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Chane released his grip, and the portal ground along the wall grooves back
into place. He turned about to look down a dark passage that glistened with
moisture in the crystal's light.
"A stone tunnel," he whispered, almost in awe."Under the lake."
Korey headed onward, and Hedí grabbed the girl before she got too far ahead.
The tunnel curved gradually, and soon the wooden portal was out of sight
behind them. The farther they went, the more Chane heard Korey's teeth
chattering. They walked beneath a lake in the middle of winter, and her feet
were bare.
"It should not be far," he said.
He had lost track of distance and wished only to keep them moving. Hedí
Progae was likely colder than the child. She had no shoes but otherwise wore
only the velvet gown. Wynn wore some sort of maid's dress, and Chane realized
his own body provided her no heat. He held her close just the same, and rolled
his shoulders, trying to wrap her in his arms beneath his own cloak.
The stone tunnel ended in an alcove barely wider than the passage. By the
crystal's light, Hedí grasped the first of a set of iron rungs in the wall and
began to climb. For a moment Chane wondered if the child could follow, but
Korey managed awkwardly. Chane hoisted Wynn over his shoulder and climbed.
Above him, Korey clambered out an opening. At the top rung he realized he was
inside a hollowed-out tree. He looked into the night forest, listening
intently, but he detected no one except for the woman and the girl. He climbed
out and rolled Wynn off his shoulder and back into his arms.
It was still snowing lightly. The ground was covered with white where falling
flakes made their way through the forest canopy. Hedí rubbed her hands up and
down Korey's arms, trying to warm the girl. She lifted the child, raising her
bare feet out of the snow.
Chane carried Wynn a short way into the trees. He found an older fir that had
lost its lower branches, and where the ground was bare of snow. He settled
Wynn there, and pointed for Hedí and Korey to take their place beside her.
"Pull Wynn close and keep her covered," he said, and stripped off his cloak
to drape over the three of them. "I will find kindling."
He scavenged beneath other trees until he gathered handfuls of dead needles
and leaves that might ignite. He searched for substantial fuel and added a
pile of loose branches he snapped in proper lengths. Then he realized he had
no flint to strike on his sword.
Wynn would freeze out here if he did not do something. He focused his
attention upon the half-dry mound of needles and leaves.
"It's too wet to light," Hedí said.
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"Be quiet."
In his mind Chane drew lines of light, slowly crafting symbols within his
thoughts. First the circle, then around it a triangle, and into the corners
between these two shapes he scrawled glyphs and sigils, stroke by stroke. The
mesh of lines overlaid his sight, and he stared through it at the pile of
kindling.
A small flame erupted. It sizzled and crackled with moisture. He held the
flame there with his concentration as he added snapped twigs and waited until
the fire held on its own.
"Thank you," Hedí said warily, though she still shivered. "The fire should
help Emêl find us when he searches the lakeshore."
Chane crouched and pulled the cloak tighter around all three of them. Wynn
was still unconscious, but they had her positioned in the middle. He dug in
the bag and found her short robe and draped it over her alone.
"I believe your baron went inside to look for you," Chane said, and pulled a
pile of snapped branches within Hedí's reach. "He is welcome in the keep and
privy to most news. Once he learns you are missing, he will come to find you.
Keep a watch on the tunnel exit. Do not let the fire burn high enough to be
seen across the lake."
"You are leaving?" she asked.
Chane could not decide if her voice held worry or relief, but he did not
care. If he stayed, he might end up fighting for his regained existence.
"Keep watch over Wynn," he instructed.
"I will take care of her," Hedí Progae said. After a long pause, she said
again, "Thank you."
Chane turned away, gradually slipping from the firelight's reach among the
forest's trees. He looked back more than once to Wynn's sleeping face, until
he waked too far into the cold dark.
Crouched within the dining hall, Leesil grew desperate.
Snarls down the south corridor died away. A tall blond-bearded soldier
stepped into the far arch across the entryway and shoved out a younger
soldier, ordering him to bring more men in off the keep walls.
Leesil guessed this was Omasta. Soon his men would be rushing about the keep.
The coming confusion would work in theAnmaglâhk's favor. Omasta might secure
Darmouth someplace safe, but the elves would find him. Leesil had instigated
chaos inside strongholds a few times in his youth for exactly this purpose.
The larger the place, the better it worked.
Omasta stepped back into the council hall.
Leesil had to do something quickly to warn Darmouth or Omasta. Voices
shouting in the courtyard grew louder andcloser, and he had only one option.
If he didn't get his message out quickly enough, it would mean his own death,
and possibly Magiere's and Chap's.
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He rushed across the entryway before anyone came through the front doors, and
crouched beside the council hall's arch. He left his weapons sheathed and spun
around the archway into the council hall.
Omasta stood to the left of the table's near end. At the sight of Leesil,
shock crossed his features, and Leesil shifted to the table's right side.
Leesil still wore his cloak, but the hood was halfway down, and his
white-blond hair hung loose. His skin, eyes, and oblong ears were so different
from those of the sturdy men who lived in the Warlands. Leesil could imagine
how startling he must appear.
And then he saw Darmouth at the table's far end.
Leesil's throat tightened.
A sickening surge of revulsion rolled in his stomach. The very real presence
of the tyrant made any surging memory but a shadow.
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