare, his sword in hand. And the Suman lay in a limp mass, clearly unconscious.

Amid all this, the wraith remained still, turning only its hood toward the captain, as two other city guards kicked their mounts, charging at it.

Everything had turned to a fool's chaos. There was nothing left but to get Wynn out of the middle.

Chane willed down pain, letting hunger rise to eat it, and he ducked out, bolting straight at Wynn.

Rodian looked up from il'Sänke's crumpled form as Garrogh charged with Lúcan flanking him. The two raced toward the black-robed man.

"Hold!" Garrogh shouted. "Keep your hands where I can see them!"

"Keep away!" Wynn shouted back.