Shadow of the Ancients

by Pierre Grimbert

  A nine-foot-tall ghost menaced her with talons as sharp as knives. He spit and started to sing, a doleful song, not unlike wind whipping through an open plain.

  Léti took four steps back into a wall. The two ghosts slithered toward her like snakes. Behind them, a bewitched Bowbaq lowered his torch to the pile of papers. The flames leapt from the lantern and breathed life into a small, dangerous fire.

  How spiders could survive in such an environment was an unsolvable mystery, thought Grigán. He led the way, and he was forced to rip apart countless webs as they descended.

  The heirs paused at the fifteenth floor’s landing. The next descent would take them to depths from which no human had returned. A bed of serpents, Corenn thought, and we are trying to steal their eggs.

  Grigán questioned her with a look, and the Mother nodded. They continued their descent cautiously. From the forge to the fire, thought the warrior.

  “How many floors do you think there are?” Lana asked.

  “Hulsidor himself wasn’t sure,” Corenn responded. “He figured that the ancient Romerij library starts at the twenty-sixth.”

  Grigán shook his head, trying to remember why he had agreed to this trip in the first place. What were they doing there, exploring a haunted ruin in Romine, while all the answers they searched for waited for them in Ith, on the other side of the continent?

  Because they weren’t sure, he reminded himself. It was possible that Achem had said nothing more in his journal than Corenn had in hers. Perhaps he simply kept notes on his daily activities, never mentioning why Saat had become their enemy.

  Saat, one of the wise emissaries sent to Ji. A man declared dead more than a century ago. Their only chance to escape him was to unravel their ancestors’ secrets. And for that, they would have to resolve the mystery of the portals.

  “I feel like the ghosts are calmer down here,” Rey commented. “It worries me. Especially considering that odor.”

  “We have entered their domain, their lair,” Grigán explained, as he kept a lookout. “They are surprised, but it won’t be long before they react. Violently, I would guess.”

  As if they were listening to him, three forms materialized in front of the warrior. They would have cut him to pieces if his blade hadn’t been at the ready. One was monstrously tall, and another fidgeted his talons frantically. The third slowly reached out his fingers toward the blade, grasping to separate the warrior from his weapon. Grigán was ready and attacked the ghost with a simple jab from his scimitar. The phantom lurched back and began to sing.

  “Don’t turn around, Grigán,” Rey said calmly. “But I have just as many on my side.”

  Two skinners were blocking the stairway, cutting off their only escape. Grigán tried, in vain, to force his adversaries backward. Rey had no better luck. The ghosts seemed to be coordinating to block their escape.

  Lana cried out in pain and looked down at the floor, just fast enough to see two talons disappear into the stone. They had left a few bloody creases on the priestess’s calves.

  Other hands suddenly appeared, along with gaping maws filled with fangs. These ghosts had nothing in common with the moonshiners from the first floor. They were dark souls, hungry for human flesh.

  “Stomp them!” Grigán yelled. “Keep them from climbing!”

  Corenn and Lana obeyed, but Corenn cried out in pain only moments later, when a set of talons clawed her leg. A similar attack befell Rey and Grigán. The battle grew desperate, with talons at their feet and skinners in their faces.

  More milky talons appeared through the interior wall, swiping at the heirs’ faces and trying to grab their hands and weapons.

  Grigán shouted, “Follow me!”

  He threw his lantern down the stairwell and pulled a dagger from his belt. With a weapon in each hand, he pushed the ghosts back long enough to open up the passage. He rushed down the stairs, jumping over the lantern. His friends followed suit. A few steps below, they ran into a sealed door, which the warrior smashed open with a kick. With great haste, the others followed him into the room, leaving behind fifteen ghosts suspended in the wall where the heirs had just been.

  Their talons no longer caught any victims, and that seemed to enrage them. But their prey had let themselves in.

  Grigán cleared away a table and flung it between the heirs and the ghosts. Lana watched, petrified, as the ghosts turned and swam toward them.

  Rey jumped out from their absurdly inadequate barricade, where Corenn and Grigán were already crouching. He practically threw the priestess over the table, before jumping over it himself.

  The ghosts surrounded them, and several began to sing. Their spicy odor was unbearable.

  This time, we went too far, Corenn thought to herself, in resignation.

  Yan felt like his effort was pointless. In the short time he had, he would barely be able to determine what epoch and which kingdom each book came from. To simply fall upon a page where Nol or Ji were mentioned, he would need uncommon luck.

  For his part, Hulsidor had completely abandoned the project. The librarian focused his attention on a nervous examination of the surroundings and on trying to convince Yan to climb back up to the top of the tower.

  “Corenn will get us when she comes by,” the young man repeated, distractedly, for the third time.

  “But they won’t come back up! I know that’s hard to hear, but it is what it is. Forget your research, and let’s go!”

  Yan ignored his warning. Hulsidor approached him, taking Yan’s silence as the start of a turnaround.

  “What are you looking for anyhow? Let’s stop wasting our time. We might as well wait up top rather than risk ourselves down here for no reason. My colleague does such a poor job organizing his floor that I regularly steal books from him without his knowledge.”

  “From what pile did you take the books that Sapone sends to Zarbone?” Yan asked, inspired by an idea.

  The Rominian sighed and indicated a stack that was a little smaller than the others. The books weren’t placed haphazardly, but rather were stacked perfectly one atop the other.

  “In there. He has been working for eight years to organize Jezeba’s history. As you can tell, he’s not very efficient,” said the librarian.

  Yan rushed to the books. What good fortune! Two times the Jez sultans had sent their war chief with the other emissaries to follow Nol: three hundred years ago, and again two centuries after that. With a bit of luck, the same thing had happened five centuries earlier.

  All he had to do was find a manuscript from around that epoch, written in Ithare. Yan searched through thirty or so manuscripts before he found one that fit the description. He began to eagerly flip through it, not noticing the smoke or the burning smell starting to trickle down from the first floor.

  Grigán and Rey were exhausted from fighting off the ghosts’ attacks, and greatly relieved to see them stop. Though they couldn’t be killed, the ghosts still feared steel and the strange pain it caused them. Or at least that seemed to be the case. The two hoped this would keep the ghosts at bay, but doubt clung to them.

  Corenn struggled to think of a way out, but nothing came to mind other than the dim hope that the ghosts would stop and let them pass. It was a probability so remote she didn’t dare waste another thought on it. The ghosts who left never did so for long, or they were replaced by a new one. The room was filled with spirits.

  Were it not for their individual fear of the blades, the ghosts could have easily overwhelmed the heirs with a simultaneous assault. Luckily, they seemed incapable of working together on a strategy. They simply appeared and then disappeared, teasing their prey. The sound of their song echoed off the walls. Hulsidor’s skinners, the scare-shouters, the stranglers, the skull-crunchers, and the moonshiners all drifted in and out of the room, Corenn recognizing each as they appeared. A few of the ghosts pushed their singing into a strident cry, and when they did, she recognized them as screamers.

  “Enough!” Lana cried out in desperat
ion, her hands covering her ears. “By Eurydis, enough!”

  A heavy silence gathered around the ghosts, and the nearest ones pulled away from the clustered humans. The priestess slowly stood, not ready to believe in the miracle.

  “Blessed be Eurydis!” she said, her tone that of shocked surprise.

  A few ghosts spit; others chattered their claws and teeth. If invoking the goddess seemed to keep them at a distance, it did nothing to their angry hatred. Yet to see what happened when she said it louder . . .

  “Eurydis! Eurydis!” the heirs shouted together, each time louder than before.

  Without thinking about it, taken with enthusiasm, Corenn joined her Will to her cries. The ghosts skittered away with angry screams. Encouraged by this success, the heirs jumped out from behind the table and headed for the door, invoking the goddess. Perhaps this way they could escape.

  Three new ghosts took form in front of them, blocking the way. The others gathered behind in frustration, like wolves forced to leave their prey to a bear. These newcomers, who had earned their brethren’s respect, looked vaguely human. They looked feminine, actually, and the name of the goddess seemed to have no effect.

  Grigán remembered their names. “Sirens! The Rominian warned us. Don’t listen to them!”

  One of them let her gaze fall on Grigán and smiled. A smile that she let grow just wide enough to reveal her teeth, which had two abnormally long canines.

  Welcome, mortals, the siren purred directly in the heirs’ minds. What are you doing here?

  Grigán moved in front of his friends and threatened the ghosts with his scimitar. Somewhere behind him, Lana chanted the goddess’s name, which kept back the seething mass of angry phantoms.

  Corenn couldn’t ignore the question, even if she were walking into a worse trap than Lord Dorn-Ton’s.

  “We aren’t enemies,” she said, after a long silence.

  And yet, you are well-armed, the specter taunted. All these naked blades, are they really necessary?

  Rey shouted, “Come closer and I will show you.”

  Come now, come now. We aren’t your enemies either. Threat-ening us, really? Why do such a thing?

  “So we can leave, then?” Grigán asked,

  The warrior already knew the response. He had no illusions on the subject. The ghost chose to completely ignore the question.

  If you don’t come here as enemies, you must be searching for knowledge, the siren said, revealing her canines as she did. How can we help you?

  “By hanging yourselves,” Rey said. “If it pleases you, madam.”

  Suspicious, Corenn asked, “What would be the price of your help? Human flesh, I imagine?”

  The ghosts shuddered and clapped their teeth, and it looked as if they were salivating. The leading siren tried to hide her hunger and swallowed noisily before addressing Corenn directly.

  I can offer you a deal, she said excitedly. I will take you to the works you wish to see. In exchange, you leave me one of your servants.

  The stunned heirs didn’t know how to respond. The ghosts’ intentions had lost all possible ambiguity. Facing such a horrible situation, even Rey was quiet. With a subtle nod, Grigán suggested to Corenn that they could try to fight their way through. The Mother responded by shaking her head, to the warrior’s great surprise.

  “I have a counteroffer for you,” she finally said. “You guide us as you said. In exchange, I will give you a book that you have never seen.”

  The siren spit in frustration. She seemed to be arguing with her peers for a moment. Grigán used the time to question the Mother.

  “What are you talking about?” he whispered. “What made you think this could work?”

  “I don’t know. I just had a feeling. These ghosts are more or less the library’s guardians, right? I had to try.”

  Corenn didn’t get a chance to respond. The sirens had finished their discussion.

  We accept your offer. But beware, mortals: we will hold nothing back if you betray us.

  “Nor shall we,” Grigán responded, pointing his blade at each of the sirens.

  Despite this bravado, the warrior knew he was in no position to threaten them. The sirens held no superstitious fear of Eurydis; if they attacked in anger, the other ghosts would immediately follow, and the heirs would have no chance to escape.

  What is the subject of your quest then?

  “Jal’karu,” Corenn responded confidently. “And the portals that take us there.”

  The siren smiled a cruel smile, showing even more of her beastly canines. Lana thought they might have grown.

  You won’t be disappointed, the siren said enigmatically. Follow me.

  Léti fought hard against her two adversaries. The feminine form was not the most dangerous, and seemed to be more concerned with disarming Léti than attacking her directly. This was untrue of the other ghost, which struck at her as fast as a serpent and as strong as a bear.

  “Bowbaq! Bowbaq, help me!” she called out repeatedly.

  The bewitched giant could not hear her, though. Bowbaq, stumbling like a drunk, fed his fire with the manuscripts, and the fire grew, the flames lapping up toward the ceiling. In a centiday, the entire room would be in flames.

  Firm footing, steady hand, Léti repeated to herself. But these adversaries were different, and Grigán’s lessons wouldn’t save her. If she struck too early, they did not materialize and her blade encountered only air. If she attacked too late, well, she feared the cost of striking too late.

  The clawed ghost had already cut open her cheek and side, focusing its attacks on Léti’s vitals. She knew that it wouldn’t stop until she was dead.

  Léti understood that she would never get the upper hand if they kept at it this way. She was tiring, while they seemed indefatigable. She was injured, while her strongest blows appeared to merely agitate her attackers.

  She quickly considered another approach and trained her eyes on the two spirits, waiting for just the right moment for her dangerous plan. It finally came when the two ghosts were both on the defensive. Seeing her opportunity, Léti leapt through their vaporous bodies and made a mad dash to Bowbaq.

  She had only enough time to kick him violently in the shin before she had to fight the ghosts off once again. Bowbaq cried in pain and looked around the room, dazed, as if he had just discovered it.

  The feminine form approached him and disappeared into his body. Bowbaq stiffened and stumbled before reaching for a heavy pile of books and throwing them into the fire.

  Seeing her friend possessed filled Léti with hopelessness that was quickly replaced with rage. She would not let the ghost control Bowbaq. Blood pounded in her veins, and a determined expression settled on her face.

  Her adversary materialized and tried to rip out her throat, as it had already attempted twenty times. Léti let her rapier fall to the ground and grabbed what she thought were its wrists. The supernatural ghost “skin” was terribly cold, but her fingers remained tightly wrapped around it. She gathered all her strength in her legs and spun the heavy form into the flames. Sharp mind.

  The specter cried out in pain and was instantly consumed, its form burning up as quickly as dry leaves.

  The young woman turned to Bowbaq, hoping another brilliant idea would come to her. She never had the time to find one.

  A piece of wood from the burning ceiling crumbled and fell on her shoulders, and she lost consciousness.

  All around her, the flames kept growing.

  Yan rejoiced. He had been right. Corenn had been right. The visit to the Deep Tower in Romine was worth it. Finally they had learned something about the portals. It was there, written in black and white in front of his eyes. A ray of hope.

  The history of Jezeba was fairly boring. The last dynasty had maintained their power with an iron fist, so the chroniclers had no coup d’état to describe, no rebellion or conspiracy to cite. As a result, they were interested in the smallest details of the sultan’s court. One such detail involved a c
ertain secret diplomatic mission from five centuries earlier.

  And it wasn’t mentioned in just some small paragraph either; the subject took up the greater part of a three-inch-thick volume! It was surely the last copy in the world, but its contents were vital for the heirs.

  The text told of a strange madness that overtook one of the sultan’s counselors upon his return from a distant voyage with a stranger named Nol. The man kept repeating an inspiring tale of a marvelous land, strange children, and dangerous caves. For his part, the sultan threw the madman to the bottom of his dungeon and ended the incident. This was all interesting, and it confirmed what the heirs already knew, but there were more mysteries revealed still.

  The distant voyage hadn’t been to Ji, but to Sola, in the Oo country, toward the center of the Eastian Kingdoms on the other side of the Curtain Mountains.

  With this text in hand, Yan knew where they could find the next portal!

  Yan thought about ripping out the page, but the idea of destroying a book, and particularly this one, which had made it through centuries undamaged, revolted him. It was out of this same respect that he chose not to steal the entire book. Even with all the best excuses, it would still be stealing. As best he could, he etched the details in his mind.

  He reached hopefully for a few more books when Hulsidor interrupted him. “Do you smell something funny?” he asked.

  Yan stood up and tried to remember where he had put his sword, thinking the librarian had smelled the spicy odor particular to hungry ghosts. It was something else, though, which worried Yan all the same.

  Hulsidor walked over to the half-open door and pulled it wide on its hinges. A heavy white mist slipped into the room, carrying with it the thick smell of smoke.

  “Fire!” the Rominian shouted. “We have to leave right away!”

  Yan glanced into the stairwell and grew pale. This was no false alarm. Somewhere above them a fire raged. Somewhere above them was Léti. The faint hint of heat brushed his face, but it was nothing to what burned in his chest.