No one answered.
She glanced back at Chane and scowled as a Weardas tipped a sword at her face. Chane looked coldly unconcerned. That didn't worry her as much as his eyes.
His irises were still colorless, glinting like crystals. She still didn't fully understand why and how that happened, except that it occurred just before he did something unnatural—something undead-like. He was waiting for a moment to attack and get his hands on a weapon.
Wynn shook her head at him emphatically. Injuring or killing royal guards would only make things worse. When he didn't even blink in acknowledgment, all she could do was move on, watching the master Stonewalker's wide back.
Then she thought she heard thunder.
Shade halted, lurching Wynn to a stop. The bodyguard behind her stumbled and cursed. Master Cinder-Shard grew still in the passage ahead.
"What was that?" Chane asked.
Shade snarled loudly, and Wynn stroked the dog's back. Instantly, her head began to ache. A memory swelled, nearly bloating the passage from her sight.
A black shadow coalesced like a column of night in a street sparsely lit by lanterns. The wraith stood between Wynn and the guild's keep. It was the night she'd first gone to meet Chane.
Wynn took a sharp inhale.
Cinder-Shard glanced back, one hand on a sheathed blade at his waist. But Wynn teetered as Shade called up one memory after another—always of the black wraith.
It burst out through a scriptorium door… .
It escaped the Upright Quill with a folio… .
It tore out a city guard's chest.
"No!" she whispered sharply. "You're wrong. I saw it ripped apart … like smoke. It's gone!"
Shade clacked her teeth, snarling so loudly it reverberated.
Cinder-Shard's craggy features filled with suspicion.
"Wynn?" Chane called.
Another boom like thunder rolled down the tunnel, and the master Stonewalker whirled about, facing the path ahead.
"What is it?" the captain barked.
Cinder-Shard took off at a run, his heavy boots hammering the passage floor.
"Stop!" Wynn shouted.
"What is he doing?" Chane hissed.
"Shut it!" the captain ordered, and then shouted, "Cinder-Shard?"
Wynn turned toward Chane but faltered. Still gripping Shade's fur, she looked down. Shade stood rigid, hackles raised. A mewling rumble began pouring between her bared teeth.
Wynn still didn't want to believe. She shriveled inside, trying to hide from Shade's truth. If that thing had survived, after all it had done to get the folios, there was only one way it could've known to come here.
It had followed her.
When Wynn looked to Chane, she was choking in misery. She had led that monster in here.
"Wraith!" she whispered sharply.
Silent malice washed from Chane's features, replaced by startled disbelief. He began to shake his head. And Shade suddenly ripped free of Wynn's grip.
The dog bolted down the passage and cut loose an eerie wail that echoed. Both young Weardas behind Wynn winced at the deafening sound. Chane wasn't shaking his head anymore.
"The staff!" Wynn shouted, looking to the captain.
"Tristan, follow Cinder-Shard!" the duchess ordered from somewhere at the rear. "Don't lose sight of him."
Chane spun about, blocking the captain. "Give Wynn the staff. Do it, or you are all dead … even your precious noble!"
"I told you to keep quiet," barked the captain, shoving Chane forward.
"Duchess!" Wynn called. "Tell him to give me the staff. Not even the Stonewalkers can face this."
The pair of Weardas charged her. One grabbed her soaked tunic's shoulder and shoved her on. Before she turned, she looked to Chane and flicked a quick glance toward the staff in the captain's hand.
Chane nodded once.
Chapter 18
Sau'ilahk had no time to ponder how the second Stonewalker came out of a cavern wall. The thunderclap raised by the younger, red-haired one had to be an alarm. He needed to end this and slip away before being forced to flee. And he needed life to feed on.
He rushed the second Stonewalker, as it slashed at him with a wide dagger. Gray-blond hair hung wildly about the elder dwarf's bony face. The blade swept through unimpeded, and his expression shifted to surprise.
Sau'ilahk sank his incorporeal hand through the dwarf's black-scaled hauberk. Elation rose at the tingle of life as the dwarf's mouth gaped.
The old one tried to back away, and Sau'ilahk paced him, wanting to leach as much life as possible. He had not had enough time to memorize this cavern. If exhaustion forced him into dormancy, he would rise in the last place he had awakened.
The elder Stonewalker backed against—into—the wall.
The tingle of life vanished, and Sau'ilahk froze, staring into his victim's face, which was half-submerged in glistening stone.
The stone's texture and phosphorescence flowed over the elder dwarf's features. It began covering his form, armor, hair, and eyes. He became a likeness seemingly carved from the rock.
Sau'ilahk's hand began to harden, as if solidified against his will, trapped inside the stone.
Nothing could hide its life from his touch. Nothing could grip a spirit, especially one such as him. Stunned and horrified, he willed his hand to return to its spiritual state and jerked free, retreating in a rush. He whirled at the sound of grating boots, and the red-haired young one closed quickly.
Sau'ilahk could not help recoiling as another dagger slashed through him.
The young one's eyes widened when the blade did not even ruffle the black cloak. Sau'ilahk swiped at him in turn, hoping to consume this one's life. The dwarf slapped his free hand against a stalactite.
Sau'ilahk's black-wrapped fingers passed straight through his red hair and his face. The young one did not flinch, and Sau'ilahk did not even feel a brief tingle.
"Meâkesagh, yaittrâg vuddidí maks! Chleu'intag chregh; chleu'intag hìm!"
He twisted at the elder's deep voice, catching the meaning of those barked commands too late.
Ore-Locks, block the far exit! Keep to stone; keep to me!
The gray-blond elder stepped forward, his still-carved face pushing from calcified rock. Glistening stone flowed from his features, until he stood fully distinguished from the cavern wall. A rush of booted feet made Sau'ilahk whip the other way.
The red-haired one dodged between half-lit columns and deep shadows, always keeping one hand upon a stalagmite or stalactite. He regained the far opening where he had first appeared.
Sau'ilahk turned fear-fed anger on the bony-featured elder.
… keep to stone … keep to me.
He hissed, and his cloak began to rise. Even if he blinked across the cavern by line of sight, he could not feed on the young one. The elder was the key to Sau'ilahk's failure. That one somehow protected himself and the other through contact with stone. And there was stone here everywhere.
Sau'ilahk had to force one of them to lose contact between flesh and stone.
If the elder died, the younger would be helpless, but turning fully corporeal to fight them would deplete Sau'ilahk's energy. He would not last long. Even if he killed one, to do so quickly would not feed him enough.
He surged rearward, rushing back through three calcified columns.
"Bulwark?" the young one called.
"Hold!" the elder shouted, swerving around a lumpy column.
Sau'ilahk spread his arms wide.
His servitors could do little against enemies who became one with stone. A pure conjury was too slow, and a base summoning was the only choice. He arched his arms forward as the elder Stonewalker rounded another stalagmite. Sigils and shapes formed in Sau'ilahk's sight, but not fixed upon his assailant.