Dreams of the Forgotten Dead

by Eric Asher

  Stump reached for the fairy. “Foster, no.”

  Foster didn’t heed Stump’s words, instead stalking toward the Fae. But the closer he got, the more he slowed, and I was able to catch up with him.

  “They aren’t drawing their swords,” I said.

  Dark eyes looked out of tired gray faces. I could see their swords and daggers sheathed on belts and hidden behind tattered cloaks.

  I had my arm raised, ready to summon a shield in the blink of an eye, but none of the Fae moved against us, and I felt a rough hand on my shoulder. I glanced up to find Stump.

  “Who are they?” I asked.

  As if in answer, every Unseelie Fae drew their sword and tossed it into the mud. Daggers and more followed until it was made clear they were all unarmed.

  Foster kept his sword drawn.

  Gaia walked past us, continuing to the field, where her golden glow returned, and more of the trees grew into the air. More than anything else, her nonchalant dismissal of the Unseelie Fae settled my nerves. There was something else going on, and I wanted to know what it was.

  “Would you like to tell them your story, or should I?” Stump asked the Unseelie.

  One of the Fae in the back stepped forward, and I didn’t miss the gouges in his armor that looked very much like claw marks. “These are friends of the werewolves? And the child necromancer?”

  “They are. Though they did not fight at Quindaro, they are allied to the others. An attack on them would bring the wrath of that child necromancer. The one called Vicky.”

  I frowned at Stump. “You’re telling me these Fae fought the werewolves? And Vicky?”

  “A misguided attempt to acquire the Heart of Quindaro. But a clan of peace could not have known what awaited them in those woods.”

  The Unseelie Fae looked away. “That magic was beyond us, and the Eldritch thing is a blight upon any world where its shadow falls.”

  Nixie glanced between me and Stump before turning to the Unseelie Fae. “You are the banished from Murias.”

  The slender Fae I’d come to think of as their leader, being that he spoke the most, betrayed his surprise as his eyes widened before he composed himself. “And you?”

  “Nixie, Queen of the Undines. I know your story, how you shunned your king in the Wandering War, and were cast out because of it.”

  Foster stood up a little straighter and faced Nixie, leaving himself exposed to the Unseelie Fae. “What?”

  Nixie offered a small smile. “You were in the shadow of the courts for too long, cousin. Not all the Unseelie are our enemy.”

  “Cousin to the witch queen?” the fairy asked, taking a step back. “You are the Demon Sword of Faerie, the blade of Gwynn Ap Nudd.”

  Foster turned back to the Unseelie Fae. “I was, once. Until he killed my mother, and some of my dearest friends. He almost cost me my home, and my life. The Mad King should be a lesson we never repeat.”

  “I have found memories are limited, and much of what has come before will come again.”

  “Who are you?” Foster asked as he sheathed his sword.

  “My name is Ludus. Much of what the queen said is true. But there is more to us than that tale. We were banished for betraying our king, yes. But you must understand, for five hundred years we lived as a peaceful woodland clan. Before the Wandering War came and cut a bloody path through all of our cities. And that could not go unanswered by the king. Though we no longer dwelled in the city, he insisted we fight because he knew we had once been warriors.”

  “What changed?” Foster asked. “Why did you attack the Kansas City Pack?”

  Ludus’s brow creased. “For a chance to stop Gwynn Ap Nudd.”

  Foster shook his head. “The Unseelie fought on behalf of Nudd. They served the Mad King in the Wandering War, and this conflict.”

  “We are not all the same, Demon Sword. Did not your own courts split? Did you not fight on behalf of the Morrigan as she faced Gwynn Ap Nudd on the field of battle? Can you not see that we are the same? The same blood and the same wings. I have no quarrel with you.”

  “But you did once,” Foster said.

  “There is far less blood on my sword than on that of one who calls himself the Demon Sword.”

  I put my hand on Foster’s shoulder when he tensed at that comment. “Let it go. They aren’t here to fight, and I really don’t want to vaporize them all by accident.”

  Ludus took another step back.

  I smiled at the Unseelie Fae. “My powers are a little weird since coming back from the dead. I’m sure you understand. We can spar some other time, if you’d like.”

  “My sword is on the earth, and it will remain there.”

  “No,” Stump said. “You will reclaim your sword and forge from it an ax to rebuild your homes. Gaia and the green men welcome you as the protectors of these forests.”

  Ludus and the others bowed to Stump, and while it was calming to a degree, I remembered what some of the Unseelie Fae done on the battlefield. But Ludus’s words stuck in my mind. They weren’t all the same, just as the commoners weren’t all the same, nor the Seelie.

  But my conversation with Ludus reminded me I had more pressing matters to address. I needed to talk to Gaia about the strange fluctuations in my powers, and ask if she had any insight about the basilisk.

  I inclined my head to Ludus and started after Gaia.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Gaia hadn’t gone far by the time I caught up to her. Nixie and the others stayed behind to talk to the Unseelie for a while longer, and I was fine with that. If the Unseelie were going to be around Gaia and the green men, I wanted to know more about them. But I also wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to accidentally vaporize people I didn’t want vaporized.

  “You wish to speak?” Gaia asked as she rose from a knee after blooming a field of seedlings.

  I rubbed my hands together. “You could say that. I’ve been having some issues with my necromancy.”

  “Oh? Can you not see spirits?”

  “Oh no, I can still see plenty of ghosts.”

  “Auras?”

  “That’s fine, too.”

  “Are you unable to communicate with the dead?”

  “Actually, that seems to be fine as well. It’s more to do with incantations.”

  “Ah, not all incantations are necromancy, Damian. Line arts are shared across a great many schools of magic, as I am certain you know.”

  “Right, yes, well, I’m having some issues.” I scratched the back of my head. “We were attacked by some Unseelie Fae at my shop.”

  “Death’s Door,” Gaia said after a pause. “Zola shared many stories of Saint Charles over the years. I should like to visit when times have grown less perilous.”

  “You’re always welcome.”

  “Thank you, Damian Vesik. Now, tell me of your issues.”

  “I feel like I should be lying down on a couch,” I muttered.

  Gaia’s eyes flashed gold, and a tangle of vines rose into the vague outline of a couch straight out of a therapist’s office. I was beginning to suspect she retained a great deal of the innkeeper’s rather dry wit.

  I blinked, shrugged, and settled into it. The vines held my weight easily, having just enough give to be comfortable. “Thank you. My incantations are sometimes pulling more power than I mean to. So, the Fae who attacked us. One of my incantations channeled more power than I’d ever seen. So much that it melted their armor into liquid.”

  “I suppose the Fae themselves did not survive that?”

  “No. No, they did not.” I cringed at the memory of burned flesh that turned to ash and dust in moments.

  “I believe I may have some idea of what has occurred. This is not the first time your necromancy has been bound to another magic.”

  I blinked. “It isn’t?”

  “Most assuredly not. Dirge has spoken to me at great length about what you did in Greenville, helping restore the forest at no small cost to yourself. It endeared you to the gree
n men. Perhaps more than you realize.”

  I looked behind Gaia, at the empty stretch of wastelands flowing from the newborn forest. “Cara taught me to do that. You think it’s Titan magic that’s overcharging my incantations now?”

  “No. I believe it is still you binding two magics together. And you must learn to separate them, or bind them at will. Or your power will continue to be erratic, and the cost could be dire.”

  “How in the hell am I going to manage that?”

  Gaia crouched down beside me and smiled. “Open your Sight, Damian Vesik.”

  I took a deep breath to center myself and let the world roll back around me. Gaia’s expression didn’t change, but everything else about her did. She was a sun, nearly as blinding as Edgar, golden with vines of emerald green stretching up to wrap her thighs. It was a vision not meant for mortals, and my heart stuttered at the sheer beauty of the Titan.

  Past her wandered the ghosts of the cataclysm, interspersed with those from ages that had come before. It was a strange amalgamation, seeing the dead of the Civil War wandering the streets and people who had only recently been ripped away from this world. The auras of the dead shifted in black and white, slowly twisting around each spirit like a ribbon.

  “Now, look at yourself, Damian Vesik.”

  I frowned at the Titan, but did as she asked, raising my hand to look at the aura I’d seen a thousand times before, only to freeze in place. I still had the aura of the dead, a bizarre twist of black and white and gray bound to the shifting colors of a commoner, and the faintest hint of emerald green, the power I’d drawn on to restore Greenville.

  But something else twisted through that miasma of color—a golden thread, not so brilliant as Gaia herself, but unmistakable in its hue. It wound its way around my necromancy like those emerald green filaments, part of the whole, but still separate.

  “You see?” Gaia said. “As you call on the power of the earth, so you can call on the power of a Titan. It will always be with you, and will let you cross into the Abyss at will.”

  “Sometimes not at will,” I muttered.

  Gaia grinned at that, a smile I hadn’t seen since I’d last visited the innkeeper. She held her hand out, a single seed placed in the center. “Separate your power and give this seed life.”

  I sat up on the couch made of vines and reached out to the seed. This was something I’d done several times, and it wasn’t difficult to pull on those thin threads of emerald magic until a tiny sprout sprang from Gaia’s palm.

  “Now,” she said, setting the seed on the earth. “As you pulled on the strength of the earth, pull on the power of a Titan.”

  I blew out a breath and focused. As easy as it was to call on that emerald power, the power of a Titan tried to overwhelm everything it touched, as if it wanted to be used. But if I was going to use it as I used the other, I needed to bind it to a ley line and give it direction.

  Once I’d isolated the electric blue glow of the ley line, the thread of Titan magic snapped onto it with little coaxing, pulling away from the other threads before pouring into the seedling. I could feel the roots crawling deeper into the earth, and before long, a sapling reached into the sky as the thread of Titan power flared, and the sapling shook as it grew several feet in a moment.

  I cut the power off as I would any incantation and watched as the Titan magic returned to its place in my aura.

  “You see, Damian Vesik. Access to one power does not limit another in this regard. You must separate the threads if you wish to control your incantations. But should you need less control, do not separate them. Let the Titan magic overtake your incantations, and you will bring a power to bear that few could stand against.”

  The vision of melted Fae armor pooling between the stones of the sidewalk came screaming back into my mind. That wasn’t an exaggeration. But the most frustrating part of what Gaia had to say was the fact that I could have figured it out myself.

  It had been me who raised the forest in Greenville, grew the pitcher plant at Cara’s suggestion, and had done far worse with that power. But it was a power I could see, should have been able to see, if I just would have opened my Sight and studied the threads of my own aura.

  The Old Man had taught me how to fight. How to use physical strength and speed as a complement to my abilities. Zola had taught me to hone my powers, push their limits, until I could protect myself and my family from any aggressor. I’d come to realize that neither had been a complete path. Both needed to be grounded. Maybe that’s why I’d always been drawn to old books and manuscripts. They were a foundation, a core. And I’d forgotten those basics I’d learned so long ago.

  But Gaia hadn’t. Gaia had brought me back to the core of what I was. A necromancer, with access to other threads of power. And perhaps in more ways than I knew, that was the true power of the mantle. Magic that other necromancers couldn’t reach, because they didn’t have the key.

  “Damian?”

  I turned toward Nixie’s voice and didn’t miss the furrowed brow and slight hesitation in her step. “You okay?”

  She hesitated. “Are you? I saw that … I saw the tree.”

  I flexed my hand. “Gaia was helping me sort out some issues.”

  “You looked like you did in the Abyss.”

  “Really? Big crusty thing or glowy golden thing?”

  Nixie let out a small laugh. “Glowy golden thing.”

  “A side effect,” Gaia said. “I believe that is what the commoners would call it. To pull on the Titan magic is to pull on the essence of the Titans, that which you know from the Abyss.”

  “But it won’t hurt him?” Nixie asked.

  “All power can injure a wielder, Nixie. But it is no more dangerous to him than is his necromancy. It is most dangerous to his enemies.”

  It was odd listening to Nixie and Gaia talking about me like I wasn’t standing there. The concern in Nixie’s voice was endearing, but I didn’t want her to be worried either. She’d been through enough trying to drag me back from the Abyss. And I certainly didn’t want to add to that stress.

  “Go in peace, Queen of the Undines. Your mate will not die at his own hand so long as he remembers these lessons.”

  “No, just by the gaze of a basilisk.”

  Gaia slowly tilted her head. “Yes, what is this basilisk you have spoken of?”

  “Parts of Gorias have been found beneath the suburbs of St. Louis,” I said.

  “Did not Park build his bases underground in those remnants with the help of Aeros?”

  I nodded. “Yes, but we didn’t realize how much more of the golden city was left underneath the earth. There’s a tunnel in the basement of my mechanic’s shop, and I saw a vision thanks to, well, a peacock.”

  Gaia raised an eyebrow.

  I held up my hands. “I know, I know. It’s a … it’s a magic peacock.”

  Gaia’s other eyebrow joined the first.

  “I’m not explaining this well. Suffice it to say, there’s at least one basilisk beneath the streets.”

  “Did you see a lair in your vision? An intricate sprawl of tunnels and corridors? Or was it merely a single tunnel?”

  “Definitely a lair.”

  Gaia inclined her head. “Then I fear your city is at grave risk. The destruction basilisks have wreaked in Faerie has been substantial. And this realm does not have the defenses to turn away a creature such as that. Life is precious and rare, Damian Vesik, but you must destroy those creatures.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d want to help?”

  Gaia looked away for a time. “It is not a matter of want. It is a matter of need. Should the wastelands be allowed to continue as they have, you will endure far worse problems than a lair of basilisks. Have you not seen the darkening tide in the Abyss?”

  I had no idea what Gaia was talking about, and she picked up on that fairly quick.

  “Next time you walk through the Abyss, gaze upon the great Seal for this realm. There is a shadow that formed after the catacl
ysm in Gettysburg. A darkness that has spread like the wastelands, and one that must be healed lest more of the Eldritch ones find their way into the light.”

  “Should we stay here and help you instead?” I asked.

  Gaia offered a small smile. “No. I only wish you to know why I cannot leave the wastelands. This is my priority, but protecting your city from the basilisks must be yours. Use what you have learned here, Damian Vesik. Learn to control your power and use it to bring an end to those abominations.”

  “I don’t have time, Gaia. I need to practice, and I don’t have the time.”

  Gaia looked to Nixie and then back at the other green men. “Stump. Care for the wastelands while I am gone.”

  “Of course, my godd—” Stump cut himself off. “Of course, Gaia.”

  “You need time, Damian Vesik. There is one place we will have more of it. Walk the Abyss with me once more, and I will teach you the ways of the Titans.”

  I glanced at Nixie, and she gave me one sharp nod. “I’ll keep Frank and Foster out of trouble while you’re gone.”

  “It will not be long, Queen of the Undines. Hours in the Abyss will be moments here. We shall soon return.” Gaia gestured to me.

  I followed her into darkness.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The golden path coalesced beneath my feet as Gaia appeared beside me. I’d wondered if we’d enter the Abyss in the same place since we hadn’t been in contact, and I supposed I had the answer to that question. It made some sense, considering I had to venture to specific parts of that darkness to exit at home, or the shop, or even the wastes. The Abyss was tied to our own realm, just as it was tied to several others.

  Gaia looked out at the stars before turning her attention back to me. “Now, young necromancer, you can test your powers here with little concern for consequences to anything but yourself.”

  That was both reassuring and unsettling.

  “Look behind you and see what has come.”

  I turned, finding the face of a great Seal.

  I remembered what it was like when I’d come close to the Seal into the Burning Lands, and while this one held similarities, it looked to be much farther away. When I stood before the seal to the Burning Lands, it stretched from one horizon to the other, impossible to see the end.