The Night Voice

by Barb Hendee

  Wynn looked up.

  Ghassan stood perfectly still for two more breaths and then lowered the looking glass to point ahead.

  “There! Watch for it!”

  Wynn did so . . . and she saw the faint triple wink of a light ahead. Her breath stopped completely.

  “Let’s go now,” Leesil said.

  Wynn grabbed his arm. There was more need to be certain.

  “What are you waiting for?” Leesil asked.

  With the sun not yet set, Chane would still be dormant. That meant Ore-Locks, or at best Chap, had somehow used a cold-lamp crystal to signal. There was one more step that she and Chap had agreed upon for safety, in case the worst had happened.

  The Enemy’s forces could be on the move elsewhere. Wynn had to be certain those other three orbs were in the right hands before she brought two more within reach.

  “How many flashes?” she asked Ghassan. “How many . . . the first time?”

  He frowned in puzzlement at her. “Five. Why?”

  “We veer into the desert and wait for full night,” she said. “Then I signal again.”

  “What?” Leesil said. “What’s this about, Wynn?”

  This was all that she told any of them, and she ignored all questions. Her next signal was to be one more than the count received. The next response would be one more added to that. And even Chane would not know this until Chap instructed him.

  Only in this way would Wynn know—and Chap know—for certain who was coming and who was waiting.

  • • •

  Later that night, even after the proper signals had been exchanged, Chap crouched upon a rock outcrop in full view of the desert below. He had instructed Ore-Locks and Chane to remain out of sight up here until he acted. They had hidden the supplies and three orbs higher above.

  Then Chap saw Wynn leading the way upward before she spotted him.

  He huffed once but never looked back for Chane and Ore-Locks.

  He lunged off the outcrop, racing downward. Wynn spotted him quickly enough and broke into a run herself. She ignored calls from Leesil and Ghassan to wait, and they collided as she fell to her knees, dropped her staff, and wrapped her arms around Chap’s neck.

  “Oh, thank goodness.” She sighed, pressing her face against him.

  —I missed you too—

  It was a relief to speak with her in their way rather than to dig for memory-words.

  At quick footfalls behind, Chap twisted his head and saw Chane leading the way downward with Ore-Locks following. Wynn rose up, rushed to Chane, but stalled. She might have intended to throw herself at him but instead grabbed his right hand in both of hers. The others from below caught up, but Chap was still watching Wynn . . . with Chane.

  They both looked dusty and travel worn, but she just gazed up into his face in relief.

  Chap did his best to swallow down any disapproval.

  “You are here and safe,” Chane whispered, clamping his other hand over the top of hers.

  Wynn nodded with a heavy breath and half turned to Ore-Locks. Then she looked beyond him and upslope.

  Chap steeled himself for the worst that would come.

  “Shade!” Wynn called. Her puzzled gaze moved back to Chane. “Where is she . . . and Wayfarer and Osha?”

  Chane was silent. Ore-Locks did not move at all.

  “Yes, where’s Wayfarer?”

  At that sharp demand, Chap’s head twisted around to see Magiere closing on him. Leesil was not far behind her.

  “Chap?”

  He twisted the other way to find Wynn closer now with a dimly lit cold-lamp crystal in her hand. He was trapped between the two women. Not unexpected—and not the way he wanted to explain—but he started of course with Wynn.

  —Wayfarer is well and safe and still among the Lhoin’na. This was her choice, and Shade remained as well to watch over them—

  At Chap’s words, Wynn’s face paled. Magiere strode up past Ore-Locks while looking about. In his distraction, worry, and concern, Chap did not hear until too late . . .

  “What did you do now?”

  He whipped around and looked up into Leesil’s angry eyes.

  Then Brot’an and Ghassan closed in and—Chap was suddenly stunned at the sight of a tall, mature elf he had never seen before. Who was this obvious Lhoin’na, and how had he come to be among the others? A torrent of questions overran Chap’s shock and suspicion, but one sharp demand cut off everything else.

  “I’m waiting!” Leesil demanded.

  “It is not his fault.”

  Chap turned at those rasped words and almost snarled at Chane for silence. He thought better of that in the last instant. No one here but Wynn fully trusted anything Chane had to say, and she already knew this was not entirely Chap’s doing. Most of the others quieted down the instant Chane went on.

  “I tried to make Shade come.” Chane stalled with a glance at Wynn. “She told Chap that Osha and Wayfarer were not done with . . . whatever they went for among the Lhoin’na. Wayfarer insisted that all of you would . . . should . . . understand.”

  A dangerous moment came when Magiere stepped toward Chane. Wynn grabbed Magiere’s arm, but that was all.

  “I am here, as is Chap,” Chane added, and looked down only at Wynn. “Shade will keep Wayfarer—and Osha—safe, as was intended by sending them away for whatever true or half-true reasons. When we can, we will go to find Shade.”

  Wynn slumped and closed her eyes.

  “You have the other orbs?” a clear voice asked.

  Chap did not have to look as Ghassan stepped close and looked down as if expecting Chap to somehow answer. He would have preferred to say nothing, especially to this one, but he glanced back at Ore-Locks and huffed once.

  “Hidden above,” Ore-Locks answered, “along with the extra supplies we brought.”

  Again, Chap studied the tall elf, who had remained silently watchful the whole time. Not long after, they set up camp, and everyone took to sorting out supplies. It troubled Chap that there was one person present whom he did not know. He did not relish the thought of killing any more than necessary, but for what was coming, he would do so if not satisfied, as he watched the unknown interloper sitting there across the low flames and silently listening to everything.

  There was much for everyone to relate to one another, and they had all been apart for so long. Magiere shared what had been learned of undead migrating eastward, including at least one kind they had never encountered before. Ghassan claimed that they had a good notion of the Enemy’s general location, though he did not elaborate.

  Chap had little faith in the fallen domin’s word, especially since he could not dip the man’s memories, surface or otherwise. But none of the others, including Magiere, said anything to counter Ghassan’s claim. As Chap absorbed this, Leesil asked Ore-Locks a few questions about the journey. When the dwarf began to answer, Chap quietly slipped off from the circle around the small fire.

  As much as the others relished some of the fresher foods brought, especially the apples, one member was missing from the circle around the small fire. Wynn sat off on her own, and he circled around her. After what she’d heard about Shade, he waited before sidling in next to her.

  —Who is the Lhoin’na?—

  She barely turned her head. “Chuillyon. Another fallen sage, like Ghassan . . . but different.”

  —How did he come here?—

  Wynn turned away.

  Chap needed answers, but he was uncertain whether to press for them yet.

  “I know Shade is safer with Osha and Wayfarer,” Wynn said quietly, “and sending her with them was my idea. Maybe that’s better, considering what we are going to do . . . where we’re going next, but I feel so incomplete without Shade.”

  Chap could not think of anything to say to this. How many years had pas
sed since he had been taken as a pup to a desperate half-breed boy trapped in a dark and bloody world? And he knew he would never again want to be separated from Leesil and Magiere, but hard choices were coming. Some were here already.

  When he had first begged Lily to send one of their children across the world to Wynn, it had been an ugly thing to do. And worse for leaving a mate he still believed he might never see again. How it would change other things and affect other people was something he had not thought of then.

  —Shade must do what I cannot. I had to return to be with the others . . . with you—

  Wynn hung her head and closed her eyes.

  Chap desperately needed answers to what had changed since he had left, but he stayed silent in waiting. Without even looking, Wynn slung her arm around his neck and buried her face in it. He envied her in one way.

  Wynn might always be closer to his estranged daughter than he could ever hope to be. And now that cost her as well.

  —I am sorry—

  “No . . . no,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. It’s just hard.”

  He kept still until she sat up and looked at him.

  —And what about Chuillyon?—

  Wynn glanced once toward those nearer the fire, and at the tall elf.

  “I believe he somehow uses Chârmun to move between it and its . . . children. Leesil was holding his branch from Roise Chârmune some nights ago, and Chuillyon just appeared.”

  Chap’s ears stiffened upright at even the possibility.

  —Has he confirmed this?—

  “Some—not all—perhaps only enough to make us trust him. I’m half guessing the rest. The last time I was in the Lhoin’na lands and first saw Chârmun . . . he was suddenly there. There was no way he could’ve gotten into that clearing without being spotted.”

  —Can he be trusted?—

  Wynn snorted. “No! But I think he’d do anything to stop the Enemy from returning. That puts him on our side for now.”

  And they turned to more details from Wynn’s past. Chap learned of how Chuillyon had more than once foiled an undead wraith’s conjury, though most of what he had done was only defensive. That left one other piece to puzzle for another notion developing in Chap’s thoughts.

  —Where is Leesil’s branch?—

  “In his pack.”

  Chap fell silent while turning over everything that Wynn had related. Some of the others near the fire occasionally glanced their way, for he and Wynn had been off on their own for a while. And when Magiere stared too long . . .

  Wynn smiled. “Sorry. We’re just catching up.”

  Chane then rose and faced her, though he looked right at Chap. “Now that the orbs are gathered and the likely place of the Enemy has been found, what is next?”

  Ghassan’s irises appeared nearly black in the dark as he answered, “We head east again.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Leesil felt anxious and trapped. All along the journey west to rejoin Chap and Chane, the farther they’d gone, Magiere’s dreams had continued to lessen in frequency, until they stopped altogether. This should’ve come as a relief.

  It hadn’t.

  Back when Magiere had first led him, Chap, and Wynn into the Pock Peaks after the first orb, she’d often awoken in the nights and cried out. That was how everything had started, and here in this foreign land, when they’d turned back along the range, she hadn’t made a sound. Not after that night on the stone slab spent waiting out the ghul.

  After that, on the trek toward Bäalâle, Leesil wouldn’t even have noticed the change if he hadn’t awoken one night for no reason. He’d found Magiere sitting up in the night and silently staring back the way they had come. She hadn’t even known he’d awoken until he touched her arm. She’d jumped slightly and stiffened as if he’d awoken her.

  The farther westward they traveled, the more withdrawn she’d grown.

  And then, they’d finally met up with Chap, Chane, and Ore-Locks and turned back eastward once again. All along the way, Magiere had remained quiet and withdrawn. He couldn’t bring himself to ask her what was wrong, partly because he feared the answer.

  Now, far to the east again, Leesil crouched on a stone knoll, their camp hidden off behind him in the foothills. Out in the dark stood one peak in the crook of the range’s turn along the eastern coast. The only way they even knew it was the peak was because of the fires.

  Bright spots below his vantage point were scattered at the mountain’s base, into its lowest foothills, and out into the open, parched plain. Even the undead valued fire, but so many flicking spots of light told him that a horde had gathered.

  —How . . . many?—

  Leesil didn’t start at Chap’s broken memory-words in his head. He rose to his feet as the dog came up beside him.

  “At least a hundred, maybe more,” he whispered. “Not a full army but enough.”

  They both knew there were too many below to sneak past while carrying five orbs into the mountain, however and wherever they might find an entrance.

  Chap peered down over the high knoll, and Leesil wasn’t sure what to say.

  How many times had the two of them stood like this, trying to find a strategy to succeed and get out? This time they didn’t see a way in, let alone an escape.

  —Magiere . . . cannot go . . . near . . . the Enemy . . . her maker—

  That wouldn’t make things any easier, and telling her would be even worse.

  “So, what next?”

  —The only possibility . . . is to split into . . . two groups— . . . —One . . . to infiltrate . . . the peak . . . the other . . . to draw . . . the horde— . . . —Magiere must . . . lead . . . the second . . . not . . . the first—

  Leesil wasn’t quite ready to agree, but he hadn’t thought of any other options that might work. Anyone who drew the horde’s attention stood little chance of survival, even with Magiere. Then again, the first group would be walking into . . . what?

  “We don’t even know how to use the orbs, except to blindly open them all at once. You saw what the orb of Water did in the cavern beneath that six-towered castle.”

  Chap didn’t reply.

  They’d both been there when Magiere used her thôrhk—her orb key—to open the orb of Water where it waited for a thousand years. Instantly, it began swallowing all freestanding moisture. If they’d let it finish with that, would it have done the same to anything living?

  —The orbs . . . are a . . . last . . . resort . . . if you find . . . the Enemy . . . fully awake—

  Leesil scoffed. “I heard you . . . every other time you said it.”

  They had no idea what they would find, what the Enemy really was, or if they could kill it. They only hoped they’d never have to use the orbs. Chap didn’t counter his spiteful reply, and this worried Leesil all the more.

  “If we have to, do you have any notions about using the orbs?”

  Chap turned away.

  —Perhaps—

  • • •

  Chap returned to camp, taking note of who was in plain sight. They had no fire and used dimly lit cold-lamp crystals only as needed. One tent flap was flipped fully open, and he saw Chuillyon sitting cross-legged within, his eyes closed. Chane sat talking with Ore-Locks on the camp’s other side. Ghassan stood silent, head bowed, near the desert side of camp, apparently lost in thought. Magiere sat beside Brot’an. Both were tending and sharpening their weapons in silence. Wynn was nowhere to be seen, so she had to be in the second of now three tents.

  Magiere glanced up and spotted him. “Where’s Leesil?”

  —He is coming . . . soon—

  Chap went to the tent he shared with Leesil, Magiere, and Wynn. Shoving through the entrance flap, he found the young sage kneeling between two familiar chests—those for the orbs of Spirit and Air.

  Was she sitting vigil?
At least she was alone, and she would not question what he asked of her. Wynn trusted him, at least in all greater matters. Upon hearing him, she turned on her knees, and he steeled himself.

  —I need you to open the chest for the orb of Spirit—

  She blinked. “Why?”

  —I need to know more, as much as I can, about the orbs, should they have to be used—

  Wynn still studied him, as if measuring his words. Then she opened the left chest, reached in, and pulled back the cloth as he approached.

  He remembered all too clearly that when Magiere had opened the orb of Water, he, she, and Leesil had each sensed or seen something different.

  He had felt the presence of a Fay, a singular one.

  Magiere had sensed an overwhelming undead.

  Leesil had seen the head of a great serpent . . . or dragon.

  “What are you going to do?” Wynn whispered.

  Chap believed one of his kin was inside this orb and perhaps each one of them. Of the Enemy’s minions they had encountered, most had been especially obsessed with the orb of Spirit. So it was the logical orb to try.

  Lifting a forepaw, he reached over the chest’s side and never hesitated as he touched the object’s strange smooth but faintly rough surface.

  The tent, the chest, and Wynn vanished.

  A world—and his life—rushed by, all tangled and obscured in a mist like gray clouds trying to envelop him. In flickers of what he could make out, he thought he saw his own life played out in glimpses, but always moving backward . . . always growing darker . . . until he saw nothing.

  A hiss grew in the dark over a scratching on stone so loud and harsh that he then heard crackling, as if the stone broke. A reddish light grew somewhere ahead. For a moment he thought it was flame, though its shape changed to the maw and then the eyes—and then both—of some immense reptile without limbs. But it was not a snake, not even a serpent, judging by those armored scales on its coils.

  Was it like what Leesil had claimed to see when Magiere opened the first orb?

  Chap could not remember this placeless, timeless moment. As before in the white mist, this time in the black mist, like broken clouds of swirling soot, he saw something . . .