With only two tents, she shared one with Magiere and Leesil, while Ghassan and Brot’an took the other. This had simply ... happened. By now Wynn couldn’t help worrying about Leesil and Magiere’s lack of privacy.
Eight mornings past, as they began to set camp before another burning noon, she’d mentioned that they might prefer to sleep by themselves. This implied she would rest in the other tent.
Magiere scowled. “You ... in a tent with the domin and Brot’an? I don’t think so!”
While Wynn appreciated her friend’s protective nature, she still couldn’t help feeling like an interloper. She never thought she would miss another night in that overcrowded sanctuary, but at least there she had slept on the floor with only Shade watching her.
And she missed Chane.
Now trudging after the others, Wynn wondered if they would find anything to support the reports Ghassan had received from the new emperor. What if they found nothing, no matter how far they went? Had it been a mistake for Chap and Chane to go after the other three orbs? Were they risking something worse by bringing all five together ... perhaps for nothing?
When the choice had been made, she’d been certain; now her doubts continued to grow.
Brot’an’s sudden halt caught her off guard. She wasn’t the only one to take more steps before stopping.
“What is it?” Magiere asked, circling in.
Ghassan had frozen as well, while Leesil glanced back and held out a hand to Wynn.
“Come on,” he said.
At another time, she might have been annoyed at his “older brother” attitude. Now she didn’t mind and quick-stepped forward to take his hand. Together they gathered with the others, but Brot’an still gazed ahead. Then he pointed.
“There—ground level at the base of that hill.”
Wynn squinted. Encroaching dusk often made anything at a distance difficult to see. As her eyes adjusted, she saw what appeared to be a set of legs, half covered, as if the individual they belonged to had burrowed into the sand.
Leesil released Wynn’s hand and pulled at a cord around his neck, drawing an amulet from inside his shirt. It had once been Magiere’s, gifted to him.
Wynn stared at the rough crystal that would glow in the close presence of an undead. It was still dull and lightless.
“Magiere?” Leesil asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t sense anything.”
“Neither do I,” Ghassan added.
Wynn wasn’t certain exactly what he might sense. “So, we are alone?” she asked.
No one responded, and she decided to take action, for they needed more light. She drew the cold-lamp crystal from her pocket, rubbed it between her palms, and a soft light grew within it.
“Stay here,” Magiere ordered, pulling her falchion from its sheath.
“No,” Wynn answered.
Ghassan ignored them both and stepped onward, followed by Brot’an and the camels. Leesil loosened a tie on a winged blade strapped to his thigh but didn’t pull it out. Once again, Wynn brought up the rear as they approached.
Ghassan, in the lead, stopped. Everyone else slowed in coming up next to him. And they were close enough, the crystal’s light ...
Wynn put her other hand over her mouth.
The legs weren’t attached to anything.
The sand was dark around their ragged stumps, as if those legs that been torn off rather than cut with a weapon or even bitten through by some unimaginably large predator.
Leesil rushed ahead and around the hill’s nearer side.
“Wynn, you stay there!” he called before vanishing from sight.
Over the recent years, Wynn had seen more bodies than she could count. Something about this sight struck her cold, and she didn’t move. Then Brot’an tossed the camels’ leads to the domin and headed off after Leesil. At that, Magiere went as well. Ghassan remained with Wynn, and her mind flashed back to waking up after her collapse.
She was not going to be treated differently on this journey. Before Ghassan could stop her, she trotted off after the others, and he made no protest. When she glanced back, he had abandoned the camels to follow her ... around the hillside.
She stopped.
Magiere, Leesil, and Brot’an were crouched at different places in an area about thirty paces wide between the first hill and a higher one farther toward the range. Brot’an showed no emotion, as usual. Leesil looked stricken and Magiere wary.
Wynn counted six arms and three torsos scattered about among what looked like pieces of goats.
Leesil rose slowly, drawing both winged punching blades, and upon spotting Wynn ...
“I told you to wait!”
She approached slowly, though her eyes were pulled to the sight of one torso with the head still attached. Bile rose into her mouth.
“They’re dried ... and weathered,” she said quietly. “They have been here at least a day, maybe several.”
Leesil, still angry, looked down at the half body. “Yes.”
Wynn tried to feel nothing as she studied the scant blood-soaked sand. “There isn’t enough blood. This body ... part of it ... must have been moved from elsewhere.”
“The same with the other pieces,” Brot’an said flatly, still crouched off to the right over another torn leg.
Magiere paced an arc around Wynn as she took in the whole scene, and Ghassan stepped forward to stand over a torso. No one spoke for a moment, and Magiere’s face was unreadable ... disturbing for all lack of emotion. But at least she had not given in to her other half.
Everything had possibly changed now, if any of this had been done by the undead. And yet no vampire or wraith would have fed this way.
But there was something out here.
“We must bury them before they attract scavengers or predators,” Ghassan said.
Wynn looked to him, but he only studied the hills toward the range’s peaks. He was right, though she couldn’t bring herself to respond.
“Three people alone is odd,” he added. “Few live out here, only nomads, and they travel in large groups, as always.”
Again, Wynn had no response.
“It appears we have come far enough,” Brot’an said, rising. “We should set up a longer-term camp and begin scouting.”
Yes, that was why they had come so far—to scout for a migration or gathering of the Enemy’s servants. But why here?
She looked around and saw nothing. Perhaps there was something, some hidden place, deeper into the foothills.
“Two of us should always remain at the camp,” she said, “to guard ...”
She didn’t want to say “the orbs.” Not here, so close to ... whatever.
“Three can scout,” she added, “while two guard our possessions, and we should set the camp someplace where we can see anything that is coming.”
Such calm planning while standing among dismembered remains struck her as surreal. Yet, this was what their existence had become.
“Out of the taller hills but still hidden,” Magiere said.
Wynn looked up and nodded. When Magiere turned to walk out of this place, Wynn followed, though the others lingered behind. When both women rounded the first hill, and the camels were in sight, Magiere slowed, shifting closer to whisper.
“One of us—you, me, or Leesil—must be among the two who always stay behind.”
Wynn blinked, then nodded slowly, though she didn’t look back to see if Brot’an or Ghassan had followed as yet.
Chapter Six
Evening settled over the little port below Chemarré, “Sea-Side,” the western settlement of Dhredze Seatt, home of the dwarven people across the bay from Calm Seatt, Malourné.
Chane descended the whaling vessel’s ramp, carrying the chest for the orb of Water with Chap close behind him. Two sailors followed, one struggling with the chest for the orb of Fire and the other hauling the third empty chest and Chane’s two packs. All four made their way down the dock to the waterfront, where the sailors relinquished their loads and returned to the ship.