Барб Хенди - The Night Voice

Chap snarled at Osha with a snap of teeth and a short lunge.

—Where is Chuillyon ... where did you part from him?—

Osha back-stepped, looking down.

—Answer!—

“With ... Wynn ... and Wayfarer and Shade,” Osha panted out, pointing toward the light.

Chap could not help glancing at Magiere, lying still and black marked. He gave Osha a final command before bolting toward Wynn’s light.

—Pick her up and follow—

Osha went numb as Chap raced off.

Remaining in place, Osha cringed at the thought of what the elder majay-hì had demanded. He could not bear to look upon Magiere’s remains—upon what he had done.

Slowly, Osha crept toward Magiere’s body but only looked to her nearest hand. There was no smoke rising from it. He did see the lines in her flesh, as if every vein beneath her pale skin had blackened and swelled. But the skin had not split, bled, or charred as with Sau’ilahk’s stolen flesh.

Then Osha’s gaze worked upward, first to the hauberk’s shredded skirt, then to the sword belt nearly severed, upward to the torso, and finally to where that arrow was still embedded in her shoulder.

Osha choked once and stumbled, doubting what he saw. He dropped beside her, putting an ear near her mouth—and heard a shallow breath.

Quickly straightening, again he hesitated, not knowing if he should jerk out the arrow. That might worsen any bleeding and end what little life to which she clung. Rising to his feet, he cast around.

Most of the nearby fighting had scattered, as even the living members of the horde had fled when the nearest undead had run from the light and tore at anything in their way. Fighting was still intense farther south, and he saw one rider among others harrying everything within reach.

Osha put fingers to his mouth and whistled over and over as loudly as he could.

Finally, that one rider clear of the others wheeled its mount his way. At a distance, he could not tell who it was, even as it charged toward him.

Dropping to one knee, he pulled a knife from a sheath at his back and set its edge low against the arrow’s shaft. Using the blade, he snapped the shaft some three finger widths above Magiere’s armor. He then slung his bow and reached down to grip Magiere beneath her shoulders.

He had barely lifted her to sitting in a slump when a horse’s hooves thundered up beside him, and he looked up into the severe eyes of Commander Althahk. The commander of the Shé’ith appeared little better than Magiere, blood marred, torn, and ragged, with his sword’s blade obscured in black and red smears.

“You abandoned your squad!” Althahk shouted at him.

Osha ignored this and pointed down at Magiere. “I must take her north to the light while she still lives. The majay-hì demands it!”

The commander barely noticed the black-haired woman leaning unconscious against Osha’s right leg. A puzzled, confused scowl turned to outright fury.

“We have dead and injured scattered everywhere,” Althahk snarled. “And more if we do not stop it ... and you deserted!”

Osha realized there was nothing he could say that would accomplish what he needed. Then his frantic, wandering eyes fixed on Althahk’s mount. Froth-covered and stained in sweat and blood, En’wi’rên snorted over and over, watching him.

The Shé’ith did not see their horses as mere mounts but as their allies, their battle mates. Could she possibly understand what the commander would not?

He had never learned enough about her kind, but he had no other recourse.

“Please,” he begged. “I must do this ... as the majay-hì commanded.”

That did not even make sense to him. How could anyone—even she—understand what he asked? Or understand how different Chap was from even his own Fay-born kind?

En’wi’rên whinnied—and then bucked and twisted violently.

Althahk’s eyes snapped wide. He dropped his sword to grab for the saddle’s front edge.

Osha almost backed away, but he would not leave Magiere undefended as the horse pranced wildly. The commander’s furious shouts were impossible to follow in his strange dialect. En’wi’rên did not relent until ...

“Bithâ!” Althahk shouted, over and over.

En’wi’rên settled. With a final thrash of her head and a sharp snort, she looked to Osha, and he stared back in disbelief.

“Very well,” Althahk snapped. “Osha, get the woman up and over, behind the saddle.”

Osha quickly put his hands beneath Magiere’s arms. As he lifted her up, he could not help a last glance at En’wi’rên. It was a struggle to get Magiere draped over the horse’s haunches, even with the commander’s help, but as Althahk reached behind himself to grip hold of her belt, Osha stepped back, at a loss.

There was no space for him to mount as well.

“Grab the stirrup’s strap!” Althahk ordered. “And run with her!”

Osha took hold, and En’wi’rên lunged.

Chap’s claws scratched hard ground as he ran for Wynn’s light. The closer he came, the more he squinted, until he finally could not look at it at all. He heard other paws coming toward him, but when he glanced ahead, he almost blinded himself again.

The sun crystal had never been that brilliant before.

Those other paws grew closer.

Shade caught up on Chap’s right side, and he conveyed a message to her with as few words as possible.

—Osha ... Magiere ... behind ... bring—

Without answering, Shade veered off, and he ran onward.

Something broke the light’s glare, and Chap looked ahead. A tall figure in a long dark robe stood too close to the sun crystal to be an undead.

Chap slowed, panting as he approached.

Even with his hood pulled forward, Chuillyon had to squint amid the bright light as he looked down at Chap in stunned silence. Somewhere beyond the tall elf was Wynn with her staff and Wayfarer as well. Chap could not help wondering again how the staff’s crystal had been made so brilliant this time.

Chuillyon crouched down, cocking his head slightly.

—We ... must go to ... Leesil—

Chuillyon’s eyes widened at that demand, hearing the words in his head. In puzzlement, he looked up beyond Chap, perhaps to the mountain.

—Where ... did you ... hide ... the sprout?— ... —We must ... take ... Wynn ... and go there ... now—

“Does Leesil still carry his branch?” Chuillyon asked.

—Yes—

While reaching for the pocket of his robe, Chuillyon answered. “Then we can reach him from here. I have already retrieved the ...” He faltered, looking up.

Chap heard hooves pounding closer behind him, and he spun around.

Khalidah faced Leesil as he heard Beloved speak again.

—Open the anchors and break my bonds. Unmake me and unmake existence. My kin will pay, and I will be free. End my bondage—

Is this what his god thought to do, to unmake existence and be free? That would not happen, though certainly Beloved would die. Any nonsense concerning “kin” meant nothing. A new master would take Beloved’s place, no matter how many else died for him to become a god.

The lines, symbols, and signs of sorcery took shape in Khalidah’s sight.

He turned on Leesil first.

Ghassan heard every word within the prison of his own flesh. He heard the very thoughts of his captor. Wild fear grew in his effort to understand what was about to happen.

The Enemy sought to die and spoke of “kin,” and Wynn had let slip enough references to orbs—the anchors. Perhaps some of that had come from the majay-hì they called Chap. A few times Ghassan had seen strange things concerning that one.