Downshadow

THIRTY-ONE

Ralen must have been weary-and indeed, he hadn't slept until shortly before dawn. He awoke near highsun-rested, thirsty, and ravenous.

He was mildly surprised Cellica hadn't awakened him- perhaps with an ewer of water, as was her habit. In a way, he was disappointed he wasn't waking up dripping wet. He would have seized Cellica's pitcher and drank the rest of its contents, he was so thirsty.

Kalen felt around the bed next to him, but Fayne was gone. In truth, he wasn't surprised. A woman like that couldn't be kept abed all night and half a day. And had she stayed, she certainly would have awakened him in the morning-he knew that for a certainty.

The desires of that woman-that creature…

"Growing up like that-hated and beaten and unloved," she said, her wide, silver, pupilless eyes gleaming at him. "It muddled you- ruined you for mortal women, did it not?"

"Yes," he gasped. Her magic heightened his senses' and her hands burned him through his hardened skin. Her lips, oh gods, and her teeth

…

Her sharp-fanged grin widened. "Good."

Kalen shivered at the memory.

He pulled himself from his cool, tousled bed and stretched. It smelled like her. Her scent was everywhere, sweet and intoxicating and wicked.

In the mirror, his face had a short forest of brownish bristle, which he would leave to grow. Fayne had giggled when she touched his rough chin. f

The previous night blurred in his mind-he had an eye for detail but his awareness had ruptured against her. She existed to him as a forbidding yet alluring ideal-a memory of pleasure and shadowed pain. *"You have to tell me if I'm hurting you," he had told her.

"Why?" had been her reply.

She whispered a word in his ear that filled him with shuddering agony. He fought through the dizziness to kiss her harder. His fingers dug into her flesh, wrenching a gasp from her lips.

"I can't tell my own strength-I can't always feel everyrhing. You have to-"

"You misunderstand." Nothing about her smile was innocent or confused. "Why?"

He shivered again and the image faded.

There had been pain, yes, but none of it physical. It had been in their hearrs. Things had broken rhat had needed breaking.

He shook his head to clear it. He wandered, in only his loose hose, to the door.

In the main room, all looked much as it always did. But he saw immediately that the coals that kept the simmer stew hot through the nighr in preparation for the morn had gone out, yet the pot still hung over them.

Kalen frowned. Had no one eaten today?

And-when he entered the room fully-he discovered an oily red-black puddle spreading across the floor, coming from the other bedchamber.

Instantly, Kalen was on alert and listening. He heard weak, haggard breathing and recognized it immediately. Heedless of an attack, he hurried to Cellica's room.

The halfling lay within. Her middle was a mess of red and she was paler than chalk. Kalen would have thought her dead if he hadn't seen her chest moving, just barely.

"Cellica," Kalen said, kneeling beside her. "Gods. Gods!"

The halfling's eyes opened and her lips parted. "Well… met. Coins bright?"

Kalen cupped her face. "Cellica," he said. "Sister…"

"Look at this, Kalen." One feeble hand indicated the black mess that soaked the front of her linen shift. "Killed me, Kalen. Knife cur all my insides. Poisoned. Too much for you."

Kalen's fingers lingered over her breast. He knew she was right. The wounds were too deep, and puckered black by poison. He couldn't heal her-not with his meager powers.

But he had to try. He had to.

He cupped his hand around his ring and closed his eyes. Eye of three gods, Helm, Tyr, Torm, whoever you are-hear my prayer.

"No, Kalen-even if you'd come four hours gone… it's too late."

"Shut up." Kalen gripped his ring tightly, driving the symbol of Helm into his skin. He had sworn he would never beg, but he would beg for any god who might heal his sister…

"Don't do it, Kalen," Cellica said. Her suggestive voice was cracked, broken, but still made him pause. "Not for me."

He looked into her eyes and tried to speak through a choked throat. "Let me save you."

"You can't." She shook her head. "Save it for her. The dwarf… he took her."

Rath, Kalen realized. "Who?" he whispered. "Who did he take?" "Myr

… Myrin."

Cellica shook her head sharply, prompting a series of heaving, gagging coughs. Kalen thought she might spit forth shards of glass. "And Fayne."

"What about her?" Kalen coughed, burying his mouth against his arm. "Did you see her?"

Cellica shook her head. "I saw-" Her eyes widened as though aftaid. "Not important."

"I don't understand," he said. Anger suffused him.

"I know-" Cellica clutched his arm hard. "I know that look in your eye."

"Cellica," Kalen said. "Cellica, I swear to you. I will find him, and when I do-"

"Please don't," she said. "Don't make me die listening… to dark words." Tears filled her eyes. "If it takes… me dying to remind you-to save you from…" She gestured feebly, as though to indicate the world entire.

"You're not going to die," Kalen said. Cellica grinned wanly. "Just remember who you are." Kalen swallowed. "I'm nothing. Just a shadow of a man-not fit for-"

"Shush." The halfling rolled her eyes. She reached for his face and slapped him lightly on the cheek. "You idiot."

Then blood poured from her lips and she gasped for air. Kalen held her tightly, felt her heart hammering in her chest. "Remember," she whispered.

"I-" Kalen squeezed her hand tighter. "I will, but you'll be right here to remind me."

"So charming." She smiled dizzily. "Always so-" And then her eyes quaked and saw nothing.