Dhampir Part 36

The light of him began to dim, and he faded until only the night and the flames of the tavern remained. Magiere half lay on the ground, numb inside as she watched the burning building for any sign of Rashed.

There was nothing but fire and smoke in the dark.

Chapter Twenty-one

"The first return of emotion fluttered inside Magiere when she saw Leesil open his eyes. He lay on the ground beside her, out in the street. There were fresh teeth marks on his left arm below the ones she'd given him two nights before. His face was pale, but he was breathing without too much discomfort that she could see. He blinked twice from the light of a torch stuck in the ground nearby.

"Is it morning?" he rasped.

"Almost," she answered. "Soon."

Leesil scowled, and that brought Magiere more comfort. Irritation and a foul mood meant he would probably be all right.

"Are we alive?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Good... n.o.body should feel this bad if they're dead."

Magiere sighed, releasing all the anxiety and tension she'd not even been aware was locked inside her. She sat gazing at what had been The Sea Lion. Separated as it was from the buildings nearby, the fire had not spread beyond the tavern.

As Leesil gained some awareness, he lifted his head enough to see the smoldering remains of their home, groaned, and then raised his hands slightly in resignation. When his hands flopped back down, his face winced from pain, and then he tried cradling his injured arm.

"Don't move," she said. "I got you out of the stable, but after that, I thought it best to keep you still."

He half rocked on his back and tried to pull off the wool cloak she'd covered him with, but he only managed to rumple it to one side. She pulled the cloak back up into place again.

Streaks of light now stretched out over the trees to the east, gilding a few white clouds high in the sky. Around them, people still tended the injured or helped them off the streets. Karlin's voice rose occasionally above the general noise as he suggested how to best treat an injury or who might need to be carried. Some members of their little army who hadn't been seriously injured conversed in low voices and patted each other on the shoulder.

Magiere had her own injured to care for, but there wasn't much she could offer Leesil, besides time and rest. Once she'd gotten him out of the stable, she laid him flat and kept him warm. Karlin had told her they were setting up the bakery as a hospice. Although, like Caleb, he didn't think much of Miiska's current healers, he had several people trying to locate one.

"Where'd you find me?" Leesil asked. "The last thing I remember is killing a wolf."

"Apparently, the children dragged you down into their hiding place. Chap was still sitting on the trapdoor, keeping guard when I arrived." She paused. "They're good children. Resourceful. These people are worth trying to save."

"Where's Chap now?"

"Geoffry took Rose to the bakery. I sent Chap with them."

"Is Rashed-"

"Gone." Her tone became flat and empty. "I watched him burn."

She couldn't muster any joy, but Leesil didn't seem to notice. Just when she thought he'd be able to rest and heal, something new managed to beat him down yet again. But not anymore.

That thought brought some comfort again. At least this spiral of success and failure was truly over.

"Nothing happened like I thought it would," she said.

Leesil was about to answer when Karlin walked over to check on him. Though duty and exhausted, the baker appeared unhurt. "Ah, you're awake. I'm so glad. We'll get you somewhere more comfortable as soon as possible."

"What about the rest?" Leesil asked with effort.

"Only five deaths," Karlin replied. Despite the phrase, his tone held enough sorrow for ten times as many. "I'm already trying to arrange visitation ceremonies before burial... when people are ready to face it."

"Brenden's body burned with the tavern," Leesil realized. Then he seemed unable to continue with the thought. "I never planned on fighting wolves."

"No one did. It's not your fault." Karlin's brows knitted. "The moment the tavern collapsed, they all fled back into the forest, as if Rashed lost his hold on them."

"He did," Magiere confirmed quietly.

Leesil lay back and stared up at the sky. "Well, we're homeless... again. All that fighting, and we lost the main thing we'd been fighting for."

"Did we?" Magiere asked.

Again, Karlin frowned, his round cheeks wrinkling slightly. "Heal up and rebuild."

"What?" Magiere stared at him incredulously. "How, and with what? We don't even have a place to live in the meantime."

Karlin knelt and pointed at the smoldering tavern.

"The land plot is still yours. And the payment the shopkeepers tried to give you is still sitting in my kitchen. Those coins will buy supplies to get started. We'll work in the evenings and at week's end. Some of the stonework in the kitchen, and fireplace, might not even need to be replaced.

It may take a moon or two, but I think enough folks will be willing to help."

Magiere couldn't respond. Karlin did not seem to see himself as unselfish or astounding. The whole resolution seemed so simple, so clear to him.

"Brenden's home is empty now," he chatted on. "It may seem a bit odd at first, but he'd want you there until we've got The Sea Lion rebuilt. There's grain and firewood already stored at the place, and the rest can be dealt with along the way."

He talked as if Magiere and Leesil's current situation were commonplace, and a bit of planning and polish would fix everything. Magiere wasn't nearly so certain.

She looked down at her partner, whose amber eyes were still fixed on the sky. His hands trembled slightly. She carefully touched him on the shoulder to return his attention.

"What do you think?" she asked.

He nodded once without speaking.

"Done then," Karlin said, and he stood up. "Ah, here come Caleb and Darien with a door."

His words confused Magiere, and she looked over to see Caleb and Darien, the guard, lifting a fisherman with a bleeding thigh onto a door they were using as a stretcher.

"I'll send them for Leesil next," Karlin said. "We don't want to jar his ribs again."

The portly baker walked away with purpose, calling out instructions along his way. Magiere smelled smoke from the embers mixed with salt from the ocean. She looked down at Leesil.

"I'll be right back," she said, getting up.

Leaving her partner's side, she walked to the crumbled remains of The Sea Lion. She stepped into its black and slightly smoldering cinders, her boots growing warm but not hot. Pulling her falchion, she used it to dig about in the debris until it clanked against something in the ashes. She cleared some of the ash, uncovered Rashed's longsword, and used her own blade to lift it out into plain sight.

She flipped Rashed's sword out onto the bare ground and stepped out after it, again finding herself unable to feel triumphant. The ash of Rashed and Teesha's bones had mingled with that of her home.

A gust of cool air blew in from the sea. As it filled her lungs with its freshness, she watched it swirl and carry off traces of ash in its pa.s.sing. This place, this town, was home now, and perhaps that much, at least, felt certain. And Leesil was alive to share it. In a few days, mortals would clear all this away and rebuild over Rashed and Teesha's graves.

She glanced back at the half-elf, his head rolled to one side to watch her intently.

"Keep the sword," he said. "Hang it over the new hearth."

"As a trophy?" she asked.

"As redemption. We did do something good here-something real. You know that, don't you?"

When had Leesil grown wise?

"I won't be able to offer much help with the rebuilding. I barely faked my way through running a tavern," she said. "What am I going to do for the next moon?"

His narrow eyebrows arched. "Why, play nursemaid to me, of course. Not a bad job."

"Oh, shut up."

She turned away as if continuing to sift through the ashes, hiding the near smile she tried to suppress. No, it would not be a bad job at all.

Epilogue

Late the following night on the north edge of Miiska, at the entrance to Belaski's long coastal road, Welstiel Ma.s.sing sat on his bay gelding in the darkness. The horse trembled and s.h.i.+ed away at his touch, but it would obey. He turned for one final look at the sleepy town. Everything he needed was packed into his saddlebags.

He felt no regret at leaving, for he had no attachments to sever here. His work was done. In this place, Magiere had come as far as he could compel her along the path he had set. Setting events in motion had been easy enough, once her banker in Bela informed him that Magiere was looking to buy a tavern. There had been time enough to meet the owner of The Sea Lion, Dunction, remove him, and quietly a.s.sist her behind the scenes with the actual purchase. The banker was glad for his commission and the ease of the transaction.

Pitting Rashed and Magiere against each other had been equally simple. Dhampir Dhampir and vampire-from all he had learned over the years, their natural state was to be at each other's throats. All he needed to do was raise her awareness of her true nature, carefully, just a bit at a time. and vampire-from all he had learned over the years, their natural state was to be at each other's throats. All he needed to do was raise her awareness of her true nature, carefully, just a bit at a time.

Miiska was now cleansed, and Magiere's self-awareness awakened. This place served no more useful purpose. The next stage in her development now had to be planned, and she still had far to go before she would be of real use to him.

"Until we meet again, Magiere," he whispered.

He reined his horse around and began his journey up the dark road.

Barb and J. C. Hendee live just outside of Boulder, Colorado, close to the Rocky Mountains. He teaches English for the Metropolitan State College of Denver, and she leaches lor the University of Colorado at Denver. Barb's short fiction has appeared in numerous genre magazines and anthologies. She is the author of the novel Blood Memories. J.C.'s poetry, nonfiction, and short fiction have also appeared in many genre magazines. Although they have worked together as a writing team before, live just outside of Boulder, Colorado, close to the Rocky Mountains. He teaches English for the Metropolitan State College of Denver, and she leaches lor the University of Colorado at Denver. Barb's short fiction has appeared in numerous genre magazines and anthologies. She is the author of the novel Blood Memories. J.C.'s poetry, nonfiction, and short fiction have also appeared in many genre magazines. Although they have worked together as a writing team before, Dhampir Dhampir is their first novel length collaboration. is their first novel length collaboration.