Барб Хенди - First and Last Sorcerer

“Why?” she insisted. “Why would they force a Lhoin’na weapon on you?”

Her questions had gone beyond poor manners, but she found it hard to care. She knew nothing of Osha’s childhood, his family, or why he had worked so hard to become an anmaglâhk. She knew nothing of his reasons for inner turmoil over this past year. To ask such things was a breach of polite conduct.

“Why?” she repeated.

“They called me again to the fire caves,” he whispered. “They took my weapons, the gifts they give to only anmaglâhk.” Spreading his forearms, he displayed the burn scars on them and his wrists, and dropped his head as he glared at the sword. “They forced that thing on me, along with the bow handle and arrowheads. I was no longer Anmaglâhk.”

Wayfarer tilted her head in thought. Did Shé’ith use longbows as well as swords? She tried to remember the drawings in the book.

“Do you miss being Anmaglâhk?” she asked.

“No,” he answered slowly. “I miss knowing my purpose. I thought I had found it. I was wrong.”

Wayfarer did not understand what he meant by that. She thought of when she had gone to the ancestors for her name-taking, of the long cruelty of the vision she had been shown, of a place that looked like the forest of her people but was not.

Osha had been given weapons made from the same metal as Anmaglâhk blades ... but one at least looked like the weapon of a shé’ith.

Wayfarer did not ask permission and reached down to close her fingers on the sword’s hilt. Perhaps Osha had a purpose—unlike her—that he did not know.

Chap noticed Wayfarer and then Osha slipping away into the bedchamber. He wondered whether their absences might not be for the best.

“It has to be me, alone,” Magiere insisted again.

Chap found it odd that she was now the rational one, and not Leesil.

“Stop saying it!” Leesil argued. “You’re more sensitive to the sun than anyone here ... so no!”

That was not precisely true, though Chap refrained from glancing at Chane.

“Have you ever seen me burn even slightly?” Magiere countered. “Does my skin even take on any color?”

“What about bringing shelters?” Leesil asked, turning to Ghassan. “Thick canvas we could set up when the sun rose?” He sounded more desperate than angry now, as Magiere had dismissed every suggestion he’d made.

“No,” Ghassan answered. “The closer we come to that long-dead sea, the more heat rises beyond what the body can withstand ... even beneath a makeshift shelter.”

Leesil opened his mouth again.

—Enough—

He spun at Chap’s memory-word command. Of course Leesil would not want Magiere going alone after the last orb. As much as Chap pitied the pain beneath Leesil’s anger, this had to end.

—Enough ... repeating— ... —It has not ... worked ... so stop it—

Wynn had been mostly quiet throughout the heated exchange. Like Leesil, she was equally concerned. Unlike Leesil, she knew better when not to go head-to-head with Magiere.

Chane had been silent as well, but he cared nothing for Magiere and never put forth an opinion unless Wynn was involved. Brot’an watched and listened, like a reptile waiting in stillness for something useful to come into range, and only then would he strike.

Chap eyed Leesil again, calling up more memory-words.

—Magiere is ... right— ... —Remember ... the wastes—

“Don’t try that with me!” Leesil shot back. “I may have been down through most of that, but I remember enough. That wasn’t the same as what she’s got in her head now.”

Chap noticed the others’ glances. It was still strange to most that anyone responded to him as if he had spoken to either Leesil or Magiere.

And worse when Wynn started, “What is Leesil—?”

Stay out of this.

Wynn’s eyes widened at him, but the last thing Chap needed was her getting in the middle.

I will explain what you do not know ... later.

After obtaining the orb of Fire, he, Magiere, and Leesil had suffered a grueling journey back across the frozen wastes of the far north. Both he and Leesil had nearly succumbed to the elements more than to their injuries. Magiere had somehow placed herself into a state in which her dhampir half did not—would not—recede.

She was nearly feral for most of that journey. She committed unspeakable acts. None of them would have survived if she had not, though in the end she might have perished or remained in that state if not for them.

Magiere had called up a power from within that Chap had feared for so long. Yes, she had saved them when no one else could have done so. She had survived many days that would have left anyone else dead.

She was the only one who could get to the final orb, but Chap was terrified of what might happen if he or Leesil were not there to bring her back to herself.

“What about the device?” Wynn asked quietly. “Magiere may not be able to reactivate it on her own ... and she will need to.”

Chap almost snarled at her for giving Leesil more to argue about.

“I will teach her, as long as it takes,” Ghassan said. “It will not be an issue.”

The domin was still an enigma—ever helpful, ever useful, and Chap had no idea why. His agenda was as opaque as Brot’an’s, but at least Wynn’s slip was undercut. And still, none of them truly knew the real risk.

Magiere alone, if she survived to return, might never come back to herself.

Chap would not tell the others, though she as well as Leesil knew this. That as much as anything else was why Leesil was so furious with her and Chap.

“We will travel with her as far as we are able,” Ghassan continued. “I know the desert, and I will know when the rest of us must stop. She will not have to travel the entire way on her own.”

“How many days?” Leesil asked. “How many after she leaves us behind?”

“Uncertain,” Ghassan answered. “I would guess at least three in and three out. She will need to carry water, light rations, and not much else.”

“Perhaps it won’t take her so long,” Wynn suggested. “The device should lead her directly to the orb.”

Leesil’s expression grew pained again. No one spoke, and this time Ghassan did not openly agree.

Chap thought on what Wynn had not added: everything after that depended upon what Magiere found at the end of her search. Twice now she had found an ancient undead guardian of great power wherever an orb was hidden. If this were the case again, she would be facing the next one alone, and with no one to reason for her.

A harsh rasp broke through his worries.

“The orb of Spirit should not be moved from this place. As secure and hidden as it is, even that is not enough. Someone must remain to guard it.”

The tall, arrogant vampire stood beside Wynn. Every time he spoke, his voice grated on Chap’s nerves, but he had a point.

“Why should we let that be you?” Magiere asked coldly.

“I cannot travel in daylight,” Chane answered, “and I would only slow you down.”

Magiere’s brow wrinkled as if she was unsure how to respond.

Over the past nights, Chane had made offers seemingly selfless and helpful. Chap knew this undead’s past and did not believe either, but there seemed to be no other option.

“Few of us need to go,” Chane continued. “Only those who wish to. Wynn should remain here with me.”

Wynn looked up at him in surprise, and then a flicker of anger crossed her oval face.

Chap hung his head with a lower rumble this time. The last thing he needed now was another spat. Perhaps Wynn had imagined herself trekking to finish the search with the others, for it was the last orb. Again, Chane had a point. Why risk anyone unnecessarily?