Of Truth and Beasts

Wynn couldn’t face the chance that any of this might happen. She’d stolen Ore-Locks’s final hope of absolution and locked it away. She’d sacrificed his chance to be free of a hidden heritage to the Lord of the Slaughter.

Wynn had been raised, nurtured, trained to seek the truth for all to hear. Another choice like this crushed her down even more. Every muscle in her small body ached as if that growing weight were real. If anything more dropped upon her, she felt she might break. And there was more to come; she knew this.

Except for Shade, Wynn felt alone in this moment. There was no one far enough outside the guild for her to trust. There was no one here who knew enough and believed in what would come ... not even Chane.

Shade’s low rumble cut through Wynn’s growing anguish.

“All right, we’ll go,” she whispered.

Shade’s rumble grew to a snarl.

Wynn almost sighed. Was Chane coming? Maybe he hadn’t received her message—or he’d ignored it.

—not ... Chane—

Shade’s hackles stood on end. Her ears flattened as she bared her teeth and glared through the opening at the alcove’s rear.

Wynn snatched up the staff as she dug into her robe’s pocket for her glasses. Did she sense some other undead?

Shade suddenly twisted her head, looking to the opposite opening among the four ways into the alcove. Her head whipped twice both ways before she turned again toward the front opening.

—behind—

Wynn shoved on the glasses and ripped the sheath off the staff’s crystal. Shade’s snarl sharpened again as Wynn barely turned toward the rear arch, and she almost glanced back.

A dark form crept around the rear entrance’s left side.

Wynn thrust the staff out as shapes and phrases for its ignition raced through her mind.

The sun crystal ignited.

“My eyes!”

That strange cry came the instant that Wynn’s glasses blackened. She couldn’t see anything except the sun crystal’s dimmed point of light.

“Put that thing out!”

Wynn spun at the snarling command behind her, but still held the sun crystal toward the first intruder. The glasses began to adjust.

Beyond Shade’s tense form, Wynn barely made out a tall figure outside the other alcove arch. It was dressed in a heavy cloak, with one gloved hand held up to shield its face within the cloak’s hood. Beside it stood the shape of a huge canine.

Shade wasn’t snarling anymore.

That is enough, little one. It is all right now.

Those strange multilingual words barely filled Wynn’s head when a cry rose behind her.

“My eyes! Ah, seven hells, Wynn, you’ve blinded me!”

She spun back, staring at the first intruder, now standing in the alcove’s corner between two of its openings. This one had both gloved hands clamped over its face. Only then did it dawn on Wynn ...

Both intruders were speaking Belaskian.

Wynn instantly snuffed the sun crystal’s light, and only the cold lamp’s softer glow lit the dark alcove.

The figure before her was slight, tightly built, and obviously male. Beneath the cloak and the wool pullover, the collar of a leather hauberk protruded. There were unusual weapons lashed to his thighs. Around the gloved hands clamped over his eyes she thought she saw tendrils of white-blond hair.

Fright and guilt flooded Wynn at what she might’ve done. She dropped the staff across the table and rushed at him.

“Leesil?” she whispered, and grabbed at his hands, pulling them down.

There was his caramel-tinted face. Faint scars showed on his jawline, and those feathery eyebrows weren’t quite as slanted as a full-blooded elf. He opened his eyes, blinking several times.

Wynn was still panting in fright, and then ...

He winked at her with a sly grin. “You’re just too easy to play. You know that, don’t you?”

He was still blinking through a squint when Wynn sucked in a shocked breath. All the joy and relief at seeing him once more faded under fury at another of his stupid tricks.

“You ... you ...” she stuttered. “You ... bastard!”

She punched him straight in the chest.

Steel rings lashed on his armor beneath the pullover bit into Wynn’s knuckles. She snatched her hand back in a cringe of pain.

“Hey, what was that for?” he asked.

Looking into Leesil’s frowning face, Wynn lost any irritation he always sparked with a jest. She threw herself at him, knocking him into the alcove’s corner.

“Take it easy,” he warned. “You going to crack my head open on the wall now?”

She just held on to him.

“Wynn?” Leesil asked, but she couldn’t answer.

His hand slid across her back as he wrapped his arms around her in return. She was shaking when he clamped his hold tighter. She lifted her head and saw the concern in his slightly large amber eyes.

Wynn barely regained composure as she rose on her toes to kiss his cheek.

“What do you think you’re doing with my husband?”

That caustic jibe came from behind, and Wynn quickly turned her head.

There she was, nearly as pale as a corpse.