Through Stone and Sea

Chapter 23

Sau'ilahk groped through stone. Despite Beloved's demand that he not further expose himself, the entire settlement might be alerted to his presence.

And they had learned his name. There was only one way that could have happened.

Wynn Hygeorht had seen the texts.

He was failing, yet the sage had touched the very things he desired. And he had sensed a difference in Chane, leaving no doubt—that one was a vampire. But too many opponents had appeared, and he was so weak that he had not even manifested one hand. He had failed to snatch the staff and shatter its crystal once and for all.

At each more desperate tactic, he had been hindered or halted. The Stonewalkers' chant somehow barred him from dormancy, even to blink elsewhere. One had shielded the tall captain with her connection to stone, and again the white-clad elf had interfered with his conjury.

Sau'ilahk tried to call his remaining servitor, but it never came.

He arced through rock, groping toward one long passage glimpsed beyond the duchess and the elf. The passage's far side suddenly appeared, and he instantly withdrew. Only his cowl's opening protruded as he listened to shouts and whispers among his enemies.

"Malhachkach thoh!" snarled the elf.

"Where?" a dwarf shouted. "Where did it go?"

"Through the wall behind me," another returned. "Master, I am sorry … I should not have—"

"Quiet!" another barked like cracking stone. "None of us knew what it would do."

"Stay away from the walls," Wynn called out. "Everyone get between the two crystals, so we aren't blocking their light."

"Do as she says—now!" the elder Stonewalker shouted. "All of you, face outward and watch!"

Sau'ilahk fumed as he listened to them repositioning to spot him the instant he tried to attack. Behind all of the voices he could hear the wolf rumbling and mewling in agitation.

"Reine, stop!" the elf shouted.

"Let go of me!" she commanded. "I have to get to—"

"Silence!" he commanded.

Sau'ilahk grew attentive, but all he heard was the wolf snarling. What had the duchess been about to say?

"It's gone!" she cried out. "It could be anywhere … even in his—"

"No, it is still here," someone rasped.

Sau'ilahk knew Chane's maimed voice but puzzled over how the vampire could sense him. Throughout his time trailing Wynn, only the wolf reacted when he drew too close. And the duchess had said "his" … his what? Of whom was she speaking?

"Listen to Shade," Wynn called. "She knows."

"Highness, please," the captain demand. "You must remain—"

"Stand off, Tristan!" she ordered. "If the mage can't be contained, I will not leave him alone."

Sau'ilahk fixed upon those words. The duchess feared for someone's safety—someone elsewhere in the underworld. But his own fears were growing.

In the next day's dormancy, he would be alone with his Beloved. His impudent disobedience would bring suffering amid failure to serve his own need. Could he find a way to appease his god and lessen his punishment? Beloved's cryptic warning filled his thoughts.

When chance comes … sever the kin from the sea!

Whom did the duchess fear for above all others?

Sau'ilahk suddenly understood the possibility stretched between duchess's slip and Beloved's demand.

Another Âreskynna was in the underworld, one of true blood.

"Follow me," the duchess shouted. "Obey me!"

Quickened footsteps followed.

"Duchess, please don't," Wynn called.

"Get out of my way!" the duchess snarled.

"Remain where you are! All of you!" the elder Stonewalker countered.

They were breaking in chaos and fear, and Sau'ilahk slid into the passage.

Light diminished and shifted beyond the passage's opening, as if the two crystals were being moved. Illumination faded toward the cavern's far side, where he had first entered. Was Wynn, or even the duchess, on the move? Then he spotted Chane and Shade as they rounded a far column.

The wolf wheeled, staring straight at him, and its bellow pierced the air.

Sau'ilahk flew into the cavern as the crystals' light vanished. The only adversaries remaining were all six Stonewalkers, and they circled around him.

"Seal it in!" shouted the elder.

Sau'ilahk could not allow them to interfere with his task, his salvation from Beloved's wrath. And he still had hope of stealing Wynn or the duchess to learn of the texts.

The Stonewalkers raised their hands, their palms out… .

Sau'ilahk blinked through dormancy to the cavern's far side and fled.

Wynn raced through the passages after Reine and the captain, with Chuillyon obscuring a clear view of them. She knew where they were headed and glanced back once. Chane was close behind, and she heard Shade's scrambling claws farther back.

But it all felt wrong.

Intuition and reason told her that Chane's awareness and Chuillyon's warning were both right. The wraith was still near. After all it had done to follow her, it would not give up so easily. If Stonewalkers couldn't stop or hold it, even slow it, there would be only one defense left for a dead prince.

Wynn wasn't certain that even the staff's crystal would work. In these tight spaces, all the wraith had to do was slip into a wall, wait for her to weaken and for the sun crystal to go out. It could come again—and again.

Doubt told her that she should've stayed with the Stonewalkers to face it.

As Reine reached the turnoff toward the prince's chamber, a shout echoed from behind them. Chuillyon halted and turned, blocking the way, and Wynn heard the duchess's footfalls fading ahead.

"What?" Tristan called from beyond the elf.

"Take everyone onward!" Chuillyon ordered.

"No!" Wynn countered. "You can't stand alone against it … if it doesn't just slip past you!"

Chuillyon grabbed her tunic collar, ignoring Chane's warning hiss, and jerked her past himself.

"Go, and keep your staff ready. The chamber is the safest place now. I will delay or hinder it if possible … move!"

Wynn stared at him in disbelief. How could the prince's chambers be safer than anywhere else?

But Chuillyon's intense gaze was set in conviction. Wynn backed down the passage as Chane and Shade came through. The captain remained for an instant.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Take them onward, Tristan," the elf insisted, and he stepped out into the main passage, heading back the way they'd come.

The captain backed down the passage.

Shade turned, taking two slow steps toward the exit into the main passage.

Wynn grabbed the dog's neck fur and locked eyes with Chane. They had to remain together in whatever they chose to do. Did they stay to fight, or fall back, knowing the wraith would likely get past and follow? What did Chane want to do?

"We go," he said.

Wynn thought she heard Chuillyon's whisper echoing to her as she pulled Shade and ran on ahead of Chane.

Sau'ilahk rushed into the underworld's main cavern and paused. He looked all ways for a lingering hint of light from a sage's crystal. He saw nothing but the orange glow of dwarven crystals on phosphorescent walls.

Sensing life in the mountain's dense depths was more difficult than in the open, and he was so weary. Hunger obscured his awareness—and Stonewalkers would come at any instant.

An unintelligible whisper reached him, and he turned.

It came from the mouth of the underworld's main passage. Had his prey run for the lift? If they reached further help above, it could slow him more. He surged into the main passage.

A white form stood only a stone's toss down the way.

The elf had his hands clasped, his eyes closed. His thin lips barely moved in a narrow face so calm and serene. Sau'ilahk heard a whispering like prayer—or was it more like a nearly voiceless song?

"Chârmun, agh'alhtahk so. A'lhän am leagad chionns'gnajh."

One life, even so old and spent, would still serve Sau'ilahk's need. He flew at his prey.

The elf's large eyes opened without surprise.

Sau'ilahk slammed against invisible resistance and shuddered as if struck.

It was not the same as the Stonewalkers holding him in this world, barring him from dormancy. He felt as if he had become wholly solid in an instant. He clawed toward the elf beyond his reach, and resistance grew—like being submerged in mud.

"No farther, Sovereign of Spirits, by Chârmun's presence," the old elf breathed. "You end here … Sau'ilahk! We have your true name … for an epitaph no one will ever read. This time, you will be forgotten!"

Sau'ilahk faltered—did this withered old one know him from somewhere?

The elf's clasped hands, with fingers laced, clenched tighter.

Sau'ilahk's thoughts went numb as he looked into his adversary's eyes. Those amber irises appeared to shift hue, brightening to the tawny glistening of bare wood. Every bit of distance Sau'ilahk gained, he lost more quickly, leaving him more drained. And his true quarry was getting farther beyond reach.

Did they have an escape route wherever the other Âreskynna was hidden? Any moment, the Stonewalkers would find him again. They would bind him from dormancy as the elf held him at bay. And then …

This delay had to end!

Two side passages lay beyond the elf, one toward the ocean and the other landward. Which way had Wynn and the duchess taken?

Sau'ilahk shifted left to the passage's landward side. When the elf stepped to block him, he rushed the passage's seaward side.

Everything went dark.

He tried to veer left again inside the mountain's stone, but that hidden pressure still stalled his advance. He surged deeper to the west, deeper into the unknown, his awareness of sight and sound still blinded. As he tried again and again, the resistance began to weaken.

He found the limits of the old elf's reach.

Sau'ilahk broke through, pushing onward in silent darkness, but he wallowed in the mountain's bowels, trying to find his way out.

Wynn had lost sight of the duchess as she ran for the prince's chamber, but she could still see the captain ahead. What had become of Cinder-Shard, Ore-Locks, or the other Stonewalkers—or Chuillyon?

The captain swerved through an open door near the passage's dead end.

Wynn heard a high-pitched screech rise inside the chamber as she raced for the door.

Chane grabbed her arm from behind. Without a word he pushed past, sword in hand, and lifted its broken tip as he entered. In spite of everything, what Wynn saw through the opening still shocked her.

Tristan threw his sword aside and leaped off the pool's rear ledge. The blade clanged against the wall as he splashed down and thrashed toward the commotion at the pool's gate.

Prince Freädherich had one hand latched upon a gate bar as he fought to get Danyel off his back. A line of blood ran down the young bodyguard's left cheek, as he struggled to pin the prince's free arm. Reine was soaked as she pulled at her husband's grip on the gate. Tristan closed from behind, wrapped his arms around the prince, and wrenched the young man around.

Wynn couldn't believe Freädherich's state. He barely resembled the lost man she'd first seen in this chamber.

Shirt torn by his struggles, he craned his head back. His features contorted in horrid misery as he tried to cry out. But his voice broke, and he choked as if drowning, even as he gasped for air. When his frantic eyes opened, they were nearly fully black. His face, his skin, was paler than before—and tinged beneath with the taint of teal.

That taint was almost the color of the sea people.

The duchess collapsed against the gate. Wet hair matted to her forehead, neck, and cheeks. She was too wet for her tears to show as she sobbed.

Wynn began to suspect what had driven Reine to let the world believe her husband was dead—and why she silently suffered lingering suspicion as his murderer.

Reine couldn't think as Frey twisted within Tristan's hold. In the worst times in memory, the hints of Frey's change had come and gone with the tide. And now …

Danyel waded to the pool's edge, catching his breath as he wiped blood with the back of his hand. Reine realized he'd dropped her comb with the white metal teardrop in the water and it was floating. Danyel scooped it up.

"They came," he said, panting. "They tried to open the gate. I shut them out, but …"

Frey thrashed halfway around toward the bars, but Tristan's hold wouldn't break.

"Must go—go now!" Frey choked out. "They wait … for me … and it is coming!"

The pool's chill broke through Reine's anguish.

How did he know what was happening? How had he learned of the black mage? She swiveled, backing toward him as she looked down the tunnel beyond the gate, and then quickly closed on her husband.

"No, we can protect you—"

A splash and clank pulled her around again.

Two male Dunidæ stood beyond the bars. One had his white spear tip tilted toward the lock's outer side. He pushed with the spear, and the gate swung inward through the water.

At the sight of them, Frey began choking as if he were drowning in the chamber's dank air.

They had come, and Reine reached back, flattening a hand against his chest.

"Highness?" Tristan asked, panting.

She stared at the visitors. Her other hand slipped unconsciously to the saber's hilt.

"It must … not … find me," Frey whispered.

Reine looked up into her husband's face. His black eyes almost broke her again, but she saw his full recognition of her. He struggled to speak, as if his throat hurt with every word.

"It speaks … to the enemy," he gasped out.

She knew this fear that he mentioned. The families, hers and his, had feared for generations what might come again.

"You … are my world," Frey said so softly with effort. "And I … cannot lose … that world. I must hold … our oldest alliance."

His glistening eyes were so fully black—or perhaps such a deep aquamarine that they seemed so in the dim chamber. He lifted his face toward the Dunidæ in the tunnel and then returned to her.

"I must survive if … my world … is to survive."

Reine shrank, muffling a sob, as three creases split on each side of his throat. They flexed like the gills of the Dunidæ. He choked hard, and they quickly closed.

Sorrow drove Reine into panic with the fright of losing him, and this fed her anger. The cascade of emotions overwhelmed her like an ocean swell, until she couldn't see any shore to swim for.

He grew still, no longer trying to break free.

"Frey?" she whispered.

He didn't need any shore to swim to. She couldn't watch what she had to do and closed her eyes.

Reine pulled Tristan's hands until he let go of Frey.

She felt her husband's fingers on her cheek, sliding upward, until her soaked hair dragged against the shallow webbing between them. His mouth pressed on hers, his lips too chilled, and then his touch was gone.

She heard only a soft splash in his wake.

"Highness!" Tristan shouted.

Reine blindly held out a hand to stop him. She couldn't even look when she heard the gate clang shut. She stood there, growing more numb by the moment.

Frey was gone, free, safe—and she had nothing left.

Wynn watched a once-dead prince vanish into the dark tunnel. Of all things, she thought of Leesil.

Born of an elven mother and a human father, he was one of the few mixed-race beings she'd ever met. Yet here was a man of royal blood bound by the tides of the deep ocean. There was only an old name and long-lingering rumors among her people.

Âreskynna—the Kin of the Ocean Waves.

Tales of their obsession with the sea went back many generations, though the accounts varied so much they were little more than gossip and folk legend. What had happened—when had it happened—that the Âreskynna carried within them the blood of the Deep Ones? The mere thought of such an ancient mating seemed impossible.

Wynn thought of Reine, whose marriage to a prince of a neighboring country affirmed a long-standing alliance. Wasn't blood also a like bond? Was the one within the Prince even older than that of Faunier and Malourné? Did it go back to the very war against an enemy she hadn't yet come to understand?

She had blundered in here, leading the wraith to the haven of this secret. She had endangered allies mistaken as adversaries in the pursuit of her answers. Even as Shade began rumbling and then snarling, finally lifting her voice in a keening yowl, Wynn couldn't stop looking into the darkness beyond the iron bars.

There was nothing left to see.

"It is coming," Chane warned, as Shade's noise grew deafening in the chamber.

Even the captain thrashed to the pool's edge and grabbed his sword as the other guard climbed out.

But Wynn kept staring across the pool at the duchess.

They had no time for pity.

"Wynn!" Chane snarled.

She stiffened, blinked, and shoved her hand in her pocket, pulling out the large pewter-framed glasses.

"Get the duchess," she told the captain. "Chane and Shade will hold off the wraith for me to prepare—and stay out of our way! If it touches any of you, you're dead."

The captain glared at her, then turned to Danyel. "Give me the comb and take the duchess into the other room."

Tristan went straight for the door to the outer passage and grabbed hold of it to slam it shut.

"Don't!" Wynn ordered as she jerked the sheath off the staff's crystal. "Chuillyon or anyone else won't be able to get in."

"And a closed door will not stop the wraith," Chane added.

The captain hesitated, then closed the door only partway. He returned to the pool's edge. He took the comb from Danyel and leaned over, stretching out his hand.

"Highness!" he barked.

The duchess didn't even raise her eyes as she sloshed over and let him pull her out.

Chane urged them off with his broken blade. The captain took Reine into the far chamber and guarded the archway while Danyel stood a few paces farther out front. To Chane's relief, Wynn abandoned her useless concern for these arrogant Numans and focused on their task. She put the glasses over her eyes.

"Get it as far inside as you can," she told him. "Then bolt for the other room. Don't wait, Chane; just go!"

"I will," he answered.

But not until the last instant—not until he was certain she had finished preparing and could ignite the crystal. Since their arrival in Dhredze Seatt, nothing had gone the way he—or she—had envisioned. Here and now, Chane could do what no one else could—face another Noble Dead, regardless of its unique state.

Shade's voice dropped to low mewling, almost that of some large cat. She began pacing along the chamber's far wall beyond the half-open door.

Chane glanced quickly about, searching for the best positions. He pointed Wynn toward the pool's ledge, farthest from any wall without stepping into the water. He backed partway toward her, giving Shade room as he watched.

If Shade did sense the wraith's direction, she could harass it when it appeared, and he was free to flank it from either side. If she was wrong, he would be ready to take it first, and let her box it in.

Shade suddenly stopped. Charcoal fur rose on end along her neck and shoulders, and Chane slid his sword back into its sheath.

"Get ready," he warned.

Shade backed along the pool's edge.

A patch of wall blackened.

The stain quickly spread upward and downward and then bulged. Shade's jaws clacked as the wraith pushed through at the pool's far side. Its black robes began floating on the air.

Chane leaped from the ledge to the pool's far side, boxing the wraith as he heard Wynn begin whispering. He swung his hand straight at the wraith's cowl.

It instinctively flinched aside, nearly sinking into the wall, and Shade rushed it from the other side, snapping and snarling.

Wynn's repetitious whispers grew to a voiced chant.

The wraith halted, its cowl turning at her voice. That black opening swung quickly both ways, as if taking in the whole chamber.

Chane could not let it rush Wynn, and swung at the cowl again with his other hand.

The wraith vanished, sinking into stone, and Chane's hand slapped against damp wall as he heard Shade's jaws snap closed. He quickly pivoted, watching the whole chamber as Wynn's voice stopped.

"Shade?" Wynn whispered, and glanced at Chane.

The dog turned about, sniffing the air with her ears pricked up. She raced past Chane, pacing back between the chamber door and the ledge Wynn stood upon.

"Where is it?" the captain shouted from inside the far chamber.

And the black-robe winked in, directly before the archway.

Danyel drove his sword at it, but in the same instant, its hand reached out, passing through his chest.

Chane bolted around the pool as Danyel's blade's tip slipped out the back of the black cloak. Shade charged, snapping at it from behind. Wynn spun, aiming the staff and chanting once more as Chane ran by her.

The wraith vanished.

Chane skidded to a halt behind Shade, both of them snarling in frustration.

Danyel just stared blankly at them.

Chane did not notice how pale Danyel looked until the young guard simply crumpled.

"Danyel!" the duchess shouted.

His knees hit stone, his eyes still locked open, and he fell forward. Shade sidled quickly away, and the man's chest and face slapped the floor.

He was dead.

Chane spun, keeping Wynn in sight as he watched the whole chamber. He knew what the wraith was doing. That one pause before it sank into stone had been enough. It had taken the lay of this small space and all who were in it. Now it had even gained a glance at the next room.

"Get out of there!" he told Tristan and he sidestepped toward Shade.

The captain came out, sword in hand, and hauled the duchess along. She pulled her own saber, and Chane hissed in disgust.

How many times had they been told, and still they clung to their useless weapons. Even so, the wraith would not be coming through any wall.

It had taken a life, at least a taste, and Chane felt his own hunger gnawing at him. It gained strength, while he slowly weakened further. It would keep up this tactic, disappearing and reappearing, breaking Wynn's focus over and over, and exhausting and disorienting all of them.

Until it pulled them down, one by one.

"We go now!" he snarled at Wynn.

Racing to the door, he snatched up their packs, tossing one at the captain.

"Put it on and carry the other," he ordered, handing off the second. "And put your weapons away!"

He shoved Wynn's pack at the duchess.

"Go where?" Wynn shot back. "We can't let that thing come at us in some narrow passage!"

Chane dropped off the edge into the pool and looked up at Wynn.

"Down the sea tunnel," he said. "You use the staff to threaten it off while we run for the outside. We keep moving, changing locations. … We must make it out by dawn."

Her eyes widened—then her young face wrinkled in anger. She looked about the chamber, perhaps wishing the wraith would come once more. It was obvious she did not want to run.

Chane was about to pull her down when she let out an exhausted breath. She stepped off the ledge, sinking to her waist in a splash.

Shade snarled and barked at her from the pool's edge.

"No … come," Wynn said.

"What are you doing?" the captain demanded.

"We run for daylight," Wynn said.

"Or at least somewhere the wraith has not been," Chane added. "By its tactics, it cannot appear in any place it has not first seen. Now open the gate!"

The captain still hesitated. The duchess stared at the body of her dead guard, her expression slack. Chane had no interest in either of them, but he empathized with the captain's dilemma.

"Into the tunnel," Reine whispered, almost too low to hear. "Chuillyon knew … he knew we could escape from here."

All Chane cared about was getting Wynn—and Shade—out of here before the wraith reappeared. They could not defeat it in this place.

The captain stepped off the edge, followed by the duchess, and waded toward the gate. He reached into the back of his surcoat and handed off a sea-wave-shaped comb to the duchess. In turn, she placed it over the gate's white metal oval.

Chane heard grating as the bolt slid open. When the duchess removed the comb, he saw a small pellet of white metal on its underside. She had barely begun to open the gate when …

"Valhachkasej'â!" Wynn cursed under her breath.

Chane glanced at her. She was staring in fury at the white metal lock.

Wynn closed her eyes and shook her head. She stepped forward and jerked the gate open, muttering angrily under her breath.

Chane had no idea what she had said, though her tone was full of venom. Whatever bothered her, it could wait.

Shade was about to jump off the ledge and swim across, but Chane held her back with a raised hand. He and she had to take the rear for when the wraith finally followed. And it would.

Chane motioned the duchess and captain into the tunnel after Wynn.

Sau'ilahk lingered in the outer passage, three strides from the chamber's door. Then noise echoed up the passage from behind him. He quickly sank into the passage's wall.

He had fed only a little, not nearly enough. Killing so quickly did not allow for a proper meal. But the suddenness of his tactics, the helplessness fostered in Wynn and her companions, was a gain in the balance. He would give them a little longer to wonder, let uncertainty feed their fears. Not knowing when and where he would reappear would consume them. And a body lying dead among them was more fuel for that fire.

Bit by bit, he would break Wynn before he even touched her. A grip on her, or even the duchess, and the staff would come next. No one would risk either life if he demanded it in exchange. Once the crystal was shattered, he could drag off his hostage, and slip into hiding. He would learn where the texts lay before he fed more properly.

And his prey had nowhere to run.

A brief glimpse into the adjoining chamber had shown no other exit. The gate beyond the pool was shut, an oval of white metal in place of its lock. As with the portal above the shaft into the underworld, at a guess, only the Stonewalkers could open either. Otherwise those trapped within the chamber would have already fled.

But night was slipping away too quickly, and he had to finish this.

Sau'ilahk blinked, materializing before the opening to the second chamber—the last place he had appeared, and so the last place they would be watching for him.

The pool chamber was empty.

He rushed into the adjoining room, and on through a rear opening he had not seen the first time. It was only a bedroom with no other way out. He flew straight through the wall, back to the pool's side.

The chamber was still empty—and he looked toward the shut gate at the pool's back.

Sau'ilahk sank halfway through the floor as he angled down into the pool and approached the iron bars. Distant footfalls echoed up the tunnel.

How could they have opened the way?

Wynn had eluded him yet again—and she was running for the dawn.

Wynn slogged down the tunnel, seawater sloshing inside her boots. Once they'd waded beyond the pool's outer reservoir, the tunnel floor was clear for as far as her cold lamp crystal's light could reach. Fortunately the tide was either falling or hadn't fully risen. But amid fear, she was fuming inside at what she'd seen the duchess do.

Reine's comb had a small white metal nub on its back that tripped the gate's lock.

All the struggles that she, Chane, and Shade had gone through to get in hadn't been necessary. She'd had a key all along. The tip of her elven quill, gifted by Gleann in the lands of the an'Croan, was made of Chein'âs metal.

All she would've had to do, it seemed, was touch it to any white metal oval in a gate.

Wynn cursed under her breath again. Once they were far enough down the tunnel, she handed the cold lamp crystal to Tristan. The duchess took the lead with the captain behind her, holding the crystal high so its light spread ahead and behind. Wynn fell back with Chane and Shade.

She felt like a coward.

Others had stayed behind to face the wraith instead of her. There was no telling what had happened to Chuillyon. Much as she disliked him, suspected him, it worried her that he'd never made it to the prince's chamber—nor had Cinder-Shard or the other Stonewalkers.

The pressure of her failures grew.

A woman had lost her husband. A kingdom had lost its prince a second time, trapped in isolation for the burden of mixed blood. And Wynn had brought the wraith in among the unaware.

All because she wouldn't let anything get in her way.

What had she gained for it? She had her old journals, a brief glimpse at the texts, and had unmasked the worshipper of an ancient traitor taken in by the dwarves' secret guardians of the honored dead.

Wynn tried to clear her mind. The wraith would come, and if Chane was right, the only thing to hinder it might be the inability to see far enough down the tunnel to close upon them instantly.

Shade inched forward on her right, and Wynn glanced back at Chane. He'd left his sword sheathed and only kept watch, alternating between behind and ahead. His irises glinted colorlessly whenever the crystal's light touched them.

He had stood by her as had no one else but Shade. She wished she could tell him how grateful she was, but this wasn't the time. If she died this night, would she regret never having told him?

Shade slowed and turned.

Wynn halted, following the dog's gaze. Chane already faced back up the tunnel. She didn't need Shade's rumble to warn her.

"It's coming," she said.

Tristan backed Reine against the tunnel wall and pulled his sword. Perhaps that was his only comfort in not being able to do more. Wynn silently held out her open hand toward the captain and then clenched.

He closed his fist around the crystal, and all light vanished.

Wynn fumbled in her pocket for the glasses and pushed them onto her face.

Shade began mewling, and the sound shuddered in the tunnel.

"Shade, no," she whispered, and the dog quieted.

In the silence, she heard the duchess's low, quick breaths, and longer, even ones from the captain. Right in front her, Shade hissed in suppressed growls. But she heard nothing from Chane, no breath, no movements, and something else now frightened her.

"The sun crystal …" she whispered, hoping only he heard. "You can't hide here."

"My cloak will be enough."

Would it? In her guild room, he'd dropped and covered himself, but il'Sänke had left the sun crystal lit for only an instant. It would take much more to put the wraith down and not just drive it off for the moment.

"Start your preparation," he whispered.

"Can you see it?" she asked.

"Listen to Shade," he answered.

Wynn felt him brush past and crouch behind her. One of his arms wrapped lightly around her waist. What did he think he was going to do, pull her to safety if this didn't work?

"All of you, close your eyes!" Wynn whispered. "Chane, keep … Pull your hood down over your face."

She heard him struggling, but his arm never left her waist.

In the dark, she felt along the staff with one hand to get a mental fix upon the sun crystal's position. She focused upon it and began as Domin il'Sänke had taught her. The nested circles and triangles came more quickly, in pairs this time, as she uttered phrases spoken in old Sumanese. Wynn held off the last utterance, just listening.

Shade snarled loudly.

Wynn nearly shouted the last words: "Mênajil il'Núr'u mên'Hkâ'ät! … for the Light of Life!"

Light erupted before Wynn's eyes, and the glasses went black for an instant. A shrieking hiss tore at her ears over Shade's yelp. The lenses cleared, and she saw …

Beyond the blinding crystal, the wraith thrashed in the tunnel.

Had she caught it so off guard? Had luck finally turned in her favor? Wynn took a half step and thrust the staff, trying to spear the wraith with the crystal's searing light.

The wraith fragmented like soot in the air, spreading in all directions. Its hiss faded and those wisps dissipated under the sun crystal's intensity.

Wynn just stood there—then she was startled from inaction as Chane's hand tightened on her waist. She quickly wiped the pattern from her mind, as well as the triggering utterances lingering in her thoughts.

The crystal went out, and she fumbled to get the glasses off her face.

"Some light!" she shouted.

It came as Tristan opened his fist around the cold lamp crystal.

"Is it gone?" he demanded. "Is it finished this time?"

Wynn looked up the empty tunnel.

She didn't know how to answer; she'd hoped for some better hint. Everything had happened much the same as when they'd faced it outside the scribe shop. But this time … it had burned away so quickly. And she smelled something strange, just a hint over the odor of seawater.

"Wynn?" Chane whispered.

"I don't know," she answered. "Are you all right?"

"Yes."

She held her hand back toward Tristan—who passed off the cold lamp crystal. With the crystal in hand, she tried taking a step up the tunnel.

Chane let go of her waist, rising, and grabbed the back of her tunic. It startled her. Then something else caught her eye.

The tunnel's roof began to stain black.

"No!" she whispered.

"Run!" Chane hissed, pulling her back as Shade lunged in front of her.

Wynn tried to set her feet. The wraith, torn by the light, had simply retreated into the walls. She couldn't destroy it in here, where it could take refuge in an instant. But she wouldn't let this thing get to the others.

There was only one way to halt it—to give it what it wanted.

"Sau'ilahk!" she shouted, snagging Shade by the scruff. "I know what you want … I know where they are!"

This was a lie; she didn't know what the wraith sought in the texts, let alone where they were.

"What are you doing?" Chane asked in alarm.

Between his pulling, and Shade wanting to lunge, Wynn held her ground.

Even if the wraith took her bait, tried to make her answer, she couldn't reveal where the texts were hidden. But if it had to deal with only her, the others might escape.

The ceiling's black stain began to drip—to slowly drizzle downward like twisting smoke. Vapors swirled into a column as others took the shape of a cloak's wing.

The wraith stood before Wynn in the tunnel.

It remained too still compared to other times she'd seen it. No invisible breeze lifted its cloak to climb the curved walls. She glared into its cowl's pit.

"Take me!" she challenged. "And I'll show you."

"No!" Chane snarled, and his other hand clamped across her mouth.

Wynn lost her hold on Shade as Chane jerked her back. The dog lunged forward as Wynn's eyes widened.

Still clutching the staff with one hand, she tried to pull Chane's hand from her mouth without dropping the cold lamp crystal. Suddenly she was spinning away, her feet barely touching the tunnel floor. Someone grabbed her before she hit the tunnel wall.

Captain Tristan hefted her up. He tried to advance and join Chane, but Wynn blocked him with the staff, and then …

"Did you believe it was that easy to evade me?"

Wynn glanced at Chane's back as he stood with Shade before the wraith. But the voice she'd heard wasn't some hiss of wind. It couldn't have been the wraith.

"I cannot move from place to place at a wish," it went on, calm and light, almost mocking in tone. "But neither will you."

Wynn took a step, raising the cold lamp crystal as the wraith twisted away toward the tunnel beyond it.

Around its black form, a flash of white showed up the tunnel. Chuillyon stood no more than a spear's reach beyond the wraith, the barest smile upon his thin lips.

Chane lurched back toward Wynn as something came out of the wall beside him.

Cinder-Shard's boots barely hit the tunnel floor before he lunged at the wraith's exposed back. Another Stonewalker, the older female, came through the tunnel's other side. Chane grabbed Shade, startling a snarl from the dog, and heaved her back.

Wynn saw Cinder-Shard's thick fingers catch in the wraith's cloak and she heard Chuillyon speaking softly.

"Chârmun … agh'alhtahk so. A'lhän am leagad chionns'gnajh."

The wraith's hiss turned to a shriek.

Wynn rushed in behind Chane. His right hand gripped his sword hilt in reflex, the same hand that he'd used to hold her waist. It was seared.

She wasn't certain what to do, or whether to just stay out of the way… .

And yet another Stonewalker appeared. Their chant began drumming along the tunnel as the wraith tried to swipe back at Cinder-Shard. The elder Stonewalker snatched its wrist.

"I'll make you a tomb, you dead dog!" he shouted. "Let Kêravägh try to find you then!"

Wynn couldn't believe it would work. Too many times the wraith had slipped away, even from Chuillyon and the Stonewalkers. She couldn't let it happen again, and jerked on Chane's cloak.

"Take Shade and get the duchess out," she whispered.

Cold fury glowed from his colorless eyes. "No!"

"Do it … please!"

She didn't want him here when the sun crystal ignited again. She would burn it longer this time, and Chane had shown too little regard for his own safety.

Wynn grabbed Shade's face, shoving the dog back.

"Go … guard!" she ordered, pointing at the duchess.

Shade went mad, snarling and snapping as she tried to get in front of Wynn.

Chane reached down and grabbed the dog, half shoving and throwing her back. He paused only an instant, glancing once toward the wraith and then at Wynn. He turned and ran, grabbing a shocked Reine around the waist before Tristan knew what was happening.

The captain ran after Chane and Shade.

Wynn shoved her glasses on and dropped the cold lamp crystal at her feet.

The wraith thrashed, swinging wildly in Cinder-Shard's grip. Its one free black-cloth-wrapped hand passed through the master Stonewalker like shadows of no substance.

Chuillyon stood beyond them with hands clasped and his head slightly bowed as if in prayer. The other Stonewalkers' chants built, and Cinder-Shard surged forward, pressing his captive into the tunnel's floor.

"No!" Wynn shouted. "Lift it up!"

He glared once over his wide shoulder, the creases of his face deepened by fury. Wynn thrust out the sun crystal, already forming the shapes in her mind.

Cinder-Shard rose up, heaving the thrashing wraith high overhead.

Wynn finished brief utterances in thought only. She poured all of her will into those words as she thrust the sun crystal upward. Its light erupted—then winked out as it sank into the cowl's dark space.

Her breath caught as sunlight exploded in the tunnel, and the glasses' lenses blackened to shield her eyes. The Stonewalkers' chant broke as several barked startled exclamations. The lenses began to clear as a shrieking wind filled the tunnel.

Wynn saw the long crystal burning brightly at the staff's top. She stood fast, willing the wraith to die … and its form began to waver.

The shrieking wind grew louder.

The wraith's cowl burst.

Its black cloak began to shred apart in Cinder-Shard's great hands.

The shreds turned into smoke.

The thinning ring of smoke spread out around the crystal, dissipating as it splashed against the tunnel's walls.

Everything went silent.

"Enough," Cinder-Shard growled.

He'd retreated to one side, shielding his eyes, as had Chuillyon out ahead. Wynn quickly wiped the pattern from her mind, and the sun crystal went out. The glasses were too dark for only the cold lamp crystal at her feet. She pulled them off, and it took a moment before her eyes adjusted.

Chuillyon lowered his hand from his eyes. Likewise, Cinder-Shard stared up into the air where he'd held the wraith but a moment ago. Both had managed to hold it in place so it couldn't escape.

Wynn gazed up wildly, her heart beating fast.

There was nothing to see in the air above the master Stonewalker. Had she finally done it? She'd burned the wraith from within, but had she finished it this time? Was it gone for good? She looked to Cinder-Shard.

He scowled, eyeing the staff's crystal, and stepped to the spot where the wraith had appeared.

"Well?" Chuillyon asked, closing on him.

Wynn waited anxiously as Cinder-Shard turned about. He ran his hands down both walls, across the floor, and even looked to the ceiling.

"Nothing," he whispered absently. "I … feel … nothing but our own honored dead."

Chuillyon heaved deeply, letting out an overly dramatic sigh. "Well, that's that … finally."

It seemed so—Wynn hoped so—though she saw no pride or victory in Cinder-Shard's face.

"Where is the prince?" he asked flatly.

Wynn faltered in guilt. "Gone," she answered weakly. "Gone … with the sea people."

Chuillyon's old eyes widened as he sucked in air and then choked it out. He cringed, closing his eyes, and shook his head so slightly that his cowl didn't shift.

Cinder-Shard's cracked face, full of suppressed rage, seemed to break. He sagged in weariness, or loss, his gaze wandering. But then his eyes raised, glaring at Wynn as he pointed straight at her.

"Get out!" His loud voice echoed in the tunnel. "Leave … leave the seatt … and do not return!"

His manner struck Wynn harder than his words. She'd helped them destroy the wraith, and this was his response? But what should she expect, for all the damage she'd done? It was unlikely she would ever see the texts again.

Wynn went numb.

Dawn would come soon. Chane and Shade were waiting. And there were more preparations to make. Even more secrets than before waited to be unearthed.

Cinder-Shard turned away up the tunnel.

"See to the honored dead," he told the others. "Return peace to their rest."

He didn't look back at her as he stepped through the tunnel's stone wall. All of the other Stonewalkers followed likewise—all but one.

Ore-Locks stood just beyond Chuillyon, watching Wynn intently. Then he too vanished into stone.

Wynn was left alone with the tall, duplicitous elf, who stepped quietly toward her.

She stood her ground, waiting for whatever half-truth he might try this time. She was too weary and hollow to put up with anything from him. Everything had ended in loss. Even this final moment had come and gone so quickly.

Chuillyon merely passed her by, heading down the tunnel's faint slope.

"Are you coming?" he asked.

Wynn picked up her cold lamp crystal and followed him toward the ocean shore.