A Plunder of Souls (The Thieftaker Chronicles)

by D. B. Jackson

  Ethan faced Patience. “Don’t let the shades kill anyone,” he said. “But don’t let Ramsey out of here, either. If he escapes he’ll find a way to control you again, and I’m not sure I can save you a second time.”

  She nodded and turned away from him, encompassing the other ghosts in her gaze. Seconds later, the shades began to fan out across the warehouse floor. Ramsey backed away from them, his eyes wide as they darted from one decayed visage to another.

  One of the shades broke away from the others, and moved to Ramsey’s side: the ghost of Nathaniel Ramsey. The others, including Patience, stopped.

  “If you release them, Ramsey, I’ll release your father. We still have to end this, one way or another, but he doesn’t have to watch it all.”

  “All right,” the captain said. “I’ll send them away. You do the same.”

  “No. I’m not talking about making your shades disappear for a while. I want you to release them. Use a conjuring to end your mastery of that symbol you carved into them, and tell what’s left of your crew to unload from your ship the body parts you stole.”

  Ramsey shook his head. “I won’t do that.”

  “Then your father will watch you die. Patience.”

  The shade looked back at him.

  Ethan nodded once, and the shades resumed their advance. Ramsey backed away, his father keeping pace with him.

  “I don’t like this, Ethan,” Sephira called, eyeing the shades.

  There didn’t appear to be a back door to the warehouse, something Ethan hadn’t noticed before. And neither Sephira and her men nor the crew of the Muirenn could reach the front of the building without passing uncomfortably close to the wraiths.

  “Help them,” Ethan said to Mariz. “I’ll stay with Ramsey.”

  Mariz nodded and ran to join Sephira.

  “Just you and me now, eh?” Ramsey asked, smiling but looking pale. “Good. That’s what I’ve wanted all along.”

  Power thrummed and the building shook. Mariz had broken a large hole in the side of the building. Sephira and her men streamed out into the gloaming, as did most of Ramsey’s crew. Both sides helped up some of the men who lay on the floor. But others they left. It seemed that both Sephira and Ramsey had lost more men this day.

  “Captain?” one of them called, lingering beside the gap in the wall.

  “Go!” Ramsey said.

  “Tell him to return the body parts, Ramsey. Let me send your father away.”

  “I won’t.”

  The sailor watched them for another moment before leaving the building. Mariz stared after the man, then turned and walked back toward Ethan and Ramsey, cutting his arm again as he did.

  “I thought you were going to fight me alone, Kaille? Are you that afraid of me?”

  “Your problem, Ramsey, is that you hate me so much you’ve allowed that hatred to consume you. I’m trying to bring peace to the shades you’ve awakened, and to the families of the dead. That’s why I’m here. And if I have to enlist a hundred conjurers to help me defeat you, that’s what I’ll do. You don’t control these souls anymore. I can kill you if I want. No one will be lost. I’m offering you one last chance to surrender and live.”

  The shades had the captain surrounded now, though they kept their distance. He was in no imminent danger from them, but he was very much trapped.

  “You think you’ve beaten me,” he said. “You think that without the shades, I’m just another conjurer, like you and your friend here. You’re wrong. I’m still stronger than both of you, and I will never surrender to you.”

  He raised his arm, which still was still bloody. “Vola ex cruore evocatum.”

  Ethan ducked out of instinct, but the barrel that flew from the far wall didn’t move in his direction. Instead, it soared toward Janna.

  “Subsiste!” Ramsey said as it reached her. Stop!

  And it did. The barrel remained suspended perhaps ten feet above Janna’s motionless form.

  “If I die, it falls on her,” Ramsey said. “At the first word of Latin you speak, it falls on her. If you go near her or come closer to me, or if even one of those shades moves a finger, she dies.” He grinned. “Your move, Kaille.”

  Chapter

  TWENTY-THREE

  The barrel revolved slowly, but it did not otherwise move. And neither did Janna.

  “Now, release my father.”

  Ramsey might as well have had a pistol aimed at Ethan’s head, full-cocked and ready to fire.

  “I swear, I’ll kill her if you don’t.”

  “No, he will not,” Mariz said before Ethan could answer. “She is all he has. If he kills her, we kill him, and this is over. He will not spend his one advantage for the benefit of his father’s ghost. He is afraid to die; I can see it in his eyes. He will keep Janna alive until he is free of this place. In the end, that is all he cares about.”

  Ramsey sliced his forearm again. “Discuti ex cruore evocatum!” Shatter, conjured from blood!

  Mariz fell back, as if he had been punched in the jaw. But immediately he climbed to his feet once more. The warding the three of them had cast had proven more durable and more powerful than any warding Ethan had ever cast on his own. Without it, Ramsey would have killed all of them by now. And though he hadn’t managed to kill Mariz, it didn’t escape Ethan’s notice that he could cast spells while also holding that barrel over Janna. He might have been desperate and outnumbered, but he remained dangerously powerful.

  “I do not think he liked what I had to say. Perhaps there was too much truth to it, yes?”

  “Another word out of you, and I swear I’ll kill her!”

  The shade of Ramsey’s father had been watching all of this, and now he left Ramsey’s side.

  “Father, where are you going?”

  They shade didn’t falter, but walked to where Patience stood, turned, and took his place next to her, his arms crossed over his chest as he glowered at his son.

  “Don’t you understand?” Ramsey said. “I’m doing this for you! I’m going to bring you back, and together we’ll be able to cast any spell, avenge every wrong!”

  Ethan lowered his gaze. He couldn’t allow to Ramsey to leave this place as long as he still had the means to control the shades, and he was prepared to kill the captain if he had to. But just then, he couldn’t bear the pain he saw in Ramsey’s eyes.

  “They’re our enemies,” Ramsey said, his voice dropping almost to a whisper. “You may not see it, but that’s all right. I know what they are, and I’ll fight them, even if you won’t.”

  “I can let him go, Ramsey,” Ethan said, speaking softly. “Do what I’ve asked of you, and he won’t have to see any more of this.”

  “Stop!” Ramsey shouted, the word echoing through the building. “Don’t say another word, or I really will kill her! I need … Just don’t say another word!”

  “Discuti ex cruore evocatum.” Shatter, conjured from blood.

  The voice and the spell came from behind them, and was followed an instant after by a violent rending of wood. Scraps of the suspended barrel scattered over the floor of the warehouse, and the metal stays, twisted nearly beyond recognition, fell with a loud clatter.

  “Those shouldn’t be hangin’ in the air like that,” Janna said, sitting up. “A person could get hurt.” She stood, tottered, but kept her feet and walked unsteadily to join Ethan and Mariz. “If you need me, I can conjure more.”

  “We don’t need to conjure as one anymore,” Ethan said, keeping his gaze fixed on Ramsey. “But we might need a spell or two before this is over.”

  “Fine,” Ramsey said. “I’ll release them, and you can let my father go.”

  “And the body parts you stole?”

  “I’ll use an illusion spell now to tell my crew to unload them. If you don’t believe me, use an illusion spell of your own to watch.”

  “Do not trust him, Kaille,” Mariz said. “Even now, he tries to deceive us.”

  Janna nodded, her eyes on the captain. “I ag
ree.”

  In recent days, Ethan had been too trusting, too willing to believe that he could reason with Ramsey. He wasn’t about to make the same mistake. Ramsey had lost control of the shades; he could not escape unless he first rid himself of his ghosts. He was prepared to fight to the death, and he didn’t want his father to bear witness to whatever end awaited him.

  Ethan understood this. But from the outset of this ordeal, his first goal had been to win the freedom of the dead, so that they could rest once more. He couldn’t waste this opportunity.

  “All right,” Ethan said. “I’ll cast with you. Once I see you give the order to your men, I’ll release your father.”

  Janna gripped his arm. “Kaille, no!”

  “We cannot let you do this,” Mariz said.

  “You have to! As long as he has those body parts, he can do this again. He can keep all of us from conjuring.”

  Mariz shook his head. “Not if he is dead. Order the shades to kill him, just as he did to your friend, Gavin. Then this will be over.”

  Hearing this, the shade of Nathaniel Ramsey drew a knife from his belt, and lunged at Patience, seeking to stab her through the heart. Ethan didn’t know what damage one shade could do to another, but Patience leaped back out of Nathaniel’s reach. The other shades scattered, as frightened as she of the old captain’s wrath.

  And perhaps sensing that this was his one chance to get away, Ramsey cut himself again. “Ignis ex cruore evocatus!” Fire, conjured from blood!

  A great ball of flame, seething and swirling, the color of a setting sun, burst from his hand, soared upward and crashed into the warehouse ceiling. The flames spread as if fueled by oil, and smoke began to fill the building.

  Ramsey sprinted toward the hole in the wall through which Sephira and the others had escaped.

  Ethan slashed his forearm. “Pugnus ex cruore evocatus!” Fist, conjured from blood!

  He needed only to knock the captain off balance, and this spell did. Ethan’s conjured fist struck Ramsey in the back and sent him sprawling onto the floor, his arms splayed.

  Nathaniel Ramsey’s shade still had his knife out, and was stalking Patience’s ghost. Ethan thought that if he managed to destroy her, it might well return control of the other shades to Ramsey.

  He cut himself again. “Dimitto te, Nathaniel Ramsey, ex cruore evocatum.” I release you, Nathaniel Ramsey, conjured from blood.

  He didn’t usually use blood when dismissing spirits, but he feared that Captain Ramsey would resist a less powerful dismissal. As it was, at the thrum of power, the shade whirled toward Ethan, eyes blazing, and started in his direction. But the ghost had already started to fade; he was gone well before he reached Ethan.

  Patience marshaled the other shades once more. Ramsey was back on his feet, but Mariz blocked his path to the opening in the wall. Janna and Ethan both stood between the captain and the door.

  “You can’t win, Ramsey,” Ethan said, walking toward him.

  “I don’t have to win. All I need to do is not lose.”

  He backed away from Mariz, and at the same time carved another wound in his arm, which was already livid from all the spells he had cast.

  He spoke a second fire spell, throwing the flame at another section of the ceiling. His knife flashed again, and he set the nearest wall ablaze. Twice more he cut himself and cast fire spells. The warehouse was fully engulfed now; flames roared, and black smoke filled the building, making Ethan’s eyes and throat burn. The heat was intensifying. The ceiling groaned; it would collapse before long.

  And still Ramsey cast more spells.

  “You’ll kill us all!” Ethan shouted at him.

  “If I have to!”

  “I can’t let you leave, Ramsey! Not unless you get your men to unload the body parts.”

  “You do what you have to, Kaille. I’ll do the same.”

  He cut himself yet again.

  Before he could cast, Ethan spoke a spell of his own: a shatter spell that he hoped would break Ramsey’s arm and incapacitate him. But though his spell hammered at the captain, it didn’t fell him or break a bone, or keep him from conjuring another mass of flame, which he sent spiraling upward into the ceiling and through. Burning pieces of wood pelted down onto them all.

  Janna coughed, clutching at her chest.

  “Get her out of here, Mariz!”

  “I don’t need—” Another fit of coughing cut off her objections.

  “Patience!” Ethan called.

  The shade faced him, her expression pained. She seemed to know before he spoke what he would say. She had been a gentle soul in life; now he would ask her to kill.

  “He can’t be allowed to leave. Do you understand?”

  She nodded.

  “Dimitto omnes eorum ex cruore evocatos!” Ramsey said, his conjuring interrupted by a paroxysm of coughing of his own. I release all of them, conjured from blood!

  Ethan felt the spell, but the shades remained. It seemed that when the captain lost control of them, he also lost his ability to send them away.

  Mariz and Janna had almost reached the door. Ethan had no desire to die in this inferno, but he had to be sure that Ramsey didn’t find a way out.

  In that instant, though, with an unearthly growl and a shower of sparks and blackened, fiery wood, the center of the roof gave way. Another part of the roof nearer to where Ethan stood did the same. He heard Mariz and Janna calling his name, but he couldn’t see them, and he had no clear path to either the door or the gap.

  Ramsey had cut his arm again and turned toward the nearest wall.

  “Discuti ex cruore evocatum!” he shouted over the roar of the fire. Shatter, conjured from blood.

  “Ramsey, no!”

  No doubt he was trying to break the wall, to forge a path to safety. Instead, he brought down what was left of the ceiling, as well as the nearest walls. Ethan jumped back, stumbled over a fallen beam, which was blackened and still aflame, and fell, nearly landing on a pile of burning timber. Still, he saw Ramsey go down, saw fiery debris come down on top of him. He shouted the captain’s name, but heard no response.

  Another section of wall caved in. Ethan scrambled to his feet. He couldn’t see much, and he could barely breathe. He felt the pulse of a spell and wondered if it had come from Ramsey, struggling to get free, or Mariz, trying to reach him.

  He turned a quick circle, saw nothing but flame and charred wood. And Patience, beckoning to him. He ran toward her, and realized that she might well have saved his life. There was a path, barely; he could see no way through that wouldn’t leave him burned. But if he remained where he was, he was a dead man.

  He cut his arm. “Tegimen contra ignem ex cruore evocatum.” Protection from fire, conjured from blood.

  Though he felt the spell, he had no idea if it would work; he had never attempted such a conjuring. He pulled off his waistcoat, and wrapped it around his right arm. And with one last deep breath, he sprinted into the narrow gap Patience’s shade had pointed out to him.

  Before he had taken more than a half dozen steps, he was convinced that he had made a grave mistake. He no longer could find the path he had spotted mere moments before. He could hardly see for the bitter smoke; his eyes stung and tears coursed down his cheeks. Heat clawed at him, searing every bit of exposed skin. He used his wrapped arm to bat aside burning planks that got in his way, but it seemed that flame and smoldering wood were everywhere.

  I’m going to die here.

  Every breath scorched his throat, his lungs. Still he fought on, but his heart labored in his chest, as much from grief as from fear.

  Pushing through what had become a wall of burning wood, he abruptly found himself at the edge of the inferno. He stumbled into the open, cool air a balm on his face and neck, his hands and arms. He managed one more step and collapsed.

  Strong hands grabbed hold of his arms and dragged him on, until the crackling of wood and the hissing of flames were lost to the soft lapping of waves at timbers. Ethan opened his
eyes just as Nap and Gordon set him down beside Janna.

  He croaked a “Thank you.” Neither man said a word.

  “You need healing,” Janna said. She looked at him more closely. “At least I thought you would.”

  “I cast a protection spell to guard me from the flames. I didn’t think it worked. I felt like I was on fire.”

  “You’re bright red. But there’s no blisterin’ and no blackened skin.” She glanced up at his head and grinned. “Your hair didn’t even get singed. That’s some good conjurin’, Kaille.”

  “Thanks,” Ethan said, looking back toward the burning warehouse. “Do you think he’s still in there?”

  “Ramsey?”

  “Aye.”

  “I didn’t see him come out, and his men are still watchin’ for him. I think he’s dead. I hope he is.”

  Ethan nodded, though he didn’t actually believe that Ramsey had died. Not yet. As long as Patience’s shade and the ghosts of the others lingered in the warehouse, Ramsey still lived, since his conjurings had awakened them. He watched the burning building for signs of the shades, but he couldn’t see for the smoke and flames. He knew only that Patience had still been there seconds before.

  Men—laborers and sailors—had formed lines leading from the edge of the wharf to the burning warehouse, and were passing buckets of water to those nearest the flames. The building itself was too far gone to save, but there were warehouses on either side of it that needed to be protected. Ethan knew that he should get up and help douse the fire, but he couldn’t bring himself to move.

  “You just rest,” Janna said, seeming to read his thoughts. “You’ve done enough.”

  Sephira’s men, including Mariz, had joined the effort, as had several of Ramsey’s crew. It was odd to see them working together, so soon after they had been pummeling one another.

  “I shoulda known that man would come around here eventually.”