Child of a Dead God (48 page)
Magiere was already there.
Welstiel hurried down the rocky slope.
Hkuan’duv and Dänvârfij followed from a safe distance, letting the pack of humans keep a good lead. But when they reached the boxed gully, Dänvârfij halted, still as the snow, and stared at Kurhkâge’s frozen corpse in the chute.
A’harhk’nis’s head lay uncovered where someone else had found it. Hkuan’duv knew that Sgäilsheilleache would be aware he had been followed, and his suspicions might grow.
Dänvârfij sank to her knees. “What could have done this?”
When Hkuan’duv had returned to camp last night, his need to suppress shock and pain had kept him from relating too many details. She had not pressed for more.
“I believe this white woman is one of the humans’ undead,” he began, and then faltered. “They had no defense against her . . . she was too fast and strong.”
“But this,” Dänvârfij said, looking at A’harhk’nis’s head, “to one such as him . . . We cannot leave them untended.”
“We will perform rites after our purpose is fulfilled.”
Dänvârfij lifted her eyes to him and, for a moment, he thought she might argue. Then her expression flattened until no trace of anger or grief remained. Their purpose came first, even if it meant irreverence for their dead. Dänvârfij stepped up the chute as if she had seen nothing at all.
Hkuan’duv followed and suppressed his trepidation as he passed between the stone walls—past the place where he’d seen a white face with colorless eyes like ice.
They breached the chute’s upper end and saw no one, but the trail in the snow was clear. They trekked in silence until the path led to a rocky slope through a narrow saddle between two high peaks. When they crested the top, they both halted above a wide white plateau between the mountains.
“Look,” Dänvârfij whispered, pointing.
Upon the sunken plain stood an ancient fortification of pale gray stone, and the distant specks of the two male humans and their band drew closer to it.
Hkuan’duv hurried down to the plain’s edge and crouched to wait and watch. There he spotted a paw print in the snow near the rocks.
The majay-hì had survived and traveled on in the night without the others. Hkuan’duv closed his eyes, considering what to do next.
If the dog had tracked the white woman, then she was inside as well. All tracks led to this hidden place—the journey’s end—and more than likely, Magiere and Sgäilsheilleache were already inside. The deceptively frail monster might be a guardian for this ancient artifact that Most Aged Father wanted. A battle for the object’s possession seemed inevitable, but Hkuan’duv could not see how anyone could get past the woman. And how did these other humans, now trekking across the plain, fit into the growing tangle?
“If A’harhk’nis and Kurhkâge could not best this undead,” Dänvârfij said, “then Sgäilsheilleache and Osha will not fare any better. They are in danger.”
“Sgäilsheilleache would never betray his guardianship through recklessness, ” Hkuan’duv replied. “He would not allow his charges to fight a hopeless battle. He may possess knowledge in this matter that we do not.”
Even so, Hkuan’duv did not know what the object truly was or where it lay in the vast structure. He only knew that Magiere was to retrieve it, and he would procure it from her.
He looked over the pristine plain, waiting for the pack of humans to get closer to the castle. Once they were hard to separate with his elven eyes, he knew their limited human sight would not detect two followers. He and Dänvârfij slipped out across the snow.
They stayed within the broken trail to hide their own passing from anyone who returned. Halfway there, he spotted the snow-capped outer wall. They traversed its outside until tall iron gates loomed before them. All trails passed through the tilting gate, and they backed away along the wall to hunker against its stone.
“If Magiere succeeds, she will return with the artifact,” he said. “We will find cover and see how many of her companions survive as well. Once they head back for their camp, we will trail at a safe distance and take them among the crags.”
“But if Sgäilsheilleache survives and—”
“His guardianship must end, overridden by Most Aged Father’s request. Sgäilsheilleache is loyal. He will do what is right.”
“And if others, besides Magiere, resist?”
“Dispatch the small human, but only incapacitate the half-blood.” He paused, still scanning the valley. “Then we will attend our dead and return the artifact to our caste’s safekeeping.”
Dänvârfij paused, absorbing his words. Her face looked thin and tired. They had both spent too many days and nights on half-rations in this ice world.
“I agree, but . . . ,” she began.
“You have another option?” he asked.
“No . . . but I dislike leaving Sgäilsheilleache and Osha to face this alone, while we wait so close.”
Her honesty was always admirable. Had she felt any other way, she would not be Dänvârfij.
“I know,” Hkuan’duv answered and pulled his cloak tightly about himself.
Wynn breathed in relief at the sight of Osha hurrying toward her. He drew close but did not embrace her.
“Are you well?” he asked.
Sgäile crept down the thick stone banister and dropped silently off its end. He did not take his eyes off Li’kän.
“I am thirsty,” Wynn said.
Osha dug inside his tunic and produced a leather-sheathed water flask. She took it gratefully, but kept watch on Magiere and Li’kän. Neither had moved.
Sgäile studied the white woman with revulsion, as if uncertain whether to attack or hold his ground.
“Why did she stop?” Leesil asked.
Magiere’s falchion still lay on the floor, but her black eyes were locked upon Li’kän. She looked almost weary.
At first Wynn gave her behavior little notice, but then she remembered the times Magiere had come out of her dhampir state. She had often succumbed to exhaustion, but only after, never during.
Li’kän swayed in a half-aware state. Her small mouth moved as if whispering voicelessly to herself. Wynn gulped down three mouthfuls of water and crouched to pour some in her hand.
“Psst . . . Chap, come here,” she whispered.
He glanced over and then backed toward her rather than break his vigil. When he had lapped away the water, Wynn poured more, but he ignored it.
“What is happening?” she asked.
I cannot make out her words. It is as if she is speaking to someone, but I do not know who or what . . . or why she holds back
.
.
Magiere glanced down at Wynn with irises flooded black, then reached out and grasped Wynn’s hand.
“Chap believes something is influencing her,” Wynn said and stood up, still gripping Magiere’s fingers. “What do we do now?”
They had all followed Magiere this far, and Wynn hoped she would somehow know what to do.
Magiere crouched and picked up her sword. She scanned the wide stairs and upper landing with three plain archways, and then glanced briefly to the narrow passage from which Wynn had entered. She stopped last on the left-side passage.
“That way.”
At Magiere’s first step, Sgäile quickly closed on her.
“You would turn your back on this thing?”
His tone worried Wynn, as well as the way he watched Li’kän with the garrote wire still looped between his hands. How long would the naked woman remain passive if she sensed a threat?
“Li’kän?” Wynn said. “Will you come?”
Magiere spun back, releasing Wynn’s hand. Her features twisted with menace, but Li’kän stood listless and unaware. Then a shudder passed through the white undead. Her own face wrinkled in a mute echo of Magiere’s.
“What did you call her?” Magiere hissed.
“Her name . . . ,” Wynn answered, but the mimicked expressions of these two women left her frightened. “Li’kän has been here, alone, for a long time.”
Wynn flinched as Magiere turned on her. More than once, Magiere and Leesil, and even Chap, had chastised her sympathies for certain Noble Dead.
“This place holds secrets,” Wynn added firmly. “Chap believes we need assistance in deciphering them, if we are to retrieve what you seek . . . and more.”
Chap wrinkled a jowl at Wynn, but he huffed once in agreement. Leesil, Sgäile, and Osha all looked more uncertain and wary.
“Will you come?” Wynn repeated to Li’kän.
The white undead ceased whispering. A sharp shake of her head tossed her black hair across her face. Her irises rolled down from beneath quivering eyelids, and she swung her head toward the sage. Wynn sidestepped just a little way behind Magiere.
Li’kän studied her, appraised her, trying to decide if she were prey—or at least that was how it seemed to Wynn. Then Li’kän stepped out unsteadily, as if reluctant at each footfall.
Magiere headed for the left corridor. Chap closed behind her, watching over his shoulder.
Must you share all my concerns whenever they pop into your head?
Wynn did not answer as she scurried after him, and Li’kän came behind her.
Osha tried to step in, but Sgäile pulled him back. Leesil waited as well. Once the undead had followed Wynn into the corridor, all three fell in behind her.
“I had to say something,” Wynn whispered to Chap. “You saw Magiere’s face—not to mention Sgäile’s.”
I could be wrong.
Wynn’s stomach flip-flopped. Chap rarely second-guessed himself, at least as far as she knew.
Li’kän is undead and mad . . . and cannot be trusted. If she has been here since the forgotten war, then she was likely a part of it.
Wynn glanced back.
Li’kän paced close behind. Her white body turned deep gray in the tight passage’s shadowy space. Somewhere farther back, the glow of Leesil’s retrieved amulet silhouetted the undead in a dim orange aura.
Wynn was caught between two natural enemies: one of the undead, immeasurably old, and a dhampir—a hunter of the dead—but born to lead them.
Magiere led the way out the passage’s end into a large room. At first, Wynn made out little in the darkness—only tall shapes, like freestanding walls, partitioning a wide chamber too long to measure. When Leesil stepped out, his amulet’s dim light spread.
Shadow partitions sharpened into high stone casements, and Wynn stumbled mutely to the ends of the nearest two.
Shelf upon shelf of disarrayed texts rose above her. Some had crumbled and others were broken and decayed. Scroll cases of wood, metal, and bone or horn stood on end or lay toppled in heaps. Everywhere she saw bound sheaves, books, and cloth- or hide-wrapped bundles. And the row of tall, wide stone bookcases ran both ways along the chamber, uncountable beyond the reach of the amulet’s light.
Wynn stood in an ancient library or archive, perhaps the oldest ever found by one of her guild. She could not begin to measure the wealth of knowledge here, built over unknown centuries. As she slipped between the nearest casements, and shadows thickened around her, she looked up to the shelves beyond her reach.
“Wynn,” Osha called. “Come out and sit . . . eat.”
She dug her crystal out of her coat. Dim light still emanated from it, and she rubbed furiously as she turned, looking for Osha. He stood just inside the passage’s exit with bundled coats and cloaks in his arms. Then he was blotted from sight as Li’kän rushed in between the casements.
“Wynn!” Osha called louder.
Li’kän’s urgent eyes sparked in the crystal’s white light, and Wynn backed deeper between the shelves. The undead slowly crept in, delicate hands clutching low shelves on both sides. Wynn retreated again. But if Li’kän intended harm to her, why did she not come more quickly? The white woman stopped, craned her head upward, and snatched a dust-crusted book.
Her narrow fingers bit through the aged cover and pages.
Li’kän’s perfect white face twisted in anguish. Wynn forgot danger and gasped loudly as the ancient book shattered into dust. Then she heard frantic panting and looked up.
Li’kän’s wide-eyed gaze raced around the shelves, and she grabbed for an age-marred tin scroll case. A gloved hand snarled in the top of her black hair.
Wynn heard Magiere’s growling voice. “Get away from her!”
Magiere jerked Li’kän by the hair, and the undead’s head snapped backward. But she clasped the scroll case to her bare chest, as if keeping it mattered more than freeing herself. Magiere dragged Li’kän out, pivoted sharply, and threw the woman beyond Wynn’s sight around the right bookcase’s end.
“Wynn, get out of there!” Leesil shouted.
“Spread out!” Sgäile snapped, then vanished to the right.
Osha dropped his bundles, drew stilettos, and disappeared to the left.
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