Through Stone and Sea

Chapter 22

Reine reclined numbly on the sitting chamber's couch while Frey rested in the adjoining bedchamber. Chuillyon stood before the stone bookshelves, but he wasn't looking for something to read.

Reine knew the family relied on him for more than wisdom and insight; whenever possible, he accompanied any who left the royal grounds. But until the black mage had appeared, she hadn't fully understood why. Seeing Chuillyon halt the racing fire left her wondering who and what he really was. But she started from contemplation when Tristan appeared at the sitting chamber's opening.

Beyond the captain, Danyel stepped back out into the passage, closing the pool chamber's outer door. Strangely, she was relieved to see Tristan again. He was like her homeland's eastern stone steppes, immovable and permanent. He was the heart of the Weardas … he was the Sentinel.

"Were you able to assist Thorn-in-Wine?" she asked.

"Uncertain," he answered. "A Stonewalker appearing before clan leaders overrode most doubt or disbelief. Word was sent to other settlements. Six warriors guard all portals to the underworld. More patrol Sea-Side, keeping people inside. The display of numbers may give the black mage pause."

His passivity might've fooled others, but Reine knew better. What could he or any of them do against an assailant who could appear anywhere? Even here, in the pool's chambers, Frey wouldn't be safe until it died.

Tristan exchanged glances with Chuillyon. The captain subtly shifted his weight from one foot to the other—very uncharacteristic—and Chuillyon cleared his throat.

Reine didn't like these signs.

"My lady," he began, "the captain feels it's best that he stay with the prince. Danyel and I will take you—"

"No," she cut in.

"Highness," Tristan tried in turn, "I can protect the prince from himself. Your safety matters. The family cannot afford to lose—"

"I'm not leaving," she warned. "There's more to protecting Frey than—"

"You are needed!" Chuillyon snapped. "If you were lost within scant years of the prince's apparent death, how could it be explained to the people?"

Reine scoffed. "Many of the people still think I'm guilty, no matter what Captain Rodian reported. I'm less benefit than burden to all of the Âreskynna. Let's hope, for the future, that this doesn't affect the alliance with my country."

"Faunier and Malourné are old allies," Chuillyon said, "almost from their founding days. Your status as scapegoat will not alter that. You and the queen are the only ones—"

"Who can't become sea-lorn?" Reine finished bitterly. "Who will never succumb to a mad longing eating our wits and will? All the more reason—more than ever—that I will not leave my husband!"

Chuillyon's mouth opened once more, and Reine sat upright.

"Don't!" she whispered.

He shut his mouth in a frustrated frown. Tristan still bore no expression, but it was obvious he agreed with the advisor. Getting her out of harm's way had probably been his idea.

Someone knocked at the pool chamber's outer door.

Relieved by the interruption, Reine was already up by the time Danyel opened the outer door and leaned in.

"It's Master Bulwark, Highness," he called.

Why had he come? She stepped across the chamber and looked out through the partially opened door. Master Bulwark waited with arms crossed.

"The sage has been returned," he said.

Hope and dread flooded Reine. "You didn't bring her here?"

"I assumed you wished to question her away from the prince," he said quietly. "She is with her companions."

Reine moved into action. "Danyel, stay with the prince. Watch him carefully. Tristan, Chuillyon …"

They were already joining her.

Reine hesitated, looking to the sitting chamber's opening. She'd never left Frey alone so much on a rising tide, especially not the highest of the year. She turned once more to Danyel.

"If the prince wakes, tell him I won't be long … and keep him away from the pool."

Danyel glanced at the pool's rear gate. "What if they come again?"

"Drive them off!" she ordered.

"Reine!" Chuillyon said sharply, and he rarely used anything but her titles in front of others. "Do not jeopardize an older alliance through bitterness!"

"You have your orders," she told Danyel, holding out her hand.

With one curt, sure nod, Danyel handed over the comb with the white metal droplet, though Chuillyon expelled an exasperated sigh. Reine swept out, following Master Bulwark, with Tristan and Chuillyon close behind.

Nothing Wynn Hygeorht said should be trusted, but Reine hoped the sage had discovered something in the texts. They needed any slim advantage before Frey was exposed to something worse than the burden of his heritage.

Sau'ilahk stood among the ashen-faced bodies of only five dwarven warriors. Two had died before any realized he was upon them. The fifth had taken too long to put down. For all his efforts, and the need for expedience, he had barely consumed the sum of one whole life. And the sixth warrior had escaped.

But Sau'ilahk was fixed upon a course, and nothing would turn him.

The placement of new guards meant warning had spread. Others would soon learn he had reappeared. There would be no more peeking through walls, surprising anyone who waited in the hidden room.

A distant bell's clang reverberated through the mountain's passages—over and over.

Sau'ilahk focused hard on the downward passage that lay beyond the hidden room. It was the only place he could remember clearly along the path to the underworld. He blinked through dormancy and stood in the tunnel's head.

Any guards bypassed in the hidden room would be alerted soon enough. He drifted down the tunnel's gradual curve, listening carefully along the way, until he finally spied the ending alcove.

Four armed and armored dwarves stood guard before the lower door.

Sau'ilahk slipped into the tunnel's sidewall. Only his cowl's opening protruded as he watched. If he faced them openly, any inside the domed chamber beyond would hear their shouts. Another alarm would sound, indicating his new location and further cutting into his time to find what he sought. But without at least a glimpse through the door, he had no sight line by which to slip through the floor to the lift's shaft.

His choices were frustratingly inadequate. If he used a servitor for another distraction, not all of the four new guards would come after it or any at all. If he had to fight, it was better to get as far as he could. He fixed upon the door—or rather the sense of open space just beyond. And he tried to remember the one glimpse through its opening he had ever had.

Sau'ilahk blinked again, awaking in the domed chamber, surrounded by six dwarves. Four wore spike-ended circlets around the raised steel collars of their armor.

The nearest shouted a warning and leveled his iron staff in a swing.

Sau'ilahk lashed out as he summoned his servitor.

Hinder those outside the door! Distract them!

The dwarf's staff whipped through him as his own fingers slashed through a helmet and wide face. The dwarf yelped, and Sau'ilahk blinked out.

All it would take was just one reaching the bell rope to warn of his presence. A thrust of incorporeal fingers could put down a human, but it would only weaken a dwarf. He materialized instantly before the bell rope as the other five dwarves spread out, closing from all around.

Sau'ilahk saw his tactic would not work.

Not one had even hesitated as the first slumped against the wall. They were willing to die so that one could get to him. It would take only one to grip the rope as the last fell. Sau'ilahk had to leave this place in silence, no matter what it cost, but he had so little to expend. Barely one life taken, and now he would lose even that. Why had he not reawakened in the underworld?

He raised his arms, robe sleeves sliding down over limbs wrapped in black cloth.

Sau'ilahk began to conjure, more strength draining away.

Wynn followed Balsam until the Stonewalker stopped at the final passage and pointed onward. She rushed on alone with her regained journals clutched in her arms. Shade sprang to all fours, barking excitedly as she lunged forward from the archway. Wynn hurried straight past, looking about the landing for her pack.

Chane was slouched beside their belongings with his eyes closed.

She was surprised to find him still dormant. Bulwark had said night was upon them. Was Chane's hunger becoming too great? Had he slipped into some other kind of unconsciousness?

"Chane?" she said in alarm.

His eyes opened as he sat upright, but he appeared disoriented. "Wynn?"

In relief, she dropped to her knees, dumped the journals, and began pulling everything out of her pack.

"When did you return?" he asked, blinking. "Where did you get those?"

Wynn didn't answer. She didn't know whether the duchess had ever seen the texts or knew of the old journals among them. She wasn't about to find out. Pulling out her tightly folded robe and spare shift, she reached for the pile of journals.

Chane grabbed her wrist. "What have you done?"

"They're mine!" she shot back. "My journals … from the Farlands!"

She jerked free and shoved them in the pack's bottom.

"What if their absence is noticed?" he asked. "At least portions of the texts are taken to the guild each day."

"These journals hold everything that happened to me. Every detail of what I learned … and they're mine. I don't care who finds out, because no one will get them back!"

She began stuffing her belongings on top. Chane craned his head, looking over her and out the archway.

"Hurry!" he urged. "If you are here, others will come soon." He paused as if remembering something, and pointed at a bag on the floor. "There's food and water."

She hadn't eaten all day, hadn't even thought of it. She finished lacing her pack closed and hurried over, helping herself to water and a torn hunk of bread. Then she felt suddenly guilty.

Nothing here would sate Chane's hunger.

He stood up, bracing against the wall, and his other hand clenched into a fist. He stepped into the archway, watching down the passage.

"Did you learn anything?" he asked.

Shade pressed in, nosing Wynn's cheek. Still chewing, Wynn wrapped her free arm around the dog's neck. Then she began recounting what little she'd uncovered.

Chane crouched before her, listening intently, and then he glanced out the archway.

"What is it?" she asked.

Shade pulled from Wynn's arms, her pointed ears rising.

Duchess Reine, Chuillyon, and Captain Tristan strode down the passage toward the archway.

Wynn stood up beside Chane. Without even thinking, she took the staff and held it firmly, fearful it might be taken again.

"What have you learned?" the duchess demanded, still a few strides off.

Did she wish to hold this discussion from the passageway?

Chane wrapped his near hand around his sword's sheath, just below the cross guard. He pocketed the ring, freeing his sword hand if needed.

Why had he taken the ring off? If the Stonewalkers, especially Cinder-Shard, could sense the wraith as an undead, would they sense him without the ring's protection?

Chuillyon slowed, almost falling behind the other two. He arrived three steps after the duchess and the captain, eyeing Chane.

"Well?" the duchess asked more sharply.

"A little," Wynn returned in kind. "Master Bulwark interrupted me too soon. I need more—"

"Do not play me!" The duchess took two rapid steps closer.

Wynn forced calm, though one bitter thought escaped. "It's regrettable you were less interested back in Calm Seatt. Several people might still be alive."

"Enough!" Chuillyon said, pulling back his cowl.

The passage's orange light accentuated the lines around his eyes. Wynn couldn't help wondering at his age.

"Please continue," he instructed.

Wynn knew she had to share her meager findings but still hoped for more time with the texts.

"I didn't uncover the wraith's specific goal … yet," she said. "But I believe I have his name … and something of the part he played in the war."

"The war?" the duchess echoed with disdain.

"What name?" Chuillyon demanded.

"The Ancient Enemy had three distinct groups of followers," Wynn began. She briefly recounted the Children, the Eaters of Silence, and lastly the Reverent, a religious caste. She left out what little she knew of a bargain with Beloved, adding only …

"His name was—is—Sau'ilahk, high priest of Cinder-Shard's so-called Nightfaller."

Chuillyon's large eyes lost focus. His gaze dropped, staring at nothing, and then shifted erratically. Wynn wondered what thoughts came so quickly, one overwhelming the next.

"Liar!" Reine accused, pulling Wynn's attention. "I'm sick of your schemes. To suggest that this mage has been around since—"

"Silence!" Chuillyon ordered.

The duchess spun on him. "You cannot possibly believe—"

"I have told you there's no time to cling to disbelief!" He turned back to Wynn. "You learned nothing more … of what it wants … how to deal with it?"

Wynn hesitated at Chuillyon's so quickly accepting her words without a shadow of the duchess's doubt. She'd been dismissed so often, so few believing a grain of what she said, that his acceptance made her more suspicious. She had a very disturbing sense that he was looking for untried tactics, which would only mean …

Had he tried others, sometime before … in facing this monstrous spirit?

And there was one other thing the wraith might be searching for, just like her.

"It may be searching for—"

"The last locations of others among the Children," Chane cut in.

Wynn regained her senses in shock. He never spoke to anyone but her of such matters. When he glanced down, she caught the slightest, almost imperceptible shake of his head. She'd told the duchess and Chuillyon nearly everything pertinent—except Sau'ilahk's bargain for eternal life. She still wasn't certain of her conclusions on that, and it would've only aggravated the duchess even more. So what else was there to hold back? Only one thing …

Chane wished her to keep silent about Bäalâle Seatt.

"Nothing more?" Chuillyon asked again.

"No," Wynn answered. "I had too little time. Translation is painstaking work."

"But it thinks you know something." The captain's sudden words were almost as out of place as Chane's.

"Pardon?" Wynn asked.

"It must believe you know of what it's after," the captain said, calm and cold. "Or it wouldn't have followed you." He turned to Chuillyon. "She offers nothing of use, so we must fall back on Cinder-Shard's plan. Let the Stonewalkers trap it … using the sage as bait."

"I do not think so," Chane hissed.

Wynn had to grab his arm, as both he and the captain reached for their swords.

"Journeyor!" the duchess snapped, and then briefly closed her eyes, as if struggling to regain composure. "In Calm Seatt, you and Captain Rodian seemed to have vanquished this … perpetrator … or in retrospect, at least injured it. How?"

Wynn studied Reine's face, not as lovely as some, but fetching in its clean simplicity surrounded by thick chestnut hair.

"Rodian had nothing to do with it," Wynn answered. "Chane and Shade kept the wraith at bay long enough for Domin il'Sänke to hold it for an instant. In fact, the captain and his men nearly ruined our one chance. But I managed to ignite the staff's crystal anyhow."

She paused, anguished again over so many lost lives.

"Our plan should've worked—I watched the wraith," she said with force, emphasizing what it was, and looked at Chuillyon. "I watched it tear apart in the light. But we merely beat it down enough to save ourselves that night."

Everyone—most especially the captain—listened in silence. He eyed the staff she held.

"The sage should be kept at hand," he said flatly. "Even if the staff proves less than she claims."

Wynn felt Chane reaching around her waist, pulling her back.

His arm tightened, and Shade began snarling. The dog inched through the archway, ears flattening as her hackles rose.

"Too late!" Chane whispered. "It has come!"

Sau'ilahk settled upon the shaft's bottom and peered along the underworld's main passage. Yellowed wisps of vapor drifted down the shaft to coil around him, as if dragged by his descent.

Once his conjured gases had filled the domed chamber, there had been only a brief moment to feed before the last dwarven warrior died. Not one had laid a hand upon the bell rope, but that one taken life was too little. He raised his hands and watched them turn translucent for an instant.

The tip of a steel blade thrust out of his chest.

It flashed aside in a speeding arc as Sau'ilahk whirled about, facing an older female dwarf in black scaled armor. But the lift had not come down.

This Stonewalker had stepped out of the shaft's wall behind him.

She held two long, triangular daggers at ready. Dark blond hair hung around her wide face, which appeared unsurprised that her blade never connected. The chance to feed again made Sau'ilahk lunge.

She did not move until his hand neared her chest.

The instant his fingers penetrated, she struck the shaft's wall with the back of her right hand, still gripping one broad blade.

Sau'ilahk saw stone flow across her body and face.

The feel of her life vanished from him, and he panicked, remembering his arm solidifying when he had tried to take the old one in the main cavern. Sau'ilahk jerked his hand free before the flow of stone reached his wrist. He slid back, out of the shaft into the passage's head.

The Stonewalker had not even flinched, but her face now wrinkled in spite, her eyes glaring.

"Come on!" she challenged in deep Dwarvish. "Take my stone, if you can … you soot-wisp!"

This could not be happening. This was not the way things should be.

She lunged at him.

Sau'ilahk raised a hand to strike and then saw what she did. At each hammering step, the back of her hand holding a dagger grazed the passage wall on either side. The space was too tight. There was no way to get to her so long as she could touch stone.

He spun, fixing on the passage's far end, and blinked.

The instant he appeared there, he flew into the glistening cavern, looking for any near path. The black-haired elder leaped out of the wall on his right.

Sau'ilahk had barely turned when two heavy footfalls slammed the cavern floor behind him. As he spun, a rising deep chant erupted around him. The elder female closed at full speed down the passage, no longer bothering with her staggered wall-touching advance.

He had no time for them. Where was Wynn?

Desperation made him latch upon the only way to find her—the wolf. All he need do was raise the beast's awareness of him. Wynn would follow its lead soon enough.

Sau'ilahk gathered lingering energies to conjury, twisting the air within his form, and created a voice. He shrieked his rage, letting it echo through the cavern.

A long, pealing wail answered.

Sau'ilahk rushed toward the cavern's left opening, and then slowed.

A faded, nearly forgotten memory came to him. He struggled as if trying to advance against a desert windstorm. In place of a wind's whistle and moan, he heard the Stonewalkers' baritone thrum.

What were they doing?

Drawing more power, he burst forward, breaking whatever impeded him. He sailed through the cavern, into the tunnels, following the sound of a majay-hì's hunting cry.

Wynn heard the distant shriek.

Even the duchess twisted about as the captain spun and jerked out his sword.

Less than a breath passed before Shade threw her head up. Her eerie cry exploded at full volume.

Wynn grabbed Shade by the scruff, shouting, "Hold … wait!"

"Make her quiet, now!" Chane rasped.

"Shade, stop it," Wynn urged.

"No … let her howl," someone said, and Wynn looked up.

Cinder-Shard stood in the passage. How had he arrived so suddenly, and from where?

"My brethren heard the black one," he added. "If it runs toward the wolf's noise … so much the better."

Wynn understood—they all thought the wraith would come for her.

"Everyone up the passage and into the next cavern!" he ordered. "Until I am certain where the intruder is, all of you stay near. Do as I command, and do not get in our way."

Wynn released Shade, who ceased howling but still rumbled. Chane pushed past, signaling her to follow.

They hurried down the passage after him, leaving the Chamber of the Fallen behind, and emerged in a cavern lit only by dim phosphorescence. Wynn knew what those dark forms were in that place. Light suddenly erupted behind her.

A cold lamp crystal blazed in Chuillyon's outstretched palm. He closed his hand over it, crushing out the light.

"Do likewise," he told her. "But toss your crystal when I cast mine."

Wynn dug in her pocket, first pulling out the pewter-framed glasses. She tucked these into her grip upon the staff and then retrieved and prepared her crystal. In its briefly escaping light, forms moved among the cavern's columns and the calcified remains of the honored dead.

Bulwark stepped around a figure barely recognizable beneath crusted minerals. Another Stonewalker at the far end moved inward. Both stared toward the cavern's left side, but Wynn couldn't see what they watched through all the obstructions.

She closed her hand, snuffing the crystal's light, as a thrum began to build from two, and then three deep voices. The last, somewhere off to her right, had to be Cinder-Shard.

Chane stood tense before her and reached back, pulling her as he stepped inward and away from the walls around the entrance.

"No!" the duchess whispered.

Wynn glanced back as Reine pulled free of the captain's grip and followed. Chuillyon advanced behind her with a scowl, and the captain hurried out ahead of them.

Shade's rumble rose to a pealing whine. A shout echoed from the cavern's left, sounding far off.

One dimly glowing column off to Wynn's left went black—then returned. Two more did likewise, one after the other, as if something dark passed quickly before them.

Light erupted behind Wynn. The bright spark of a cold lamp crystal arced past her between the columns, and fell to the cavern floor.

Wynn shuddered at a grating hiss rolling throughout the space.

The wraith stood in the cavern's heart and twisted toward the crystal's light.

Wynn quickly threw her crystal to the other side, filling the cavern with more light, and the black figure turned toward her. Every time she saw it—him—her stomach wrenched like that first night in the streets of Calm Seatt. It was nothing but black robes and cloak, sagging faceless cowl, and cloth-wrapped hands that weren't truly whole and real.

"Chuillyon, get them out, now!" Cinder-Shard yelled.

The wraith lurched around, turning every way.

All six Stonewalkers shifted among the columns and the still, stone forms of the dead as they circled inward. Those who'd just arrived joined the others in the thrumming chant, doubling its volume. Wynn still didn't understand their utterances as they raised their palms outward.

The wraith pivoted back to fix upon her.

His hiss seemed to form into words she couldn't quite catch—and he rushed straight at her.

Shade lunged out as Chane reversed, grabbed Wynn's arm, and thrust her aside before she could speak. She spun into a column, tripping on its wide sloped base, and he stepped straight into the wraith's path.

"No, get to cover!" she shouted.

The wraith never slowed.

Shade backpedaled, hopping aside with a failed snap at it, as Cinder-Shard shouted, "Balsam, cut it off!"

The Stonewalkers' rhythmic chant faltered the instant Chane collided with the black spirit.

The wraith dissipated like smoke on a wind gust, and Chane stumbled through, nearly collapsing.

Those shredded black vapors coalesced again with a hoarse scream. At first, both the robe and cloak trailed wisps of black dust or smoke in the air—as if the wraith struggled to regain its presence.

Then it rushed on. Wynn had barely gained her feet when its black-cloth-wrapped hand swiped at her.

She flopped back against the column, rolling around it, out of reach. The wraith's hand closed on her staff, just below the crystal. But the staff passed straight through those clutching fingers.

For an instant, Wynn thought she saw the glow of Chuillyon's crystal behind the wraith—through it.

The wraith seemed weakened—it couldn't solidify even a hand. With a soft hiss, it whirled, its cloak's wing passing straight through the column. Wynn ducked away from the flailing, ghostly fabric.

The wraith went straight at the duchess.

"Get her out!" Wynn shouted, raising the staff again. "Shade, go … attack!"

Chuillyon didn't move, not even when Shade wheeled, her claws scrabbling on stone. He stood there, eyes closed, lips silently moving. Reine backed against him, eyes wide in shock, though she had her saber out. The captain lunged in front of her, straight into the wraith's path.

Something wide and dark came at them from the side, near the cavern's back.

Balsam reached around a column and latched onto the captain's wrist.

Wynn thought she saw the woman's face change. It darkened, glittering like the column's stone. But Balsam never had an instant to pull the captain aside.

The wraith swung as Tristan slashed with his sword. A black hand whipped down through Tristan's face and chest as his blade passed straight through the cloak and robe.

The captain flinched, eyes widening, and that was all. Nothing happened to him.

The wraith halted, frozen in place, and Shade closed from behind.

Rising on rear legs, she snapped her teeth through its wrist, and they both screeched. The wraith slapped down at Shade, but she wheeled out of reach. Wynn pulled her glasses out of her grip upon the staff, trying to get them on her face.

The wraith crouched, flattening its hand against the floor.

Chuillyon's soft laugh startled Wynn.

The elf's eyes opened, his left arm wrapping around the duchess and holding her close. He peered down at the wraith's wavering form.

"Oh, no … Sau'ilahk," he whispered.

The wraith snapped to full height at its name.

"No tricks for you!" Chuillyon added with a slow shake of his head. "Not again."

Balsam reached out for the wraith. Her other hand was fastened around a column, and the wraith retreated in a gliding rush, searching in all directions.

Wynn finally shoved the glasses over her eyes. But the wraith began to fade, becoming a pale shadow in her sight as she grew frantic. Then the Stonewalkers' thrumming chant rose again, and it instantly reappeared.

It appeared to shudder, its fingers twitching before its chest.

"Chane … cover up!" Wynn shouted, tilting the sun crystal outward.

In her mind, she formed the outlines of shapes, each one appearing within the last as the pattern overlaid her sight of the long crystal. Circle then triangle, another triangle inverted, and a final circle.

"Mên Rúhk el-När …" she recited—From Spirit to Fire …

The sagging cowl's empty pit whipped toward her—then the wraith rushed straight at Balsam.

Balsam faltered in her chant. Before Wynn could even shout a warning, the female Stonewalker slapped her palm against a column.

The wraith slammed through her and onward, and it vanished through the cavern wall.

Wynn's frustration choked off her voice, though she heard Chuillyon cursing in Elvish over the growl of Cinder-Shard.