Барб Хенди - Dog in the Dark

None of this made sense, and he crept in on the dog below the tree; he was close enough that it could have pulled him down and killed him.

The mastiff opened its eyes without a sound, looked up at him, and he froze.

He did not dare take his eyes from its dark ones as he watched for any sign of an attack. Then the mastiff, with the glow of the tawny wood upon its dark coat, raised its great head and eyes to Roise Chârmune.

The mastiff settled into a peaceful sleep ... as if it had served its purpose.

He had not understood what it had meant. Back then the dog seemed only the shadow of a father who had vehemently denounced his choice to seek a place among the Anmaglâhk. Not even that would turn him from a life of service, and he chose a taken name out of spite.

Brot’ân’duivé had not known then what was in a name.

A name had ... purpose.

Leanâlhâm, the Child of Sorrow, had become Sheli’câlhad, To a Lost Way. What that meant had yet to be seen, needed to be seen, regardless of the fact that she now hid behind the name of Wayfarer.

Osha, the Sudden Breeze, had fallen from the ways of the Anmaglâhk and bore a sword of a strange make, though it had been created from the same metal as the weapons and tools of an anmaglâhk. And with that, he had also returned with a handful of black feathers, now fletched to his arrows’ shafts, and five arrowheads made of the white metal.

Even this Brot’ân’duivé did not yet understand.

But he knew his name.

Like the mastiff that turned upon him, he had turned upon his own and been branded a traitor by his own caste. Like the mastiff, he guarded something more precious than himself in breaking free of his master.

Most Aged Father, that worm that ate the wood of his people, remained among them while Brot’ân’duivé had been driven from them.

Still, this, too, had a purpose.

Somewhere there was a way to end that sickness, that thing who would end his people for no other reasons besides paranoia and madness. There was no cost too high to stop that.

Brot’ân’duivé, by his taken name, would follow this course, alone if need be and cast out like ... the Dog in the Dark.

On the same night that Leesil, Magiere, and Chap escaped from Calm Seatt to sail for the Isle of Wrêdelyd, Wynn Hygeorht returned to the Guild of Sagecraft and took refuge in the main library. She missed her three friends—and Osha and Leanâlhâm—but greater concerns wouldn’t let her rest.

The others had gone in search of the orb of Air. Her task was to remain and use the guild’s resources to locate the orb of Spirit.

She hadn’t parted on good terms with Magiere, let alone Leesil or Chap, for she’d accepted the protection and companionship of a Noble Dead, Chane Andraso. Magiere might never understand or forgive that choice. The rift left Wynn with a weight she had to put aside.

Chane had proven his worth time and again. She wouldn’t part with him now simply because he was undead or even because of unforgiveable things he had done in his past. Not even Shade, a majay-hì sent to guard her against the undead and worse, would have asked that of her now.

They had a final orb to locate and retrieve.

But upon returning to the keep this night, Wynn had badly needed a moment to herself—or perhaps with just Shade. Wynn longed to sit among the books of the library in a moment of quiet relief ... as if she were just a sage again. So she’d made her excuses to Chane, and he had politely agreed. Maybe he’d wanted time to himself as well. Now she sat in a chair on the first floor of the library, with Shade at her feet.

Wynn was supposed to be searching the most recent maps of the Numan Lands and beyond—in case she, Chane, and Shade ended up traveling by land. All she did was lean down and stroke Shade’s charcoal black head.

Solitude with only Shade wasn’t as comforting as she’d hoped.

Shade whined and licked her hand. — Wynn—safe—now—stay—here.

“For a little while,” she answered.

She wasn’t up to arguing with Shade again, so she picked up her elven quill off the library table and tried to focus on one map laid out before her. There were a number of routes through Witeny and Faunier, but in her research she’d run into several issues. The shortest ways weren’t necessarily the quickest, and it all depended on where and when one passed through.

And upon wherever one was going.

Wynn’s thoughts began wandering again. How would Magiere, Leesil, and Chap fare on their journey to the Isle of Wrêdelyd and beyond? How was Osha doing? Had he been sad to have to leave her so quickly?

She pushed that thought away. Osha was a serious tangle out of her past, and, much as she shamefully missed him now, it was better not to face such confusions amid the task ahead.

Wynn sighed, staring blankly at the pile of scattered maps.

“Oh, dead deities!” she whispered, and then, “This isn’t going to work tonight. Come on, Shade, let’s go find Chane.”

Together they left the library through the north doorway. They passed the opposing archways of the kitchens and the common hall. Therein the great hearth at the common hall’s rear still burned with low flames now that the hall was empty. Even that inviting sight didn’t appeal to Wynn, with too many things on her mind that she didn’t want to face. As if guessing, Shade trotted out ahead, and Wynn followed around the corner as they headed off for the main doors to the courtyard.

Shade waited as Wynn pushed the left door open, and the dog slipped out ahead. But when Wynn followed, she found Shade had halted just outside. Wynn stopped instantly as well when she saw what Shade was staring at.

Two tall figures, a good distance apart in the courtyard, were facing each other. The closest of the two was Chane, his back to the doors.

But there in the gatehouse tunnel’s shadow stood a second tall figure, cloaked and hooded, with a strung bow over one shoulder with its handle forward. A quiver of black-feathered arrows protruded above his other shoulder next to the end of a long and narrow bundle strapped to his chest with twine.

Wynn would have known him anywhere.

Osha brushed back his hood.

Flames in the great iron braziers upon the gatehouse above him made his white-blond hair shimmer with flickers of fiery orange. Large amber eyes in his long, dark-toned face returned the same burning intensity as he fixed upon Chane.

Osha was here and hadn’t left with the others ... and so was Chane.

Osha shrugged his shoulder sharply. The bow slid off and dropped. He snatched its handle without even looking and raised it slightly, still eyeing Chane, though he hadn’t yet reached for an arrow.

Wynn fought to breathe, not knowing which of them she feared for the most.