Барб Хенди - The Night Voice

Brot’an finally stopped, as did Leesil.

There was no more cover the rest of the way up. If there had been any, it had all been cleared away, likely for a defensible position.

Brot’an’s head turned, as if looking back, though Leesil could not see the scarred face within the dark hood. Brot’an curled his fingers to pinch something between the first two, and Leesil heard a stiletto slide out into that hand.

Brot’an went utterly still, his face still unseen in the pit of his hood.

Leesil understood and quietly unlashed his left punching blade. At that, Brot’an’s other hand slipped behind his back where he half lay on his side. That hand came back into sight, gripping a white metal, hooked bone knife.

They had to close the last distance at a run.

Leesil carefully levered up on one arm for a better look.

A hulkish form, as tall as Brot’an, dressed only in a waist-wrap, trudged toward the deeper dark below the overhang. It stopped, turned to face down the mountainside, and a nearby pole torch exposed it.

Leesil stared, not understanding what he saw. Ghassan drew a sharp breath behind him.

“Locatha,” the domin whispered.

Leesil didn’t know what that meant as he continued taking in the sight of the huge guard.

A hairless, scaled head with pure black eyes above its protruding muzzle looked down the mountainside. Whether it could see the battle below, Leesil couldn’t tell.

Its shoulders, broader than a man’s, were covered in glistening scales larger than the ones on its head. Those plates ran up its thick-based neck. In one hand, it steadied a double-thick spear’s shaft, but the blade atop that was the size of a short sword, at least.

“You know of these creatures?” Brot’an whispered without looking back.

Ghassan was slow in answering. “They are hard to kill and possess limited mental function. Both are useful qualities in a guard.”

Leesil didn’t bother to ask how the domin knew this.

“My skills are of minimal use on such minds,” Ghassan went on. “Take out their eyes first, if you can. Their hides are difficult to penetrate.”

The last of that was obvious as Leesil clenched his jaw. They hadn’t even gained access, and now this? The best option he saw was to keep the guards distracted while Chane and Ore-Locks snuck in the chests. And then what?

“Draw and divert,” Brot’an whispered, again without looking back. “Kill after.”

And how were they to do the latter? The largest weapons between them were Leesil’s punching blades. He wouldn’t know until too late if one of those could penetrate an armored hide deeply enough. Just the same, he pulled the other blade, and after one more breath ...

Leesil sprang up at a run, hoping to take advantage through surprise. He heard Brot’an right behind him as they raced to close the distance before being spotted.

Wynn grew frantic where she crouched, watching the battle below. But no matter what she could make out in the dark, she saw no sign of Magiere.

Had Magiere lost herself completely in facing so many undead? She was supposed to have led them into the reach of the sun crystal’s light.

Wynn almost stopped breathing. She watched as racing, screaming, and growling silhouettes down there threw themselves at one another. Now and then, some were briefly exposed by scattered firelight, and what she saw was best forgotten. Then she heard the howling and quickly rose up.

Chuillyon had brought majay-hì packs as planned, along with Vreuvillä ... and Wayfarer ... and Shade. Wynn forced herself to stay put. She desperately hoped Chuillyon had also been able to move Osha and the Shé’ith.

—Come ... find me ... and bring light!—

Wynn whirled around too quickly and almost fell, looking for Chap. He had to be here—somewhere—for him to speak to her like only she could hear in her mind.

But she didn’t see him anywhere.

She ran down a ways, looking northward. Had he gone with the packs into the battle?

—Come now ... with the staff—

Again, Wynn looked everywhere and still didn’t spot him. How was he doing this? Where was he? Had something changed, gone wrong?

—Wynn!—

Panic nearly overwhelmed her, and she looked to the battle again. Magiere was down there somewhere, and possibly Wayfarer and Shade as well with the pack. There was nothing she could do for them except ignite the staff.

It wasn’t time for that yet. Such an act might only cause more chaos and reveal her too soon.

Wynn took off, running northward along the base of the foothills. She hoped she could find Chap before something else spotted her.

Chap swerved away from another sword strike by the second animated corpse. He passed halfway through another ghost before realizing too late, and an icy chill shot through his bones.

Everywhere he turned, there were more glimmering, translucent forms having come for him out of the dark. And the first overmuscled corpse guard was rising up again. With both already dead, killing one of them seemed impossible. There were too many spirits as well.

He had to get to Ubâd.

The necromancer controlled all of the dead present, whether dead or undead himself. But there was no clear path to that still and silent robed body erect upon the tilted litter.

Then ... brilliant, white light exploded from behind Chap. For an instant, he could see nothing as he went white-blind. He heard the ghost girl’s screaming wail. The sound faded, as if growing distant, as his eyes adjusted.

Wynn had come! She had ignited her staff.

Chap saw one of the dead men turn toward the light’s source.

The spirits all around Chap wavered, some vanishing like vapor in a breeze under the glare. But not that one dead guard and likely not the other.

He had only one choice. To save Wynn, he had to abandon her for the only target that mattered.

Chap lunged around the dead guard in his way, racing for the litter. With each paw-strike upon the parched ground and stone, he called upon the Elements of Existence without time to stop and root himself in them.

From Earth beneath him, Air around him, Water within him, and his heat for Fire, he mingled these with his Spirit. He could only hope this worked. It was not until the last running paw-strike that he felt himself begin to burn .

This time, Wynn would not have mantic sight to see the blue-white phosphorescent vapors that rose like flames to flicker across his form.

He leaped.

His forepaws struck Ubâd’s chest and bound arms. The litter rocked wildly backward, and Chap nearly tumbled off.

Ubâd would call his servants here to his aid and forget about Wynn.

Chap tore at the dusty robe to get his claws into the necromancer’s dead flesh. He did not think of a guard’s blade coming down on his back. He forgot any of the spirits fighting to remain outside Wynn’s light and come for him. He thought only to feel the elements within him.

Ubâd’s corpse began to quiver as if awakening.

The stench of burning flesh rose around Chap, though he saw no smoke.

The necromancer’s withered, crossed hands began to wither even more, until the skin appeared to cinch in tight around the bones. Black fluids leaked out around the eyeless mask as the body became still. Even then Chap did not hear how quiet everything had become, except for the distant sounds of the battle.

He raised his head.

Everything was dark again. Not one spirit remained in sight, not even the girl. When he looked back, both dead guards lay on the ground. The nearest was facedown within arm’s reach of the litter, a sword still gripped in his outstretched hand.

And there was Wynn three strides to his right.