They returned to the street and began the long march to the North End. Once more, Nap, Gordon, and Afton led the way, followed by Sephira, Ethan and the other conjurers, and the rest of Sephira’s toughs. As they walked, Ethan felt several new conjurings thrum in the cobblestones, one after another.
“What do you suppose he is doing?” Mariz asked after the fourth or fifth pulse.
“If I was in his position, and I knew that we were coming, I would cast detection spells, and I would tie each one to a different sort of attack.”
“I would do something similar. We should ward ourselves, and we should walk at the fore.”
“I agree,” Ethan said. He called for Nap and the others to halt.
“What now?” Sephira demanded.
“Ramsey is casting spells,” Mariz said. “We need to ward ourselves, and then we will lead the rest of you there.”
“Can you ward all of us?” Sephira asked.
“I believe we can.” Sephira’s man turned to Ethan and Janna. “Tegimen, omnibus nostrum, ex cruore evocatum.” Warding, all of us, conjured from blood. “That would be the wording, correct?”
Ethan deferred to Janna, who nodded. “Sounds right to me.”
They positioned themselves shoulder-to-shoulder, and waited as their spectral guides joined hands.
“Now,” Ethan said. They cut themselves and chanted the spell. Their power growled in the street, an answer to Ramsey’s conjurings.
“Do you think it worked?” Mariz asked.
“I hope it did. I don’t want to cast it again, lest we make it too clear to Ramsey what we’ve done. Let’s go.” Ethan strode past Sephira, Nap, and the others, and led them on through the streets. Mariz caught up with him a moment later. When Ethan glanced back, he saw that Janna and Gavin were just behind them.
By now they were in the North End; Copp’s Hill loomed before them, the late-afternoon sunlight giving a golden cast to the rooftops of the houses. They walked around the base of the hill on the western side, following Princes Street to Ferry Way, and approaching Drake’s Wharf from the south.
As they came to the ferry dock, Ethan felt the brush of a conjuring on his face.
“Spell!” he had time to say.
He tensed, as did Mariz beside him. But no attack came. Instead, Ethan heard a high-pitched keening, like the cry of some wild beast.
“I guess he knows which direction we’ll be coming from,” Ethan said.
Mariz said nothing. Ethan tightened his grip on his knife.
With his next step, he felt the web of a second detection spell. This time he had no chance to shout a warning. The triggered conjuring slammed into them like a giant hammer, lifting Ethan off his feet so that he flew backward and landed hard on his shoulder. Mariz landed beside him and let out a low groan.
Ethan climbed to his feet and hurried to Janna’s side. She lay on the cobblestone, wincing and gripping her arm.
“How bad is it?” Ethan asked.
“Not as bad as it would have been without that wardin’,” she said. “That was a blade spell. I could taste it in the magick.”
She sat up, rubbed her arm again, and stood. Mariz helped Gavin up. He appeared to be no worse off than Janna. From what Ethan could see, it seemed that Sephira and her men were more surprised than hurt, although they too had been knocked to the ground. If Janna was right—if that had been a blade spell—all of them were fortunate to be alive. If their warding hadn’t withstood the assault, they would have been sliced in half.
“That wasn’t the last of his spells,” Ethan said, drawing the gazes of all of them. “I felt at least six conjurings as we walked here. Assuming that he set detection spells on both sides of the wharf, there could still be another one waiting for us.”
“Will your warding hold against another spell?” Sephira asked.
Ethan shrugged. “I hope so.”
She rolled her eyes.
They resumed their advance on the wharf, walking with more care this time. Ethan braced himself for the next assault, knowing that this would do him little good.
He was right.
The touch of the third detection spell felt much like the first two. But this time the pulse of power was far stronger, and the conjuring was directed not at them, but at the cobbled lane beneath their feet.
The street bucked like an untamed horse, and a fissure opened down its center. Once more, all of them were thrown to the ground, like a child’s dolls strewn across a bedroom floor. At least one of Sephira’s men disappeared into the chasm Ramsey’s spell had opened.
Gavin lay writhing on the street, clutching his arm to his belly. Janna was slow to get up, but once more she seemed to have escaped serious injury.
To Ethan’s relief, Afton and Gordon managed to pull Sephira’s man out of the street. And though this third fellow had bloody scrapes on his face and arms, he was able to stand on his own.
“I’ve had just about enough of this, Ethan,” Sephira said, standing and brushing herself off.
“Well, I’ll be sure to tell Ramsey as much.”
“I believe that was the last of the detection spells,” Mariz said. He pointed. They were but a few steps from the edge of Drake’s Wharf.
Ethan walked to the pier, knowing that the others would follow him. The Muirenn was moored at the base of the wharf, near the street, the ropes holding it to the iron cleats creaking as the ship shifted in the gentle swells of the harbor. He saw no one on board, but still as he approached the vessel he kept his knife poised over his arm.
“Kaille.”
He turned at the sound of the voice, which was thin and ghostly. A glowing figure stood near the entrance to a large warehouse. It was dressed in a man’s suit, but its face was so desiccated that Ethan couldn’t have said for certain if it had been a man or a woman. He assumed that it was an illusion, conjured by Ramsey.
“He’s in here,” the figure said, gesturing toward the doorway with a skeletal hand.
It didn’t wait for his response, but instead turned and shambled into the building.
“Charming,” Sephira muttered.
Gavin planted himself in front of Ethan. “Don’t go in there. It’s not too late for us to leave.”
“I’ve already told you, unless Ramsey is willing to leave Boston, never to return, I have no choice. I won’t cede my conjuring power to him, nor will I allow him to torture the families of Boston’s dead.”
“He’ll kill you. He’ll kill all of us.”
“I expect he’ll try. But if you want to leave, Gavin, you should. None of us will think any less of you.”
Gavin’s gaze wandered over their company, coming to rest at last on Janna. “No,” he said. “I won’t leave you now.”
“Very well.”
“I don’t relish the idea of stepping into a trap,” Sephira said. “Can you set fire to the warehouse and force them out?”
Ethan considered this. “Aye. That’s a fine idea.” To Mariz and Janna he said, “A fire spell.”
The conjurers faced the warehouse, their ghosts beside them, clasping hands once more. They cut themselves and recited in unison, “Ignis ex cruore evocatus.” Fire, conjured from blood.
Even as Ethan felt the spell humming in his bones, as if he himself were a musical instrument, it occurred to him that this couldn’t work, that it was too easy, too expected. He saw flames erupt from the warehouse walls and roof, and then saw them leap, just as abruptly, from the building back toward where they were standing.
For a single horrifying moment, he feared that their warding would fail; it was intended to block the conjurings of others, but might have no effect on their own spells. He felt the heat of those conjured flames on his face, his neck, his hands, and he threw up an arm to shield himself. Mariz and Janna did the same.
The force of the spell hit them an instant after the heat, pounding them like an ocean breaker and leaving them sprawled across the wharf.
Mercifully, none of them was burned, but this
time Janna was slow to stir, and when Mariz joined Ethan at her side, he was limping.
“I’ve had just about enough of this shit,” Janna said, as Ethan helped her sit up.
Sephira walked to them, slapping the dust and dirt off of her waistcoat. “What in God’s name was that?”
“I would guess that Ramsey warded the warehouse,” Ethan said.
“And that possibility never entered your mind?”
“Not soon enough, no.”
Gavin sat a few feet away, appearing dazed.
“Maybe he’s right,” Ethan said to Mariz. “Maybe this isn’t a fight we can win.”
“I am more inclined to think that you were right when you said that this is not a fight we can avoid.”
“I didn’t come all this way to turn back now,” Janna said, a snarl in her voice. “So help me up, and let’s get in there.”
Ethan and Mariz helped her to her feet and retrieved her knife, which she had dropped.
To Sephira, Ethan said, “I don’t know what other wardings he has in place. Your pistols may not work against him or his men.”
“What about our knives?”
“I don’t know. These are uncharted waters for me. Ramsey is cunning, he’s powerful, and he’s girded for a war.”
She nodded, thin-lipped. “We’ll do what we can with his men. You just find a way to kill him.” She looked at Nap and her other men, before facing Ethan again. “We’re ready.”
Ethan wiped his sweaty palm on his breeches, gripped the hilt of his blade, and led them through the doorway into the warehouse.
The building was mostly empty, save for piles of wooden pallets, barrels, and crates. The captain stood at the far end of the structure, leaning against the wall, a knife in hand. His men were arrayed loosely before him in clusters of three and four. Ethan had no doubt that they had been expecting this confrontation, and were ready for a battle. But he had expected more elaborate preparations; either Ramsey had been careless, or he remained supremely confident. Ethan would have wagered every coin he had on the latter.
Seeing them, Ramsey straightened. “At last. I take it you’re done trying to burn down the building?”
His men positioned themselves in a broad arc. As in previous encounters, they were armed with knives and lengths of rope.
Ramsey walked forward, stepping between two of his men and halting a short distance from where Ethan stood. “I’m so glad to see that you survived my detection spells. I would have been disappointed if you hadn’t, but of course I couldn’t be sure. Your spellmaking doesn’t strike me as being particularly reliable.”
“Our spells are working well enough,” Ethan said. “You might consider that before doing anything rash.”
Ramsey’s gaze flicked to Mariz and to Janna. “I’m sorry to see you here, Miss Windcatcher. I always liked you. You shouldn’t have allowed Kaille to involve you in this matter.”
“Nobody talks me into anythin’, Nate. You know that about me. You’re tryin’ to take away my livelihood. You thought I’d let you do that?”
“So,” the captain said, his glare settling on Ethan once more. “You’ve managed to combine your power and conjure as one. And you think that will be enough to defeat me?”
“I think it should be enough to convince you that you can’t win. Take your ship and leave Boston, as you and I discussed. This doesn’t have to end badly for any of us.”
“I will admit that I’m impressed,” Ramsey went on, ignoring Ethan’s plea. “Blending your conjurings; that’s high spellmaking, Kaille. Obviously you’ve warded yourselves, which affords you some small protection. But this sort of magicking limits you so. Your sole hope in all of this was your numbers: three conjurers against one. If each of you could conjure on your own, I might have cause to fear you. But you can’t, can you?”
Ethan looked over at Gavin, who stood beside Janna, and who still appeared to be in a haze.
“We’re four conjurers,” Ethan said.
A grin split the captain’s face. “No, you’re really not.” And turning to Gavin, he said, “Now.”
The glazed look in Gavin’s eyes didn’t change. But he raised his knife—Ethan thought he intended to cut himself and cast a spell. Instead, he spun with more speed than a man of his age should have possessed, and hacked at Janna with the blade.
Ethan had no time to shout a warning. Janna’s eyes widened, and she managed to retreat half a step before the old man’s weapon found her. Her movement, however slight, saved her life. Gavin buried the blade to its hilt in her flesh, but it caught her high on her chest, closer to her left shoulder than to her heart.
She cried out. Blood gushed from the wound as she fell to the floor.
Gavin managed to wrench his knife free, drawing a gasp from Janna. He raised the weapon to strike again, but before he could Mariz launched himself at the man, tackling him around the waist. Gavin’s knife skittered across the warehouse floor. The old man made a croaking sound and struggled frantically to break free of Mariz’s grasp. Mariz reared back and hit him once, twice. Gavin went limp, blood seeping from his nose.
Ethan knelt beside Janna, whose face was contorted in a grimace.
“I’m all right,” she said, her teeth gritted, a hand pressed to the bloody wound. “Keep your eyes on Ramsey.”
Ethan stood again, the hand holding his knife white-knuckled. “A control spell,” he said.
Ramsey shrugged. “Not very imaginative, I know. But I expected you would be warded against my conjurings, and I thought that if one of you died, it might disrupt your plans just a bit.”
Ethan held his tongue, but Ramsey’s words offered him a ray of hope. If he wanted Janna dead, he must have feared their blended conjurings more than he was willing to admit.
“Did he do everything I told him to?” the captain asked. He glanced at Gavin’s prone form, a faint smile on his lips. “Did he tell you that he tried to use conjurings against me, that we laughed at him, that he told me my da would be so disappointed in me?” He looked up, meeting Ethan’s gaze. “Did he beg you not to come here, because he knew it was a trap?”
“Can we kill him now, please?” Janna asked. “My chest hurts, and I’m sick to death of listenin’ to his nonsense.”
Ethan and Mariz cut themselves; Janna had enough blood on her shoulder for several conjurings. Their ghosts clasped hands.
“Dormite,” Ethan said. Slumber. “Now.”
“Dormite ex cruore evocatum,” they said together. Slumber, conjured from blood.
The power of their spell seemed to shake the building to its foundations. Ramsey staggered, as from a blow. He squeezed his eyes shut, forced them open again. “How did you…” He staggered a second time, his eyes growing heavy.
And then he laughed. “Sorry. Just having a bit of fun. Admit it, Kaille. For just a instant you thought it had worked.”
Ethan didn’t respond. Janna stared daggers at the captain.
“Enough,” Sephira said. She pulled a pistol from her jacket pocket and in one fluid motion leveled it at Ramsey’s chest and fired, the report deafening within the warehouse walls.
Ramsey didn’t flinch. And by the time the echo of the gunshot had died away, the lead ball from her pistol was on the floor at the captain’s feet. He picked it up, holding it in the palm of his hand.
“It’s still warm,” he said. He fixed Sephira with a murderous glare. “That was a mistake. After watching your man kill my bosun, did you think that I wouldn’t protect myself from your weapons?” He cut his forearm; blood welled from the wound, only to vanish a second later.
Whatever spell he intended for Sephira, he didn’t speak it aloud. She grunted at its impact, tumbled to the floor. But nothing else happened to her, and a moment later she was on her feet again.
“You warded them as well,” Ramsey said, his voice flat. “How clever of you. It seems I need reinforcements.” He cut himself a second time. “Veni ad me ex regno mortuorum ex cruore evocatum.” Come to me from the
realm of the dead, conjured from blood.
The spell thundered, as powerful as any spell Ethan had ever felt. A shade appeared beside Ramsey and was joined a heartbeat later by two more. Four shades winked into view to Sephira’s left, and another three appeared behind them. In mere seconds, they were surrounded by more than a dozen ghosts, and more continued to join them. All of them looked like the decomposed cadavers Ethan had seen at the burying grounds; he could almost smell the fetor of their decay.
He cast a quick glance over his shoulder toward the open door. The sun had not yet set; there was still plenty of daylight.
“That’s right, Kaille. I can summon them during the day now. Thanks to my new closest friend, I can do just about anything with them that I want.” He gazed past Ethan, triumphant. “Ah, here she is now. The new captain of my army of wraiths.”
Ethan turned and felt his body sag. Standing before him, glowing a sickly shade of green, stood the ghost of Patience Walters.
Chapter
TWENTY-TWO
“Don’t let them get too close if you can help it,” Ethan said in a raised voice. “They are brutally cold to the touch, perhaps even fatally so if they were reach into your chest or your head.”
The shades began to advance on them, their movements slow, unsteady, but inexorable. Now Ethan understood why Ramsey had wanted this confrontation here in the warehouse rather than aboard the Muirenn. With so many shades on the ship, the captain’s crew would have been in as much peril as Ethan and his companions.
“How do we stop them?” Sephira asked.
“I don’t know that we can.”
“Sure we can,” Janna said. “We stop him, we stop them.”
Ramsey chuckled at that.
More shades were still appearing; there had to be close to three dozen of them now. Ethan backed away from one of them and wound up beside Sephira.
“Start with the crew,” he said under his breath. “Ramsey will want to protect them. You and your men will be safe from the shades as long as you’re fighting. Mariz, Janna and I will stay here. We’re the ones Ramsey wants. You go fight.”
A Plunder of Souls (The Thieftaker Chronicles) Page 31
