Kyla had traveled down several other vessels before she stopped. She may have leaned on the railing, Wilo's late beams warming her face, but her mindeye kept track of a particular lifelight, pure for all but a single dark canker.
Master Elwith had caught her eye as he begun to move down the line of vessels without a single one of his underlings in tow. He had spoken to a few of the crew members, nodded to others, ignored most, all while moving ever toward the rear of the rail-ship. He had done nothing to make her believe him incompetent, except place his trust in the wighties. A madness that seemed as catching as a cold at this point. And that single indiscernible soulwound, ever floating about his lifelight, had intrigued her at first, then puzzled her. Such defects were not uncommon. Usually they represented a past scar that a person had let fester until manifesting permanently in their lifelight. With enough study, a perceptive individual could usually discover its source, whether hate, fear, self-loathing, or a combination of those and any number of things. Kyla may not have been the Warden any longer, naturally attuned to people's emotions, but she had a keen mind and four hundred years of experience. Such a small mystery should have yielded to her already. But still it refused. So now she trailed the High Mage, again trying to work out what that little spot hid.
With the wind-stones above and the motion of the rail-ship, currents of air rushed every which way, ruining any chance of scenting her quarry. Still he made no effort to be discreet. Master Elwith marched along the deck, every now and then, stopping too gaze out over the ever changing scenery. Never lingering long, he continued down the line, ever toward the rear.
Kyla followed at a distance. She stopped when he did, leaning against a mast, or the railing, or, in one instance, when he moved back in her direction, she scaled the rough ropes of a ratline. Waiting a minute after he had climbed to the next vessel, Kyla crossed like any other member of the crew. She did not want to draw attention to herself.
Of course, Master Elwith could have been simply allowing her to follow him, keeping track of her easily with his mindeye or catching glimpses of her when turning about. Both were possibilities. She could have smothered her lifelight, hiding it for a time, or masked her physical form, keeping him from catching any hint of her, but she could only conceal her lifelight for so long and withholding only her body would surely draw his attention. So, on she went, exposed. And yet he showed no signs of suspicion.
If I was still Warden, I wouldn't have to worry, Kyla thought, scraping her tongue against her teeth, swinging onto the next vessel. Maybe if Masis was a bit more observant, he'd be the one following Elwith.
Kyla wove around the men that had begun to light the lamps as the light faded. Wilo had only about a finger of life left. When he finally dropped beneath the horizon, everyone would retreat to below decks, except for a few in the vessels whose sails were unfurled.
She pressed on. A frown bowing her mouth as her thoughts invited Masis back to the forefront of her mind.
Why couldn't he just do what I wanted him to do? Why not just this once?
It's worked out in the past when he hasn't followed your direction exactly. Werold's voice, mellow and motherly, bubbled up in Kyla's mind. Hasn't it?
"What do you want?" Kyla asked out loud, drawing some eyes to her. She shook them away, already feeling the calm seep into her from Werold, a wholeness she always forgot she lacked.
I don't want anything really, said Werold. What is it you want? Your need called out to me.
I want to end this centuries-long nightmare, Kyla thought back, reclining against the railing as Master Elwith made one of his frequent pauses. And that won't happen unless Masis learns to use all of his abilities, not just a few. Every method I've tried has failed. Perhaps, I've failed. Perhaps, it's me.
Shoulders falling, Kyla let her eyes drop toward the deck, exhaling at the same time. The years weighed on her. So many years. So many 'almosts' that ended in 'not-quites.' Tears began to form in her eyes.
Maybe... maybe this task is beyond me, thought Kyla, a single tear leaking onto her cheek, gliding down into her mouth. Its salt overpowered her tongue.
Daughter mine, came Wilo's voice faintly, we would not have chosen you if this task was beyond your abilities. You might have made a mistake in seeking out Manu and forming an agreement with her, but mistakes can be mended.
A particular curve of track jolted the rail-ship, focusing Kyla for a moment on her quarry, a vessel ahead pausing so as to keep his footing.
You should be a little gentler with Masis, however, said Werold. He's still healing and his wounds were grievous. Wounds that you can readily understand.
Kyla nodded. The heavy memory of holding her dying son settled into her mind. Another tear trailed down her cheek. She understood. Probably better than any alive.
I'll do my best.
We only ask your best, Werold said, her serene presence settling more fully on Kyla.
Her hands wiped at her eyes as she pushed away from the railing, again following after Master Elwith, who had made it to the second to last vessel.
Wilo and Werold started to fade from her mind.
Be careful of the one you follow, Wilo added, his voice echoing in her mind. There is a taint of Manu about him.
Kyla paused.
Such a taint could have come only from one of two places: a dealing with Manu or from a nightling. Neither of those options sat well with her.
Stomach flipping over, tongue squelching in a now dry mouth, Kyla squared off, flexing her legs, bouncing on the balls of her feet, while inhaling through her nose. She exhaled out her mouth, her cheeks bulging.
Her body was sound. Ready as always. Light, lithe, and lethal.
Powerful vitality answered each of her steps. They started as a creep then transitioned into a jaunt then a jog from that to a sprint.
Deckhands sprang from her path, swearing under their breath as they flung themselves backwards. None called out after her. Most just grumbled and went back to their work.
She vaulted over the railing, flipping through the air, landing on a single foot on the next vessel's railing. Feet never faltering, no matter the rock or shake of the vessel, Kyla sped along the thin strip of wood, pouncing into the first ratline she came to. Arms and legs working in unison as nimbly as a spider, she scuttled up the rope ladder, not stopping until reaching the yardarm. Grasping a coarse line with one hand, Kyla crouched on the wooden pole, peering down onto the next and last vessel in the line as Master Elwith descended below the decks. Though gone from view, Kyla tracked him in her mindeye.
He moved down the length of the vessel pausing from time to time. Suddenly, his lifelight shone out blindingly, making Lady Kyla wince. And as sudden as it blazed out, Master Elwith's lifelight vanished. No trace remained. Not a glimmer or spark. It had simply vanished.
Scenting found no trace of him. Her ears could detect no creak or clop of his feet. And though keen as a hawk's, Kyla's eyes could not penetrate the wood that separated Master Elwith from her. Though perturbed, she did not abandon her perch. Investigating his sudden and mysterious disappearance could get her caught below decks with no means of escape. If Master Elwith could disappear so suddenly, it stood to reason that he might be able to reappear just as easily, and the prospect of having to either sneak past him, explain herself, or even fight him did not appeal to her at all.
It must be some kind of Work, she thought to herself, attempting to puzzle out by what means Master Elwith had affected his disappearance. He either left or was somehow concealing his lifelight as Kyla could.
Master Elwith's lifelight flashed back into in her mindeye, cutting off her line of thinking. He reemerged from the hold, his manner nonchalant, his face slack. Dusting off his hands and rearranging his blue robes, Master Elwith made his way back toward Lady Kyla. She smothered her lifelight, wincing at the searing effort, and cloaked her physical frame. He passed beneath her without so much as a glance in her general direction. The constant eddies of air carried a bit of his scent up into her eager nostrils.
Rust. Thick and gagging like a fresh battlefield.
Oh, Wilo and Werold help us, prayed Kyla, clenching her teeth.
Stiffening, bracing herself against the constant effort of concealing her lifelight, Kyla dropped the cloak from about her frame as Master Elwith climbed into the next vessel. She did not release her lifelight until he had made it to the next. Slowly, with the greatest of care, Kyla climbed back to the deck, making her way back to the last vessel, her steps light and quick, not a sound escaping from her movements.
On the horizon Wilo had just begun to kiss Werold's distant brow, dyeing the nearby clouds with gory red. In the opposite direction, clouds, dark and brooding, stampeded across the sky, the report of their hoofbeats thundering distantly as their black masses flashed their jagged fangs, lightning white. Sharp moisture hung in the air, pushed before the mass of weather that bore down on them, sizzling with the charge that its parent clouds carried. No more than ten minutes of daylight remained. After that only the lingering remnants of Wilo's light would offer any illumination, before the approaching storm snuffed even that out.
This night would be a dark one.
Kyla had climbed to the last vessel and descended into the hold, taking each step with caution, measured and tested before complete commitment. Dim and musty, the hold held bundles of supplies, casks of who knew what and chests bearing the king's changes of clothes for all she knew. Besides the surrounding cargo, she was alone. Her mindeye revealed not a trace of lifelight. No one lurked behind the stacks of crates or slept in any of the stray straw. The wooden vessel squeaked in its constant movement as she crept toward the stern, her nose ever sifting through the numerous scents.
Master Elwith's path was easy enough to follow. His spiced cologne mingled ill with the rust that accented it. She followed the trail until it led her to a wall, seamless and no door apparent. Sniffing, her nose a mere breath's distance from the wooden surface, Kyla moved about. She found no trace of the man. Placing her ear against the planks, she knocked but heard no hollow indication that a space existed behind it. The wood absorbed all the sound. She knocked harder with the same results. No sound echoed into the rest of the hold but sank into the wood. Her brow furrowed as her head tilted to the side.
Strange, she thought. Must be Worked. But what's behind it. You don't go to all this trouble if you're not trying to hide something.
Snuffling about to either side of the wall, rooting through some of the boxes and things, Kyla searched for anything that might bear the lingering traces of Master Elwith's passing.
Most Works had a trigger. That had to be why Elwith's lifelight had glowed suddenly and then disappeared. He had activated the Work and gone inside.
But Kyla could find nothing.
She growled and kicked a poorly secured box, its contents rattling about, her eyes going to the ceiling in frustration, its beams beyond her reach unless she jumped. Kyla imagined Master Elwith could reach right up to any of them with ease.
She cocked an eyebrow. I wonder.
Dragging and stacking a couple of crates, Kyla climbed atop her makeshift ladder and immediately discerned which of the boards Master Elwith had touched.
Her lips pursed into a reluctant smile. Clever boy.
Placing her hand in the same spot, she allowed her lifelight to fill the waiting latch.
Faster than she could jump back, the wall flowed out around her, striking with the speed of an adder. It yanked her off the top of the boxes and pulled her back into itself, dropping her to the floor on the opposite side. Unprepared, she landed in an undignified heap on her backside.
Groaning as she righted herself, eyes squinted shut as her bones protested with sharp twinges, she checked over her body, ensuring that nothing had been truly damaged in the fall. All her bones seemed sound. Her pride still smarted a bit but that would subside shortly. Reaching up to a ledge, Kyla hoisted herself to her feet, dusting herself off and giving herself another once over.
She froze. Metal's corroded tang suffocated the space.
Neck rising one vertebrate at a time, the rest of her body remained frozen, her arms held out from her sides, fingers splayed as though any movement would topple a precariously held balance. The ledge she had hoisted herself up on was in truth a low bunk upon which rested a body. Two other bunks occupied the space. Each held a body. The pallid skin, that took on a grayish hue under the seeing-stone suspended from the ceiling, not to mention the black scars gaping in Kyla's mindeye, told her each of them was a wightie. Two she-wights and a single he-wight, each lying as though dead.
What are they waiting for? Kyla wondered, a bead of sweat rolling down her back. Then again, what in Manu's name are they doing here?!
Kyla dared to take a single step.
No movement.
She took another.
Still none of the wights stirred.
Two more steps took her to the side of the he-wight. Hair silvered, of middling age and greater than average height, by the cut of his clothes he had probably been a noble, but not a peer that Lady Kyla had known. Moving on to the first of the she-wights, the face did not strike her as familiar either.
Still none of them moved.
What is going on? she wondered, frame slack with confusion, while her instincts screamed at her to run and work out all the implications when she was not surrounded by Manu cursed wighties.
Shuffling to the last, she kept glancing between the two she had already examined. When she finally peered down at the final wight, a hiss escaped her lips and she took an involuntary step back.
This creature she had known in her previous life. This person she had dealt with directly.
Mistress Charlan lay before her.
Kyla had suspected this same woman as being part of the mage conspiracy, obviously before surrendering her lifelight to Manu. Whatever the deal had included between the outcast moon and Mistress Charlan, it had left her virtually unchanged. This had been a woman of such cunning she had intimidated Lady Kyla even before she had become a night wight. Her ambition knew no bounds. Her hunger for power had never been slaked. This being, lying before Lady Kyla—stiff with disbelief, numb from staring, immobile from a wash of emotions—had to be the queen of the night.
But what in Wilo's name is she doing here? Kyla tried to puzzle out. And what does Master Elwith have to do with all of this?
Eyes roving up and down Charlan's person, Kyla paused her examination at the she-wight's wrist, a mark of some kind catching her eye. Breath held, she pushed back the sleeve of Charlan's dark garment to reveal a braided scar. In truth, it appeared more a burn, but the flesh had not melted or welted with angry red puckering. Rather the brand was more like that of burned wood, sunken in with crisp edges, black in the depressions.
Kyla had seen this mark before, but on another she-wight: Lady Telias.
Wide eyes snapping back to the she-wight's face, stomach twisting with her constricting thoughts, Kyla gazed upon her two-fold enemy, Mistress Charlan and Lady Telias, the facts before her melding them into one entity.
Mistress Charlan's eyes fluttered open.
*DON'T FORGET TO VOTE*