Child of a Dead God

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Hkuan'duv and Danvarfij followed from a safe distance, letting the pack of humans keep a good lead. But when they reached the boxed gully, Danvarfij halted, still as the snow, and stared at Kurhkage's frozen corpse in the chute.

A'harhk'nis's head lay uncovered where someone else had found it. Hkuan'duv knew that Sgailsheilleache would be aware he had been followed, and his suspicions might grow.

Danvarfij sank to her knees. "What could have done this?"

When Hkuan'duv had returned to camp last night, his need to suppress shock and pain had kept him from relating too many details. She had not pressed for more.

"I believe this white woman is one of the humans' undead," he began, and then faltered. "They had no defense against her… she was too fast and strong."

"But this," Danvarfij said, looking at A'harhk'nis's head, "to one such as him… We cannot leave them untended."

"We will perform rites after our purpose is fulfilled."

Danvarfij lifted her eyes to him and, for a moment, he thought she might argue. Then her expression flattened until no trace of anger or grief remained. Their purpose came first, even if it meant irreverence for their dead. Danvarfij stepped up the chute as if she had seen nothing at all.

Hkuan'duv followed and suppressed his trepidation as he passed between the stone walls-past the place where he'd seen a white face with colorless eyes like ice.

They breached the chute's upper end and saw no one, but the trail in the snow was clear. They trekked in silence until the path led to a rocky slope through a narrow saddle between two high peaks. When they crested the top, they both halted above a wide white plateau between the mountains.

"Look," Danvarfij whispered, pointing.

Upon the sunken plain stood an ancient fortification of pale gray stone, and the distant specks of the two male humans and their band drew closer to it.

Hkuan'duv hurried down to the plain's edge and crouched to wait and watch. There he spotted a paw print in the snow near the rocks.

The majay-hi had survived and traveled on in the night without the others. Hkuan'duv closed his eyes, considering what to do next.

If the dog had tracked the white woman, then she was inside as well. All tracks led to this hidden place-the journey's end-and more than likely, Magiere and Sgailsheilleache were already inside. The deceptively frail monster might be a guardian for this ancient artifact that Most Aged Father wanted. A battle for the object's possession seemed inevitable, but Hkuan'duv could not see how anyone could get past the woman. And how did these other humans, now trekking across the plain, fit into the growing tangle?

"If A'harhk'nis and Kurhkage could not best this undead," Danvarfij said, "then Sgailsheilleache and Osha will not fare any better. They are in danger."

"Sgailsheilleache would never betray his guardianship through recklessness, " Hkuan'duv replied. "He would not allow his charges to fight a hopeless battle. He may possess knowledge in this matter that we do not."

Even so, Hkuan'duv did not know what the object truly was or where it lay in the vast structure. He only knew that Magiere was to retrieve it, and he would procure it from her.

He looked over the pristine plain, waiting for the pack of humans to get closer to the castle. Once they were hard to separate with his elven eyes, he knew their limited human sight would not detect two followers. He and Danvarfij slipped out across the snow.

They stayed within the broken trail to hide their own passing from anyone who returned. Halfway there, he spotted the snow-capped outer wall. They traversed its outside until tall iron gates loomed before them. All trails passed through the tilting gate, and they backed away along the wall to hunker against its stone.

"If Magiere succeeds, she will return with the artifact," he said. "We will find cover and see how many of her companions survive as well. Once they head back for their camp, we will trail at a safe distance and take them among the crags."

"But if Sgailsheilleache survives and-"

"His guardianship must end, overridden by Most Aged Father's request. Sgailsheilleache is loyal. He will do what is right."

"And if others, besides Magiere, resist?"

"Dispatch the small human, but only incapacitate the half-blood." He paused, still scanning the valley. "Then we will attend our dead and return the artifact to our caste's safekeeping."

Danvarfij paused, absorbing his words. Her face looked thin and tired. They had both spent too many days and nights on half-rations in this ice world.

"I agree, but…," she began.

"You have another option?" he asked.

"No… but I dislike leaving Sgailsheilleache and Osha to face this alone, while we wait so close."

Her honesty was always admirable. Had she felt any other way, she would not be Danvarfij.

"I know," Hkuan'duv answered and pulled his cloak tightly about himself.

Wynn breathed in relief at the sight of Osha hurrying toward her. He drew close but did not embrace her.

"Are you well?" he asked.

Sgaile crept down the thick stone banister and dropped silently off its end. He did not take his eyes off Li'kan.

"I am thirsty," Wynn said.

Osha dug inside his tunic and produced a leather-sheathed water flask. She took it gratefully, but kept watch on Magiere and Li'kan. Neither had moved.

Sgaile studied the white woman with revulsion, as if uncertain whether to attack or hold his ground.

"Why did she stop?" Leesil asked.

Magiere's falchion still lay on the floor, but her black eyes were locked upon Li'kan. She looked almost weary.

At first Wynn gave her behavior little notice, but then she remembered the times Magiere had come out of her dhampir state. She had often succumbed to exhaustion, but only after, never during.

Li'kan swayed in a half-aware state. Her small mouth moved as if whispering voicelessly to herself. Wynn gulped down three mouthfuls of water and crouched to pour some in her hand.

"Psst… Chap, come here," she whispered.

He glanced over and then backed toward her rather than break his vigil. When he had lapped away the water, Wynn poured more, but he ignored it.

"What is happening?" she asked.

I cannot make out her words. It is as if she is speaking to someone, but I do not know who or what… or why she holds back.

Magiere glanced down at Wynn with irises flooded black, then reached out and grasped Wynn's hand.

"Chap believes something is influencing her," Wynn said and stood up, still gripping Magiere's fingers. "What do we do now?"

They had all followed Magiere this far, and Wynn hoped she would somehow know what to do.

Magiere crouched and picked up her sword. She scanned the wide stairs and upper landing with three plain archways, and then glanced briefly to the narrow passage from which Wynn had entered. She stopped last on the left-side passage.

"That way."

At Magiere's first step, Sgaile quickly closed on her.

"You would turn your back on this thing?"

His tone worried Wynn, as well as the way he watched Li'kan with the garrote wire still looped between his hands. How long would the naked woman remain passive if she sensed a threat?

"Li'kan?" Wynn said. "Will you come?"

Magiere spun back, releasing Wynn's hand. Her features twisted with menace, but Li'kan stood listless and unaware. Then a shudder passed through the white undead. Her own face wrinkled in a mute echo of Magiere's.

"What did you call her?" Magiere hissed.

"Her name…," Wynn answered, but the mimicked expressions of these two women left her frightened. "Li'kan has been here, alone, for a long time."

Wynn flinched as Magiere turned on her. More than once, Magiere and Leesil, and even Chap, had chastised her sympathies for certain Noble Dead.

"This place holds secrets," Wynn added firmly. "Chap believes we need assistance in deciphering them, if we are to retrieve what you seek… and more."

Chap wrinkled a jowl at Wynn, but he huffed once in agreement. Leesil, Sgaile, and Osha all looked more uncertain and wary.

"Will you come?" Wynn repeated to Li'kan.

The white undead ceased whispering. A sharp shake of her head tossed her black hair across her face. Her irises rolled down from beneath quivering eyelids, and she swung her head toward the sage. Wynn sidestepped just a little way behind Magiere.

Li'kan studied her, appraised her, trying to decide if she were prey-or at least that was how it seemed to Wynn. Then Li'kan stepped out unsteadily, as if reluctant at each footfall.

Magiere headed for the left corridor. Chap closed behind her, watching over his shoulder.

Must you share all my concerns whenever they pop into your head?

Wynn did not answer as she scurried after him, and Li'kan came behind her.

Osha tried to step in, but Sgaile pulled him back. Leesil waited as well. Once the undead had followed Wynn into the corridor, all three fell in behind her.

"I had to say something," Wynn whispered to Chap. "You saw Magiere's face-not to mention Sgaile's."

I could be wrong.

Wynn's stomach flip-flopped. Chap rarely second-guessed himself, at least as far as she knew.

Li'kan is undead and mad… and cannot be trusted. If she has been here since the forgotten war, then she was likely a part of it.

Wynn glanced back.

Li'kan paced close behind. Her white body turned deep gray in the tight passage's shadowy space. Somewhere farther back, the glow of Leesil's retrieved amulet silhouetted the undead in a dim orange aura.

Wynn was caught between two natural enemies: one of the undead, immeasurably old, and a dhampir-a hunter of the dead-but born to lead them.

Magiere led the way out the passage's end into a large room. At first, Wynn made out little in the darkness-only tall shapes, like freestanding walls, partitioning a wide chamber too long to measure. When Leesil stepped out, his amulet's dim light spread.

Shadow partitions sharpened into high stone casements, and Wynn stumbled mutely to the ends of the nearest two.

Shelf upon shelf of disarrayed texts rose above her. Some had crumbled and others were broken and decayed. Scroll cases of wood, metal, and bone or horn stood on end or lay toppled in heaps. Everywhere she saw bound sheaves, books, and cloth- or hide-wrapped bundles. And the row of tall, wide stone bookcases ran both ways along the chamber, uncountable beyond the reach of the amulet's light.

Wynn stood in an ancient library or archive, perhaps the oldest ever found by one of her guild. She could not begin to measure the wealth of knowledge here, built over unknown centuries. As she slipped between the nearest casements, and shadows thickened around her, she looked up to the shelves beyond her reach.

"Wynn," Osha called. "Come out and sit… eat."

She dug her crystal out of her coat. Dim light still emanated from it, and she rubbed furiously as she turned, looking for Osha. He stood just inside the passage's exit with bundled coats and cloaks in his arms. Then he was blotted from sight as Li'kan rushed in between the casements.

"Wynn!" Osha called louder.

Li'kan's urgent eyes sparked in the crystal's white light, and Wynn backed deeper between the shelves. The undead slowly crept in, delicate hands clutching low shelves on both sides. Wynn retreated again. But if Li'kan intended harm to her, why did she not come more quickly? The white woman stopped, craned her head upward, and snatched a dust-crusted book.

Her narrow fingers bit through the aged cover and pages.

Li'kan's perfect white face twisted in anguish. Wynn forgot danger and gasped loudly as the ancient book shattered into dust. Then she heard frantic panting and looked up.

Li'kan's wide-eyed gaze raced around the shelves, and she grabbed for an age-marred tin scroll case. A gloved hand snarled in the top of her black hair.

Wynn heard Magiere's growling voice. "Get away from her!"

Magiere jerked Li'kan by the hair, and the undead's head snapped backward. But she clasped the scroll case to her bare chest, as if keeping it mattered more than freeing herself. Magiere dragged Li'kan out, pivoted sharply, and threw the woman beyond Wynn's sight around the right bookcase's end.

"Wynn, get out of there!" Leesil shouted.

"Spread out!" Sgaile snapped, then vanished to the right.

Osha dropped his bundles, drew stilettos, and disappeared to the left.

Wynn rushed along the bookcase row. "No, stop-no fighting!"

The instant she stepped into the open, Osha appeared on her left. He flipped one stiletto into his other hand and grabbed her wrist, dragging her left along the row of casements.

Off the other way, Wynn saw Li'kan's back.

Beyond the white undead, Leesil half-crouched and slid in next to Magiere.

Magiere cocked up her falchion in a doubled grip. Li'kan charged, and Magiere took a lunging step, bringing her sword down-and then stumbled.

The blade never passed Magiere's shoulder. It wavered heavily in her grip as Li'kan lurched to a halt, teetering on her small feet.

Wynn saw only Li'kan's bare back as the woman buckled and hunched.

Magiere blinked twice, opening her eyes more slowly each time. She was breathing hard.

Chap circled around both women, and his admonishment lashed sharply in Wynn's head.

Do not move-do nothing, unless you tell us first!

Li'kan spun about. Fury melted from her petite features when her gaze found Wynn.

Osha jerked hard on Wynn's wrist, pulling her behind himself. Wynn did not resist, but peered around his side.

Li'kan grew almost manic. Her colorless eyes widened over her slack mouth, her lips trembling. She began to shake as if caught in overwhelming anxiety, and then she thrust out the scroll case toward Wynn.

Even in fright, a part of Wynn wanted to know what was in that scroll. She reached out to-

Do not even think of it!

Then Chap's ears pricked up as Li'kan's small mouth began to work and twist.

More words… more words…, he projected, and his multitongued voice in Wynn's head matched the movement of Li'kan's lips. She wants you to read to her.

Wynn took a deep breath and pulled from Osha's grasp. But when she echoed Chap's thoughts to the others, Magiere growled back.

"What do you think you're doing with this thing?"

Leesil held his place with one blade still raised, and Wynn jumped slightly as Sgaile appeared out of the very row she had run from. The garrote was stretched between his hands.

"Spoken words," Wynn said and quickly tried to explain how she had kept Li'kan occupied while waiting for them to come. She'd barely got out Chap's accounting of how long Li'kan might have been here alone, when Magiere cut her off.

"You… your sages… your damn Forgotten History! Or don't you remember what Chap found in Most Aged Father's memories? Undead by the hundreds-or thousands-slaughtering every living thing in their path. And where do you think they came from?"

Magiere pointed her blade at Li'kan.

"Look at this thing! One of those who brought everything to an end… and you want to read to it!"

An uneasy truce had emerged, and Magiere watched Li'kan crouch beside the passage's exit. Beyond, down the row of bookcases, Wynn sat with Osha. Sgaile stood over the pair as the sage ate sparingly from their rations. Sitting beside her, Chap snapped up a piece of dried fish.

Li'kan stayed put but never took her eyes off the sage. Wynn watched her in turn between eager glances at the shelves.

A vibrancy had grown inside Magiere, shuddering through her bones.

At the courtyard gates, when Leesil had told her to get control, she had pressed her dhampir nature down-and that shiver had emerged in her awareness. Or had it been there all along as they approached the castle, only masked by hunger, fury, and the longing that drove her to this place?

She tried to suppress the tremors, as she had within elven tree homes, with their forest's life threading into her. But here, only the castle's cold stone and the ice-capped mountains surrounded them. So what was it that… fed her?

Magiere studied Li'kan, one of Welstiel's "old ones." What fed this monster, alone for so long in this dead place?

"That circlet around her neck," Leesil whispered, "it looks like yours. What does it mean?"

"I don't know," she answered.

Magiere wanted to rend this white monster and leave nothing but ashes in its place. Sgaile approached, slowing with care as he passed wide around Li'kan.

"There is more writing on these walls," he said. "Wynn believes it was all written by this creature, who does not remember that the words are hers… and more of her kind once existed here, at least two others."

"What is she feeding on?" Magiere asked.

"Nothing could live up… " Sgaile began, then lifted his eyes angrily. "Is feeding?"

Leesil tucked in close to Magiere. "I doubt she fed on those anmaglahk we found-by the way she mangled them. But we've never encountered a physical undead that didn't need to feed, somehow, on the living."

Magiere caught Leesil's worried glance. Had he noticed her shaking again or some other sign? She wasn't about to let Sgaile know what she'd suffered in his land, so she had no way to tell Leesil what she felt now. Yes, something in this place was sustaining Li'kan.

"Perhaps the same thing Welstiel hoped to find," Magiere said.

"Are we near it?" Leesil asked.

"Maybe," she replied. "I'll take the lead with Chap. Leesil, you and Sgaile keep that creature ahead of-"

"Not yet," Sgaile cut in. "I have questions."

"You?" Leesil hissed. "You have questions!"

Sgaile's eyes stayed fixed upon Magiere. "That creature is not the only one who stalled amid bloodlust. You halted in midswing… why?"

Magiere didn't know. She had felt suddenly weak, as if her strength had drained away for an instant.

She shook her head. "I just felt heavy, tired, and then it passed."

"That was not the only response you shared with the white woman," Sgaile said.

Magiere instinctively warmed with anger. Before Leesil could snap again, Sgaile went on.

"She echoed your fury. What connection lies between you?"

"What else would you expect?" Magiere spit back. "It's undead. I was born to kill it. And it's not going to just stand there waiting for me to take its head. There's nothing between her and-"

"No," Sgaile snapped, his voice barely above a whisper. "When she stopped and slipped into delirium… even then her expression echoed yours."

Leesil lurched forward, but Sgaile raised one finger at him.

"I know what I saw," he warned; then he walked away with a last hard glance at Magiere as he called out, "Osha, prepare to move on."

Magiere didn't know what to think about Sgaile's veiled accusation. Any denial of her strange reaction to Li'kan, or the other way around, would be a lie.

"Come on," Leesil whispered. "Let's finish this and get out of here."

Li'kan curled her lips back as Magiere walked past.

"Move!" Magiere hissed back.

She headed off along the bookcases, trying to clear her head. Her hunger had waned, and it was barely enough to keep her night sight widened. But the longing was still strong, and it pulled her onward.

Magiere did not get far. They all stopped short at the chamber's far end, facing nothing but a wall of ancient stone blocks. Or that was how it seemed.

A long and rusted iron beam stretched across the wall's length, resting in stone cradles, like a door's bar. And while the stone blocks overlapped in construction, Magiere spotted one seam at the wall's center that ran straight from top to bottom.

Leesil traced the seam with his fingers, from the floor up to the beam as thick as a man's thigh. Twin doors built of mortared stone blocked their way, and Magiere couldn't imagine what hinged mechanism might possibly support them.

The pull inside Magiere told her to pass through these stone doors, to hurry beyond them. But why were they barred from the outside? And how could she and her companions lift the enormous beam, let alone open this massive portal?

Leesil slid sharply away along the wall, his hands dropping to his sheathed blades, and Magiere half-turned, reaching for her falchion.

Li'kan stepped silently up to the doors.

The undead pressed her smooth cheek to the beam's metal, as if listening for something beyond. Then her eyes rolled up. Her small mouth began working again, mumbling mutely.

Chap watched Li'kan slip into another semiconscious state. He reached out again to catch memories surfacing in the undead's mind.

He saw only darkness-but he heard the low, distant hiss again, like a whisper-or was it more like a fire's crackle? The sound sped up, buzzing furiously like leaves or insect wings. Chap lost his concentration as Magiere whispered.

"It's here… behind the wall… these doors. I can feel it."

Something shifted in the dark within Li'kan.

Chap almost missed it. Not a memory, but an awareness. Did Li'kan feel him inside her mind? He panicked and began to pull out-too late.

Something cold struck at him from the dark of Li'kan's mind. It thrashed about inside his thoughts, trying to find him and coil about him… and it took hold.

Chap's yelp echoed in his own ears.

"Stop it!" Leesil growled. "Stay out of that thing's head."

"Wynn, what's wrong?" Magiere shouted.

Chap thrashed wildly, struggling to get free.

The chamber and door walls cleared before his eyes. The only thing holding him was Leesil's hands about his shoulders. Chap settled, still shivering within.

Magiere crouched behind Wynn. The sage sat crumpled upon the floor, one hand over her mouth. She shook uncontrollably as she stared wide-eyed at Chap.

"What… was that?" Wynn whispered. "That buzz from Li'kan's thoughts?"

She had heard it as well-but that should not be possible.

Chap could not think of a reason. She only heard him because a taint of wild magic let her hear when he communed with his kin, the Fay. He had learned to use this to speak to and through her. But somehow, as he was rooting about in the undead's mind, she had heard the same sound as he had. It made no sense.

"What happened?" Magiere demanded.

Chap blinked twice, jowls twitching.

It… something… sensed me, he said to Wynn, and she echoed his words with effort. Something inside Li'kan knew I was there… and wanted me out.

"You all right?" Leesil asked.

No, he was not. Chap remembered an unfamiliar voice in the dark that had whispered to Welstiel and to Ubad. He had little doubt it was the same voice in Magiere's dreams. Now Li'kan was mumbling voicelessly to herself-or to something only she could hear.

And Wynn had heard it as well.

Somewhere in this old fortification-among the centuries of records or buried in Li'kan's fragmented mind-might lie an answer. But all Chap could think of now was a "presence" that toyed with undead, manipulated Magiere's dreams, and perhaps held sway over ancient Li'kan.

The "night voice," that ancient enemy of many names, Ubad's sacred il'Samar…

It wanted Magiere to have the artifact her half-brother desired.

Chap did not want Magiere to go any further-but he did not realize that the feeling was more than just anxiety for Magiere. Not until she rose, jerked out her falchion, and glared back the way they had come.

Magiere's black irises expanded. She bolted back toward the passage entrance as Chap cut loose with a rolling howl.

"Undeads!" Leesil shouted, pulling both silvery winged blades.

A white flash passed Chap before he overtook Leesil and Sgaile.

Li'kan left everyone behind as she raced after Magiere.

Chap heard Osha and Wynn scrambling to follow as he ran after the white woman. If other undead had come here, and Magiere found them first, on which side would Li'kan stand?

Chane followed Welstiel along the castle's pillared wide corridor and the feral monks clambered in behind him, anxiously sniffing about. He followed suit and caught a thin scent, barely noticeable. It reminded him of old, rancid seed oil, but where had he smelled this before?

Welstiel's eyes glittered with anticipation. He kept onward in silence, until they all passed through a tall archway shaped like the outer gates and front doors. Straight ahead, a wide stone stairway led to upper floors, and to the left and right, narrower passages stretched into the dark.

One feral screamed.

Chane whirled, backing away as he pulled his longsword. A shadow shot out between the hunkering monk's shoulder blades and arced into the chamber's upper air.

"Spread out!" Welstiel shouted, pulling his own blade.

Chane turned circles as the monks scattered, snarling and crying out, but he kept his eyes on the shadow above-like a pair of wings gliding on a wind, though no breeze flowed through the dark chamber.

"From the walls!" Welstiel shouted.

Chane spun away toward the foot of the wide stairs. Another shadow stalked in, low to the floor, coming from the archway, a silhouette of black paws stretching up to four narrow legs. As it drew closer, a head and long snout took shape.

A wolf. In two quick steps, it leaped at Chane.

He flinched, unable to dodge away, and it passed straight through his chest.

Chane stumbled as deep cold flooded his torso.

"They cannot damage you!" Welstiel called out. "They are only ghosts!"

"No," Chane rasped, clutching his chest. "They are something else."

Ferals thrashed about, clawing and screeching, as the shadows assaulted them. Welstiel swung his sword, and steel rippled through a shadow bird's flapping wing. But the translucent creature flew higher, unfaltering. Welstiel flung his pack aside.

Chane did the same but peered upward uncertainly. Steel had no effect upon these things.

The two younger monks lost all control, their twisted faces frantic as they slashed at empty air. Jakeb looked even less coherent, though he was silent. Only Sabel and Sethe remained calm and pulled weapons-her knife and his iron cudgel.

Cold pain spiked between Chane's shoulder blades.

He choked as a shadow darted out of his chest. It flew upward, but this time he clearly saw the shape of its head and tail-a raven.

An eerie howl filled the chamber.

Chane quickly scanned about for either shadow wolf, but the howl had come from somewhere more distant. Its dying echo rolled from the narrow passage to the chamber's left side. Yellow-orange light glimmered in the dark therein, and another shadow wolf bolted out of the narrow opening.

No, this one was silver-coated, and Chane recognized Chap.

The dog barreled into the room like a beast gone mad. And directly behind him came the blur of a white figure. Glistening black hair whipped about her naked body. Her wild, slanted eyes glinted.

Chap charged straight at Welstiel, and his howl twisted into raging snarls. A startled Welstiel barely ducked out of the dog's way.

"Assist me!" Welstiel ordered.

Chap wheeled about, charging again, and Jakeb threw himself in the dog's path. Chap snapped and slashed at the monk with fangs and claws, trying to get past. Chane looked back to the naked undead.

Her smooth, perfect face filled with confusion, until one young monk rushed her with hooked fingers. Before the monk landed a grip, she snatched him by the throat, flinging him away one-handed.

The young feral spun head over heels, until his body slammed into the chamber's side wall. He slid down to the floor in a twitching, broken heap, and then ceased moving at all.

Chane turned his eyes back on the woman-this illusory frail thing.

This was one of Welstiel's "old ones."

She could destroy them all effortlessly. Before Chane could look for a way out, another figure emerged from the narrow passage.

Magiere's eyes were black amid the yellow light behind her. She skidded to a stop with her falchion drawn.

Chane's throat tightened at the sight of that blade, but her attention was not fixed on him. Her eyes widened, unblinking, as they locked on Welstiel.

Leesil emerged behind Magiere, wearing a glowing amulet upon his chest. A tall blond elf in a dark tunic came next.

Escape was no longer an option.

Chane readied himself for an onslaught, not knowing who would come at him first.

Chap was still harrying Jakeb, trying to get past to Welstiel, and only three other monks remained on their feet.

"Chane!"

He twisted toward the familiar feminine voice.

Chane froze, staring at Wynn.

A second elf, taller than the first, stood at the passage's arch with his arm wrapped protectively around her. She leaned into the young elf, her cheek pressed against him, and the cold lamp crystal in her hand illuminated her round, olive-toned face. Her small mouth opened halfway at the sight of him, and she clutched the elf's cloak.

Chane went hollow inside.

And that emptiness filled with rage. It built on a desire to tear the elf's arm from its shoulder socket and rip his throat out-anything to take that offensive hold off of Wynn. He almost dropped his sword to free both his hands.

Sabel hissed as she rushed around Chane, straight toward Wynn. He could not grab her in time. Leesil charged out, shining blades in his fists, their outer edges running like wings down his forearms.

Chane snarled, ready to kill the half-blood or jerk Sabel back, whichever of them he caught first.

Sabel swerved, and swung for Leesil's face with her knife.

Wynn pressed against Osha, her emotions in a tangle.

Welstiel was here. How was this possible? And he was surrounded by robed figures casting about and screaming at shadow ravens and wolves. She had seen their tabards before and recognized them-the Sluzhobnek Sutzits, the Servants of Compassion. But they were horrible, twisted and savage. Her heart sickened at their pale skin, colorless eyes, and the misshapen teeth in their snarling mouths.

Only Li'kan stood staring about, as if lost.

And Chane…

Wynn cried out his name before thinking. Truth struck her like poison or sudden illness.

Chane had come with Welstiel… to get the orb.

Chap ripped into one robed undead, tearing the back of its calf, and then charged straight at Welstiel with his muzzle dripping black fluids. The silver-haired monk was too fast and twisted about, back-fisting Chap and driving him off. Chap's voice shouted in Wynn's mind.

Get Magiere away! She must reach the orb first… before Welstiel!

Wynn ducked from under Osha's arm, shouting as she reached for Li'kan.

"Magiere, go! You must find it now!"

Aside from Magiere, Li'kan was the only one who might know how to get through the stone doors. Wynn's fingers closed on Li'kan's chill skin, and the undead half-turned.

Li'kan's expression flattened at Wynn's touch.

And Wynn was suddenly aware just how foolish her action was.

Magiere faltered when she saw Welstiel.

He looked shabby and weatherworn, but the white patches at his temples still glowed. How could he have found this place, when she'd only learned of it in her dreams two moons ago? She could only see one answer.

Welstiel had trailed her, perhaps from the very day she and Leesil had left Bela, some half a year ago.

Magiere hadn't seen him since the sewers of Bela, but she'd learned much of him since then. Images of her mother surged up-Magelia lying on a bed, bleeding to death in a keep as Welstiel took away an infant Magiere.

They shared a father he had known and she had not, but which of them was better for it? A small piece of Magiere might have pitied her half brother. But the greater part longed to rip his head from his shoulders and watch his body burn.

Hunger came back, and Magiere's jaws began to ache. Tears flooded from her eyes as the room brightened in her sight. She clenched her grip tight on the falchion's hilt.

Sgaile flew past, shining garrote wire in his hands as he went straight at Welstiel.

Leesil raced toward a mad, robed female brandishing a crude knife.

"Magiere, go!" Wynn shouted. "You must find it now!"

Magiere barely heard this over the rage telling her to rend any pale-skinned thing in her way-and get to Welstiel. Turning her head with effort, she saw Wynn's small hand wrapped around Li'kan's forearm.

Fear welled within Magiere's bloodlust.

But Li'kan just stood there and made no move to strike the sage. The white undead twisted her head, her gaze falling upon Magiere.

Li'kan rushed Magiere before she could react. The undead's small hand closed on Magiere's wrist. She bolted for the corridor, jerking Magiere into motion.

Magiere's hunger and rage vanished.

"Go with her!" Wynn cried.

Magiere didn't look back. Only she could retrieve the orb-and only Li'kan could help. No one told Magiere this. No one had to. The pull to follow the white undead overrode everything else.

Li'kan emerged into the great library, and Magiere shook free of the undead's grip. Li'kan bolted on without waiting, and by the time Magiere caught up, the undead stood before the stone doors. Li'kan tucked one narrow white shoulder under the iron beam, midway along one door and just beyond its stone bracket. She wrapped her slender fingers around the rusted iron's bottom edge, waiting expectantly.

Magiere sheathed her falchion and set herself likewise at the other door's midpoint.

Li'kan's frail body tensed, and Magiere called hunger to flood her flesh as she shoved upward.

The beam's weight nearly crushed her back down, but Li'kan slowly straightened upward.

The frail undead's half of the beam rose steadily, until it cleared the stone bracket. But every joint in Magiere's body ached as she strained to follow. She pushed harder with her legs as Li'kan held her half up against the stone door.

Magiere was soaked in sweat by the time her end of the beam grated out of its stone bracket. She dropped it, stumbling away, and Li'kan released her end. The beam crashed and tumbled across the stone floor, and a metallic thunderclap echoed through the library.

Li'kan took hold of her bracket and began pulling. Magiere tried to do the same, but her side barely moved. When the space between was wide enough, the undead stopped and slipped in.

A strange sensation washed through Magiere as she stepped through the gap.

Not a strong one, but like the lightness that followed a heavy burden cast off, as if she might never feel fatigue or hunger again. Pain and exhaustion from nearly a moon in the mountains slipped away.

When Magiere regained her senses, Li'kan stood slumped in a downward-sloping dark tunnel of rough-hewn stone. The undead's features appeared to sag.

Rather than the release Magiere felt, some sorrow or loss seemed to envelop Li'kan. The white undead hesitated, back-stepping once, and shook her head slowly. Then her body lurched as if jerked forward, and she stepped downward along the tunnel.

Magiere followed Li'kan's dim form, but glanced back once, wondering if the doors behind should be shut. But the white woman kept going.

Far down the tunnel, along its gradual turn, Magiere saw pale orange light filtering from somewhere ahead. And by that dim light, she spotted strange hollows evenly lining both sides of the way.

As she moved on, her night sight sharpened.

A figure crouched inside each of those hollows. She stopped and peered into one.

Age-darkened bones almost melded with ancient stone, but the skeleton had not collapsed when its flesh rotted away ages ago. It was curled on its knees, almost fetally, with its forearms flattened beneath it. The skull top, too wide and large to be a man's or a woman's, rested downward between the remains of its hands. With its forehead pressed to the hollow's stone floor, its eyes had been lowered for centuries.

Like a worshipper waiting in obeisance for its master's return.

Magiere glanced back up the tunnel, turning about to look into hollows along the tunnel's other side. She saw only one occupant that had once been human. Others she couldn't guess.

Some of the crouched, curled forms were small, but one was huge, with an arching spine and thick finger bones that ended in cracked claws. A ridge of spiny bone rose over the top of its downcast skull.

The hollows stretched on, endlessly, toward the dim light down the tunnel.

Li'kan turned to move on. She never glanced once at the hollows, as if the occupants' endless vigil were only proper in her presence.

Through wide arcing turns spiraling down into the earth, Magiere followed. At every step, skeletons hunkered in their small dark hovels, their eyes averted from Li'kan's passing.

Leesil thrust and slashed at the dark-haired vampire, blocking her every attempt to get past him. She slashed back with her knife, hissing and twisting beyond the arc of his winged blades. Her jaws widened with small jagged teeth and protruding fangs. Beyond her, Chap harried a silver-haired undead and a younger male.

And then Chane rushed in and tried to duck around the woman.

Leesil shifted with a sharp slash of his right blade. Chane jerked up short, twisting away from the blade's passing tip, but the mad little female came at Leesil again. And a stocky man with an iron bar closed around her other side. Leesil panicked, facing three at once.

Chane lashed out with his longsword.

Leesil braced and deflected as the small woman hacked at him. He ducked away under the doubled assault.

Then the curly-haired one raced by him and disappeared from view.

Leesil was too overwhelmed to look back for Wynn, and then Sgaile flew past him, running straight at Welstiel.

Welstiel nearly cried out as the frail white undead turned and hauled Magiere down the narrow passage. Disbelief overtook his shock.

Was the ancient one assisting Magiere? But why-and where were the others?

Any guardians here should have turned on this dhampir intruder. His abandoned patron had whispered that Magiere would be necessary to overcome them-not be assisted by them.

Welstiel tried to rush through the skirmish for the passage.

A gray-green-clad elf stepped into his way.

He saw the booted foot an instant before it struck his temple. The chamber swam in swirling black. When he shook off the impact, the elf was gone.

A glinting line passed before Welstiel's eyes.

He dropped and felt the wire drag sharply over his hair.

Welstiel whirled and swung his longsword behind, faster than anything living could avoid. He had to get after Magiere.

The blade's tip shrieked across the floor, but the elf was not there.

Chap swerved between two undead, snapping at their legs until his jowls spattered black fluid every time he shook his head. He had to weaken one of them enough to pull it down-and soon-or he might not reach his companions before they were overrun. Yet nothing he did seemed to slow these undead. They cried out but never broke down.

The silver-haired male raked out with his fingernails but missed and stumbled. Chap took the opening and lunged up for his throat.

He might not take this thing's head off, but he could tear through to its spine and cripple it. As he bit down, cold fingers clutched his shoulders from behind.

Teeth sank through his fur at the back of his neck.

Chap yelped and lost his jaw-hold. He bucked and thrashed, trying to pitch off his attacker. The silver-haired male before him raked its fingernails along his muzzle.

He kicked back with rear paws, and felt his claws tear up the young one's thigh. It let out a muffled yelp but did not pull its teeth from his neck. Then Chap caught a glimpse of Wynn near the passage. She started to run for him with Magiere's old dagger in her hand.

No-stay back!

She faltered, and a rasping voice shouted, "Wynn!"

Chap twisted sharply under the teeth in his neck. And there was Chane.

Sgaile hopped clear of the white-templed undead's sweeping sword.

This one commanded the others, and it was best to take down a leader first.

But Sgaile was stunned by how quickly this undead had shaken off his kick and eluded his garrote. He stomped down on the sword to pin it.

The instant his foot pressed steel, the blade levered up sharply.

It lifted him as if he weighed nothing, and Sgaile let the force carry him up. He rose in the air, folding his legs as the sword slashed away, and then lashed out one foot the instant his other touched down.

His heel caught the undead in the face, but his leg ached under the jarring impact.

The man only spun and stumbled, twisting away, and Sgaile caught sight of Leshil.

Leshil held fast against two, as did Chap, but neither would last long. At least one undead had to go down quickly, or the odds would take their toll.

Sgaile's attention was pulled in too many directions, and his gaze flicked back to his opponent.

He never saw the undead's sword coming.

Its tip ripped through his cowl and across his collarbone.

Welstiel watched the elf topple backward. Before the man's back hit the floor, Welstiel snatched up his pack, searching for a clear path to the passage.

Wynn stood near its entrance gripping a dagger. Sethe made a snarling, headlong rush around Leesil, closing on the sage. The other elf beside Wynn stepped between them.

"Protect my way!" Welstiel shouted to his ferals and charged for the passage.

The lanky young elf grabbed Sethe's wrist as the iron cudgel came down. They both struggled closer to the foray, but Chane's little sage still stood in Welstiel's way. Her eyes widened, and she raised the dagger as he came at her. Welstiel swung his pack.

The metal objects within clanged as the pack slammed Wynn aside. Welstiel bolted down the passage.

Chap saw Welstiel flee and Wynn flop away under the swinging pack. He felt his blood draining in the younger undead's teeth, and its weight bore him down.

It wanted his life, and he had nothing left to try as his companions were failing. All he could think was to give this leeching thing what it wanted- and more.

Chap's paws struck stone. His legs buckled as the gray-haired one descended on him and sank its teeth into the side of his throat. He rooted himself in stone…

For Earth, and the chamber's Air, and Fire from the heat of his own flesh. These he mingled with his own Spirit. He bonded with the elements of existence-and began to burn, as he had in turning on his own kin, when they had tried to kill Wynn.

She would not see him with her mantic sight this time, as trails of white phosphorescent vapor in the shape of flames flickered across his form.

Both undead upon him began to quiver.

Chane heard Welstiel's shout and went numb as Wynn tumbled away under the swinging pack. Then Welstiel was gone.

Hate welled in Chane-all that mattered to Welstiel was his prize.

He saw the lanky elf grappling with Sethe. Wynn tried to rise-too close to the struggling pair. Sabel threw herself at Leesil, and then screamed, her voice reverberating off the stone walls. And Chane knew she had been wounded.

But for him, there was only Wynn, and his hatred for Welstiel.

As Leesil and Sabel tangled, Chane took two quick steps and snatched the back of Sethe's robe. In a half-spin, he pulled the monk from his startled elven opponent and away from Wynn. He whipped Sethe around into Leesil's back. Half-blood and feral toppled over the screeching Sabel.

Wynn looked up at Chane, and he froze-then she scooted frantically away from him. Her round brown eyes filled with fear-not startled surprise or welcome relief-as she pointed her blade at him.

Chane shuddered, as if she had already cut him.

But the path from the chamber was clear, and this might be his only chance. He turned and ran-fled-down the passage. Hatred kept the pain from pulling him down.

He had lost his meager existence in Bela so long ago and bargained with Welstiel for a better one. He would have done-had done-anything to be a part of Wynn's world. But piece by piece, Welstiel's scheming had eaten away his hope…

All the way to that fear in Wynn's eyes.

Chane burst from the passage into an immense library, as if he had run blindly into Wynn's world only to find it dark and hollow, without even one of her cold lamp crystals to illuminate a single parchment. Footsteps echoed from far off to the right, and he clung to the sound, following it. He tried not to look upon the mocking wealth of knowledge surrounding him and came to the chamber's far end.

An enormous rusted iron beam lay before two massive stone doors. The sound of the footsteps came out between them.

A strange sensation washed through Chane as he stared into the dark opening, as if he felt something beyond it reaching for him. It smothered his hunger, until all he had left was sorrow and hate.

But Chane would not be alone in his loss.

He stepped through the stone doors, hunting for Welstiel.