Chap’s had been the worst, and right now Magiere wished he’d never told her.
He had seen her leading an army—a horde—with ranks of creatures driven to slaughter. She’d stood at the head of those forces in black-scaled armor, fully feral with her dhampir nature unleashed. Among the horde were the shadowed and gleaming-eyed figures, as in some of Magiere’s own delusions and nightmares.
The undead followed her into a thriving forest.
Everything withered and died in her wake under their hunger.
Wynn went on.
Magiere had been imbued—infected, cursed—at birth with the nature of a Noble Dead. And yet, unlike them, she was alive. She had been created inside her mother’s womb by a ritual that used the blood of five sacrifices from the original races of the world ... the Úirishg.
The Ancient Enemy had arranged all of it, and by that and the life within her, Magiere could go anywhere she wished.
The undead could not, especially into those lands protected by Chârmun or its offspring—unless they followed her. And since that night in Pudúrlatsat, that had been Chap’s reasoning for why she had been made.
Magiere didn’t like it but couldn’t argue about it.
“And then there’s something not about you,” Wynn said. “Remember that Leesil was given a name by one of the an’Cróan’s spiritual ancestors called Léshiâra—‘Sorrow-Tear.’ She named him Léshiârelaohk—‘Sorrow-Tear’s Champion.’”
Magiere back-stepped once, trying to draw a breath.
“In that, he was also created ... or re-created,” Wynn added, “for a purpose, like you.”
Nothing Wynn said was anything Magiere didn’t already know. To think of Leesil as the other side for what Chap saw as her purpose was too twisted, too cruel.
“Don’t you see?” Wynn asked quietly. “Leesil has to be the one—and not you—if we believe anything about what we’ve encountered since we met. He has to go for the Enemy while you have to lead the horde away ... somehow ... from him.”
Magiere didn’t know if Wynn now spoke for Chap or herself or both.
“That is Leesil’s only chance to fulfill his fate and for you to escape yours,” Wynn added, “even if any living forces below turn another way and do not follow the undead after you.”
In another back step, Magiere’s heel struck a boulder. She dropped down onto that stone and sat looking from Wynn to Chap.
“You told him already, didn’t you?” she accused, fixing on Chap. “You already got to Leesil.”
Chap crept in to sit before her.
“We had to,” Wynn answered. “If we revealed too much too soon, you would have gone to him first. And he would have gone anywhere with you. It cannot happen that way.”
As the truth sank in, Magiere went numb. Wynn came to crouch beside her, but she couldn’t look at either of them anymore.
“I will be with you, and so will Chap,” Wynn said. “Together, we will make certain Leesil and the others have a chance.”
In Magiere’s own phantasm on that long-lost night in the forest, she had turned on Leesil with the horde and killed him. She’d thought that if she kept clear of the undead here and now, she could wipe away that nightmare and keep Leesil safe.
But even now they’d been doomed to different sides.
“I need to talk to Leesil,” Magiere said. She left without looking back.
Leesil sat in one tent, trying to shut out the sounds of the voices outside. When Magiere, Chap, and Wynn had left, he’d had to cut off anyone else from following. Ghassan had been the worst, and for an instant, Leesil had wondered what the fallen domin might do. When Ghassan slightly turned away, Leesil had done the same by retreating to the tent.
He already knew what Wynn and Chap were doing.
They’d spoken to him before tonight. It all made sense, and still he had instinctively argued. No matter that he couldn’t get around them and why things had to be this way.
Magiere could never go near the Enemy, for that was what it appeared to want.
The tent’s flap was pulled outward, and Leesil tensed all over. Whether it was Magiere coming at him, now that she knew, or Ghassan with more arguments, Leesil was in no mood for either.
To his surprise, neither of them crouched in the opening.
Instead, Chane peered in. “May I enter for a moment?”
Leesil didn’t know what to say. Chane was the last one he’d expected.
“What do you want?” Leesil asked.
Chane dropped to his right knee and pivoted in to close the flap. He then turned about and hesitated. Did he actually take a deep breath and let it out slowly?
“We all know the Enemy can reach for and call its own anywhere,” Chane said quietly. “It can control them, though with differing influence. You saw as much with two of its Children that you faced. And I—and Wynn—saw hints of the same with Sau’ilahk, the wraith.”
Leesil didn’t respond, though he already suspected where Chane was going with this. It was something that had terrified him for too long.
“What if the Enemy seizes control of Magiere?” Chane asked.
Leesil’s first instinct was to snarl denial, but he couldn’t. This time, there was no doubt that Chane took a labored breath and let it out before raising a hand, its back side toward Leesil, and spreading his fingers.
“This could protect Magiere ... while out there facing the horde,” Chane said.
Leesil’s confusion passed in a blink, for on the middle finger of the undead’s hand was a brass ring. Once or twice, he’d heard it called the “ring of nothing.”
What was Chane really up to?
“We both have a woman we wish to protect,” Chane continued, “but neither of us can do so in what is coming. This ring might keep Magiere from being used, though that has another risk.”
It didn’t take long for Leesil to work that out. If that ring hid Chane’s undead nature and also hid him from the Enemy, would it affect Magiere’s chance at controlling or at least calling out the undead? Would it hide too much of her nature?
Of course this wasn’t really about Magiere but about Wynn. If Magiere couldn’t influence the undead among the horde, both Magiere and Wynn stood even less chance of surviving.
“You see the catch,” Chane said, “so I came to you before her. This is not just my decision, though I would have preferred it so.”
Leesil eyed Chane and then the ring. There was even more to it. If Magiere failed to draw off even part of the forces below, there would be little chance of gaining the mountain without being seen. And as important ...
“Yes, I would be detectable without the ring,” Chane finished in response to Leesil’s thought.
He was weary of choices like this, and it was so strange that this monster even asked. Then again, was there a difference for how much blood Chane had spilled in his youth versus what Leesil had spilled? Yes, for he hadn’t killed for pleasure. Still, strangely, Chane had asked only him.
“No,” Leesil finally answered.
Chane’s eyes widened slightly.
“Magiere’s not the only one who might be controlled,” Leesil added. That was the true catch for when—if—they got close to the Enemy. For that, it wouldn’t matter if Magiere succumbed or not. They would be ruined if Chane and not Magiere fell under the Enemy’s influence.
Chane lowered his eyes and nodded. Pivoting on that one knee, he pulled aside the tent’s flap.
“Chane,” Leesil whispered.
And Chane froze, turning his head but not fully looking back.
“If something does happen to us in there,” Leesil began, “and you’re the only one who can’t be influenced ...”
Chane turned more and looked directly at Leesil. Nothing more needed to be said, and Chane nodded once. He was gone faster than he’d entered, leaving Leesil alone with his doubts and fears.