Table of Contents
THE NOBLE DEAD SAGASERIES ONE
DHAMPIR
THIEF OF LIVES
SISTER OF THE DEAD
TRAITOR TO THE BLOOD
REBEL FAY
CHILD OF A DEAD GOD
THE NOBLE DEAD SAGASERIES TWO
IN SHADE AND SHADOW
THROUGH STONE AND SEA
ALSO BY BARB HENDEE
THE VAMPIRE MEMORIES SERIES
BLOOD MEMORIES
HUNTING MEMORIES
PROLOGUE
Dusk settled over the harbor below ChemarrSea-Sidethe western settlement of Dhredze Seatt, home of the dwarven people across the bay from Calm Seatt. A two-masted Numanese ship drifted up to its docks. As the crew cast lines to dwarven dockworkers, the vessel settled, with five cloaked figures waiting near its rail.
Three of the quintet wore polished steel helms gleaming pale yellow under the decks lanterns. A glimpse of glittering chain vestments beneath crimson tabards showed through the splits of their cloaks. Each wore a long sword sheathed upon a wide belt of engraved silver plates. These three were Weardasthe Sentinelspersonal guard to the reskynna, the royal family of Malourn in Calm Seatt.
Behind them stood one of the other two, easily as tall as they were, but slighter of build. This ones earthy -colored cloak with full hood hid his face but not the hem of a white robe around his tan felt boots.
The last of the five, standing before all the others, was much shorter.
Hidden beneath a hooded cloak of deep sea green, small gloved hands and a slight frame marked this one as female. She gripped the rail and peered over the ships side and up the dock, as if looking for someone.
The crew gave these five a wide berth and hurried to unload a paltry cargo, as if their vessel had left its last port not fully loaded. By the time they finished, night had settled in.
The ships captain strolled past the quintet and stopped a ways off. The broadest and tallest of the Weardas nodded curtly. That brief movement exposed the tuft of a dark beard on his squared chin. The ships captain shook his head and turned aftward toward his quarters below.
And still the five waiteduntil heavy footfalls barely carried from shore.
The woman in sea green rushed down the boarding ramp.
She reached the dock before her panicked guards caught up and encompassed her once more. The tall one in the earthy cloak pushed close behind her as she searched the night for those footfalls. But all she saw were warehouses, other smaller buildings, and a trio of dwarves settled down to pipes and low talk.
Yet those footfalls never broke rhythm.
At first, the dockworkers gave no notice. Perhaps they thought it was one of their own coming on for evening duty. Then something passed through the edge of their lanterns dim light.
It stomped onward like a broad piece of night on the move, and then vanished from the lights reach.
The closest dockworker jerked to his feet, overturning his heavy cask stool. His companions rose, but he turned the other way, peering shoreward and all around the port. Only then did he stare after those footfalls, as if the shadow heralded something worse he hadnt spotted.
Slowly, the steady steps breached the edge of the light from the ships lanterns. Illumination exposed the silhouette of a broad dwarf.
At first, the light only caught on wild, steel-streaked black hair around a grim, wrinkled face. The rest of him remained lost, as if night clung to his massive form. An indignant hiss rose from the tall Weardas with the chin beard.
Youre late! he growled. I dont like my charge being forced to wait in the dark!
You are early, Captain, replied the new arrival, his voice like gravel crushed under a boulder. And I do not care to be seen by my people... any more than necessary.
He drew closer, stepping into full view.
Standing as tall as the small woman, he was easily twice as wide and three times her bulk. Wild locks hung to his shoulders, framing the hard line of his mouth within a beard of short, steely bristles. Over char-gray breeches and a wool shirt, he wore a short-sleeved hauberk of oiled black leather scales. Each scales tip was sheathed in ornately engraved steel, and two war daggers in like-adorned black sheaths were tucked slantwise in his thick belt.
This dark juggernaut stopped three paces off and blew a long exhale through his broad nose, full of disdain for his challenger. Then his black pellet eyes settled upon the small woman ringed in by her taller entourage.
The new moon comes, this time with the years highest tide, he rumbled. Welcome again... Princess.
The woman raised gloved hands to her hood.
The movement opened her cloak, exposing a forest green skirt. The skirts front was split around her dark brown breeches and calf-high leather riding boots. The hilt of a small horsemans saber poked out above her left hip. She pulled the hood back, revealing a mass of dark chestnut hair around a dainty face of even features that some would call fetching.
Duchess... Master Cinder-Shard, she corrected him, but her voice quavered and broke. Always... duchess.
Reine Faunier reskynna, Duchess of Faunier and princess by marriage to the royals of Malourn, nodded respectfullyalmost reverentlyto the dark dwarf.
Toying with titles changes nothing, he returned. It disrespects heritage. It is a princess of the reskynna who comes to the Hassgkreigi.
A soft laugh, like a lark in the woods, rose from the brown- cloaked attendant.
Oh, spare us, Smarasmy, you old ghost tender! that one whispered, using the newcomers dwarven name. Preference of title will not crack the walls of propriety.
Master Cinder-Shards dour expression flattened. He raised those black pellet eyes to the tall and slight figure.
Chuillyon? he asked with a forced scowl. What impish prank did you pull this time... to end up on guardian duty?
His caustic tone didnt hide an elders shake of the head at some suspected mischief by a youngster.
Not a thing, I swear, answered Chuillyon innocently. I chose this duty.
At that, Cinder-Shard turned serious, almost worried. Why not assign one of your order instead?
Duchess Reine remained uncomfortably quiet, and Chuillyon pulled back his earth-toned hood and the white cowl beneath it.
Lantern light spread over a male elfs triangular face with the large amber eyes of his people, but he was no youngster to be chided. Chuillyons golden brown locks, hanging past his oversharp chin, were faded in streaks. Prominent creases lined the corners of his eyes set around a narrow nose a bit long even for an elf. More lines framed his small mouth, perhaps as much from mirth as advanced age.
How fares the Order of Chrmun, Cinder-Shard asked, without your mischievous guidance?
Chuillyon, whose name meant holly, lost his soft smile. As well as the Stonewalkers, I imagine... with such unknown times ahead.
Duchess Reine cringed, clasping her hands tightly together. She tried to breathe slowly, normally, but her effort was plainly visible. One Weardas, with a face too boyish for his stature, leaned around his captains shoulder.
