“Save your brother.” Kelc restated the words quietly, the sound muted by the snow. “How?” He pulled the skiver from its scabbard and looked at it. Father. Could I speak with him?
“Don’t.” Shaia’s eyes boiled in the light of a suddenly open lantern. “Not a single effort with spirit. Especially not with his spirit. It will call them right to us.”
As if his hand acted by her will, it slid the skiver back into its place. Shaia turned and continued through the near total blackness of night, only the dimmest light still offering a sense of her form.
Fine, Kelc thought, angry at Shaia and himself. What else had he told me? “Your spirit is far greater than your body. Don’t be afraid to let it take the brunt of things.” He chewed his lip. “Of course. I can heal myself. Protect the spirit more than the body.” That’s too obvious.
Only, it isn’t, Kelc thought, his chin rising. “Not at all.” He looked around in the now total darkness. Only the tiniest bit of light from Shaia’s hooded lantern that painted a few reaches along the snowy ground offered any sense of things in the insulated snowy night. “Maybe…”
Kelc wanted to test something. “Spirit is far greater. More powerful.” Kelc reached into his backpack and dug out his lantern and striker. In only a few moments he had his own yellow light. He opened the shutters on the lamp and let it spill out into the night.
He carefully slid his scimitar out of its sheath and slashed the ground, digging a narrow trench through the snow. “Quick,” he told himself. He slashed again, as quickly as he could, again cutting the serene blanket of snow. “So fast.” A frown slowly grew on his face. “Too fast.”
The first slash mark began to cover over as the heavy snow stuck to it, blurring its edges on the way to erasing its existence. The crystals bridged across the gap, sealing it off. “Maybe,” Kelc told himself. “Maybe.” He looked up as he heard the crunch of snow.
Yellow eyes glowed in the night, reflecting lamplight back to Kelc before Micah came into view.
“Your sister collapsed,” announced the vampire, before gesturing for Kelc to follow him. “I’d say that marks the end of our journey for tonight.”
Kelc snapped his lantern up off the ground as he slid his scimitar into its scabbard, forcing the icy blade down until the hilt clicked audibly against the ring. “Is she okay?”
“Tired. She wouldn’t let me lead her.” Micah ran a hand through his soaked hair, pushing melted snow away from his forehead. “Stubborn lot, all of you.”
“Yes.” Kelc held no interest in defending the shortcomings of his family.
“What were you doing back there?” A sparse look from the vampire allowed one yellow eye a momentary glance at Kelc.
“Reasoning some things out,” Kelc answered. “People have been giving me lots of advice on things of late and I thought it was about time I started listening.”
Micah laughed out loud, a stunted bark of mirth. “Stubborn indeed.”
“We always have been. It’s long been one of my family’s greatest weaknesses.” Kelc closed the distance between himself and Micah quickly as the gaunt man dropped to his haunches by a dark form in the snow. Kelc joined him, carefully taking Shaia’s face into his hands. “And maybe one of our greatest strengths.”
Kelc slipped out of a broken sleep, his eyes only half-open, refusing to fully acknowledge failure after a terrible go at rest.
Shaia breathed easily and deeply next to him, a slight snore accompanying each inhale, the sound a bit amplified in the close confines of their lodging.
Micah and Kelc piled a mound of snow and then dug under it, creating a burrow for Kelc and Shaia to pass the remainder of the night after she’d collapsed.
Kelc dared to use enough spirit, probably the final remnants of Dell Pyter, to make sure his sister was fine before bringing her into the ice den. He’d found only minimal issues beyond exhaustion in her body, though every cell of her being radiated dread and anger.
Now he held her close, his left arm trapped against the hard ground while his right draped over his sister. Both his left arm and his left side ached after glasses spent in the same position while he drifted into and out of a miserable sleep.
Two lanterns burned at their lowest settings in the corner of the burrow, giving off a tiny bit of heat to help keep the air warm enough to pass the night.
Kelc eased his eyes closed again, wondering about Micah. The vampire. Kelc didn’t know exactly what that meant, but he decided he needed to find out. And whatever it meant, he needed to remind himself consistently that the man was no man at all. He had different rules to his existence. He’s sunken into the greeching ground right now, Kelc thought. Resting in a river of spirit that gnaws at my being, but rejuvenates him.
Shaia grunted as if Kelc’s thoughts had disturbed her. She kicked out her rump and rolled over a bit. Kelc took advantage of the moment to extricate his arm from beneath her, flexing his hand to return the flow of blood.
He allowed himself to fall onto his back, sliding over so that his side pressed against Shaia’s back. She murmured approvingly.
After the tingling subsided, Kelc lowered his left arm to Shaia and gently caressed her hip, absently occupying his hand while he thought.
He pictured the cuts he’d made in the snow, considered how quickly the sword had been moving. Could his power over spirit move that fast? Outpace it? If so, he thought, I have a chance against the warden and his deputies.
“Against Kreg,” he mouthed. His eyes slid open. Why couldn’t the warden be some random stranger? Someone I could just fight. A vision of Dell Pyter formed in Kelc’s mind, the man erupting into a fine mist of blood and bone bits. Kreg. “I can’t.” A tremor passed through Kelc’s frame even as anger built in him.
Kelc pushed his brother from his thoughts. Getting upset wouldn’t help him sleep. Instead his mind wandered to the nights he spent with Shaia. But he didn’t get far there either. The anger she radiated towards him during the day’s march ruined it.
Instead, Kelc thought back to Wemmerton. That, he thought, was a lesson for me. I need to claim as much spirit energy as I can, when it is available. There are times, like the upcoming battle, that will require as much stored spirit as I can gather. I need not be shy about grabbing it when I can. He hadn’t done so there because the people were so innocent, having been killed by fever. Kelc shook his head as irritation rose in him. They didn’t deserve to be rent into nothingness just to give me the ability to do… “Whatever I can do,” he whispered. “Damn it all.”
He just couldn’t. He felt as if he’d never be able to rip apart the souls of normal folk to feed his own power. Pyter had been an enemy. And his father had asked him to use his spirit. “Something noble,” he breathed, his father’s face rising from his memories. Henna, Kelc had freed. Her father he’d gladly annihilated. “Ilda,” he mouthed. She had been an accident. Kelc hadn’t realized he had any power then, using her spirit by accident to heal Kreggen.
And now, Kelc thought, I am a dark practitioner on the run from the Territorial Warden and his deputies, one of whom is Alkern Tasher.
Tasher scared Kelc as far back as he could remember. The man was inaccessible, righteous and deadly. Among those that still pursued them, he was the one to worry over.
Though Jista was also reputed to be the deputy most specialized in attacking and destroying practitioners, Kelc thought. He shook his head, a dark seed of hopelessness growing within him.
And Kreg bested Tasher who could no doubt best Jista. “Greeching skeesh.” What a mess. How are we ever going to get out of this?
Kelc looked over at his sister, a young woman that had ever been the source of warmth and compassion in his life. Gentle and caring. You do not deserve to die in all this, Kelc thought, again arriving at the notion that he needed to sacrifice himself, if necessary, to allow Shaia escape.
And she knows.
Not just because Kelc had stated that he didn’t expect to live but because his sister had thread after thread of spi
rit tied to him. So much, he thought, that she can probably read my greeching mind. And in his mind, he knew he would die before he set foot in Reman or any land other than Symea.
It seemed strange to be at the center of such a conflict. All of his life, Kelc had been the afterthought. Kreggen was the good son, a true Symean son. Shaia had been the beautiful daughter that would bring the next generation of children, direct blood of the line. Kelc, the slower, lesser son.
“Now,” he whispered, “I am all that keeps the family from slaughtering itself. I must give myself up to keep from killing Kreg. And he will fight. Because Symean law requires it. Kelc Varrlson,” he said quietly but seriously, issuing his name as a challenge to any that would disregard him. I am the one that all of this mess hinges on now. “The lesser son.”
The thought, as it had before, brought fear. But with the conviction that Kelc was willing to face Kreggen and also willing to give his life if it insured that Shaia survived, a certain serenity accompanied it.
“The spirit is much better than the body.” He let the words roll around inside his skull as he eased his eyes closed again, fatigue suddenly pulling at him. “What becomes of me if I get rent after I am executed?” he breathed. “Does that deliver me to Reman with any awareness?”
He pictured the river of spirit below the ground, broken apart, no identity or awareness, just raw essence headed somewhere to be consumed, no doubt. “By what?”
What could use that much power? Enough power to split Oerhe in two and remake her. “They must exist,” Kelc told himself. A wave of cold prickles washed over his body, standing every hair on end.
“Who must?” Shaia asked. Not really awake, the question came out as a grunt as she rolled over, now facing her brother though the quiet snores resumed after only a handful of breaths.
“Gods,” Kelc told his sleeping sister. “Gods must really exist.”
“More snow.” Micah’s voice expressed exactly how unwelcome the fat heavy flakes were as they drifted in thick curtains to the ground.
“It keeps us hidden,” Kelc said. “Otherwise we’d be visible from leagues away. At least this way we’re able to move in secrecy.” He looked up into the snow, several delicate flakes immediately landing on his cheeks. “It’s peaceful.”
“Like a funeral,” Shaia snapped. “We might as well be seen from any distance so we can get it over with.” Kelc could feel her searing look on the back of his head. Maybe her spirit threads work both ways, he thought. “Only if I want them to,” his sister said, answering his thought.
Micah looked back for a moment as he considered asking what they were talking about, but he immediately thought better of it and returned to his efforts. He had taken the front position since dawn and kept it through midday. The vampire simply did not tire, despite the difficulty of blazing a path through the thigh-deep snow.
“Shy, if you can read my thoughts then you know what I’m thinking,” Kelc said, exasperated. “You know what I want out of this and what I want to try and do about it.”
“You’re right, I do,” she barked. “And it’s selfish and unfair and you have no right to decide such a thing on your own. Our parents gave everything to give you an opportunity to escape and do what you will. The more I think on it the more I believe that they planned this in greater depth than we can ever fully understand. And me, I have given all I could to you, and more. I left with you because of our future. Our future,” she nearly yelled. “But you walk straight to the executioner with a sliver of hope and a willingness to barter yourself for me. Noble, I grant you, but that means whatever else you might accomplish is dead as well. What of father’s spirit? It dies with you. And fixing Symea, like you always wished you could? Dead. And my joy? It dies with you as well, imbecile! What good is securing my life if I know the cost was yours?”
Shaia dropped to her knees and cried, sobbing words that Kelc couldn’t make out while scrubbing her eyes with her hands. As he neared, she spat, “no,” and lashed out wildly with her arm, driving him away.
Kelc watched her weep for a time before he wandered away, aimlessly moving off, leaving Shaia and Micah.
The vampire stood still, alarmed by how loud the girl had been and then all too aware that any interjection of his would be unwelcome. His brown eyes swept their surroundings, taking in what little there was to see in the limited visibility.
Kelc let his sister fade from his thoughts. She would be fine, eventually. Instead, he considered her power. It had some very inconvenient limitations, it seemed. She could sense what he thought, but not all of it. She understood his plan, she thought, but she didn’t understand how he planned to try and survive. If she did, she wouldn’t be mourning his death already.
“You’re an arrogant ass!” Shaia called through the snow, her tears causing her voice to waver. “I do know your plan! And let me tell you how simply excited I will be to love the spirit of my brother after it gets rent to Reman. I will take great comfort on cold nights to know that you are floating near at hand or that you can make the door creak or fetch a candle for me.”
“Shy!” Kelc snapped, before cutting himself short. “Damn it all,” he growled. He stalked back to his sister, grinding his teeth together.
Spirit rose on his left side, he felt it. He spun to get an idea of what was happening and Micah burst from the snow, colliding with Kelc even as he let his mind move into his spirit sense.
They landed in the snow, the vampire grappling Kelc, but now Kelc’s eyes were painted purple.
He flew through Micah’s body, sensing every tiny bit of his dead body. Every organ, still intact, still moving as if they lived yet, were dead. Not blood, but some sort of preternatural liquid rushed through still-functional veins, driving the flesh and tissue to continue its service. As Kelc tried to single out a single cell of it, as he could his own blood, it washed away as if it was not a fluid, but a vapor of some sort. It was as bizarre a composition compared to a human body as a dog would be to a rock. But every bit of it was fueled by spirit.
Kelc froze it. He stopped every particle, every piece of flesh, every single tiny motion.
Atop him, Micah stilled, his face paralyzed before he even had a moment to express surprise, his arms still encircling Kelc, but rather than squeezing him, they stood rigid as if protecting the human. A statue.
Kelc reversed Micah’s arms and they extended out straight. He then caused the vampire’s right leg to kick out and it forced Micah to tip over and off of Kelc.
Carefully, keeping control of the vampire while he shifted himself out from under him, Kelc slid away from his attacker and slowly gained his feet.
Never before had Kelc tried to manipulate his surroundings while using his spirit senses. He’d always given over completely to the need to use them rather than his physical senses. But this time he needed both.
He turned around slowly, to determine what direction Shaia would be, but it hit.
Like a staff to the gut, a wave of power drilled him. “Hunh!” He flew back and landed heavy in the snow, his spine popping from the awkward position.
He lost control of Micah and the vampire immediately began scrambling at him on all fours, diving through the snow like a wolf.
Kelc lurched into a sitting position and reached into him again, faster than thought, but never got him.
A shot to his head, flattened him out on his back. His eyes blurred from the force of it. Micah arrived only a moment later, his eyes blazing yellow, his mouth hanging open.
“Stay down, damn you! Thannonites!”
The words meant nothing to Kelc. All he did understand finally was that Micah wasn’t coming to attack him, but aid him.
Kelc’s head pulsed with pain, worse than if he’d taken the flat of his father’s blade full to the face. “What’s going on?”
“Shhhh.”
“Shy?”
Micah leaned close to Kelc’s ear, his freezing lips touching the relative warmth of the living skin. “Stop talking,” he gr
owled.
A pulse of spirit ripped through the air over the top of them, so close that it felt as if it were a shroud being pulled past Kelc, riding lightly atop his skin but moving fast enough to burn.
“But…”
“Quiet or we’re dead.”
“But Shy…” He needed to get to his sister before…
“They have her.”
Micah let up only moments later, a scowl set deep in his bland features. “They’ve moved on,” he hissed as he settled back on his haunches, his eyes narrowing as he peered southeast.
“They who? What the greeching Hells is a Thannonite?”
“Priests of Gul Thannon,” Micah answered. “They…”
“Why in the Hells are they here in Symea? I thought all of this skeesh was supposed to stay trapped in Reman.” Kelc jumped to his feet. “You,” he said to Micah. “These greeching priests are here for you.” He reached down and grabbed the slight man by his shoulders, jerking him to his feet.
His eyes flashed purple and Micah was his. Every fiber of the vampire lay under Kelc’s control. The light ebbed from Micah’s eyes as Kelc watched.
It’s not his fault. The thought erupted in Kelc’s mind, again staying him. He released the vampire who collapsed into the snow. “I’m sorry,” he rasped. He clenched his jaw and let his eyes wander to the bleak snow crested horizon, his mind racing with his current circumstance, but generating no solutions. “How do we fight these priests? We need to get Shy back from them immediately.”
Micah sat huddled on the ground, half-buried in the snow. “I don’t know. They can’t…claim me as you do, but they can capture me with relative ease.” The vampire shook his head. “How can you take such control of me that easily?” His brows knit together. “So fast.”
“Why can a bird fly?” Kelc snapped, before forcing himself into a calmer mood. “It’s my nature, I suppose. Focus on fighting the priests.” He reached a hand down to Micah who slowly took hold of it to lift himself back to his feet. “How can they capture you? Can they hit you with…whatever socked me in the head?”
Dread of Spirit: Rise of the Mage - Book One Page 31
