“What is this?” he asked aloud.
In answer, a hiss echoed throughout the cavern.
—Where is my child?—
Leesil retreated from the skull and pulled both blades. He heard the others spread out as they drew weapons, so they’d heard it too, but he kept his eyes on the enormous skull. Had he really heard those words in his head? Hesitantly, he looked about at the others.
Chane did the same, though he was frowning in confusion.
Leesil thought they’d all pulled their weapons. Not Chane, but he did so upon seeing that everyone else had.
Then Leesil saw Ghassan.
A strange manic look covered the domin’s face. Was it fear, hate, or both? Wide-eyed, his head rolled about, perhaps looking into the cavern’s heights, but then his gaze resettled to glare at those bones.
“It is still here,” he whispered slowly. “The bones do not matter. We will set up the orbs and end it here, now.”
Leesil felt completely at a loss.
End what? There was nothing here but that hiss, whatever it was. From what he’d once seen when the first orb was opened, opening all of them wouldn’t touch anything that wasn’t physically here, alive or dead. And the orbs were supposed to be a last resort.
And no one knew for certain what the orbs would do.
—My child ... where is she? What have you ... they ... done with her?—
Leesil went cold.
He knew “child” meant Magiere. This thing—whatever and wherever—might be what had spoken in her dreams, and if so, had it lost touch with her? What had happened to Magiere?
—Then you will serve me a last time—
“Ignore it!” Ghassan ordered. “Get the orbs, quickly, and take off your thôrhks for use.”
Leesil looked around, wondering to whom that voice was actually speaking. Was it to him, someone else here, or all of them?
“Why do you hesitate?” Ghassan whispered, rushing two steps toward Leesil. “This is why we came here.”
“What is happening?” Chane rasped, making everyone start.
Leesil twisted about and startled Chane in turn. The vampire watched only Ghassan.
—Open the anchors ... end this now ... and forever—
“Do you not hear it?” Ore-Locks whispered.
In one glance at the dwarf, Chane’s eyes drained of all color, becoming clear in the light of Ghassan’s crystal. Chane turned to Leesil.
“Do not listen to what you think you hear!” he rasped.
Leesil’s every instinct took hold of Chane’s warning.
Whirling in search of the archer, Chap spotted Osha. The young one stood not far off, haloed by Wynn’s distant light. And that light glinted too brightly on the head of another drawn arrow.
Osha’s large amber eyes streamed tears down his long face.
He had shot Magiere, most likely with a white metal arrowhead from the Chein’âs. Chap could not even guess what that had done to her. Osha’s eyes then blinked. Did his aim falter at something else?
Chap quickly looked back.
Sau’ilahk had recovered from shock, and he slammed his hands to the earth again.
Twisting around, Chap shouted into Osha’s thoughts.
—No!— ... —Shoot Sau’ilahk, the duke!—
Osha’s aim shifted instantly, and the arrow released. Chap heard the shriek before he could follow the arrow’s path.
Sau’ilahk reeled back on his knees, mouth gaping. An arrow still shuddered from impact in the center of his chest, and he began to shake. Inky lines spread up into his face from beneath a strapped leather collar and then down into his hands as well. Those lines split and bled as smoke rose from the same cracks. He fell back upon the broken earth.
Sau’ilahk’s wild thrashing was quickly obscured by the increasing smoke, though his wails and screeches still rose in the night.
Chap bolted for Magiere, lying still and prone, and he lunged past her, planting himself between her and the wild thrashing amid the smoke. Uncertain of anything, he watched the broken ground for whatever might still come out of the earth from the conjurer’s touch.
One shriek cut off too suddenly. Not another sound or movement disturbed the billowing smoke.
Chap remained rigid in waiting and watching, even when he heard Osha come running. As the smoke began to thin, he saw something more. The body was still, dead, and the skin was blackened. Chap began to wonder if something more than just Chein’âs metal was at work here. But nothing came out of the earth where Sau’ilahk had crouched a moment ago.
Doubtful relief kept him watching longer. Osha stepped beyond him toward the duke’s finally fallen and charred body, at last the corpse that it should have been. Then the young one turned, looking back beyond Chap.
Osha cringed, back-stepped once in visible anguish, and dropped his bow.
No matter what Chap felt, no matter what he wanted, he had no time for Magiere. She would not be the only one to die if he did not reach Leesil, and there was only one way to accomplish that.
Chap snarled at Osha with a snap of teeth and a short lunge.
—Where is Chuillyon ... where did you part from him?—
Osha back-stepped, looking down.
—Answer!—
“With ... Wynn ... and Wayfarer and Shade,” Osha panted out, pointing toward the light.
Chap could not help glancing at Magiere, lying still and black marked. He gave Osha a final command before bolting toward Wynn’s light.
—Pick her up and follow—
Osha went numb as Chap raced off.
Remaining in place, Osha cringed at the thought of what the elder majay-hì had demanded. He could not bear to look upon Magiere’s remains—upon what he had done.
Slowly, Osha crept toward Magiere’s body but only looked to her nearest hand. There was no smoke rising from it. He did see the lines in her flesh, as if every vein beneath her pale skin had blackened and swelled. But the skin had not split, bled, or charred as with Sau’ilahk’s stolen flesh.
Then Osha’s gaze worked upward, first to the hauberk’s shredded skirt, then to the sword belt nearly severed, upward to the torso, and finally to where that arrow was still embedded in her shoulder.
Osha choked once and stumbled, doubting what he saw. He dropped beside her, putting an ear near her mouth—and heard a shallow breath.
Quickly straightening, again he hesitated, not knowing if he should jerk out the arrow. That might worsen any bleeding and end what little life to which she clung. Rising to his feet, he cast around.
Most of the nearby fighting had scattered, as even the living members of the horde had fled when the nearest undead had run from the light and tore at anything in their way. Fighting was still intense farther south, and he saw one rider among others harrying everything within reach.
Osha put fingers to his mouth and whistled over and over as loudly as he could.
Finally, that one rider clear of the others wheeled its mount his way. At a distance, he could not tell who it was, even as it charged toward him.
Dropping to one knee, he pulled a knife from a sheath at his back and set its edge low against the arrow’s shaft. Using the blade, he snapped the shaft some three finger widths above Magiere’s armor. He then slung his bow and reached down to grip Magiere beneath her shoulders.
He had barely lifted her to sitting in a slump when a horse’s hooves thundered up beside him, and he looked up into the severe eyes of Commander Althahk. The commander of the Shé’ith appeared little better than Magiere, blood marred, torn, and ragged, with his sword’s blade obscured in black and red smears.