Барб Хенди - First and Last Sorcerer

Shade had hobbled one but had to turn to face the other two. If she charged, the third stood poised to snatch up his sword. And if Chane startled any of them too soon ...

The third one’s eyes looked right at him.

Chane raised his sword, tip up, as he charged.

The nearest of the paired guards began to turn. Chane smashed the sword’s hilt into the back of that one’s head as the second turned in alarm.

As the first began to topple, Shade charged for the second guard. She stumbled as her right foreleg buckled slightly. The third, wounded guard behind her lunged for his fallen sword, and Chane lost self-control for an instant.

The feral thing inside of him almost cut loose.

He slammed his shoulder into the toppling guard, trying to knock the man into his companion, and he heard Shade snarl and snap. The third one crouched, gripping the hilt of his fallen sword, and without thinking, Chane slashed downward with his own sword.

The tip tore into the third guard’s jaw and throat as he tried to rise. His head whipped back and he toppled into the rear wall.

At more snarls, snapping, and a sudden scream, Chane spun before the body hit the ground. On the floor of the alley, Shade was atop the second guard trying to get to his sword arm.

Chane rushed in and kicked the man in the head too hard.

The guard’s body spun a hand’s length on the alley floor, nearly tumbling Shade before she could hop off. Other than Shade’s panting and rumbling, the alley went suddenly silent. All three guards had been put down.

Chane dropped on one knee and reached for Shade.

She twitched her head back with another rumble, and he froze. They stood there staring at each other. She finally swung her head and looked to the guard near the alley’s end wall—the one he had slashed.

Chane did not look. He knew the man was dead.

He had sworn to Wynn not to kill, but she had not been here. When Shade’s head swung back and she made to step around him for the alley’s open end, her foreleg gave a little again.

“Are you injured?” he rasped. “I can carry you.”

She huffed no twice but slowed in looking back at him. She saw what he had done, though it had been to save her. The injury to her head taken over a moon ago might have weakened her more than anyone realized. She had been injured again, perhaps, though she would not let him check for wounds.

Either that, or she did not want to be coddled anymore, or ...

She huffed no once more, though much softer this time.

“Very well,” he answered as quietly. “Let us find Wynn.”

Wayfarer struggled as her legs threatened to give way even while leaning upon Chap. She did not know how long she could keep this pace as cutways, alleys, and dimly lit streets blurred by in the night. The few people they passed never said a word, and most only glanced their way. The dusky-skinned man continued to stop and look back to whisper to Wynn at the mouths of various alleys. Wayfarer welcomed these brief respites.

She was lost in a haze as to how any of this had come about or how Wynn could possibly be here. At least Magiere’s eyes opened more often as she held on to Léshil and Wynn in their flight. And then Wynn stopped and left Léshil to hold Magiere alone as she went to an alley’s mouth.

“We’re almost there,” she whispered, pointing ahead.

Wayfarer spotted a large building with a center spire rising high above its domed roof. Light within that place flickered behind ornate peaked windows of yellow, green, and violet glass panes.

“We’ll be well hidden but easy for the others to find,” Wynn continued, hurrying back to help Léshil with Magiere. “One last dash across the street. Everyone ready?”

When no one answered, the Suman man stepped out and something about his face was familiar. Wayfarer could not place him, though she was certain she had seen him before. There was no time to remember as Chap started forward and memory-words rose in her mind.

—Not far now ... and then I will insist ... that we rest longer—

That was a little comfort.

She clung to his fur as they hurried into the street, and she saw a narrow path along one side of the shrine between it and a smaller building. A few hard breaths later, she followed Chap down the narrow way behind Wynn. Behind the shrine was an alley with room for all to press up against the long building’s back and out of sight. Once there, Léshil and Wynn lowered Magiere down the wall, and Wayfarer collapsed to her knees beside Chap.

“We rest now?” she asked.

—Yes—

Léshil suddenly jerked up his head, looking about. Wayfarer’s breath stopped as his right hand went to one of the winged blades strapped on his thighs.

A tall form dropped from above, landing in a crouch.

Wayfarer saw only locks of white-blond hair dangling out of a deep, dark hood. She almost scrabbled over the top of Chap as one thought filled her head: Anmaglâhk!

Chap spun up to all fours and swerved around her, snarling.

Léshil pushed off the wall and stumbled as he tried to get in behind the dog.

The tall figure rose up, back-stepped, and held out both hands. “No ... it ... me,” he whispered in broken Belaskian.

Wayfarer spotted the end of a bow over one of his shoulders and a quiver above the other. She was too shocked to even say his name.

“Osha?” Léshil whispered.

Wayfarer’s emotions churned like a storm tearing leaves off trees.

Osha had once been her only comfort in a darkening world. He had cared for her after she had lost everything and everyone she had ever loved. He became her only family ... until he had left her without a good-bye, without even telling anyone what he would do. The ship he was supposed to meet had carried her and the others southward to this land.

And now he was here.

Osha had chosen to remain in Calm Seatt ... with Wynn.

Wayfarer turned numb inside. Osha’s hooded head turned toward her. What must she look like after a moon of suffering and near starvation?

“Leanâlhâm ... I ...” he barely breathed.

She had no peace to offer him, if he felt guilty.

“Do not call me that,” she whispered. “My name is Wayfarer.”

How cold her voice sounded to her own ears. After too many unwanted names, this would be the last that anyone would call her—including him.

“Next time,” Léshil grated through his teeth, “don’t drop on us like some gangly spider in the dark.”

Wayfarer could not see Osha’s face or eyes in the dark, and he said nothing more at first. His hood sagged as if he dropped his head in turning a little toward Léshil.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

Wayfarer understood Osha enough to know that he was upset ... and by more than Léshil’s annoyed chastisement.

Wynn watched both Osha and Wayfarer, uncertain of what had passed in the few words between them. She knew him well enough to guess that something more than mere guilt—at facing the girl—was troubling him. Wynn was about to squeeze past to go see him when Chap lunged around Osha’s side with a loud snarl.

“Quiet,” Wynn whispered in alarm. “You’ll bring the guards!”

His snarl only settled to a low, throated growl, and Wynn spotted someone coming up the narrow space behind Osha.

Osha barely turned his hooded head, perhaps hearing something, but that was all.

Wynn was panicked enough to call out a warning, but Osha didn’t turn, as if he knew who had come. And there was only one person tall enough to peer at everyone over Osha’s shoulder.

Leesil pulled a winged blade, though Wynn doubted he had the strength to use it.

“Quiet that dog,” Ghassan ordered from behind her.