Барб Хенди - The Night Voice

But he—not they, or even Magiere—would be the one to finish Beloved.

In ancient times, he had known the whereabouts of Beloved’s hiding place to the far east. That had been a torturous thousand years ago, perhaps more, and the exact details had long since faded from memory. For now, he did not want Magiere finding such a place until all five orbs were present.

Khalidah blinked, and noted the much lighter sky. He had lingered too long and turned to his reason for slipping away. Closing his eyes, he blanked out all thoughts but one.

The pebble.

There was no sensation of crossing great distances; he instantly touched it with his emptied mind. Space and time meant nothing, and it was almost as if he were there ...

Everything suddenly appeared darker than where he had settled in the foothills.

He was standing nearby but unseen next to Chane, though Chane was running.

A sled drawn by dogs raced through the near dark and tall trees and over snow-crusted earth. Chap was barely visible, running on the sled’s far side. A dark-skinned man bulked up with heavy furs ran behind the sled, gripping its reins and occasionally shouting to the dogs in a strange, awkward language.

At first, Khalidah thought they were in search of the two orbs hidden in the wastes.

“Chap!” Chane tried to shout in his rasping, broken voice. “Find a clearing ... quickly.”

The majay-hì bolted ahead into the trees, distracting Khalidah for an instant.

“We stop,” Chane added. “Set camp fast!”

Khalidah glanced aside in time to see the sled driver nod. Then he noticed the faint lightening of the darkness. Dawn would be coming, though later than here where his body sat among the foothills.

Then he realized the sled was aimed westward rather than inland.

It was burdened with three chests, as expected, but as he looked closer, two had locks on their latches. The third was not locked.

Hope expanded within Khalidah, for two out of three to be locked implied only one thing.

Chane and Chap had already recovered the orbs of Water and Fire. They were returning to the coast—and in their haste, pushing the limit of Chane’s safety against the dawn.

Amid relief—and hesitation—Khalidah opened his eyes to dawn in the foothills of the Sky-Cutter Range. He would check on the undead and the dog again in several days, but for now he sat there on the edge of ecstasy.

To kill a god was to become a god ... at least in the eyes of one’s inferiors.

Without warning, a hissing voice rose in his thoughts and eradicated his joy.

My servant.

It had been so long since he had heard it that he froze, unable to answer immediately.

Yes, my Beloved?

You guard the dhampir as instructed?

Khalidah weighed his answer carefully in keeping his thoughts shielded. He knew that his god believed him to be bringing the child of its making—Magiere—for some purpose only it knew. As of yet, though, Khalidah had not uncovered that purpose, and Beloved had not been forthcoming on precisely where to bring her.

Yes, she is in my company, Beloved. He wavered, uncertain, and then thought a sliver of truth was the best lie. I have two of the anchors in my possession. Three are still being gathered. I thought to wait until all five were in my possession before asking where to bring all with the dhampir to you.

Khalidah lingered, waiting for a response, and ...

That is acceptable, servant.

Yes, Beloved, as is my joy in serving my god.

No sooner had those carefully contrite words passed through his thoughts than he heard one final command.

See that you do not fail ... again ... as in Bäalâle.

Khalidah swallowed down spite with fear as silence filled his mind. He hated groveling to this betrayer but comforted himself in knowing he would have his revenge. Briefly touching the chain around his neck, he wondered about contacting Sau’ilahk for a location report, but he had already been gone for too long and stood up to return to the camp.

When he rounded the tall hill, a shadow fell across his path.

Khalidah looked upslope as Brot’an descended to face him. The elder elf studied him.

“You were gone so long, we grew concerned,” Brot’an said.

Khalidah kept his expression passive. Leesil was the one who accompanied him on water raids, and he knew the half-blood was beginning to grow suspicious as to why they had not been spotted, let alone caught, even once. Of course, Khalidah had used his sorcery to hide them from anyone’s awareness, and his own power exceeded that of his internal captive, Ghassan il’Sänke.

Might Leesil have mentioned his suspicions to Brot’an?

“I am safe, as you see,” Khalidah said with a warm smile. “I saw no one else in my search.”

“Did you find water?”

“I fear not. Is Wynn better?”

Brot’an did not answer at first. “She is awake and coherent.”

Khalidah brushed past, eager to end this conversation. “Then let us return.”

He led the way, but even more than before, he felt a need to know the assassin’s true agenda here.

Several evenings later in White Hut, Chap sat alone outside the tent on the fringe of the settlement. Inside, Chane sat alone with all three chests, two containing orbs. They had been unsuccessful in attaining passage south, for no new ship had arrived ... until now.

Chap lingered in watching an arriving vessel until certain it had anchored and longboats were headed out to exchange cargo. Then he whirled, nosed through the tent’s flap, and snatched up the talking hide in his teeth. Chane had his full attention before he even dropped the hide, clawed it open, and began pawing out the news.

Chane ducked out of the tent to take a look before Chap finished.

Chap followed and had barely stepped outside when Chane rushed back into the tent to begin their preparations for departure. It did not take long.

“I need to hire a few boys to help carry the chests,” he said.

Though the thought of this delay tried Chap’s patience, he knew it was necessary that they transport everything to the shore at once. Whether this ship granted them passage or not, they had to be ready and waiting.

Soon enough, Chane returned with three strong-looking boys. Chane carried the chest with the orb of Water. One of the boys carried the empty chest, and the other worked together to half carry, half drag the chest with the orb of Fire—as it was heavy and their going was slow. Chane never let them out of his sight, but in the end, he set his orb on the shore for Chap to guard and jogged back to carry the orb of Fire for the final stretch.

Once on shore, all three boys ran as soon as they were paid.

Chane then spoke briefly to a sailor in a longboat, and when that boat was emptied, he climbed in and rode back over the waves toward the ship to see if he might arrange for passage.

Chap remained behind to guard the orbs, and while waiting alone on the beach, he had too much time to think as he sat between the two locked chests. He had not realized how much the sight of them being unearthed would haunt him ... as if the memory of Nawyat were a ghost he would never escape.

He almost wished he could open one of those locked chests. While in the simple guide’s body, in handling the orbs, he had to remove the man’s glove. He had touched an orb for the first time with his own ... with Nawyat’s flesh.

There was a presence trapped inside each one—a Fay, singular, like himself. And still he had not stopped. He buried alive two of his kin in a frozen grave. At the time, he had told himself that all he had done had been for the good of the world. And now?