The Night Voice

Chapter Twelve

Although Chap had a notion of the distance from a’Ghràihlôn’na to the north side of the Sky-Cutter Range, he had not seen a map of the region in quite some time. The distance proved farther than he expected. Once the wagon turned off the eastbound road and entered the Slip-Tooth Pass over bare land, he could hardly make out the high range in the distance.

And the wagon rolled on.

They traveled mostly by night for Chane’s sake, though now and then some favored hurrying through part of the days as well. During those times, Chane was forced to lie in his dormant state in the wagon’s bed under a canvas.

Along the way, the land around them grew more desolate.

They passed through the foothills, and finally one morning, as the sun rose and Chane fell dormant within a tent, Chap made his way up the tallest hillock and then saw that the mountains were nearly upon them.

“Not far now,” a deep voice said.

Chap looked back to find that Ore-Locks had followed him, but he returned to eyeing the mountains that appeared to stretch to both horizons. It seemed unbelievable—and daunting—that they would pass beneath those to emerge above the vast Suman desert.

“Wayfarer has a pot of herbed lentils on,” Ore-Locks said, and after a pause, he added, “When we last came through, we spent so much time searching for an entrance, we nearly ran out of food.”

Again, Chap craned his neck to study the errant stonewalker.

What was the point to that last comment? Was Ore-Locks reminding Chap that he had a history with Shade and Chane, or perhaps that those two natural enemies had such as well?

He and Ore-Locks had never been talkative, but now that Wayfarer was with him again, he spoke mostly with her ... in their ways.

Chap turned, trotted past Ore-Locks, and headed down toward camp. Over the long days and nights since leaving the Lhoin’na’s one city, he had not ceased to think on Wayfarer and Osha, wondering about their futures, as well his daughter’s. Clearly, both Wayfarer and Osha felt their time in the eastern elven lands had been cut short, one perhaps silently frustrated and the other perhaps slightly relieved.

While Chap could not explain why, he felt a nagging doubt. Had it been the right thing to pull Wayfarer and Osha from their time with the Lhoin’na? For those two, something seemed unfinished. He did not know what, but he could not shake this feeling, and it grew stronger instead of fading. He kept such thoughts to himself, uncertain if he should act upon them. Wynn had been promised that Shade would return with Chap and Chane. Magiere had been promised that Wayfarer would return as well. How could such promises be broken?

After a light meal, everyone rested for the remainder of the day. They packed up as dusk arrived so they would be ready once Chane rose.

Soon enough, Chane was at the reins, and the wagon rolled onward. Halfway through the night, they reached the end of the Slip-Tooth Pass. It was not gradual. They arrived almost at the very base of a mountain, and the wagon could go no farther.

“Start unpacking,” Chane ordered, dropping from the wagon’s bench. “We will have to carry what we need in several trips. But there is only one pump cart available inside the entrance to the pass, and we’ll have to pack it carefully.”

Uncertain what the last part of this meant, Chap jumped down from the wagon’s bed and looked around, at a loss. He saw nothing that resembled an entrance of any kind. Shade came up beside him, and he started in surprise when she touched her nose to his shoulder. He had no time for shock at this physical contact from her when he saw what she shared.

Image after image flooded through his mind, of Wayfarer in the Lhoin’na forest with the majay-hì and Vreuvillä and then Osha with the Shé’ith trainees. The images ended with three memory-words in Wynn’s voice.

—Something ... not ... finished—

Chap closed his eyes, realizing Shade had been struggling with the same worries as he had himself.

New images rose up from her, along with a feeling of sorrow and fear.

This time, Chap saw image after image of Shade with Wynn, of Wynn petting Shade and mouthing the word “sister.” These were followed by memories of Shade walking beside Wayfarer in the depths of the Lhoin’na forest.

Chap understood.

Shade—as well as Wayfarer and Osha—should not go on. They should never have left in the first place and needed to return and finish what had been started for both of the young ones, for Osha to learn his link to the Shé’ith and for Wayfarer to understand her connection to the ways of the Foirfeahkan. Both would probably resist; Shade herself already suffered for knowing she had to return as well rather than rejoin Wynn.

Chap could think of only one reason why Shade had waited this long; she had expected him, her father, to realize all of this and act upon it. He should have before now, but like her, he had resisted. Now that they had reached the mountains, neither of them could put off what had to be done.

Promises would have to be broken.

Osha would be the most difficult to convince, so Chap decided to start with Wayfarer. He went to her as she struggled to pull a spare folded canvas out of the wagon’s back.

—Put that down ... and listen—

She dropped to one knee before him. “What is it?”

As gently as he could, he called up memory-words in her to explain what had to be. Their time among the Lhoin’na was not yet finished. As little as he understood why, he put his faith in his daughter’s judgment as well as his own intuition in the matter. He had no idea what reaction to expect.

Wayfarer touched his face with a nod and lifted her head to call out. “Osha ... please come.”

The tall young elf stalled and handed off a trunk to Chane. When he came near, he frowned, eyeing Chap first and then Wayfarer with growing suspicion.

“Do you need help with that canvas?” he asked her.

Wayfarer shook her head and took a deep breath. “Chap believes that we—you and I and Shade—must now turn back to the Lhoin’na.”

Osha’s features flattened in shock. At a guess in the dark, he might have paled. Chane dropped a trunk, and even Ore-Locks drew near.

“What?” Chane rasped and glared at Shade. “I promised Wynn to bring you back.” He then turned on Osha. “You are all coming with us. That was the arrangement!”

Chap choked down an instinctive snarl. He would not demand the talking hide to argue with the vampire again. He was in charge here, and Chane was going to learn that for the last time.

Before he could take a step, Shade cut in front of him. She went straight to Chane and huffed softly twice. Once again, Chap was disturbed by how deeply his daughter was connected to that undead.

Chane’s brow still wrinkled in anger at Shade, but before he could speak again ...

“She does not want to go,” Wayfarer said, looking to both Shade and Chane. “Chap does not wish us to leave either, but he believes there is more for us among the Lhoin’na. It may even have to do with what must be done ... for where you are going and why.”

Chap studied Wayfarer. She seemed so different. How much more had changed in her?

Osha was less than convinced and, after a voiceless hiss sounding too much like Chane, he stormed off. Wayfarer closed her eyes, dropped her head, and swallowed hard.

“I will talk to him,” she whispered.

The girl rose and went off after Osha, and Shade followed her.

Chap, left alone, looked up into Chane’s seething expression.

“And it took you all this time to figure this out?” Chane demanded. “I do not believe that.”

Chap could not restrain a snarl this time, but instead of acting, he looked at Ore-Locks.

—May I ... speak ... through you?—

Ore-Locks nodded his consent and turned to Chane, repeating what Chap said in memory-words.

“He did not know whether to counsel us or not,” Ore-Locks told Chane. “Like you, he labored under a promise, unwilling to break it but feeling the need to do so. It was Shade who tipped the balance ... and made the decision for him.”

At that, Chane blinked in doubt as he looked off after Wayfarer and Shade. Ore-Locks stepped closer to Chane, and it was clear he now spoke for himself.

“You, I, and Chap can travel faster on our own,” he said quietly, “but even after we supply the young ones for a return trip, we will have more than we planned to carry on our own. It is time to get started ... without any more squabbling!”

With his jaw clenched, Chane looked to Chap one last time. Then he turned away to continue emptying the wagon. Ore-Locks heaved in a deep breath and then exhaled as he too went back to unloading the wagon.

With that, it was decided.

Some things were reloaded into the wagon. Once supplies were sorted out, the younger trio had what they would need to return. The chests with the orbs, the heavy canvas, sacks of food, and flasks of water remained piled on the ground.

Chap had never liked partings that took place in the darkness.

But he watched as his daughter and Wayfarer climbed into the wagon’s back. Taking the bench, Osha held the reins and said nothing to anyone. Wayfarer looked down at Chap.

“I will see you again,” she almost whispered in a weak voice. Though she tried to smile, the effort was obvious.

Osha flicked the reins, turned the wagon north, and never looked back. In some ways, he had been trapped into this choice. It was clear that he wished to return to Wynn, but he would never leave Wayfarer—and Shade—alone in a foreign land.

It did not take long for the wagon to vanish into the darkness, and once again, Chap found himself alone with a vampire and a dwarven guardian of the honored dead. Chane looked tense and bleak all at once as they turned to preparing their supplies to be hauled into the mountain. Ore-Locks appeared only too willing to assist in moving onward, but they now faced reorganizing supplies for transport.

First, Chane removed the spare clothing from his pack and filled it with apples and onions. In the end, they stuffed as much of the food supplies as they could into any extra space inside the orb chests. While the thought of this bothered Chap, he refrained from protest. They had to reduce the bulk if not the weight of all they had to carry.

Still, even with such condensing, there was much for two people to move in one trip.

Ore-Locks and Chane headed off—heavily burdened—for the first trip.

Chap stood watch over what remained behind, and he waited for quite a while. Finally, the two men returned, and they managed to carry what was left by tying sacks to each other’s shoulders and slinging flasks of water on top. One chest had already been transported, and two remained. Chap was alarmed that they had left an orb unguarded, and he would not have made such a choice. One of them should have remained behind and the other should have made several trips. However ... Chane had always been overly cautious in this regard, so somehow, he must have felt the orb was safe.

Moreover, there was nothing to be done now, and Chap expressing his anger would only delay them further.

Each of the men hefted a chest, and only then did Chap follow Ore-Locks and Chane up the rocky slope along a winding path and into the dark of the mountain.

A short ways up, Chane said, “Wait.”

Setting his chest down briefly, he took out his cold crystal and ignited it, holding it with two fingers of his left hand as he managed to lift the chest again. By the filtered light, Chap saw something glinting beneath his feet, and he looked down. Illuminated fragments of flat rock, which appeared to have been cut from stone, had somehow been pressed into the steep slope.

Stretching ahead, there were many more.

Chap followed as Chane and Ore-Locks climbed those ancient steps. Soon the fragments became slightly larger, and Chap noticed they formed two straight lines with open ground in between.

“It was laid down long ago by my people’s ancestors,” Ore-Locks said quietly.

The path began to curve and snake. They weaved their way through wind-bent trees, jagged outcrops, and rougher terrain, but the path always continued. Finally, like the Slip-Tooth Pass below, the path of rock fragments simply ended at the crumbled side of a cliff covered in heavy brush.

Chap looked to Ore-Locks.

—Where is ... the entrance?—

Ore-Locks glanced back, extended a thick finger in his grip on the chest he carried, and pointed toward the brush. He crouched, set down the chest, pulled some of the brush aside, and sidestepped through while pulling the chest along. In the dark, he appeared to pass into the cliffside itself.

Was this another trick of the stonewalkers?

Chane dropped to his knees, crawling as he pushed his chest along in front of himself. Halfway into the brush, he paused to look at Chap.

“Come,” he said.

Then Chane pushed through and vanished as the brush snapped back into place.

Chap finally followed but did not see the narrow, downward hole until he had wrestled himself halfway in. By the light of a cold-lamp crystal held by Chane, at first all that Chap could see was the undead’s backside.

A strange gust of stale air blew over him as they emerged in a more-open area.

Chane held up the crystal. Ore-Locks stood farther in, and the crystal’s light exposed a stone archway directly above them. They were in a tunnel.

The ceiling was so low, Chane was not able to straighten up, and he remained buckled over as he lifted his chest.

“Go on,” he told Ore-Locks, and the dwarf led the way.

Chap began to wonder how much farther they would go, when finally, Chane emerged into a large open area. Chap followed as Chane glanced back.

“This was once like the market cavern outside the Cheku’ûn tram station,” he said.

Chap made out large, dead crystals anchored high on the walls. He remembered the station that he and Chane had visited at Dhredze Seatt. Glowing orange crystals above had offered warmth and light amid booths and tents and the scent of roasting sausages. He could barely picture such in this long-dead place.

A large archway dominated the chamber’s far side, and there stood Ore-Locks, waiting. It took longer than Chap expected for him and Chane to cross that immense space.

Ore-Locks led onward again. In the next cavern, Chap found himself before an enormous platform at the chamber’s center. In the back wall was a large tunnel with three lanes of tracks leading into it.

What troubled him most were the long-dead trams with their lengths of cars stretched out behind them at all the docks. Whatever happened here ages ago, those trams had arrived here and never returned to their origin. And if such were needed to reach the ancient seatt ...

“Over here,” Ore-Locks called before Chap could wonder if any of the trams still worked.

The dwarf led them down the tracks and into the tunnel to find a good-sized cart made of solid metal. Its platform was thick with a high-sided iron storage box on the back end. Perhaps the cart had once been used to service the tunnel and tracks. More notable, it was already loaded with supplies, enough to crowd the cart’s two-man pump.

Padding closer, Chap spotted a cylindrical dead crystal the size of his own torso secured at the back of the metal box. It was tied on in a series of loops with a thin rope. Without hesitation, Ore-Locks set down his burdens and hurried over. He untied the crystal and walked around to the cart’s front. Chap followed and saw a simpler iron box on the cart’s other end, and there was Ore-Locks relashing the dead crystal.

Puzzled, Chap could not keep silent.

—Why ... the dead ... crystal—

Ore-Locks no longer flinched and only frowned at the words popping up in his head.

“They still absorb and amplify light,” he answered. “Something we discovered on our last visit. Chane?”

Chane had stowed his chest in the pump cart and stepped forward to hand Ore-Locks a cold-lamp crystal.

“Step back,” Ore-Locks said, and even he looked away.

He swiped Chane’s crystal furiously on his pant leg until it was almost too bright to look upon. And he touched it to the larger dead one on the cart’s front.

Chap yipped, shut his eyes, and back-peddled as light exploded from the cart’s front, illuminating the tunnel ahead for a long distance. Chane shielded his eyes as well and glanced down.

“My crystal would not provide enough light to travel safely at high speed, and we will be moving swiftly with Ore-Locks or me at the pump. Prepare yourself.”

Chap grew sick to his stomach as he eyed the cart.

Nights—and days—slipped away, and in the permanent darkness below the range, Chane could only count them by when he fell dormant.

Now, as he once again took his shift at the pump, he listened to the creaking and clattering of the cart.

The pump cart was filled with gear and supplies, stowed or lashed. Chap barely had room to curl up behind Chane’s feet. Ore-Locks knelt at the front of the cart, peering ahead, perhaps looking for anything that might obstruct the tracks.

“Try to sleep,” Chane said to him.

“Soon,” Ore-Locks answered, without looking back.

Chane pumped by night, and Ore-Locks by day. And while the living did not need to sleep a whole night, Chane had no choice but to sleep for the whole day, even here beneath the earth.

There were brief times when Chap grew too sick to ride and took to loping along beside the cart.

That was frustrating to Chane and Ore-Locks, who had to slow down in order not to leave Chap behind. However, Chane understood Chap’s need, though did not comment on it.

The same journey the last time—the first time—had been hard on Shade as well. The majay-hì were not suited to living without sunlight and fresh air for so many days in a row, unlike an undead and a dwarf. The only thing Chane could do was to press onward as hard as he could while awake and when Chap could tolerate the ride.

They stopped for brief periods so Ore-Locks and Chap could eat or to gather water from trickling cracks in the tunnel wall. In this way, they reserved the water in their stowed flasks.

After a while, the monotony of stone walls racing by began to take its toll, even upon Chane. He missed the moon, stars, and open sky. Only Ore-Locks seemed unaffected and able to recognize—remember—familiar points in the tunnel that Chane did not.

Tonight, Ore-Locks suddenly rose and raised a hand, still watching ahead. “Ease off. We are approaching the cave-in.”

Chane released the pump and grabbed the brake lever, prepared to apply pressure. And when Ore-Locks began lowering his hand, Chane did so—and more each time the dwarf’s hand lowered yet again. Until the cart finally squealed to a halt. Chane found himself staring ahead at something he had almost forgotten.

Another empty cart sat on the tracks ahead. On their first visit, when they had come back out of the seatt, they had found a second pump cart as if someone had followed them. Chane had never learned who. As a result, they had taken that cart—as it was positioned on the track behind their own—to make their way out of the range and Bäalâle Seatt.

In fact, it was the cart in which they now traveled.

Now, beyond the other abandoned cart, was a mass of rubble and stones blocking the tunnel from floor to ceiling. At its top near the tunnel’s ceiling was a small hole that he and Ore-Locks had dug to pull Wynn and Shade through.

The thought of Wynn and Shade filled Chane with sudden loneliness.

Chap hopped down and hobbled past the first cart to nose about the rubble. Then he looked back.

“The hole up top runs all the way through,” Chane said.

Even his rasp carried loudly under the mountain’s silence. He and Ore-Locks set to unloading the cart, and that reminded all of them that there was more than they could carry in one trip. Bäalâle was still a good walk away.

“If you wish,” Ore-Locks said, setting the final chest before the cave-in, “I can take you straight through the rubble myself.”

Chane balked at the thought of being pulled straight through stone again. “I think not.”

Shrugging, Ore-Locks hefted one of the chests. “Suit yourself. You and Chap get started yourselves. I will bring everything else through, as it would take too long to do so through the hole ... and the chests would not likely fit.”

Chap growled, stepping in on Ore-Locks.

Ore-Locks rolled his eyes. “He is talking in my head again. He does not like leaving any of the chests unguarded on one side or the other.”

Chane could not disagree. “I will go through first,” he told Chap. “You will come through last. One or both of us will be on guard as Ore-Locks moves the chests and other supplies. Is that acceptable?”

Chap was silent for an instant and then huffed once.

As the youngest of the stonewalkers, Ore-Locks did not yet have the ability to take the living with him through stone and earth. He could take the dead—the undead—or anything else nonliving. And this gave Chane a notion for the rest of the journey through the seatt, though Ore-Locks might not care for it, and Chap certainly would not.

Without hesitation, Ore-Locks hefted the first chest and stepped forward, walking to ... into the packed rubble. While carrying his heavy burden, he turned sideways so that his shoulder touched stone first. The color of dirt and stone flowed into his shoulder, down his arm and side, and up his neck until it flowed into the chest as well as he passed out of sight.

Chap gave a slight shiver as he watched this, and then Chane began to climb. He left everything behind except for Welstiel’s pack. It did not take him long to scramble up to the hole. There, he pushed the pack in front of himself as he crawled in. Making his way through the narrow opening was slow going, and he thought it a good thing he had gone first, as he had to reach over or above his pack several times and dig with his hands. This would leave Chap with a somewhat smoother route.

Finally, as he emerged out the other side, he found Ore-Locks waiting, the chest at his feet.

“Go,” Chane said as his body slid downward over the rubble.

Once again, Ore-Locks passed into the packed dirt and stone. Chane was still brushing himself off and reslinging his packs when the dwarf came back through carrying the chest with the orb of Water, several sacks of food, and a large flask of water. This continued until everything had been moved through the packed rubble.

Looking up, Chane listened.

Chap’s more flexible body must have made his pass easier than Chane’s, and only moments passed before his gray head poked out the top of the hole and he scrambled down.

Then came the next suggestion.

“We are close,” Chane began, “but far enough that we will use too much effort if not time in moving everything in multiple trips.” He looked to Ore-Locks, knowing Chap would argue again. “Could you find the seatt from here ... through?”

Ore-Locks peered up the tunnel, though without the cart’s massive crystal, the light of Chane’s smaller one did not reach far.

“Perhaps,” Ore-Locks finally answered. “And yes, if so, it would be quicker in moving all this. At least to the exit.”

And then, of course, Chap began to rumble.

“I will be walking with you,” Chane answered back.

“Wait,” Ore-Locks cut in, “that means more trips for me.”

Chane said nothing, for there was nothing more to say.

Ore-Locks scowled. “Very well. But carry what you can and move on.”

Chane hoisted his packs, one chest, and whatever he could manage. Of course there was nothing that Chap could carry.

Chap struggled not to flinch when they began coming upon the remains of thick bones along the way. Large dead crystals in the walls grew closer and closer to one another as skeletal remains grew more numerous, until he saw one dwarf piled on top of another. In places, piles of rubble partially filled the tunnel, half burying the long dead.

There were times that he wondered if they had all died trying to escape. Or had some of those within Bäalâle turned on one another before the end? Then the air slowly changed. Perhaps it shifted slightly, and the echoes of their footfalls did not carry within the tunnel in quite the same way. He was not surprised when they emerged into what must have been the tram station at the tunnel’s far end. Of course, there were no trams here; they had all been abandoned centuries ago at the range’s northern side.

Chap and Chane briefly looked upon the empty, dust-coated stone platforms before seeking an exit. Rather than the multiple tunnels leading from the stations at Dhredze Seatt, here only one huge archway led into a tunnel straight ahead. Upon stepping through the arch, he was unprepared for the sight that awaited him and nearly ignored the waiting pile of supplies that Ore-Locks had already transported. Once again, an orb had been left unguarded for a short while, but there seemed little way to avoid this while attempting to transport everything.

And ... this place appeared utterly deserted.

The word “vast” did not begin to describe the massive sculpted cavern. It could have held a sizable village, perhaps a whole town. Padding slowly forward past the piled supplies, Chap looked around in awe, both with fear and wonder.

At this depth, he was standing in an architectural impossibility. Enormous crumbling columns some fifteen or more yards in diameter held the remnants of curving stairwells on their exteriors. Walkways ran around the walls at multiple levels. Broken landings at certain points showed where causeways had once spanned between the columns. Only three of eight columns were still fully erect, reaching to the high ceiling more than fifty yards above. And that dome had massive cracks in it, judging by what little light from Chane’s cold-lamp crystal could reach the heights.

Chap stepped farther in past the rubble of a great stairway. Perhaps it had led to levels above connected to the tiers of walkways. And he looked across the floor ...

The bodies appeared more preserved in here. Skeletal remains of thick bones were half covered in remnants of decaying armor with corroded blades exposed through rotted sheaths. One still wore an ax on his back, and a tarnished thôrhk lay among the shattered bones of his neck. Another skeleton, perhaps a female, lay a few paces ahead. Her bones still bore a ring with a dark stone and a necklace of metal loops.

Chap was nearly overwhelmed by the loss and sorrow that filled this silent place. The scale of death was too much to absorb. From what Wynn had told him, Bäalâle had been infiltrated by one or more of the triad of the Sâ’yminfiäl—the “Masters of Frenzy.” Those sorcerers had driven the seatt into madness as they used the orb of Earth to burrow in beneath this place.

At a heavy footfall behind, Chap whirled with all hackles stiffening, but it was only Ore-Locks with the last of their supplies. The young stonewalker said nothing as he looked about.

Chap could see Ore-Locks was equally affected, though this was not the first time for him.

Familiarity would never take away the implied horror and madness within this silent place.

“We need to pass through here and out the other side,” Chane said.

Ore-Locks did not move, did not appear to hear, and looked left for one of the great openings into this central place.

“Do you think they will come ... again?” he whispered.

Chap tensed, fully wary, but without understanding, he looked up.

Chane watched Ore-Locks. “Who?”

“Gí’uyllæ ... the all-eaters.”

Chap knew that word from Wynn. In the bowels of this place were immense winged reptiles that ate anything, including stone, and spat fire. And they were called by other names in other cultures, such as “weürms,” “thuvanan,” “ta’nêni” ... “dragons.”

“I do not think so, even if they are aware of us,” Chane answered with less certainty than Chap preferred. “They gave the orb of Earth into your safekeeping, and they know you as the blood defendant of the one who stood with their ancestor in the fall of this place.”

Chap hoped Chane was right.

With a shaky breath, Ore-Locks turned to the pile of supplies and chests. “How far to the exit?”

“Not far by what il’Sänke told me,” Chane answered, pointing across the way to one tunnel. “When he entered from that side, he spent days searching caved-in paths and dead ends to find a way in, but he explained clearly how we can use that tunnel to get out.”

“So that passage leads directly to an exit?”

“Not quite,” Chane answered. “Chap and I will have a good deal of rubble to cross on one side of the passage, and the exit comes out beneath a boulder. As to the supplies and chests, you will have to again bring most of them through stone.”

Ore-Locks nodded, and his gaze wandered for three breaths before he answered. “And what do we do once we are out?”

This much Chap already knew.

“We wait,” Chane said, “and we watch. We would never find the others on our own, so Wynn and I ... and Chap arranged a signal. We will be able to see it at a great distance at night.”

Ore-Locks did not reply at first. He looked about, up and around, his expression turning more grim by the moment.

“Then let us leave this place quickly,” he said.

Chap could not agree more as he huffed once.

Wynn was exhausted as she pressed westward with her companions along the desert edge of the foothills. The previous night, Ghassan informed her that Chane and Chap were closer, though he was uncertain how close they were to Bäalâle.

How many days and nights had they been doing this?

Putting aside hunting for undead to trek westward was not the relief she’d expected. Hopefully, Chane, Chap, and the others would make it out of Bäalâle by the time she got close.

There was so much they needed to discuss.

She put one foot before the other, pushing forward.

There was also a great need for the supplies Chane and Chap had agreed to bring.

She was tired of figs and smoke-dried meats. No matter how much Ghassan spiced and recooked them in sparse water, they were ... horrible. At that thought, she looked at him out in the lead.

“Are we closer?” she asked.

With a frustrated sigh, he answered, “Always.”

Wynn looked back beyond Chuillyon, forced to lead the camels, and beyond Brot’an watching over their “prisoner.” Leesil and Magiere followed last, though there was a time Magiere would have been first going anywhere.

Magiere looked back, walking sideways to do so. Wynn waited for Leesil to grab Magiere’s arm and pull her around again ... and again.

Wynn worried what might happen with Magiere once they all returned eastward.

After the night of the ghul, Magiere had changed. She listened, was coherent, and no longer grew angry at not tracking undead. She had also reverted to a state Wynn had not seen in years.

Magiere was too much like she’d been when they had left the an’Cróan lands in search of the first orb. She was having dreams again ... hearing that voice again. The dreams had become less frequent the farther west they traveled, but this thought brought no relief either.

Wynn was sickened with fright every nightfall, especially when she didn’t see an answering “light” out in the dark. This time, the sun hadn’t even dipped fully below the western horizon when she stopped.

“Ghassan, get out your looking glass.”

He turned in a sharp stop, lifted the front of his hood, and stared at her.

“It is not even dusk yet,” he argued. “They will not see a sage crystal in—”

“Then I’ll use the staff!”

“No!” Ghassan returned. “Even if they see, it is too bright and might—”

“We are far enough that anyone—anything—heading east will not see it.”

At the snuffling of camels, and their smell, Wynn half turned to find Chuillyon watching her. Brot’an closed in.

“Don’t start,” she warned before he could say anything. “I’m doing this, and I’ll do it again after full dark, if need be.”

Brot’an looked ahead and merely nodded once.

“Leesil,” Wynn called, “get up here.”

He already had his cloak stripped off when he approached, and Wynn tugged the sheath off her staff to expose the long sun crystal atop it.

“Everyone look away,” Wynn warned. “I am the only one with glasses. Leesil, grip the staff above my hands so you have a reference point ... without looking.”

Sighing, Leesil did so with his free hand. Wynn didn’t check if the others were ready as she focused. Ghassan stepped back past her in assembling his leather and lenses into the looking glass. As dusk deepened, Leesil whipped his cloak up over the sun crystal.

Wynn no longer even needed to speak the phrases aloud; she needed only to think them, and she held the dark glasses up over her eyes.

... Mênajil il’Núr’u mên’Hkâ’ät.

As those final words flashed through her mind, the sharp and sudden light cleared the pure blackness from her glasses, even with the crystal shrouded by Leesil’s cloak.

“Now,” she commanded.

Three times, Leesil whipped his cloak off and then back over the sun crystal, and then Wynn let the crystal go out. She dropped the glasses to let them dangle on their cord around her neck.

“Anything?” she asked, looking back to Ghassan.

After a long pause, he answered, “No.”

Wynn turned on Leesil. “Again,” she ordered.

And again she lit the staff, and again he flashed it three times.

Wynn didn’t ask again as she watched Ghassan stare ahead through the looking glass. She wasn’t even aware of counting tense breaths until she hit seven. Closing her eyes and slumping, she didn’t look at Leesil and halfheartedly mumbled, “Again.”

“Wait,” Ghassan said.

Wynn looked up.

Ghassan stood perfectly still for two more breaths and then lowered the looking glass to point ahead.

“There! Watch for it!”

Wynn did so ... and she saw the faint triple wink of a light ahead. Her breath stopped completely.

“Let’s go now,” Leesil said.

Wynn grabbed his arm. There was more need to be certain.

“What are you waiting for?” Leesil asked.

With the sun not yet set, Chane would still be dormant. That meant Ore-Locks, or at best Chap, had somehow used a cold-lamp crystal to signal. There was one more step that she and Chap had agreed upon for safety, in case the worst had happened.

The Enemy’s forces could be on the move elsewhere. Wynn had to be certain those other three orbs were in the right hands before she brought two more within reach.

“How many flashes?” she asked Ghassan. “How many ... the first time?”

He frowned in puzzlement at her. “Five. Why?”

“We veer into the desert and wait for full night,” she said. “Then I signal again.”

“What?” Leesil said. “What’s this about, Wynn?”

This was all that she told any of them, and she ignored all questions. Her next signal was to be one more than the count received. The next response would be one more added to that. And even Chane would not know this until Chap instructed him.

Only in this way would Wynn know—and Chap know—for certain who was coming and who was waiting.

Later that night, even after the proper signals had been exchanged, Chap crouched upon a rock outcrop in full view of the desert below. He had instructed Ore-Locks and Chane to remain out of sight up here until he acted. They had hidden the supplies and three orbs higher above.

Then Chap saw Wynn leading the way upward before she spotted him.

He huffed once but never looked back for Chane and Ore-Locks.

He lunged off the outcrop, racing downward. Wynn spotted him quickly enough and broke into a run herself. She ignored calls from Leesil and Ghassan to wait, and they collided as she fell to her knees, dropped her staff, and wrapped her arms around Chap’s neck.

“Oh, thank goodness.” She sighed, pressing her face against him.

—I missed you too—

It was a relief to speak with her in their way rather than to dig for memory-words.

At quick footfalls behind, Chap twisted his head and saw Chane leading the way downward with Ore-Locks following. Wynn rose up, rushed to Chane, but stalled. She might have intended to throw herself at him but instead grabbed his right hand in both of hers. The others from below caught up, but Chap was still watching Wynn ... with Chane.

They both looked dusty and travel worn, but she just gazed up into his face in relief.

Chap did his best to swallow down any disapproval.

“You are here and safe,” Chane whispered, clamping his other hand over the top of hers.

Wynn nodded with a heavy breath and half turned to Ore-Locks. Then she looked beyond him and upslope.

Chap steeled himself for the worst that would come.

“Shade!” Wynn called. Her puzzled gaze moved back to Chane. “Where is she ... and Wayfarer and Osha?”

Chane was silent. Ore-Locks did not move at all.

“Yes, where’s Wayfarer?”

At that sharp demand, Chap’s head twisted around to see Magiere closing on him. Leesil was not far behind her.

“Chap?”

He twisted the other way to find Wynn closer now with a dimly lit cold-lamp crystal in her hand. He was trapped between the two women. Not unexpected—and not the way he wanted to explain—but he started of course with Wynn.

—Wayfarer is well and safe and still among the Lhoin’na. This was her choice, and Shade remained as well to watch over them—

At Chap’s words, Wynn’s face paled. Magiere strode up past Ore-Locks while looking about. In his distraction, worry, and concern, Chap did not hear until too late ...

“What did you do now?”

He whipped around and looked up into Leesil’s angry eyes.

Then Brot’an and Ghassan closed in and—Chap was suddenly stunned at the sight of a tall, mature elf he had never seen before. Who was this obvious Lhoin’na, and how had he come to be among the others? A torrent of questions overran Chap’s shock and suspicion, but one sharp demand cut off everything else.

“I’m waiting!” Leesil demanded.

“It is not his fault.”

Chap turned at those rasped words and almost snarled at Chane for silence. He thought better of that in the last instant. No one here but Wynn fully trusted anything Chane had to say, and she already knew this was not entirely Chap’s doing. Most of the others quieted down the instant Chane went on.

“I tried to make Shade come.” Chane stalled with a glance at Wynn. “She told Chap that Osha and Wayfarer were not done with ... whatever they went for among the Lhoin’na. Wayfarer insisted that all of you would ... should ... understand.”

A dangerous moment came when Magiere stepped toward Chane. Wynn grabbed Magiere’s arm, but that was all.

“I am here, as is Chap,” Chane added, and looked down only at Wynn. “Shade will keep Wayfarer—and Osha—safe, as was intended by sending them away for whatever true or half-true reasons. When we can, we will go to find Shade.”

Wynn slumped and closed her eyes.

“You have the other orbs?” a clear voice asked.

Chap did not have to look as Ghassan stepped close and looked down as if expecting Chap to somehow answer. He would have preferred to say nothing, especially to this one, but he glanced back at Ore-Locks and huffed once.

“Hidden above,” Ore-Locks answered, “along with the extra supplies we brought.”

Again, Chap studied the tall elf, who had remained silently watchful the whole time. Not long after, they set up camp, and everyone took to sorting out supplies. It troubled Chap that there was one person present whom he did not know. He did not relish the thought of killing any more than necessary, but for what was coming, he would do so if not satisfied, as he watched the unknown interloper sitting there across the low flames and silently listening to everything.

There was much for everyone to relate to one another, and they had all been apart for so long. Magiere shared what had been learned of undead migrating eastward, including at least one kind they had never encountered before. Ghassan claimed that they had a good notion of the Enemy’s general location, though he did not elaborate.

Chap had little faith in the fallen domin’s word, especially since he could not dip the man’s memories, surface or otherwise. But none of the others, including Magiere, said anything to counter Ghassan’s claim. As Chap absorbed this, Leesil asked Ore-Locks a few questions about the journey. When the dwarf began to answer, Chap quietly slipped off from the circle around the small fire.

As much as the others relished some of the fresher foods brought, especially the apples, one member was missing from the circle around the small fire. Wynn sat off on her own, and he circled around her. After what she’d heard about Shade, he waited before sidling in next to her.

—Who is the Lhoin’na?—

She barely turned her head. “Chuillyon. Another fallen sage, like Ghassan ... but different.”

—How did he come here?—

Wynn turned away.

Chap needed answers, but he was uncertain whether to press for them yet.

“I know Shade is safer with Osha and Wayfarer,” Wynn said quietly, “and sending her with them was my idea. Maybe that’s better, considering what we are going to do ... where we’re going next, but I feel so incomplete without Shade.”

Chap could not think of anything to say to this. How many years had passed since he had been taken as a pup to a desperate half-breed boy trapped in a dark and bloody world? And he knew he would never again want to be separated from Leesil and Magiere, but hard choices were coming. Some were here already.

When he had first begged Lily to send one of their children across the world to Wynn, it had been an ugly thing to do. And worse for leaving a mate he still believed he might never see again. How it would change other things and affect other people was something he had not thought of then.

—Shade must do what I cannot. I had to return to be with the others ... with you—

Wynn hung her head and closed her eyes.

Chap desperately needed answers to what had changed since he had left, but he stayed silent in waiting. Without even looking, Wynn slung her arm around his neck and buried her face in it. He envied her in one way.

Wynn might always be closer to his estranged daughter than he could ever hope to be. And now that cost her as well.

—I am sorry—

“No ... no,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. It’s just hard.”

He kept still until she sat up and looked at him.

—And what about Chuillyon?—

Wynn glanced once toward those nearer the fire, and at the tall elf.

“I believe he somehow uses Chârmun to move between it and its ... children. Leesil was holding his branch from Roise Chârmune some nights ago, and Chuillyon just appeared.”

Chap’s ears stiffened upright at even the possibility.

—Has he confirmed this?—

“Some—not all—perhaps only enough to make us trust him. I’m half guessing the rest. The last time I was in the Lhoin’na lands and first saw Chârmun ... he was suddenly there. There was no way he could’ve gotten into that clearing without being spotted.”

—Can he be trusted?—

Wynn snorted. “No! But I think he’d do anything to stop the Enemy from returning. That puts him on our side for now.”

And they turned to more details from Wynn’s past. Chap learned of how Chuillyon had more than once foiled an undead wraith’s conjury, though most of what he had done was only defensive. That left one other piece to puzzle for another notion developing in Chap’s thoughts.

—Where is Leesil’s branch?—

“In his pack.”

Chap fell silent while turning over everything that Wynn had related. Some of the others near the fire occasionally glanced their way, for he and Wynn had been off on their own for a while. And when Magiere stared too long ...

Wynn smiled. “Sorry. We’re just catching up.”

Chane then rose and faced her, though he looked right at Chap. “Now that the orbs are gathered and the likely place of the Enemy has been found, what is next?”

Ghassan’s irises appeared nearly black in the dark as he answered, “We head east again.”