Between Their Worlds Read online

  “Are you in much pain?” he asked.

  As Magiere leaned back, Leanâlhâm pushed a blanket-covered pack under her shoulders and head. Magiere finally shook her head in reply, but Leesil knew she was lying.

  Her pale features were strained, and her jaw was clenched. He wanted to give her a few moments before they tried to remove the arrow. The pain was going to get much worse.

  Leanâlhâm knelt on the floor at the bed’s other side as Leesil glanced about, spotting a small pile of travel gear in the corner—water skins, another blanket, and two more packs. Besides these, there was only a small table big enough for one person’s needs, two stools, and a tin pitcher and basin near the door. He couldn’t tell how long Brot’an had been staying here.

  Chap padded to the filthy window. He rose, and with his front feet on the sill, he huffed for attention as he pawed the open slide bolt where the window’s two halves closed together. Then he growled, glancing back at Leesil.

  “Lock that up,” Leesil said, looking to Osha. “At least then we’ll hear anyone trying to get in.”

  Instead, Osha unslung his quiver and then viciously pulled the slipknot of another cord across his chest. He caught the long and narrow cloth-wrapped bundle sliding down his back and tossed—nearly threw—it into the corner atop the other gear.

  Osha shuddered once with a grimace, rubbing his shoulder, as if the burden were heavier than it could possibly be. Leesil wondered what was wrapped inside the cloth, but this was not the time to ask.

  Chap dropped down from the sill and backed up as Osha stepped to the window. Instead of locking it, Osha opened one half partway and peered out into the night and upward toward the roof. When he closed it again, he didn’t bolt it.

  Chap growled softly and looked at Leesil, but they both knew what this was about: Brot’an. Osha expected the shadow-gripper to come in from above. Chap’s jowls wrinkled as he stalked toward the door and lay down to watch the window and the whole room.

  Leesil turned his attention back to Magiere.

  Just across the bed, Leanâlhâm was already examining Magiere’s wound.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked her with one quick glance at Osha. “Either of you . . . why aren’t you with Gleann . . . and my mother? Leanâlhâm?”

  Leanâlhâm tensed but remained fixed on splitting Magiere’s pant leg from around the protruding arrow. Leesil saw one of her strangely green eyes twitch.

  “I must work on this,” she answered.

  Her Belaskian was better than Osha’s. Likely, that had been through Sgäile’s tutelage, though Gleann had also spoken it quite well. Wynn had worked with Osha a bit, but like Leesil himself, Osha had little talent for any language but his own.

  Leanâlhâm suddenly rose and went to dig in a pack among the gear in the corner. She pulled out several pieces of white cloth and a box large enough that she needed to hold it with both hands. Returning to the far bedside, she set her items on the floor where Leesil couldn’t see them. Leanâlhâm further widened the tear in Magiere’s pant leg, using one of the cloths to wipe away blood so she could better inspect the wound.

  “What’s in the box?” Leesil asked.

  “The tools of a healer,” Leanâlhâm answered. “It was my . . . grandfather’s.”

  Gleann was a renowned Shaper among his people, the an’Cróan, or rather a healer who worked on the wounded versus guiding the shaping of living things, such as trees grown into homes for their people. Perhaps like him, Leanâlhâm was gifted, and he had trained her. But had that old, owl-faced an’Cróan given up his work? Why else would he hand over his wares to his granddaughter?

  “The arrow missed the bone,” Leanâlhâm said. “But the shaft is lodged against it. The protruding head can be snapped off, but I will have to widen the wound a little to get the shaft out cleanly.”

  Magiere elbowed up from her reclining position. “Don’t bother,” she said, but her words sounded muffled.

  Leesil’s gaze flew to her face. He’d warned her earlier about letting her dhampir nature out to mask the pain.

  Magiere’s brown irises flooded to black, and Leesil panicked. He knew what she was about to do. As she reached under her leg and snapped off the arrow’s head, he shouted at her.

  “No!”

  Before he could grab her wrist, she ripped the shaft out of her thigh.

  A grating cry of pain or rage erupted from Magiere’s widened mouth. The arrow shaft snapped in half in her clenched fist as Leesil scrambled up on the bed to pin her down. Leanâlhâm gave an involuntary cry, grabbing a piece of cloth to staunch the blood flow.

  “No!” Magiere snarled and pushed the girl’s hands away.

  Leesil saw Magiere’s eyes flood nearly black as her irises expanded. Through the pain, she clenched her teeth, and her lips parted. Her teeth had begun to shift and change. Leesil threw himself on top of her, pinning her down as he shouted, “Chap!”

  Chap wasn’t fast enough. By the time he latched onto the back of Leanâlhâm’s cloak and pulled, the girl’s eyes had gone wide. She twisted away across the floor, ducking behind Osha’s legs as he rushed in.

  Osha looked horrified but not surprised. He’d seen Magiere change more than once, both in the Elven Territories and while fighting beside her in the ice-bound castle when they’d gone after the orb. He had seen Magiere’s dhampir half, but never like this.

  All Leesil could do was hold Magiere down and hope she didn’t lose control.

  Every one of her muscles was rigid beneath him, and he looked to the tear in her pant leg. This ability to just call up her inner nature was new—and how she’d learned to do so in the northern Wastes wasn’t something anyone else should know about. He lay atop Magiere as Chap watched them both, standing by and ready to lunge in. Leesil grew numb and couldn’t even look at Magiere’s face anymore. He just kept looking down at the blood-soaked rent in her pant leg.

  The blood wasn’t flowing anymore. He couldn’t be certain amid the mess, but he knew the wound would begin closing.

  Magiere whimpered and went limp beneath him. Osha and Leanâlhâm still watched as one last exhausted exhale escaped Magiere.

  “What . . . what . . . ?” Leanâlhâm, now on her feet and peering around Osha’s side, stammered.

  “It’s all right,” Leesil said, his voice flat. “She’ll need water and food soon.”

  Leanâlhâm remained there, hiding behind Osha.

  Leesil swung his head back to see Magiere’s face. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth was slack enough for him to see that her teeth had returned to normal. She was covered in sweat, and he reached for the scrap of cloth Leanâlhâm had dropped to wipe Magiere’s face.

  “It’s all right,” he whispered gently in her ear, not knowing what else to say.

  Then Chap began growling.

  Leesil looked over to find the dog staring toward the window. He felt the smallest breeze and quickly rolled over on the bed’s edge and reached to his thigh for a blade.

  Brot’an’s head hung down in the open window. One arm followed as he grabbed the upper edge of the window’s interior, squirmed through, and dropped lightly to the floor.

  Leesil didn’t let go of his winged blade’s handle.

  Brot’an rose to his feet, glancing first at the bed and then at Leanâlhâm, who still cowered behind Osha. When he took off the wrap, a frown already covered his face.

  “Why does she have no bandage yet?” he demanded.

  “I . . . I could not,” Leanâlhâm stammered. “She is no longer—”

  “I’ll deal with it,” Leesil shot back, suddenly angry but uncertain at whom. “Leanâlhâm, get some water.”

  “You find . . . them?” Osha asked in Belaskian, turning on Brot’an. “Find hiding . . . place?”

  Still half focused on Magiere, Brot’an shook his head. “No.”

  Osha turned away, bent down, and picked up the tin pitcher. He placed it carefully in Leanâlhâm’s hands. She started out of her frightened tr
ance and turned for the door, but her wide-eyed gaze remained on Magiere until the door closed after her.

  Leesil had had enough and stood up.

  “Osha, what are you all doing here? Why have those other anmaglâhk come all the way here after Magiere? And don’t tell me ‘not now’!”

  Something about Osha had changed since Leesil last saw the young elf more than a year ago. His feelings, sometimes even his thoughts, had always been so plain on his face, but not anymore.

  “Protect you,” Osha finally answered. “Protect you from them. Most Aged Father . . . he send—”

  “I was against his strategy,” Brot’an interrupted.

  “Against?” Osha spit out, and wheeled on Brot’an. He cut loose with an angry stream of Elvish.

  Brot’an spit out one harsh word in Elvish, and Osha fell mute. There was no awe left in the young elf’s expression for the elder of his caste. In spite of their outbursts at each other, Leesil wasn’t letting any of this drop.

  “Protect us?” he nearly shouted. “From your own kind? What do they want?”

  Nobody needed to answer.

  Leesil wasn’t even sure why he’d asked. Most Aged Father had sent some of his caste after them when they went to find the first orb. Sgäile died defending them and killed one of their shadow-grippers—like Brot’an. Most Aged Father wanted the orb, or at least to know what they had and where it was. None of that decrepit old elf’s assassins had ever seen it.

  That still didn’t explain why Brot’an, or maybe Osha, had dragged Leanâlhâm along. The girl could hardly be of any use to “protect” Magiere. Worse than that, Leanâlhâm was in danger because she was with Brot’an—and now with Magiere.

  Leesil glanced sidelong at Chap. He knew exactly how to get some solid answers—or, rather, how to make sure Chap got them. But the dog wasn’t watching Brot’an.

  Chap was staring at the long, wrapped bundle Osha had tossed in the corner. Anything that held Chap’s concern more than Brot’an’s presence began to worry Leesil.

  “Chap,” Leesil said.

  Chap didn’t look up.

  Chap barely heard Leesil. He became vaguely aware of the others when Leanâlhâm returned with a full pitcher of water. Even as the girl crept hesitantly toward Magiere’s bed, his thoughts were elsewhere. He had been trying to understand the consequences of what he had heard in Osha’s Elvish rant just before Brot’an silenced the young elf.

  Brot’an had tried to kill Most Aged Father.

  The implications were too varied to even guess, but had Brot’an started a war, this time among his own kind, between dissidents and other anmaglâhk loyal to Most Aged Father? Had he done this on purpose? Oh, yes, even failure could be an intentional tool for that deceiver.

  And as much as the Anmaglâhk had come after Magiere for the orb or its whereabouts, without actually knowing what it was, this situation was also about Brot’an. It was about them getting to Magiere before Brot’an did. That much Chap could deduce.

  Now that deceitful butcher stood in the same room with her.

  If only Osha had stood up to Brot’an, kept arguing, then Chap might have learned more. But he had also picked up something confusing connected to the bundle Osha had tossed in the corner.

  A fleeting memory had flashed through the young elf’s mind. It seemed to take place only a moment after Osha’s memory of the dark, searing-hot cavern. Chap recognized that place, as he had once been there. It was where Sgäile had taken Magiere, Leesil, and him before they had headed south from the Elven Territories in search of the orb.

  Osha had knelt on ragged stone somewhere still dim and dark but not quite as hot. Perhaps it had been in one of the outer passages leading into the cavern. Osha’s hands shook as he held a hiltless blade, a sword made of the same white metal as anmaglâhk stilettos. The same metal as the winged punching blades Leesil now carried. The same metal as the burning dagger Magiere wore on her hip opposite her falchion.

  The Chein’âs—the Burning Ones—had somehow called for Osha and given him a sword like none Chap had ever seen.

  Anmaglâhk did not use swords, so what did this mean?

  The last glimpse Chap saw in that memory was a flicker of Osha’s face reflected in the sword’s metal. Looking at the blade, his long features twisted in overwhelming grief, as if he had lost someone precious to him.

  That blade was now in the cloth-wrapped bundle in the room’s corner.

  Chap wheeled around as he heard Brot’an take a step. As soon as Brot’an reached the bed’s foot and looked down at Magiere, tension filled the room to the rafters. This close to Magiere, the tall elf once again had Chap’s full attention as he crept in on the bed’s near side.

  Why were Brot’an and Osha dressed as traveling civilians—humans?

  “Is she all right?” Brot’an asked.

  Leanâlhâm was cleaning the blood from Magiere’s leg. The more she removed, the more her fright grew, for there was no wound—not even a scar. She did not answer Brot’an.

  “She’ll be fine,” Leesil cut in, just as attentive and watchful as Chap.

  Osha was not the only one who seemed different to Chap. Back in the an’Cróan homeland, Leanâlhâm had nearly fawned over Leesil. He was the only other elf of mixed blood she had ever met—ever even heard of. Now she barely spoke to him or to anyone. Perhaps Leesil noticed this, as well.

  “Leanâlhâm,” Leesil said softly. “Where is Gleann?”

  Chap glanced at the girl just in time to see her wince at her own name. A long pause followed before she answered quietly.

  “With our ancestors . . . with Sgäilsheilleache.”

  For the span of a breath, everyone in the small room went still. Gleann, the kindly old healer with biting humor who had taken in three humans and a wayward majay-hì was dead.

  Osha whirled angrily and rushed toward the window. He stopped and looked back, as did they all, at the sound of a whisper.

  “Oh, Leanâlhâm.”

  The girl froze as Magiere tried to sit up and failed, and then reached for Leanâlhâm’s hand on her leg. Leesil came out of his shock.

  “Gleann, dead?” he breathed. “How can he be . . . where is my mother?”

  “She is well and safe,” Brot’an answered instantly, but even he appeared unsettled by the turn of this discussion.

  Leanâlhâm’s gaze drifted to Leesil, and all of her fright of Magiere had drained from her expression. Chap waited for what else the girl might say.

  “We cannot tell you more for now,” Brot’an said, staring hard at Leanâlhâm. “Your mother is safe with her kind, Léshil.”

  Chap suddenly wondered who had taken on the painful task of telling Leanâlhâm that Sgäile was dead. Had Osha been the one? She had loved Sgäile, worshipped him as a hero. He had been highly honored by their people and respected by all factions of his caste—even Most Aged Father.

  Osha suddenly took a few steps at Leesil, still angry.

  “You ask question,” he growled. “I ask question. Where Wynn? Why she not here?”

  That was all they needed with everything else so complicated. Osha’s feelings for Wynn were no secret. Still, Chap was surprised it had taken this long for the subject of Wynn’s whereabouts to come up.

  “Trapped in the guild’s keep,” Leesil answered tiredly, perhaps reeling in relief that his mother was safe. Or perhaps hoping—as did Chap—that answering Osha’s question might gain some answers in turn.

  “We’re not sure why,” Leesil added, “but we’ll get her out.”

  “Then perhaps we can help,” Brot’an said.

  Yes, Chap thought. I’m sure you would.

  “Osha speaks the truth,” Brot’an went on, and looked at Magiere. “We are here to protect you. To protect . . . what you carry.”

  They were not carrying the orb—orbs—anymore. Chap took some satisfaction in that, though he wondered if Brot’an knew anything more than the other anmaglâhk about what they had been carrying. Chap had insisted on
hiding both orbs in a place neither Magiere nor Leesil knew of. That decision now appeared more important than ever.

  None of the Anmaglâhk—not even Brot’an—would ever find those orbs or learn their whereabouts.

  “Magiere should rest,” Leanâlhâm said quietly, and her fear had waned, for she held Magiere’s hand. “Léshil says she will need food. Can we not eat and rest for one night? Not speak of these things?”

  The girl dropped her head.

  Leesil’s expression became shadowed for an instant. As badly as Chap wanted answers, cueing Leesil with memories to ask the right questions would not get him anywhere in this moment.