Through Stone and Sea ndst-2

by Barb Hendee

  It was a tunnel. By her best guess and the echoes of her splashing steps, the passage was not tall. The farther she went, the less water surged inward, until it barely splashed under her paws. Then her head bumped sharply against something hard. Somehow it had missed her nose and caught her on both sides of her face. She retreated as the thump echoed, sounding dully metallic.

  Wynn sniffed about until she found something.

  It was upright and round, thicker than her foreleg. She carefully closed her jaws on it. Indeed, it tasted like metal. The next vertical bar was too close to slip her head between them.

  Shade had found a hidden passage, but it was barred against entry.

  She was already shivering from cold, but it didn't matter. She had found what Wynn needed.

  Shade wheeled about, lunging back down the passage, into the ending cave, and out from beneath the overhang. By the time she scrabbled over the rocky backbone, she was hurrying for port as fast as her footing allowed. When she reached it, full daylight had arrived.

  Fishermen and sailors glanced over as she trotted between the buildings, but none approached, giving her no reason to growl. She was alone and cold, longing for the blanket at the inn. She stopped outside the door, hesitated, and turned aside. Then she spotted a small shed filled with netting and piled canvas.

  Shade slipped inside and burrowed into the pile.

  The memory ended suddenly.

  Wynn's head ached from such a prolonged exchange, but she knew the rest of what had happened. Shade had waited out the day, having no way to reach Chane. Close within sight of the inn, she had watched for him and led him back to the lift.

  Wynn was shaking, and not just from memory of drenching cold water.

  "Oh … oh, my Shade!"

  "What did you see?" Chane asked.

  "She did it! She found it! Shade, you clever girl!"

  Wynn told Chane all she'd experienced. His eyes widened at her mention of the inlet, and he shook his head, as if denying it was true.

  "The tide," he hissed. "Why did I not think of that?"

  At Wynn's silence, he explained how he and Shade had first stumbled upon the inlet and found nothing.

  "We must check the tides," he added, "and return when it is low or at least receding."

  "And find a way through those bars," Wynn returned. "It may be another grate, like the one in the pool's room."

  Then she faltered. One puzzle remained concerning her companions' venture.

  "How did you make Shade understand what to do … on her own?" she asked. "She can memory-speak only with me."

  Chane hesitated and then raised his hand directly before Wynn's face—the hand with the brass ring.

  He pinched it with his other hand.

  "No … don't!" Wynn gasped.

  Before she could stop him, Chane pulled off the ring.

  Wynn heard Shade's quick snarl behind her, but that was all.

  "She knows," Chane said. "Perhaps has known all along."

  Wynn twisted about.

  Shade still sat on the floor, but her ears were flattened. Her jowls curled at Chane before her crystal blue eyes turned back on Wynn. Shade grew quiet once more.

  "I knew the risk," Chane whispered. "It was the only way for her to see my chosen memories and hope she understood."

  Wynn studied Shade, still unsure what this really meant. One thing was certain—Shade was aware of much more than she let on. Without warning, Wynn whispered one sharp word at Shade.

  "Chane."

  Shade's gaze wavered, flickering briefly toward him.

  "I saw that!" Wynn accused. "You little sneak!"

  "What are you talking about?" Chane asked.

  "Her!" Wynn jabbed a finger at Shade.

  With a throaty whine, Shade cocked her head.

  "You're not the only thing she knows about," Wynn accused. "All this time, twisting my head apart until it aches, trying to use memory-speak, because it was all she understood … and she's been lying to me! She knows words!"

  Chane let out a tired groan that sounded more like a hiss. "Names, perhaps … only because she has heard them, connected them to someone."

  Wynn didn't believe it, but it was easy enough to test. Keeping her thoughts clear of memories, she scanned the little room. She spotted the sheathed sun crystal where she'd left it.

  "Staff!" she said pointedly.

  Shade started to turn her head but halted. In barely a blink, her ears lowered and she didn't look back up at Wynn.

  "That's it!" Wynn growled. "Get over here, you … you obstinate … adolescent!"

  With one quick step, Wynn made a grab for Shade's scruff—and missed.

  Shade scooted her butt back across the floor. One snort and a huff, and she made a face at Wynn, wrinkled and repugnant, like she'd tasted something foul.

  "Wynn, this is not the time," Chane warned.

  "Oh, yes, it is!" Wynn shot back, still eyeing the dog. "If we're headed into more trouble, I've no time to constantly wrestle with memories. She's going to stop being stubborn and start doing things my way. Now … come here, Shade!"

  This time, Shade spun on her butt. She pushed off from a squat and leaped straight up and over the bed's foot. The sight would've scared most people, but not Wynn.

  "Don't you run from me!" she ordered, making another grab.

  Her hand slipped too quickly down Shade's rising back and haunches. When her fingers crossed the dog's tail, she clenched her grip.

  In the years to come, Wynn would look back on this moment and cringe. Snatching the tail of a now panicked wild animal taller than any wolf would be one—among many—of the stupidest things she'd ever done. But in the moment, she didn't care, until …

  Shade yelped and twisted her head back with a snarl. Standing on the bed, she leveled her eyes with Wynn's—and Wynn balked.

  "Stop it!" Chane said sharply. "She will turn on you!"

  "No, she w—"

  A squeak of shock was all Wynn finished with, as Shade lunged away.

  Chane rushed by as Wynn's legs caught on the bed's foot, and her feet left the floor. Still clinging to Shade's tail, she shot forward and landed facedown on the hard pile mattress. Half of Wynn's breath rushed out in a grunt, and Shade's tail slipped from her hand.

  Wynn rolled onto her side, trying to sit up. She heard Shade utter a vicious snarl and shrank away, flopping over on her back.

  "Get back!" Chane hissed, and his hand shot out above Wynn.

  She saw him try to shove Shade away.

  "Chane, don't—" she started to warn.

  Shade had already wheeled upon the bed.

  Chane's hand barely lighted on her shoulder when she twisted her head and nipped him. He snatched his hand back, clutching it in shock. Before Wynn could react, large forepaws landed against her side and shoved.

  With another squeal, Wynn slid sharply across the bed, over its side, and straight into Chane's legs. He toppled as she flopped on the floor and quickly scrambled over onto her hands and knees. Chane sat on his rump, staring at his shaking hand.

  "It burns," he whispered, "like …"

  Like Magiere's blade, Wynn thought, though Chane never finished. Then Wynn saw the smudge of oily black fluid above the base of Chane's thumb.

  As far as Wynn knew, the only other things in this world beside Magiere's falchion that could sear an undead with a wound were the teeth and claws of a majay-hì. Shade had broken Chane's skin, and though she obviously hadn't intended serious harm, she'd gone too far.

  "Damnation!" Wynn swore, clawing up and over the bedside. "How many pain-in-the-ass majay-hì do I have to fight with in one lifetime?"

  Shade wasn't there—not exactly.

  The tips of two tall, dark ears peeked above the bed's other side. For Shade's size, it was ridiculous for her to think she could hide there.

  "Shade," Wynn said, "I'm your elder, no matter why your father sent you!"

  The dog's head rose just enough to reveal her yellow-flecked b
lue eyes. She blinked slowly with mocking, sleepy-eyed disinterest, and swung her muzzle over to rest upon the bed.

  Then she snorted.

  Wynn lost her last grain of calm. "You will learn more words … if I have to pin your ears back and shout them into that stubborn head!"

  Shade wrinkled her jowls—and her tongue flicked out and up over the tip of her nose.

  Wynn stiffened. That impudent gesture was all too familiar—like the one Chap always used. She stabbed a finger across the bed, straight at Shade's nose.

  "Don't you sass me, young lady!"

  Chapter 15

  The following night, Chane trailed Shade up the jagged shoreline and helped Wynn along behind as often as she would let him. With her pack over one shoulder, she gripped both her staff and cold lamp crystal on that same side, leaving one hand free for climbing. The crystal's light leaked between her clenched fingers.

  Chane was little burdened by his two packs, though he had lashed his broken long sword over his back. He also carried a long steel pry bar in one hand. This had cost all of their dwarven slugs and two silver Numan pennies. Hopefully, it would be stout enough for him to breach the tunnel's two grates.

  Since Shade's revelation of the hidden tunnel, and the subsequent dispute over her awareness of language, Wynn had barely spoken to the dog. This, more than need of Shade's lead, was the reason for their procession's present order.

  They had left the upper inn following Shade's tantrum, hurrying to prepare. While in the market, Wynn had tried several times to speak simple nouns to Shade, pointing to associated objects. She urged the dog to identify similar items in their surroundings. Shade complied a few times and then ceased altogether. She repeatedly tried to shove her head under Wynn's hand, likely to use memory-speak instead. Wynn always pulled her hand away.

  As they had finally headed for the lift, Shade tried again to duck under Wynn's hand. When she failed, two steps later Wynn halted, turning on the dog in angry astonishment. Chane had not really wanted to ask, but he did. It seemed Shade had raised one of Wynn's memories about creatures seen in the Elven Territories—something called "fra'cise."

  "She thinks I jabber like a monkey!" Wynn fumed, and stormed off toward the lift.

  For Chane, dealing with those two was becoming exasperating. His hand still burned lightly from Shade's bite, and Wynn was being as obstinate as the dog. From what Chane gathered, Shade's memory of rediscovering the inlet had been more vivid than Wynn could verbally describe. But amid the pair's nearly silent form of bickering, Chane did have one realization.

  Shade and her kind converted experience into memory more quickly and completely than other sentient beings—certainly more than humans. It made sense, considering their form of communication, and might well be the better way, given time, ability, and skill.

  Perhaps it was Shade who expected Wynn to improve in that.

  When they had finally headed for Sea-Side's lower port, arriving before dawn, they went to the same inn that Chane had used before, and slept away the day.

  Now that they were out on the rocky shore, the black sky was moonless, and though the waves were calmer this night, salty spray still crashed with force. For some reason Wynn ended up more soaked than anyone as she struggled along last.

  Chane could see that she was cold and exhausted.

  "Take my hand," he said, reaching back.

  Wynn was trying to clamber over a barnacle-covered shelf. Too winded to argue, she grasped his hand, letting him pull her up. Her cloak's hood had fallen back, and she kept trying to pull it up. Soaked hair clung to her cheeks and forehead. Fortunately she chose to wear her elven clothing in place of her longer, traditional robe, making climbing a little easier.

  "How much farther?" she breathed tiredly.

  "Not far," he answered. "But we must move quickly. Low tide came just past dusk, and it is already rising."

  Wynn nodded and followed after him.

  Shade barked loudly from ahead, and Chane paused.

  "Is that it?" Wynn asked.

  The dog stood atop the long rock backbone. Chane grabbed Wynn's hand, pulling her along. As they climbed up, Shade scrambled down the far side. Chane crested the rock and Wynn held up the cold lamp crystal.

  Light exposed the inlet's overhang and the dark space beneath. Shade already picked a precarious path inward along the water's rolling edge.

  The tide was higher than Chane had hoped. He had no idea how long the tunnel would be. Even looking up the massive peak to where Sea-Side was situated inward on the peninsula, he could not begin to guess. Another wave rolled in, breaking near the inlet's mouth.

  He waited for it to pass before stepping down. When sure of his footing, he reached up for Wynn and helped her follow.

  "Wait here while I look," he said.

  Setting down the pry bar, Chane stripped off his packs, sword, and cloak.

  "I don't think even you can see much in there," Wynn said. "You'd better take this."

  She held out the cold lamp crystal.

  Chane hesitated, but not because he had never held such a thing. Since following Wynn to the guild's founding branch, he had never been so aware of what the crystals represented. They were bestowed only upon sages who had reached journeyor status and above—those who had proven themselves superior to all others. This one crystal represented the world Chane wanted to be a part of, but it was also like holding a piece of Wynn.

  He took it, watching it glow softly in his pale palm.

  "Wait, on second thought," she said, and reached out to take it back.

  Chane was confused, even hurt by this—until she briskly rubbed the crystal. She opened her hands, and it burned bright with the heat of friction and her own warmth.

  "The water's cold," she said. "You might have trouble brightening it … especially once you're wet."

  She placed the crystal back in his palm.

  Beneath its strengthened light was Wynn's own warmth. That sensation in Chane's palm washed away doubts. But he felt something else, something more, which brought a new fear.

  He smelled Wynn—her life—as if her warmth in the crystal accentuated it, even under the cold shore breeze. The beast within him stirred slightly in its perpetual appetite.

  "What's wrong?" she asked.

  Chane closed his hand, clutching the crystal, fearful it might be taken again—even as its incidental warmth faded against his cold flesh.

  "Nothing," he whispered, and stepped into the water.

  The ocean's true chill was not as cold as he felt inside.

  He sank only to his knees, relieved that the tide had not risen as high as he had first thought. Shade barked at him, but he ignored her and waded in under the overhang. Wynn had said the opening was hidden at the far left. He worked his way to the back wall and followed it.

  The round opening was no more than a shadow in the rock until he stepped directly in front of it. He had to duck to step in, but the curved floor inside was smoother than the inlet's bottom. The tunnel was fully round as far as he could see, like a great stone pipe surging into the mountain's base. There was no doubt that the passage was unnatural. It had been excavated long ago. Algae and the remains of other dried growths spread halfway up its curved sides.

  Soon, he could stand upright, though his head brushed the tunnel's top. It widened as well, until he could only just touch either side with outstretched hands. As he sloshed up its center, the incline was so gradual that he never noticed it, until the water undulated only to his ankles. Then he spotted the grate ahead—or rather a gate.

  Vertical bars filled the tunnel from top to bottom. Its outer frame was mounted in the circumference by massive rivets. But the gate's condition surprised him more.

  The iron bars were not new, but neither were they wholly rusted or worn. Continual exposure to salt water and air should have eaten at them more. The gate was either newer than the tunnel excavation, or it had been replaced repeatedly over the years. Then Chane noticed the lock pla
te level with the one horizontal slat of iron through which all vertical bars passed.

  The plate was larger than a flattened hand. There was no handle or keyhole. Only a palm-size oval, slightly domed, appeared on the plate's surface. Even obscured by grime and salt crust, its tone was lighter than the surrounding iron.

  Chane held the crystal close, and light sparked a vague sheen from the oval. He rubbed it, scraping with his fingernails, until the reflection brightened.

  Nearly white metal, pale but bright as silver, bounced the crystal's light about the tunnel. That one clean patch was smooth and perfect, unmarred by salt. It was the same metal he had seen in the floor portal to the Stonewalkers' underworld.

  Chane quickly headed back, emerging in the inlet to find Wynn and Shade crouched at the water's edge on the backbone's steep side.

  "Did you find it?" Wynn called.

  "Yes. Hand me my packs and the pry bar. Make sure your pack is secure. The footing is rough until we get inside the tunnel's mouth."

  "What about the grate?" she asked, handing him the pry bar first. "Can you break it open?"

  "Perhaps. It is actually a gate, but …" He hesitated. "Better you see for yourself."

  They paused to tie up their cloaks above their waists, so the bottoms would not take on water and weigh them down. It was only then that Chane noticed a long sheathed dagger tucked in the back of Wynn's belt cinching in her tunic.

  When she turned about and found him looking at it, she frowned but handed over his packs. He hooked one over each shoulder by its outer strap, so they hung together behind him, and then grasped his sword, holding it along with the pry bar.

  "I will hold the crystal, so you can keep your staff above the water," he instructed. "Grip one of my packs if you need to steady yourself."

  Chane turned to Shade and pointed beneath the overhang. The dog hopped into the water and waded inward. Wynn climbed down to join them and sucked a sharp breath as a cold roll of the ocean surged to her thighs.

  "Stay close," Chane whispered, heading after Shade.

  By the time they gained the tunnel, Wynn's teeth were chattering with shivers, and their splashing footfalls echoed off the curved walls. When they approached the gate, Shade was already waiting there. The dog appeared better than Wynn at withstanding the cold.