Severance

by Fergal F. Nally

  Severance

  By

  Fergal F. Nally

  Copyright © Fergal F. Nally 2013

  The moral right of Fergal F. Nally to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act, 1988.

  All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Cover image Cover design by Beetiful Book Covers

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter 1 Soulcapture

  Chapter 2 Crossing Over

  Chapter 3 The Wall

  Chapter 4 Ossian

  Chapter 5 Threat

  Chapter 6 Sorrow

  Chapter 7 Shattered Hills

  Chapter 8 The Beekeeper

  Chapter 9 Agathe

  Chapter 10 Shiffante

  Chapter 11 The Mirror Hall

  Chapter 12 Revelations

  Chapter 13 Carutha

  Chapter 14 Aerithryl Shard

  Chapter 15 D’aenasa

  Chapter 16 Chase

  Chapter 17 The Holding

  Chapter 18 Lapis Tower

  Chapter 19 Guardian

  Chapter 20 Clan Horse

  Chapter 21 Firewing

  Chapter 22 Captivity

  Chapter 23 The Plan

  Chapter 24 Silverwing

  Chapter 25 Transformations

  Chapter 26 Setting Out

  Chapter 27 Remembrance

  Chapter 28 Skirmish

  Chapter 29 Ambush

  Chapter 30 The White Spine

  Chapter 31 Reunion

  Chapter 32 Confrontation

  Chapter 33 The Dark Heart

  Chapter 34 Demise

  Chapter 35 Insanity

  Chapter 36 Serendipity

  Chapter 37 Necromancy

  Chapter 38 Reckoning

  Chapter 39 Endings

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Chapter 1

  Soulcapture

  Shadows flickered along the cruel blade. Its edge, keen and true in the half-light.

  “Toshan, our Lord and ancient protector, I commit this soul unto your Blood Fields.” The hooded figure wept through the death spell’s words. His speech slurred, stumbling with the drugs and wine.

  The room seemed to buckle as his spellcraft blossomed.

  Then his blade flashed and caressed the young woman’s skin. Silky smooth, it parted as shorn velvet beneath its razor edge. Blood, rich and vital, issued forth with life and purpose from the deep neck wound. The woman’s breath faltered, becoming ragged.

  “Take her, take her now before it’s too late...” the man’s thin voice implored. A distant boom echoed in the corridor beyond the secrecy of the room.

  Silence filled the air. Candles flickered. The woman’s breathing stopped. Her pupils, fixed on an invisible horizon.

  “Now, now rise Carutha. Rise to the Blood Fields; see the footsteps of our ancestors. Follow them, follow them, hide there and live… escape this madness, escape and live for vengeance. Remember your mother, your sisters...your father...” the voice broke with emotion and the man embraced the pale, still warm corpse. “I would follow you my daughter, but I must conceal your escape from our enemies. They will hunt you, they will not rest. You must grow strong, you must evade, you must prevail and return to ghost their souls. There was no other way, forgive me my precious child...I am honoured and cursed in this task. I must leave you now to set the false trail.”

  The priest gently laid down his burden. Screams echoed from outside the chamber.

  “They come, it is almost done.” Silurian rushed to the door and began a soft incantation. Time slowed. Shadows thickened and congealed around him.

  The door splintered from a mighty blow outside. Another blow followed and another. Silurian rocked, spinning and weaving his web of darkness, he became one with the shadow. The metal bracings shattered and the door flared with bright, cold flame. It crumbled into dust with a sound like breaking bones. A sigh came from the corridor and a ball of light blasted into the room.

  “You cannot hide, you can never hide from usssss, we see all. All existence, all life is open to usssss. You belong to the Shiffante...” sibilant whispers crept through the room. Shadows fell back before the invisible power and retreated to the slumped corpse on the cold stone floor. Twisting and turning they danced around the body, touching the cool flesh and sending shimmers of blue flame along its length.

  The Shiffante lord entered the chamber. The air frosted before it. Extreme cold shattered the stone slabs of the floor. Candles spluttered and flared with blue light. The shadows around the young woman’s body melted away. Silurian lay broken and still, blood trickling from his ears.

  “You can flee from usssss, we will find you...there is nowhere to hide.”

  Carutha was dead and yet, her spirit lingered in the room looking down on her empty body below. She saw the scene unfold in all its stark horror.

  “Father, is that you?”

  She reached out and felt nothing, emptiness. Her form lay still and ruined on the floor, a memory. She became aware of warmth around her. Anger flared within her followed by hatred; intense and all consuming. Shifting, she descended to the Shiffante lord. They were one; they were many. They knew, they sensed, reaching out for her across the divide.

  “Flee, child...flee while you still can,” her father’s voice whispered in her consciousness.

  Her father’s words. A flicker of recognition jolted her out of the trance. The Shiffante lord reached out with legion voices, but she was deaf to them. She was beyond their reach; she was in between life and death. The Blood Fields called out to her.

  The Shiffante paused sensing the room. “Bitch! We will enjoy the hunt; we will taste your blood and feast on your bones. Before long, your soul will be ours, like the rest of your kind. You belong to ussss.”

  Frost crept over the bodies of the father and daughter turning them ashen. The skin peeled and split revealing the flesh and bone underneath. Blue flame raced over their remains devouring all in a breath. A sigh filled the room and brooding silence descended.

  Carutha turned and followed the light. She lost herself in its promise. Memories flooded through her; memories of times past and times recent. She felt herself detached as if viewing another. Outside, in between. Light beckoned, she followed. Into the wind and the Blood Fields.

  The Blood Fields… where the spirits of beasts came when death claimed them. It was not of men; their kind did not belong. Could not belong. It was the perfect hiding place. Silurian, her father was a cunning protector. She would survive covertly among the beast spirits, she would learn, she would return and have her revenge on the Shiffante lords.

  A storm formed over the Blood Fields and the sky crackled with energy. From all around, animal spirits some familiar but more strange, came forth. She was not afraid; she was one and she was all. The storm broke and terrible clouds burst forth.

  ~

  S’acryx brought the cup to his lips. As always, before the journey he felt his chest tighten with anticipation and fear. He closed his mind to the sounds around him. The clan needed their Shaman to be strong. His visit to the Otherside would yield valuable insight into the coming year’s fortunes. He g
ulped the bitter tasting liquid and closed his eyes. The drug began to claw at his skull. His breathing slowed and his face became slack.

  S’acryx felt the familiar pull within, then the intense deepening and inner awareness. His form felt heavy and light at the same time. His spirit shifted slightly and departed his body.

  He opened his eyes and immediately stiffened.

  This is not right…this is not right…this place…

  A fine thread connected him from this new world to his own. He felt it shimmer with a new energy. A deadly energy.

  A voice broke into the stillness.

  “Shaman, turn, look upon me. I will hold your spirit’s flame awhile.”

  S’acryx felt an irresistible urge to confront the voice behind him. Slowly he turned.

  “Gaze upon my beauty, be aware of my power. You belong to me Shaman. I have called you to this place.”

  S’acryx found himself looking at a young girl dressed in vivid red robes. An inner fire seemed to dance across her eyes. They were dark pools of emptiness. Her hair was braided, falling in plaits to her shoulders. She was barefoot and held something in her hands. He looked closer. It was a ram’s skull, bleached white, darkly menacing.

  S’acyrx’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, he could not speak.

  Thoughts flashed across his mind like dragonfly wings dancing and flashing in the sunlight.

  “What do you want of me?” he stuttered.

  For a long time she held his gaze as if searching for something. Then she spoke.

  “I am Carutha, murdered daughter of Silurian. I have been sent to these the Blood Fields for a reason. I was once as you, of flesh and bone. Now I belong to the shade.”

  She paused moving closer. Her arm brought up the ram’s skull close to the Shaman’s forehead.

  “You will assist me in my task…my anger is deep, as deep as the mountain roots themselves, as deep as Spirithold. I will avenge the past. I will destroy the Shiffante dogs that persecuted my people, who massacred my family. I will spill rivers of their blood and deny their souls entry into Spirithold.”

  S’acyrx’s face split into a crooked smile. This he could understand, this he approved of; the cycle of revenge and retribution was alive here even in the spirit world. Its waters transcended the worlds like the great rivers of life and death. These energies could not be denied. He moved his head imperceptibly and accepted his part in the tapestry of fate.

  ~

  “Quick Mama, a black swan!” the little girl shouted excitedly. The woman turned from her washing and looked. Her eyes widened, fear crept into her face.

  “Come quickly! Away from there!” she gasped as she swept the child from the lake’s edge. She turned her back and ran towards the village leaving her washing where it lay.

  The swan glided across the swirling waters its sleek feathers pure as night’s darkest dream.

  “A black swan you say?” the old man’s face paled as his mouth uttered the words.

  “Yes, yes! What does it mean?” the woman’s voice shook.

  “The black swan only appears when the Gods have been angered or…” his words tailed off.

  The group of villagers looked at him, dread written across their faces. A voice from the back of the room spoke loud enough for everyone to hear, “… or when the death spirit is abroad.”

  As this utterance permeated the air, the fire at the centre of the room spit and crackled as if in alarm. Its flames did not warm the air; instead, the people gathered could feel the cold that only fear brings.

  “If only S’acryx was recovered. He would know what to do,” another voice declared in the gloom.

  “S’acryx is still locked in the Otherside. His body breathes but his spirit is lost, gone,” this from a young woman nearest the door.

  “Q’uaina you have ghosted his body? There’s still no sign?” the old man asked her.

  Q’uaina shifted uneasily brushing her skirts absently. “I ghosted his form as he taught me to…but I never thought such a thing would ever happen to him. He has always returned from the Otherside unharmed,” her young voice trembled. “There was no light from him, no light at all…and yet he still breathes. He’s held there. Something keeps him, its been three days now.”

  Silence reigned in the chill air. Moments passed in its sway.

  “He did once mention another way…” Q’uaina’s voice tailed off, small and fragile.

  “Speak on young one, we stand with you and do not judge you,” the old man said, his eyes gleaming with interest.

  Q’uaina shifted position so her back was to the fire. Shadows danced around her feet. “S’acryx said if he were ever not to return, to leave him alone, that he would find his way back… or perish in trying. But there is one other way to try… apart from ghosting. It’s only ever to be attempted if the survival of the clan is in question and there’s no other way,” her voice faltered.

  “Go on child,” a woman’s voice encouraged.

  “I must join him on the Otherside. I must cross over to him.”

  The fire spat and hissed at the gathered villagers. Outside the dark night looked down with indifference. They knew what had to be done.

  Chapter 2

  Crossing Over

  Q’uaina sat on her own in the grip of the spirit fire. Her skin was bare but warm in the glow of the embers. In the flickering light, her clan tattoos seemed to dance and play with the shadows. Her breathing became shallow. She saw and felt nothing. Time ceased to gather around her. Outside, night unfolded in the heavens.

  A small shape shimmered on her left arm and then lifted itself away from her skin. A leaf and then a vine appeared and grew around her. Her tattoos rustled, writhed and left her arms and back to fill the room. Her eyelids flickered and her breathing stopped, then she grew cold.

  Q’uaina noticed the dust first. Beneath her feet, it lay thick and undisturbed. She took a few steps and saw that she left no footprints. She looked up into the monochrome landscape of the Otherside. She felt no fear, she felt nothing at all. The sky rumbled overhead.

  Feel your way, feel your way back to me; search and you will find…a voice erupted in her mind.

  She let her feet lead her on and became aware of a journey unfolding within. She saw images of her life; her mother and sister and father before…

  Here now, stop young one…

  Her hand brushed against something solid. She looked through her vacant eyes and saw a man slumped on the dust before her. He was broken, misshapen, changed. She knelt down and became aware of whispering.

  Take me with you beyond this place; take me with you as your shadow, as your ghost…

  Q’uaina touched the man’s shoulder and his form turned to ash.

  Your Shaman, S’acryx has taken my place here willingly…one must stay to allow another to leave and leave I must, with you as your shadow within…take me with you…back to the daylight and sun and feeling…I am unable to feel my pain here, I am unable to execute my revenge here. This place has outlived its usefulness…take me sister, take me back and ghost me to your life.

  Q’uaina awoke with a violent shudder. The room was dark and the embers long gone. A wrenching pain twisted in her gut and she retched bile, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. Her whole body ached, her mind spun. She cried out in pain but her voice barely croaked. The door to the room opened and weak daylight spilled in, burning her eyes in its liquid fire. She passed out.

  Voices came and went. One voice raised, others hushed. Fever, burning, confusion. Then nothing.

  You must cross over…you must reunite with your body…more than you ever know depends on this…take me with you Q’uaina.

  Fluttering eyelids. A rhythmic beating. A butterfly by the window displaying dusky blue wings. The room empty. Q’uaina stretched her hand out to shield her eyes from the light streaming through the window. A dog barked. She heard women’s voices, footsteps nearby. She sat up slowly and felt a dull ache register all over. Her head pounded
remorselessly as if a dozen oxen had stampeded over her.

  The door opened.

  “Ah, you’re back with us young one,” it was Morvaine, the clan’s elderly healer.

  Q’uaina put her legs over the edge of the bed and tried to sit up. Her head spun and she quickly slumped back onto the covers.

  “Not so fast, here let me help you. You’ve been out cold for three days,” Morvaine reached out to support Q’uaina.

  Three days.

  “There that’s better, slowly now…”

  “Tell me what’s happened…I tried to find S’acryx but I only came across shadows and whispers, such strangeness…” Q’uaina breathed.

  “That can wait child, you’ve been through so much.”

  “Tell me please, I need to make sense of this, of the voices,” said Q’uaina.

  Morvaine looked directly into Q’uaina’s green eyes and spoke.

  “S’acryx is dead. His spirit left and did not return. His body held on for a short while but it too left this life. His remains have been cleansed by the white fire and he has joined the seven winds. Your attempt to bring him back failed.”

  Morvaine looked away, her eyes moistening. A man’s distant shout broke the silence. Q’uaina’s heart was racing, her breathing rapid.

  “S’acryx, dead? It can’t be…he was my teacher, my light guide. This is all a mistake, it has to be,” Q’uaina’s body trembled with the shock and she felt tears well up inside her.

  Morvaine turned and closed the door. She came and sat beside Q’uaina on the bed putting her arm around the girl.

  “Q’uaina that’s not all. There’s more bad news. Because of your failure to bring S’acryx back, the elders have decided to banish you from the clan. They are to tell you to forfeit your blood ties and go beyond the wall, never to return.”

  “It seems as if the black swan was right all along, except not in the way we saw things,” Q’uaina whispered.