Tanis the shadow years (d2-3) by Barbara Siegel, Scott Siegel
Authors: Barbara Siegel, Scott Siegel
Tags: sf_fantasy
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half-elf's arms. "Yeblidod? Tell me what happened," he commanded, moving close. Tanis caught a faint whiff of fish.
Tanis was rapidly losing what little control he had left. "Never mind that now. Just make room for her."
Reehsha did as he was told, easing the mage off the bed and onto an animal skin rug. Kishpa stirred but did not awaken.
"Bring me hot water and bandages," said Tanis. "And a blanket."
The old man did as he was ordered. Tanis was awkward and clumsy as he tried to tend to Yeblidod's cuts and bruises. Then a husky feminine voice sounded from the doorway behind him.
"What happened? Who's hurt?" the new voice demanded.
Tanis turned and beheld the image of a woman like none he had ever seen. Her pale skin fairly glowed against her dark, curly tresses, and every delicate feature of her face looked as if it had been painted in perfect fleshtones by a master. Her figure was accentuated by a thin, black, woven top, cinched tight around her narrow waist with a cord, setting off long, shapely legs. She wore brown leather shoes with silver buckles, and a woven skirt the color of new leaves.
There was no doubt in Tanis's mind that he was looking at Brandella. And in her own right, she could have sparked the shock that coursed through him now. But the resemblance to another woman, the echo of an earlier love, sent a pang through the half-elf like a fiery bolt from a longbow. Brandella's black hair was long, practically waist-length; Kitiara's short, black curls had framed her face. But the brown eyes could have been those of sisters. Brandella was a softer, more feminine version of Kitiara. Kit had been his-as much as any man could dare to claim the tempestuous swordswoman-only short days before. And now she was traveling, the gods knew where, with Sturm Bright- blade.
Kitiara would have laughed at Tanis's current pain, he knew. "What, Tanthalas? Not… not regrets?" she would have sneered, flashing him her crooked smile and probing the wounds caused by their parting. Yet there would've been an undertone of passion that would have' left him breathless.
He couldn't imagine this woman, Brandella, sneering at anyone. He realized he was staring and forced his gaze to the woman's companion. Behind Brandella stood the dwarf, Mertwig. When the dwarf saw who lay on the pallet, he bolted across the room, crying, "Yebbiel Yeb- bie!"
Yeblidod raised her arms weakly to her husband as Tanis stepped out of the way. The dwarf wept at her bedside as she patted his head. "I'm all right," she reassured him in a thin whisper, a raspy imitation of her formerly warm alto. "Some rest, a little soup, and I'll be just fine."
"What happened? Who did this to you?" Mertwig asked, weak chin wobbly in his craggy face. He wiped his eyes with the tail of his dark brown shirt.
"A human. But he," she said, indicating Tanis, who stood quietly in a dark corner, "he fought him and drove him away."
Mertwig nodded at Tanis in gratitude, clearly unable to say what was in his heart. The half-elf understood; the dwarf Hint was much the same way.
Hurt though she was, Yeblidod appeared mostly frightened and shaken by her ordeal. Brandella shooed Mertwig away and looked after the matronly dwarf.
"Where is Canpho?" asked the old fisherman in a low rumble.
"I couldn't find the healer, Reehsha," Brandella answered softly, without looking up from her seat on a low, three-legged stool next to the rickety bed. 'There are many who are sick and dying. He could be anywhere." She cast a distracted look at Kishpa, lying without movement on a fur pallet on the floor.'
"But Canpho would come if he knew it was Kishpa," insisted the frustrated fisherman. His gestures made wild shadows on the bare walls of the candlelit shack. 'They would find him for you and send him."
"We couldn't risk it," Brandella said plaintively. "If everyone knew that Kishpa was ill and unable to cast his magic to defend the village, there would be panic. As it is, many are worried that our
Tanis was rapidly losing what little control he had left. "Never mind that now. Just make room for her."
Reehsha did as he was told, easing the mage off the bed and onto an animal skin rug. Kishpa stirred but did not awaken.
"Bring me hot water and bandages," said Tanis. "And a blanket."
The old man did as he was ordered. Tanis was awkward and clumsy as he tried to tend to Yeblidod's cuts and bruises. Then a husky feminine voice sounded from the doorway behind him.
"What happened? Who's hurt?" the new voice demanded.
Tanis turned and beheld the image of a woman like none he had ever seen. Her pale skin fairly glowed against her dark, curly tresses, and every delicate feature of her face looked as if it had been painted in perfect fleshtones by a master. Her figure was accentuated by a thin, black, woven top, cinched tight around her narrow waist with a cord, setting off long, shapely legs. She wore brown leather shoes with silver buckles, and a woven skirt the color of new leaves.
There was no doubt in Tanis's mind that he was looking at Brandella. And in her own right, she could have sparked the shock that coursed through him now. But the resemblance to another woman, the echo of an earlier love, sent a pang through the half-elf like a fiery bolt from a longbow. Brandella's black hair was long, practically waist-length; Kitiara's short, black curls had framed her face. But the brown eyes could have been those of sisters. Brandella was a softer, more feminine version of Kitiara. Kit had been his-as much as any man could dare to claim the tempestuous swordswoman-only short days before. And now she was traveling, the gods knew where, with Sturm Bright- blade.
Kitiara would have laughed at Tanis's current pain, he knew. "What, Tanthalas? Not… not regrets?" she would have sneered, flashing him her crooked smile and probing the wounds caused by their parting. Yet there would've been an undertone of passion that would have' left him breathless.
He couldn't imagine this woman, Brandella, sneering at anyone. He realized he was staring and forced his gaze to the woman's companion. Behind Brandella stood the dwarf, Mertwig. When the dwarf saw who lay on the pallet, he bolted across the room, crying, "Yebbiel Yeb- bie!"
Yeblidod raised her arms weakly to her husband as Tanis stepped out of the way. The dwarf wept at her bedside as she patted his head. "I'm all right," she reassured him in a thin whisper, a raspy imitation of her formerly warm alto. "Some rest, a little soup, and I'll be just fine."
"What happened? Who did this to you?" Mertwig asked, weak chin wobbly in his craggy face. He wiped his eyes with the tail of his dark brown shirt.
"A human. But he," she said, indicating Tanis, who stood quietly in a dark corner, "he fought him and drove him away."
Mertwig nodded at Tanis in gratitude, clearly unable to say what was in his heart. The half-elf understood; the dwarf Hint was much the same way.
Hurt though she was, Yeblidod appeared mostly frightened and shaken by her ordeal. Brandella shooed Mertwig away and looked after the matronly dwarf.
"Where is Canpho?" asked the old fisherman in a low rumble.
"I couldn't find the healer, Reehsha," Brandella answered softly, without looking up from her seat on a low, three-legged stool next to the rickety bed. 'There are many who are sick and dying. He could be anywhere." She cast a distracted look at Kishpa, lying without movement on a fur pallet on the floor.'
"But Canpho would come if he knew it was Kishpa," insisted the frustrated fisherman. His gestures made wild shadows on the bare walls of the candlelit shack. 'They would find him for you and send him."
"We couldn't risk it," Brandella said plaintively. "If everyone knew that Kishpa was ill and unable to cast his magic to defend the village, there would be panic. As it is, many are worried that our
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