by Max Candee
If my grandmother controlled the ghosts, then as soon as they broke through the wards, they’d tear us apart. That thought kept me pacing until Egor growled at me to sit down. I slumped against the stone wall and watched the fire flickering. The flames were like the ghosts, angry phantoms of pure energy. When I finally slept, both the flames and the ghosts filled my dreams.
I awoke before dawn, tired and sore from sleeping on stone. The tower was silent. The ghosts had finally stopped wailing, as unexpectedly as when they had begun. Sometime in the night, Koshmarik had curled up at my side. The fire had burned low, so I was glad for his warmth. No one else was awake. Koshmarik snorted when I got up to stoke the fire, but he was soon snuffling away in doggie dreams again. I warmed myself in front of the hearth, wishing that Egor had taught me how to conjure some food. Golems and wards were all good, but they didn’t fill an empty belly. I poured a cup of water and drank it down. I decided to head up to the roof and see if we were still under siege.
I scrambled up the stairs and took a gulp of fresh air. I hadn’t realized how stuffy the tower was. I peered over the stone parapet, squinting into the east where I had last seen the three Horsemen standing guard. The hills had just started to glow with the dawn, but there still wasn’t enough light to see anything but the vague outline of the trees against the sky.
Everything was perfectly still, except for the faint, lurching footsteps of the golem as he made his rounds. In the quiet, I finally understood the meaning of the phrase “the calm before the storm.” I felt like a stretched-out arrow, taut as the bowstring got ready to send me flying toward my fate, without any idea where the journey would take me. Then the sun sparked over the trees, and I gasped. The Horsemen were still sitting on their mounts before the crumbling gates. The field behind them was filled with ghosts.
“Are they still there?” Lauraleigh asked behind me. I jumped, startled; I hadn’t heard her come up the stairs. Her hair was messy from sleep and her eyes were red.
“More than before,” I said. “Many more. But they’re not moving much. I wonder what they’re waiting for. Hey, where’s my dream stone?”
“Egor asked for it,” she said. “He’s trying to make some kind of gadget for me so I can see them better.” She paused and gazed at the Horsemen. “It seems unbelievable that we’re really going to fight. I mean, how do you fight ghosts?”
“I don’t know. I just hope that Misha and Egor do.”
“Yeah. Come downstairs now. Breakfast is ready.”
We ate in silence, each of us busy with our own thoughts.
Finally, as we cleared the table, I said, “Egor, can you teach me to conjure food? I think it would be a useful trick to know.”
“Ah, yes. A most elemental job. It’s easier if you only try to multiply food the first time. Here, take this.” He handed me a heel of bread. “Take a crumb between your fingers and rub it. Feel the ingredients that go into bread: flour, water, salt, yeast. Bring them each to your mind, and hold them there.”
I did as he asked. The crumbs were gritty in my fingers.
“Now summon your energy, not the shadows but your normal energy. Don’t lose the image of the bread, and imagine how you’d just mixed the ingredients together and baked them in an oven.”
“Are there any words to say?” I asked.
Egor smiled. “You can say anything you wish; the sillier, the better. Surprise yourself. It also helps to make a gesture like snapping your fingers or jumping over a chair.”
I looked into his eyes, trying to see if he was mocking me, but he seemed sincere. “Why?” I asked.
“To distract your own mind. See, what we think of as our mind isn’t really ours. It belongs to… Ah, never mind that now. We’ll discuss that some other time. But remember this: A snap of your fingers or a jump over a chair moves you to another world where the bread already exists. Where you’ve just finished baking it.”
I pulled from my source, that strange boiling spot in my stomach where my magic lay. I felt it rumble and gurgle. “Uh… Levor manna!” I called, and clapped three times. I even imagined jumping to another world, whatever that meant.
Nothing happened. Egor smiled.
“It takes practice. Go watch the gate and study the bread. Visualize how you already baked a nice warm loaf of it. Smell it and taste it in your mind. You’ll get it eventually.”
So I spent the morning studying a loaf of bread. I tried several times to make new bread with my magic. “Manna from the sky! Yellow rhino!” I yelled again and again. I jumped over chairs, pinched myself, and even stood on my head. But the crumbs stayed crumbs, and my frustration grew.
Lauraleigh watched the Horsemen. They hadn’t moved. Neither had the ghosts, except to shuffle around a bit. The golem’s constant clockwise trek around the tower was the only sign of time passing.
At midmorning, I gave up on bread making. Maybe I was too tense. Unused magic sat in my gut like heartburn. I stuffed the lump of bread in my backpack and joined Lauraleigh at the wall.
“They haven’t moved all morning,” she said.
The Horsemen stared up at the tower. Even from this distance, I could see the scorn in their eyes.
“I wonder what they’re waiting for,” I said.
The golem lumbered by beneath us. His face was now a maze of fine cracks; he was drying out in the sun. I didn’t know how much longer he could keep up his watch.
Then, as if by some prearranged signal, the ghosts attacked.
Dozens of them ran at full speed and slammed into the gate. You’d think that something as transparent as a ghost wouldn’t do much damage, but they did. When they hit, a blast like cannon fire rang out across the mountain. The gate shook but held. Dust blew up around it like a cloud. More ghosts rammed the gate, and the second blast shook the morning.
“What’s the matter?” Lauraleigh asked, watching my face. Apparently she hadn’t seen or heard anything unusual.
“They’re ramming the gate,” I said.
The golem stopped. He stood by the gate, waiting. I wondered how he would fight the ghosts. How would we fight the ghosts? They were incorporeal, after all. It wasn’t like we could hit them with anything.
Uncle Misha came up to the roof and spoke to Lauraleigh. “Egor almost has your new eyeglass ready. He wants you to go down for a fitting.”
She nodded and left.
Uncle Misha and I watched the ghosts in their mad frenzy. They seemed mindless and hysterical, throwing themselves against wood and stone without any fear of pain.
“I thought the waiting was the worst part,” I said. “But I was wrong. This is much worse.”
“They are lost and desperate, easily controlled. And it will get nastier still, when they finally break down the walls,” Uncle Misha said.
“But how is it that they don’t pass right through? I’ve seen ghosts walk right through things before. One even walked through our grizzly. How can they slam against the wall?”
“Ghosts… They are attuned to a certain wavelength. It is like radio, you know? Many channels exist in the same space, and you tune your radio to listen to this one or that one. And you can build screens that do not let radio waves pass through.”
“That sounds like basic physics,” I said, watching the chaos below. “You and Egor make magic seem so … natural.”
“There is nothing unnatural about magic. Ghosts and people simply exist on different radio channels, if you wish,” Uncle Misha said. “Egor’s wards act as a screen against their channel. Do you understand?”
I nodded.
“So our friends down there must break that screen down. By doing so, they will let the Horsemen in.”
I thought about that. Now it seemed like a lot of work for nothing. “Maybe warding the walls wasn’t such a good idea,” I said. “Wouldn’t it have been better to let in the ghosts if we could keep out the Horsemen?”
“Perhaps,” said Uncle Misha. “Right now, we don’t know which of the two is the greater evil.
But I suspect we will soon find out.”
“You and Egor said that the ghosts probably want me to do my father’s work. Maybe I should … I don’t know … go and calm them down? Somehow?”
“My brave girl.” He smiled. “But do you know what to do when a ghost approaches you?”
“No … not at all.”
“Now listen to me, Malyshka. I am going to ask something very difficult of you.” Uncle Misha’s bushy eyebrows were pulled down, shadowing his eyes. The last time I had seen him so serious was the day he had left me in Geneva.
I nodded slowly. I’d do anything for my uncle, but a lump of fear settled in my throat as I waited for him to speak.
“If the ghosts break through the wall, I need you to leave here. Leave all of us and run as far and as fast as you can.”
“What?” I burst out. “No! I can’t leave you … and Lauraleigh… I got her into this mess and I won’t leave her to die here.”
Uncle Misha wrapped his arms around me. His hug was like a bear’s embrace, and it brought back memories of my childhood before I had ever gone away. Before I had learned about magic.
“I promise you, Malyshka, I will try to protect your friend. The ghosts cannot touch her; she holds no interest for them. And I will keep her safe from the Horsemen. But you must find your father. Without the King of the Dead, the world will soon be overrun with ghosts. You can stop this madness. You must promise me you will find him — you will stop at nothing to get him away from your grandmother.” He paused and stared me right in the eye. I felt as if he could see into my soul.
“Why can’t we all go … together?” I tried to hold back the tears that prickled my eyes.
Uncle Misha sighed and kissed my forehead. “I should not ask such a tremendous job of one so young,” he said. “But life and death do not care about young and old. And I truly believe that no one but you can save your father now. Egor and I will be the distraction. While the Horsemen are fighting us, they cannot follow you. Hopefully, you will be long gone by the time they realize their prize has escaped.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll go, but you must keep Lauraleigh safe.”
* * *
The ghosts continued to blast at the gates, the walls, and any other part of the crumbling castle they could reach. The Horsemen sat in their silent vigil.
“Don’t those guys ever eat?” Lauraleigh asked. “They don’t even seem human.” She now wore a strange headgear with a metal loop over one eye. The loop held the dream stone so she could look through it and see our enemy.
“Speaking of eating,” I said, “I’m hungry.” I’d been trying the bread spell at times all morning but without success. Once I had thought I felt the crumbs vibrating between my fingers, but that was all. Magic was much easier when I used it to blast things. Actually creating something from nothing — or imagining I had already baked the bread I was trying to make appear — was hard. Maybe that’s why witches turned evil and grew old fast: The violent magic was way easier.
I had no time to ask Egor about my theories. He came up the tower stairs, carrying a basket of food for lunch and three daggers. He handed one to each of us.
“Use them to defend yourselves against the ghosts,” he said.
“Won’t they just go right through them?” asked Lauraleigh.
“I’ve charged them with the right kind of vibration,” Egor said. “See?”
I touched the tip of one blade. It actually did vibrate — with high, searing frequency. “Wow,” I said. “You’re using sound again.”
Egor chuckled. “One touch of this blade and the ghosts will be no more. Poof! They dissolve to the great Void from which we have all come. Most of them are simple lost souls to whom all this seems part of a lasting nightmare. Don’t kill them unless it’s to protect yourself. And Lauraleigh, the ghosts can’t touch you, so use it only if you must protect Anna. But Anna, you … you… Just don’t let the ghosts touch you.”
“Why?” I asked. “What will happen?”
“Just don’t let them touch you,” he repeated. He’d never looked so grim.
That did not make me feel any better. Suddenly, my stomach was too jittery for food. I fed half my sandwich to Koshmarik, who seemed only too happy to take my leftovers.
An ear-splitting crack rang out. We all jumped up and peered over the tower wall.
The ghosts had finally torn down the gate.
Shards of wood and stone hailed down in the yard. A gossamer figure jumped through the gap. The golem snagged a ghost by its throat and … ate it. At least, I thought he ate it. One moment, the ghost was there; the next, it was being pulled into the golem’s smooth face like a great puff of smoke.
Another ghost popped through the gap.
“We must fight now!” Egor shouted. He ran down the stairs with Koshmarik at his heels. Lauraleigh stared at me with huge eyes. Then she found her determination and followed Egor. Uncle Misha and I brought up the rear.
I had only a moment to watch Lauraleigh piling stones and beams against the broken gate while Egor chanted new wards. Ghosts swirled all around them, but Lauraleigh worked as though she didn’t know they were there — which, of course, she didn’t. The golem plodded through the mass of spirits, gobbling them as fast as they could push through the gate. He looked like a bizarre vacuum cleaner from some madman’s nightmare.
“Come,” Uncle Misha called. “It’s this way.”
We hurried away from the battle to the west end of the castle, past the parked grizzlies and toward a shorter tower. This one was a crumbled ruin, but Uncle Misha ducked inside. The air was heavy and damp. Only the light from the open door lit the tower, but I could see that it had once been a bunkhouse of some kind. Bunk beds lined the round walls. The roof had caved in on a table in the center. Uncle Misha moved quickly and with confidence. He pushed aside a moldy carpet to reveal a wooden trapdoor. With a great heave, he yanked it open. A rickety ladder led down into darkness.
Uncle Misha noticed my hesitation. “It’s a short tunnel,” he said. “Straight out under the west wall. You’ll come up in the forest and no one should see you. This is from Egor.” He handed me a small bundle.
I had no time to look at it now. I just shoved it in my backpack before slinging that over my shoulders.
“I have nothing to give you, Malyshka, but my love and my confidence. I know you will succeed. Now go!” He gave me a quick hug.
I stepped onto the ladder. I didn’t think about it; I just did it. I knew that if I stopped to think, I wouldn’t go. The last rung broke under my weight and I staggered into the damp tunnel. Uncle Misha left the door open above, but after a few steps, it didn’t matter. I was plunged into complete darkness.
Above me, I could hear the wailing of the ghosts and the blasts of magic as they tried to break through more of Egor’s wards.
I ran. Feeling sick about leaving my friends behind, I ran — because this way, I was probably saving them. And my father.
I hoped.
Chapter 9
Dear Diary,
Uncle Misha has a theory that the ghosts are looking for me, the heir to the Deathless One. I don’t know which I fear most — that he’s right or not. If the ghosts want me, then my friends will be safe. I’ll run and the ghosts will follow, leaving Lauraleigh, Uncle Misha and Egor safe behind the wards. But if the ghosts come for me, what will I do? I’m ashamed to say that as I ran through that horrible forest, a tiny part of me was hoping that Uncle Misha was wrong and the ghosts weren’t following.
Maybe this selfishness is the weakness that lets in the shadow.
But Egor had said that weakness could be turned into strength. I hope he’s right, because I’ll need all the strength my thirteen years have amassed to fight an army of ghosts by myself. And what if I win? What’s my prize then?
And the thing is I don’t want to kill them either. These ghosts are just someone else’s pawns, confused and terrified.
Oh, right. Then I get to face the Iron Queen,
the witch that other witches fear. My granny.
* * *
The setting sun flickered through the trees. It did less to light my way than to confuse me with odd reflections from the leaves. I ran without caring where the forest took me, so long as it was far away from Blackwood Castle.
I pulled the shadow into my feet as Egor had taught me, and I ran on Nimble Feet. No roots or stones tripped me. But as the light faded, I couldn’t see the branches that slapped me in the face and tugged at my hair. Still, I didn’t stop. I ran until my sides ached and my chest felt tight. I ran until I had no breath left.
Finally, I stopped at the edge of a small creek and forced my breathing to slow before I took a drink from it. The water burned an icy path down my throat. I waded the ankle-deep water, heading downstream. I hoped that would erase my trail in case someone was following me. And if my grandmother lived in a ravine, wouldn’t the river flow into it at some point? I hoped so, because otherwise I had no idea how to find her.
When my feet had grown numb with cold, I left the river. The trees opened up, and a clearing spread before me. The moon broke through the clouds, and the dew-covered grass lit up like glittering jewels. It was such a beautiful sight, I stopped to catch my breath and take it in.
And that’s when I saw the ghosts. Two of them, floating through the trees on the opposite side of the clearing. I dropped to the ground. The grass was nearly knee-high and hid me well. Or at least, it would’ve hidden me from a normal, living enemy. A spirit drawn to me was a different matter. I peered through the grass, hoping that the ghosts would just keep flittering through the trees without sensing me.
They stopped.
As one, they turned and stared in my direction. I ducked low in the tall grass and held my breath.
The forest was as quiet as death. With shaking hands, I spread the grasses and peered into the gloom. The two ghosts stood about twenty meters away. They wore casual clothes: jeans and work shirts. One was tall and thin, the other short and stout, but they didn’t stand the way normal humans do. They didn’t slouch or lean against a tree. They stood ramrod straight and stared at the grass where I was lying.
