Barb Hendee - Thief of Lives

When she entered the study, there was no sign of Wynn. A cold lamp sat on the desk where the young sage had been working.

She headed for the side passage leading to kitchen. In the dimness of the entry way, a soft light called her attention, and she glanced down.

The topaz amulet glowed brightly.

Magiere spun about.

There was no one in the room. The sound of booted footsteps echoed from the main hallway, and she started to run.

"Leesil!" she shouted. "My sword!"

She passed the front entrance but saw no one. Before she headed down the hall toward their room, Chap came toward her with Leesil close behind. The dog still limped, but he dashed past as Leesil tossed her the falchion. His punching blade was in his right hand. Vatz came running behind, loaded crossbow wrapped in his little arms.

"Get back in that room!" she ordered him.

His expression clouded, and his angry little mouth opened.

"No arguments," she snapped. "Move!"

A wail echoed down the hall behind her as Chap burst into full cry, and Magiere whirled to follow without waiting to see that Vatz obeyed.

As she reached the study again, Wynn and Tilswith scurried in from the side hallway to the kitchen. Leesil and Chap entered behind Magiere, and the hound circled the room with a continuous rumble as he sniffed about. He let out a growl as he passed by Wynn's table, and then turned and trotted back into the main hallway.

Magiere hesitated before going after him. The two sages hung back.

"Who was just here?" she asked.

"Our friend, Chane," Wynn replied, out of breath and her voice unsteady.

"Good scholar, but…" The domin paused, gripping Wynn's arm, his voice touched with sadness. "He is tall, noble look… red-brown hair behind ears."

"Oh, merciless saints!" Leesil snapped, and he bolted after Chap. "Come on. They've been inviting an undead for tea and studies."

Magiere followed. As she rounded the corner to the front door, she saw it already ajar. Leesil ran into the night ahead of her, and Chap's wail echoed from the street outside.

Sgaile tied the corners of his cloak about his waist to keep it out of his way and hold his cloth bundle of equipment snug against his back. With the shortbow hung over his shoulder, he slipped into a space between buildings close to the inner ring wall and searched for a way to the rooftops.

It had been a long day's wait, and his brethren in Hovel Row had informed him of the strange, well-dressed human who had come with questions. The city was being locked down at night because of a string of unexplained deaths, and movement would be difficult. He stepped out before dusk to give himself time to enter the city's wealthy inner districts before the gatehouses were closed for the night.

Ascending the rough buildings was easy for Sgaile, and he soon perched at the apex of a three-story structure. Leaping to the next rooftop, he landed silently and worked his way along. Out ahead and above, he could see a white speck atop the wall and settled still as a shadow next to a clay chimney. A guard in white surcoat and feather-crested helm strolled along above. When the guard passed down the other way, Sgaile continued along the roofs.

It would be difficult to locate his target with little to guide him but the secondhand description given by his brethren. He reconciled himself to a long night of silent searching. Then a wail carried through the air.

Sgaile froze again, dropping low.

There had been mention of a dog.

The wail sounded again, long and savage, and Sgaile sprang to his feet, leaping across the rooftops.

Chane ducked through a doorway, out of sight, as he heard shouting in the hall. He did not stop to listen and slipped out the front door once the footfalls passed by toward the study.

When the explosive wail burst from behind him, it startled him. He had heard that sound twice now-once from a distance and once close by-and knew the dhampir's dog was inside the barracks.

What could the dhampir possibly be doing among the sages?

As he ran through the street, the wail shifted to a high-pitched tone that cut through the night air, and Chane knew the hound was outside. Looking back, he saw far behind two gleaming pinpricks like diamonds in the dark. Its silhouette loped oddly. Chane's own legs were long, and he ran swiftly, but he heard the hound gaining ground.

He searched about for refuge, someplace to make a stand, and spotted the shabby frame of a large storage shed between two buildings against the ring wall. The door was broken but three walls were intact, so he dodged inside, stepped to the back, and began chanting softly.

In his mind, he drew lines of light, slowly crafting symbols in his thoughts. First the circle, then around it a triangle, and into the spaces of its corners outside the circle, he scrawled glyphs and sigils, stroke by stroke. The mesh of lines in his mind overlay his sight of the room wherever he looked, and he aimed through its center at the ground before the door.

Still wailing, the hound slammed into the broken door, smashing it open, and its voice shifted to an elongated snarl.

In the shack's darkness, the animal's blue-gray fur stood on end around its neck and along its back, its sharp teeth exposed beneath wrinkled jowls. It was so tall that its back would reach Chane's thigh. And the dhampir could not be far behind.

Chane focused upon the floor before the hound. A shifting warp twisted his vision of the room.

Spirals of flame shot up in front of the hound.

Without looking back, Chane dashed through the shed's broken side, scanning the street for the nearest sewer grate.

Leesil ran at full stride out the guild's front door. Chap wasn't far ahead, but for running on only three legs, the dog covered ground at a rapid pace.

His slender legs pumped wildly to catch up. The hound had sustained too many injuries on this exploit from throwing himself into every battle. More than once, he'd been outnumbered or flanked before Leesil could get to his side. They knew little of this undead that Chap pursued, other than that he was a swordsman and perhaps a mage as well. This was more than Chap had faced before.

Hound… Fay… or both. Anger flared inside Leesil, a mix of resentment toward Chap and ire at the undead who'd walked right through the building when they weren't paying attention. He pushed harder to catch up, knowing Magiere wouldn't be far behind. Out ahead, he caught sight of Chap's loping form. He peered farther down the gradual arc of the road.

There was the dim outline of a fleeing form. Then it was gone.

Chap turned, heading toward a large but shabby three-sided shed at the far end of the barracks grounds. Why would the undead run there? It offered no protection.

As Leesil followed, he saw Chap standing just inside the shed's doorway, snarling loudly. A breath later, fire erupted like a fountain inside the shed, and the doorway quickly ignited into flames behind the dog.

A shadow flickered away out of the shed's broken side.

Leesil wanted to scream. He ran headlong through the door, leaning forward to grab Chap by the chest, and threw himself forward.

He felt heat like the pressure of water closing around him, as if he'd leaped from a height into a boiling sea. Rolling across the ground with Chap clenched tight to his chest, he smashed them both against the shed's back wall. Leesil scrambled up and shoved Chap ahead of him out of the shed's broken side.

Once in the street again, he grabbed the hound, running his hands over the gray-blue fur, checking for burns. His heart thrummed against his ribs. To his relief, the fire had mainly scorched Chap's tail and singed a few patches of fur on his haunches, but that was all. A moment more among the flames, and the result would have been more than Leesil cared to imagine.