Spirit Ascendancy

by E. E. Holmes

  “Yeah, well never mind about me,” Milo said. “What about Hannah? I’ve been reaching out through our connection for the last few minutes, since I’ve been free from that casting, but she’s not there. Something is blocking it. I’m really freaked out; we’ve never been disconnected before, not since I died.”

  I looked at Anca. “Is that an effect of the corporeal shock, too?”

  Anca was frowning. “No. At least, it shouldn’t be. They must be employing something else to interfere with your connection. I don’t know what it might be, though. I’ve never heard of a casting being able to separate a spirit and a Durupinen who were Bound.”

  “Okay, well, what else can we do? What have you found out? Do we know where she is? What are we doing to get her back?” Milo asked.

  “We don’t know anything else,” I said. “I just finished filling them in on everything that’s happened.”

  Milo turned a defiant glare on Ileana. “Well? You’ve got the story. What are you going to do to find her?”

  Ileana looked him over with a combination of amusement and condescension. It was a surprisingly threatening expression, and I felt Milo shrink a little beside me.

  “Mate, she is like the Queen Mother of the Clans around here,” Savvy whispered. “I’m pretty sure she could roll you in that pipe and smoke you, if she wanted to.”

  “Right, okay,” said Milo, making an obvious effort to master his rage before he was the victim of another unpleasant casting. “What I meant was, could you, uh, please be so kind as to let us know if you’re going to help us?”

  Ileana shifted back in her chair, so that her expression was shrouded in shadows as she answered. “I have not yet decided.”

  “Stellar,” Milo said through gritted teeth. “Well, I guess we’ll just be going then, since we have a kidnapping to foil and we’re basically wasting our time here. Nice meeting you all.”

  He turned back toward the entrance, but found his way blocked by two of the Caomhnóir. He halted in midair, nostrils flaring, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

  “I’m afraid you must stay and hear my thoughts on this matter, Spirit Guide,” Ileana said. “You are here by my permission and you will leave, or stay, by the same. That was the arrangement.”

  Milo turned back and hovered back to rest beside Finn.

  “We’re wasting time,” he hissed, to no one in particular. His energy was bordering on manic; I could feel it rolling off him in waves, making my skin explode in goosebumps. “Every minute we stay here is another minute they could be doing something awful to her. We need a plan.”

  “I know,” I whispered back. “Let’s just behave long enough to find out if they’re going to help us. Then we can go from there.”

  Ileana didn’t seem to notice our quiet exchange, or if she did, she didn’t acknowledge it. Instead she said, “When Anca first told me of your phone call, I must admit I had no intention of allowing you to come here. You must realize how very real the danger is that follows in your wake.”

  I actually snorted with bitter laughter. Danger, really? I had absolutely no idea, given the multiple attempts on our lives and the violent death of our only ally. So much for staying calm.

  Perhaps my anger had flashed across my face, because Annabelle swooped in and answered before I could open my mouth and put my foot in it. “We do,” she said quickly. “And we are sorry. But we had nowhere else to turn.”

  “Too right. It is now true of us all; there is nowhere left for the Durupinen to turn, except into the face of the waiting enemy. The time of the prophecy is at hand.”

  Two or three of the Caomhnóir shifted nervously. Anca closed her eyes and seemed to be praying.

  “The strange thing about prophecies,” Ileana continued, blowing a thoughtful smoke ring into the air and watching it dissipate around her head, “is that they do not come to pass on their own. They are always brought about by the actions of those about whom they are made. The Northern Clans have feared the prophecy, for it has long been suspected that, since the prophecy was made by one of their own, those of whom it spoke would also be of Northern descent. The Isherwood Prophecy is—”

  “I’m sorry, did you say Isherwood?” The word sparked a memory of wandering down a portrait-lined corridor, of staring into an ancient, beautiful, and somehow familiar face. “Does that have anything to do with Agnes Isherwood?”

  “Of course,” Ileana said, eying me sideways, like she was trying to decide if I was being impertinent. “Agnes Isherwood of the Clan Sassanaigh was the Seer who made the prophecy so many hundreds of years ago. Surely Finvarra told you that?”

  I reeled. My own ancestor, the only one of my family ever to be the High Priestess, had made the prophecy about me, and not a single Council member thought this information worth sharing. “Finvarra hasn’t been very interested in keeping me informed,” I said when I found my voice at last. “That’s pretty much how we got into this mess.”

  “Finvarra and those before her have shunned the prophecy and all it could mean for our order, because they did not want to face the idea that they could be the cause of our downfall. They have contented themselves with watching for and quashing all possible circumstances that could lead to its fulfillment. It was they, for instance, so many centuries ago, who declared the ban on relationships between Durupinen and Caomhnóir, and saw that it was enforced across all clans everywhere on the globe. They have destroyed many of their own number over the intervening years, whenever they suspected such a relationship or, worse still, a child from such a relationship. They focused all of their energies on stopping the prophecy rather than understanding it, but we are not so foolish. We want to know everything we can, for knowledge may be the only way to change the outcome.”

  My anger vanished as a tiny bubble of hope rose in my chest, and I looked Ileana directly in the eye for the first time since entering the tent.

  “You think there’s still a chance that we could change the outcome?”

  “There is always a chance,” Ileana said, nodding gravely. “But only if you meet the prophecy head on. If the Northern Clans had any sense, they would learn about the prophecy, rather than trying to destroy any sign of it at every turn. History teaches us that this is futile, like cutting the head from a creature that can simply grow a new one. This has always been the weakness of the Northern Clans. They have been known throughout the ages for a streak of stubborn arrogance that has, time and again, nearly destroyed them. And now it may destroy us all.”

  I opened my mouth automatically to defend my own clan, but immediately closed it again. I thought of Marion and the others leeching from the spirits they were trusted to shepherd, just to appease their own vanity. I thought about Finvarra, and her stubborn insistence that the Necromancers had been wiped out, and Marion’s manic obsession with locking us up. I couldn’t defend them, and what was more, I didn’t want to. They deserved every word that Ileana was speaking against them now.

  She nodded again at me, as though she knew exactly the conclusion I had just come to, and that she approved of my ability to do so. Perhaps this separated me from the rest of the Northern Clans in her mind, for when she spoke again, her voice had lost some of its hostility. She repeated the words that had been echoing in my head, haunting my thoughts since I’d first heard them.

  “’When Keeper and Protector shall unite

  And forth from this forbidden union shall be spawned

  Two as one from single womb, and Keepers both,

  Then shall the greatest of battles commence.

  For One shall be Caller with powers unmatched

  To reverse the Gates, and call forth the Hordes

  To bend to her will and that of our foes,

  And One will have to make the choice

  Twixt blood and calling, twixt kindred and kin

  For she will have the power of sacrifice to end it all

  And leave the world until the end of days

  To the Darkness or the Light.’<
br />
  “As I say, we have studied the prophecy with great care. What do you know of your father, child?”

  “Nothing. My mother would never talk about him, and the Durupinen have never been able to discover his identity.”

  “She would have wanted to keep it a secret, if he was a Guardian,” Ileana said, scratching thoughtfully at a mole on her chin. “The Caller, you say, is your twin sister?”

  “Yes,” I said. “She is… very powerful.”

  “I don’t doubt that, if the Necromancers have taken this much interest in her,” Ileana said with another cackle. “And you can bet they’ll be testing just how powerful, now that they’ve got their claws in her.”

  Milo made an angry feline sound, but Ileana continued before he lost it in another outburst.

  “The Northern Clans have only ever focused on the possible destruction foretold in the prophecy, but the prophecy could very well mean the salvation of all we hold dear. The key to our survival seems to be in your hands, that you will have the “power of sacrifice to end it all.”

  I swallowed hard. “Yes. I’m sorry, but I still don’t know what that part of it is supposed to mean. It’s not that I’m not willing to make some kind of sacrifice to help us get out of this, but I don’t know what that sacrifice is supposed to be. I don’t know how I’m supposed to be able to help.”

  “We believe that we do,” she said baldly.

  My stomach lurched, as though I’d missed a step going down stairs. “You do?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, what is it?” I blurted out, more loudly than I’d intended. I feared for a moment that Ileana might mistake my fear for disrespect, but she did not flinch in the slightest.

  She went on, “Before I tell you, there is something you need to understand about how the Gateways work, which may have already been explained to you. The energy is only meant to flow in one direction. It is the natural flow of the universe that our life energy travels beyond the Aether when we die. If your sister manages to reverse it, not only will the effects be devastating, but they will be irreversible from this side of the Aether. There will be nothing anyone here can do to stop it.”

  Her words dropped into me like a stone. “So what can I possibly do?”

  “The Gateway could be closed again, but only from the other side of the Aether.”

  “But then, how could I be the one to close it? How can I get to the other side to do it, unless…”

  Ileana just gazed at me, waiting for the terrible truth to close over me, like dark, dark water.

  The power of sacrifice. The other side of the Aether. Oh my God.

  “I…are you telling me… would I need to be… dead?”

  Milo gasped. Finn stiffened beside me. Savvy and Annabelle both started forward with cries of protest, but quieted at once at a single quelling look from Ileana. She surveyed the room imperiously, to make sure there would be no more interruption, before continuing.

  “A logical question, but a complicated one as well. The answer is both yes and no.”

  “How can that be?” I asked, my voice rising in my panic. “How can a person be alive and dead at the same time? There is no in between.”

  “For the average person, this is true. But for the Durupinen, there is a way. It is dangerous, and even taboo, but in this circumstance, it is the only way you could possibly do what you must and still survive. You must become a Walker.”

  No one reacted because no one knew what the hell she was talking about. I glanced over at Annabelle, but she looked as clueless as I felt. I waited for Ileana to expand upon her pronouncement, but it seemed that she wouldn’t without a direct request, which I could barely get the breath to formulate.

  “What does that mean, to be become a Walker?”

  “A Walker is one who can leave her body and travel the earth in spirit form,” Ileana explained. “While separated from the spirit, the body remains in a state of suspended animation, neither living nor dead, but simply waiting for the return of its soul. The Durupinen who can take this form is also capable of reentering her body and rejoining the spiritual and the physical without any lasting implications.”

  My heart was thudding so wildly in my chest, I felt sure Ileana could have looked down and seen it twitching beneath my shirt. It was the only sound in the room, that and the quiet whisper of Savannah behind me.

  “Bloody hell.”

  Ileana seemed not to hear her, and went on, “I should tell you, that very few Durupinen are capable of Walking. It takes a particularly strong will to resist the urge to remain in spirit form. You must remember that our souls are protected by our gift. We spend so much time in close proximity to the Gateways, that our bodies must protect our souls from escaping to answer the powerful call of the other side. So when a Walker leaves her body, her will must be stronger than her spirit’s desire to cross. There is no way to know if this will be the case until the body and soul have parted company. And then, of course, it is too late.”

  I licked my lips, which had suddenly gone dry. “And how do you know that I can become a Walker?”

  “I don’t.”

  Right. Well, then.

  “So I’m supposed to just… try it and see what happens?”

  “Yes.”

  Finn stepped forward, chest heaving. “I cannot allow that.”

  Ileana raised one perfectly arched black eyebrow. “It is not for you, Guardian, to allow or disallow anything. This is a decision for the Durupinen to make.”

  “It is my duty to protect her, and I will not stand aside and let her—”

  “Your duty is to the Gateway, not to this girl,” Ileana snapped.

  It was my turn to bristle. “I have a name, and if you are expecting me to risk my life to save your precious order, you better start using it!”

  I heard Annabelle’s sharp intake of breath behind me. She thought I’d gone too far, but I held my ground. I was not a nameless pawn in this power struggle, and I would not be used like one.

  It was clear from her sour expression that Ileana was biting back a scathing response. She swallowed it like something bitter and replied, more calmly than I could have hoped, “You are correct, Jessica. You must forgive me. Your existence has been purely theoretical for so long that I have not considered the very human elements at play. This decision will be your own, and it will be a difficult one. However, I must tell you that the prophecy makes every indication that you will be able to Walk. It states that you have the power of sacrifice.”

  “Sure, but it doesn’t say how big of a sacrifice I would be making. I mean, throwing myself off the nearest clifftop would be a pretty big sacrifice, but not one I’m willing to make,” I said.

  “Is there a sacrifice too great, to save the spirits of the world from the perverse desires of the Necromancers, or to preserve the Durupinen from destruction?” Ileana asked.

  “What kind of rubbish question is that?” Savvy shouted.

  “Savvy, don’t—”

  “No, it’s not right, Jess!” she cried, pushing forward to stand next to me. The Caomhnóir on either side of Ileana stepped swiftly forward, but Ileana waved them back with a grunt, as though disgusted that they thought Savvy a real threat. Savvy looked like she would have swung at them if they’d gotten any closer, and I didn’t doubt she’d have done some damage. “You’ve got some nerve, asking this girl to sacrifice herself for your bloody order.”

  “Tread carefully, Savannah, or you will be asked to leave,” Anca said.

  “No, she’s right,” I said, my own ire ignited by a spark from Savannah’s. “The Durupinen have done almost nothing for me but ruin my life. This so-called gift has been much more curse than blessing. I’ve lost my mother. My grandfather has been completely destroyed. My sister has spent her entire life poked and prodded by doctors who think she’s lost her mind. And since we were finally clued in to what’s been going on, we’ve been ostracized and demonized, made to feel like freaks and outcasts because of decisions we had
no part in. We only narrowly escaped being thrown into a dungeon, and maybe even worse. And now my sister has been captured, having God-knows-what done to to her at this very moment while we stand around trying to figure out what the hell, if anything, I have to do with this ancient prophecy. So you’ll have to excuse me if I don’t exactly have all kinds of warm and fuzzy feelings toward the Durupinen at the moment. I’m nowhere near ready to sacrifice my life just to preserve the sanctity of your little club.”

  “It is your ‘little club’, too, lest you forget,” Ileana said calmly. It seemed she was above letting my temper phase her. In fact, judging by the smirk on her face, my anger amused her.

  “Yeah, I withdrew my membership when they started talking about imprisoning me,” I snapped.

  “We both know you can’t withdraw your membership,” Ileana said. “And because of this, the rise of the Necromancers will impact you greatly, as you well know.”

  “I’m pretty sure dying would affect me just a bit more, don’t you?” I snarled, opening and closing my fists at my sides.

  “Perhaps, and perhaps not. The reversal of the Gateways will not only affect the Durupinen, but the entire world. The influx of spirit activity will hardly go unnoticed, but an increase in the ghostly sightings will be the least of our problems. What do you know of the Wraiths?”

  I was pulled up short. I glanced at Finn, but he was looking puzzled as well.

  “The what?”

  “Nothing, then,” Ileana said, sounding almost satisfied. “You were telling the truth when you said they have not kept you well informed. The reversal of the Gateway will unleash a horror we understand only from myth and legend. We do not know of any spirit in living memory that has been pulled from beyond the Gateway, but there are legends and written historical accounts by our ancestors of such beings. When a spirit is pulled back to earth after crossing over, it is no longer a spirit as we have come to know them. The humanity, the part of the spirit that remembers who it was in life, has been stripped away; it remains behind on the other side, unable to return. All that remains when it arrives again among the living is a hollow shell of spirit energy. It retains the form and appearance of its human self, but the soul is gone.”