Барб Хенди - A Wind in the Night

Wynn Hygeorht was hiding out in the library of the Guild of Sagecraft in Calm Seatt. The night she’d endured so far had been grueling.

Only a few days before, she had found herself thrown into the midst of a group of nine—two dogs and seven people, counting herself—that had included her companions of old Magiere, Leesil, and Chap. They’d worked in a common cause to begin locating the last two “orbs,” ancient devices they believed to have once been wielded by the Ancient Enemy in waging war on the world. Undead minions of that enemy were now surfacing to seek the orbs themselves.

The orbs could not fall into the wrong hands.

With little choice, the nine of them had split up. And tonight ... the majority had left Calm Seatt to sail off for the Isle of Wrêdelyd, where they might catch a ship heading south to the Suman Empire. And there they would search for the hiding place of the orb of Air. Wynn had chosen to remain behind in order to search the guild’s vast archives for any clue to the location of the last and fifth orb, the one for the element of Spirit.

She kept telling herself the same truth over and over.... I made the choice to remain behind .

Upon returning to the guild grounds tonight, she had needed a few moments of solitude with only Shade, her dog, for company, so she’d headed for the library in the castle’s main keep. She herself might soon be forced to embark upon a journey of her own, so she tried to research possible overland routes to the south, and Shade sat quietly nearby with little to do. But it wasn’t long before Wynn was forced to face the obvious.

Her thoughts were meandering too much in other directions as she stared blankly at the pile of scattered maps. She could not maintain her focus.

“Oh, dead deities!” she whispered. “This isn’t going to work tonight. Come on, Shade.”

They left the library through its north doorway and passed the opposing archways into the kitchens and the common hall. In the latter, the great hearth at the rear still burned with low flames though the hall was empty. Even that inviting sight didn’t appeal to Wynn with so many things on her mind, most of which she didn’t want to face. As if guessing, or not giving Wynn a choice, Shade trotted ahead along the passage. Wynn followed the dog around the far corner as they headed down the corridor along the keep’s front to its main doors.

Shade arrived first and sat waiting until Wynn caught up and pushed the left door open. The dog slipped out, but when Wynn did so, she found Shade halted just outside. Shade’s tall ears were up and rigid, and Wynn stopped instantly as she followed the dog’s stare.

The courtyard wasn’t empty.

Two tall figures stood a good distance apart as they glared at each other. The closer of the pair, with his back to Wynn, was Chane Andraso, a companion who had chosen to remain in Calm Seatt with her ... regardless that the others had wanted him gone and far from her company.

Chane was an undead—a vampire, specifically—and of a more-than-questionable background, though to Wynn he had proven himself capable of change. Over time she had accepted both his friendship and his protection in her search for the orbs.

She couldn’t see his face, only his jaggedly cut red-brown hair, which reached just past the collar of his shirt and cloak. And then his hand closed tightly on the hilt of the longer of his two swords. Chane’s attention was fully fixed on the other tall occupant in the courtyard.

In the shadows of the gatehouse tunnel’s inner opening stood a cloaked and hooded figure with a strangely curved bow slung over one shoulder and a quiver of black-feathered arrows protruding above the other. Next to that quiver, the end of a long and narrow canvas-wrapped bundle stuck up as well, and it was strapped to his back with twine.

Wynn would have known him anywhere, though her mind went numb at the sight of him.

Osha brushed back his hood. The flames of the gatehouse’s great iron braziers made his white-blond hair shimmer with fiery orange. Large and slightly slanted amber eyes in his long, dark-toned face returned the same intense glare that Chane fixed upon him.

What was Osha doing here?

Osha, Brot’an, and Leanâlhâm had been the final three members of the strange group that had been thrown together in this search for the orbs. All three were an’Cróan, meaning “[Those] of the Blood”—elves from the eastern continent. All three were supposed to have sailed tonight with Magiere, Leesil, and Chap.

And yet ... here was Osha in a standoff with Chane.

Osha suddenly sloped his left shoulder. His bow slid off and dropped, and he snatched its wrapped handle without even looking and raised it slightly as he eyed Chane. He didn’t reach for an arrow, not until ...

Chane drew his longer sword of mottled dwarven steel.

Osha’s free hand instantly reached over his shoulder for his quiver.

Wynn inhaled sharply as her mind woke up.

“No!” she cried.

Both men froze in surprise, as neither seemed to have spotted her in the entrance’s shadows. Wynn rushed out past Shade.

Osha could easily put an arrow in Chane’s chest or throat, perhaps both, but that might not even slow Chane down. And although Chane was a skilled swordsman, it would be difficult even for him to land a blow on Osha, but if he did ...

Wynn grabbed the wrist of Chane’s sword arm and tried to pull him back. “No!” she repeated, though her gaze remained on Osha. At the sight of her clutching Chane’s arm, Osha’s long, somewhat horselike face twisted with an emotion she couldn’t quite read.

“What are you doing here?” she called, and her fear came out with anger in her voice.

Osha’s eyes narrowed as they shifted to Chane, though two fingers of his raised hand still touched the black feathers of an arrow. When those large amber eyes turned back on Wynn, his hand lowered a little, though he still held his bow at the ready. His brow smoothed, and his eyes widened in wonder ... or relief, as if he’d found something dear that he’d lost.

Wynn swallowed hard. This was a mess she didn’t need. Chane’s feelings for her were ... complicated. Her past with Osha was ... more complicated.

She glanced up, and Chane now looked down at her hand gripping his sword wrist, but he didn’t try to pull away. His handsome face was always deathly pale, and since he’d risen from death, there was little brown that remained in his eyes.

Those eyes now had no color at all. They were like glittering crystals, especially when he—or Wynn—was threatened.

“No,” she repeated quietly.

Chane’s jaw muscles bulged in a clench, though with his mouth shut tightly, she couldn’t be certain of any change in his teeth. Suddenly it occurred to her that Osha might have a reason for not having joined the others on the ship. Her anxiety over a possible clash between the two men gave way to more fear.

“Where’s Magiere?” she called, looking to Osha. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

That lost, relieved look vanished from Osha’s face. He finally lowered his empty hand, and the bow as well, as he stepped toward her. Beneath Wynn’s grip, the tendons in Chane’s wrist tightened even before Osha stopped a few paces off.

“All is well, I believe,” he answered in the an’Cróan’s older dialect of Elvish. “Magiere and the others reached their ship and are gone.”

Wynn shook her head. When she spoke, she kept to Belaskian for Chane’s sake.

“Then why aren’t you with them?”

“I stayed to help in your task,” he answered ardently, and then he, too, switched to Belaskian. He didn’t look at Chane as he added, “I not leave. I stay ... with you.”