Silas and Kate came up against a tight group of people blocking their way. Da’ru signaled to her carriage and Tom climbed out, carrying a cage with a large bird flapping angrily inside.
“Those upon the Continent think they can defeat us,” said Da’ru. “But they have not yet seen our true strength. Our ancestors are always by our side. They guide us and watch us from a place beyond the veil. Once a year we ask them to reveal themselves, to lead us forward and show us our path. Tonight, I call upon them to honor us. To show us that they are here. To prove to us that Albion does not fight alone!”
Cheers exploded around the square. Many people stood up, and the few who had brought drums beat them to a rousing rhythm that grew faster as Da’ru thrust her hand inside the cage and pulled the bird out by its neck. It pecked and scratched, cutting her arm, but Da’ru took no notice. The councilmen watched as she pinned the flapping bird against the tabletop and held a shining glass dagger high above her head.
“Move!” demanded Silas, forcing his way through the crowd.
That was his bird! His crow!
“By the rite of black feather and red blood, I call to the ancestors. We are here. We are waiting. Show yourselves to us!” Da’ru brought the blade down and plunged it into the struggling bird’s chest; with one last weak flap of its wings, it was dead.
The crowd fell silent. The drums slowed to a deep low beat, and Da’ru held the crow’s limp body up for all to see. A drop of blood fell onto her necklace, and the bonfire flared suddenly in a gust of strong wind. The flames rose, died a little, and then rose again. It must have happened a hundred times since the fire had been lit, but the crowd cheered again even louder than before, taking it as a sign that their ancestors had answered Da’ru’s call.
“The proof is given!” she shouted. “We are protected!”
“Councilwoman Da’ru!” Silas’s voice thundered over the sounds of celebration as he reached the edge of the circle. Wardens closed in around him, but Da’ru, noticing that he had a prisoner, signaled for them to move away.
“Let him through,” she said.
People in the lowest seats fell quiet immediately and frightened whispers spread swiftly around the square. Every one of them knew the face and deeds of Silas Dane.
Kate followed Silas into the circle, and halfway across it she felt something change. The air was different there. Dead and thin, like the air inside a tomb.
“What are you doing here, Silas?” Da’ru’s voice was calm and threatening. The crowd was too far away to hear her words, but the councilmen were listening with interest.
“I have brought you what you asked for,” said Silas. “The girl and the book.”
“You have Wintercraft? Here, with you now?”
“The girl has it.” Silas pulled Kate forward. “Show her.”
Kate pulled Wintercraft slowly out of her coat pocket, and Silas took the precious book, handing it formally to the councilwoman.
“I believed you had turned against me, Silas,” said Da’ru. “I will admit, I did not expect to see any loyalty from you tonight.”
“You command the circles,” said Silas. “With Wintercraft, you can conduct the ritual of souls the way it was meant to be done. That is what you want, after all.”
“I never should have let this out of my sight,” said Da’ru. “And I should have kept a far closer eye on you from the beginning. Two mistakes that I shall not make again.”
Silas glanced at the dead crow on the table and his eyes narrowed, just for a second. Kate sensed his anger, but Da’ru was too busy turning through Wintercraft’s pages, making sure they were all intact. Once satisfied, she closed the book and spoke loud enough for everyone in the square to hear.
“As many of you know, Silas Dane is one of Albion’s most loyal sons,” she said. “He was once our greatest warrior and now he is our finest collector, ensuring that this country is kept safe from the few unwanted elements who still lurk within our midst. For generations the Skilled have chosen to hide in fear rather than stand at your side, yet I stepped forward, the only one among them willing to use the veil to help our country survive. Many of those cowards have since been hunted and captured because of Silas’s efforts. He has proven himself a hero to us many times over, but what you do not know is that Silas is far more than any ordinary man. He is unique.” Da’ru walked right up to Silas, and Kate was sure he would take that chance to strike, but still he held back. “Silas has seen the very depths of the veil for himself. He has walked the path into death and he has survived.”
Half the crowd cheered again, thinking that Da’ru’s speech was all part of the festivities, while the other half stayed quiet.
“Twelve years ago, I witnessed Silas’s death. And, using knowledge passed down to me by our ancestors themselves, I changed his fate. I reached out to his spirit and returned it to our world.”
That was a lie. Kate watched Silas, waiting for him to say something.
“Many of you may not believe me. But here, tonight, I shall prove it.” Da’ru signaled to Tom, who ran along to the rear black carriage and opened its door. “You are all gathered here to see proof of life enduring beyond death. Proof which I, and the rest of the High Council, fully intend to provide.”
Two wardens stepped out of the carriage carrying someone awkwardly between them: someone slung in a blanket with a bloodied leg swinging out over the side.
“This prisoner is a traitor,” said Da’ru. “He has been found guilty of theft and of conspiracy against the High Council. For that, he deserves death. All traitors must face their executioner and this man shall be no different. But tonight, I intend to show mercy to this criminal. I have restored life to the dead once before and, once his rightful sentence has been carried out, to prove Albion’s strength beyond any doubt, I shall do it again.”
The crowd chanted together as the wardens rolled the prisoner out of the blanket and onto the table. “Traitor. Traitor. Traitor.”
His wrists were bound and he wriggled painfully as the wardens tied him down, leaving him powerless to do anything except look nervously around at the people surrounding him.
“Artemis,” whispered Kate.
Da’ru was already cleaning the crow’s blood from her blade. “Prepare him,” she said.
Chapter 20
Blood
Kate tried to run to Artemis but Silas kept her chain held tight. She was about to shout at him to let her go, when Silas’s eyes met hers and he glanced at the floor.
Kate looked down. The ground she was standing on was carved with thousands of tiny symbols, some of them so small that they looked like little scratches in the stone, all written in the same language she had seen on the floor of the museum. Together they made up a circle far bigger than the one she had seen there, and this one was not just surrounded by a ring of symbols, it was covered with them. The four staircases leading up from it matched the points of a compass perfectly and Kate was willing to guess that the upper level had its own row of smaller symbols running around its edge, just like the ones that she had seen around the perimeter of the museum’s hall.
Silas nodded to her secretly.
They were standing in the heart of an enormous listening circle.
The crowd was still chanting ominously. If any were against the idea of a public execution on a day meant for celebrating the dead, none spoke up. A few people were trying to slip quietly toward the tunnels, but the doors were locked and wardens stood guard, refusing to let them out. Da’ru clearly wanted witnesses to what she was about to do, whether they wanted to witness it or not.
Artemis struggled against the guards as they tied him tightly to the table. Da’ru opened Wintercraft and an icy wind swept around the circle as she began opening it to the veil. The carved symbols closest to her feet began to flicker and glow, the horses harnessed to the carriages whinnied and stamped, and blue light spread out across the ground, flooding the circle and creeping steadily up the staircases, parting the crowds a
s it went.
Then Kate had a terrifying thought.
She, Silas, Da’ru, Artemis, the wardens, and the councilmen were all inside the central circle, a place of protection. If this circle behaved in the same way as the one in the museum, in a few moments the entire city square would shift into the half-life and the mist of the veil would spread around the galleries, exposing hundreds of living people to a place they were not meant to see. Every one of their souls would be vulnerable to the pull of the half-life, and Edgar was nowhere to be seen.
“This circle will not open fully for Da’ru,” said Silas, speaking quietly beside her. “This is the oldest and most powerful listening circle in Albion, capable of channeling many thousands of souls. Da’ru does not have the ability to command it herself. She will need you to complete it.”
“But, those people . . .”
“Are about to see what the Night of Souls is truly about,” said Silas. “Do what Da’ru says, and leave the rest to me.”
“You, girl,” said Da’ru. “Here.”
Silas allowed Kate enough loose chain for her to walk over to the councilwoman, who was standing beside Artemis with her glass dagger by her side.
“I am told this man means something to you,” she said. “If you want me to restore his life, you will do exactly as I say. If all goes well, Wintercraft will confer upon him a life free from injury and death. He will be the first of many soldiers and will serve Albion faithfully, as every man and woman should. If you choose to do nothing, his death will be permanent and you will never see him again. Do you understand?”
One of the wardens had tied a cloth gag over Artemis’s mouth but he tried to shout through it, glaring at Kate and shaking his head.
“Answer!”
Kate did not want to watch Artemis die, but she could not let his spirit be torn apart, cursing him to live a life of pain at the hands of the High Council. Even death would be better than that. She looked away from him as she made her choice. Silas had a plan. She had to trust him to do his part. “Yes,” she said. “I understand.”
Da’ru clasped hold of Kate’s hand. “A wise decision,” she said quietly. “Together, the two of us are about to create history.”
Kate felt Da’ru’s energies connect with her own. It was a sickening feeling that began at her fingertips and felt as if spiders were crawling inside her, burrowing beneath her skin. She let it happen, allowing the cold grip of the veil to creep over her as the mist descended and moonlight streamed down across the square. Da’ru’s eyes were bloodshot, her body quickly becoming exhausted by the effort of opening the circle, but Kate found it easy this time. She knew what to expect, she knew what she had to do, and when the blue light blazed into silver across the square, she and Silas were the only ones who did not close their eyes.
The blaze of energy surged into the crowd, slamming them all back in their seats. The high walls of the surrounding buildings absorbed the greater force of it, shuddering in their foundations as the energy of the circle took hold, the light sank back slowly into the symbols on the ground, and the air filled with blue. Nervous talk spread around the galleries as the mist settled. And then, from a shadowy place high above the crowd, the shades rushed in.
There were many more than Kate had seen before. Thousands of them, traveling through the mist, all moving together as one. The bonfire crackled and died in a cough of black smoke, and every candle in the galleries blew out at once. The crowd did not know what to do and most just sat, transfixed by the eerie sight of the spirits swirling around them.
Da’ru smiled in triumph, laid Wintercraft open on the table and held her dagger high above Artemis’s chest, shouting out so everyone around her could hear. “With the blood of a traitor,” she cried, “I shall conquer death!”
Kate felt movement behind her and saw a flash of blue as Silas drew his blade and swept its edge up against Da’ru’s neck. He held it there, perfectly still, savoring the look of surprise on her face.
“You will not do anything here tonight,” he said. “The girl has already told you your fate. You should have listened to her, Da’ru.”
The wardens swarmed around Silas, then they hesitated, caught between their duty to the councilwoman and their fear of the man standing before them. Da’ru signaled to them to stand back, then lowered her dagger and pressed her throat up against the sword, deliberately making a tiny thread of blood appear on her skin.
“You cannot harm me, Silas,” she said smoothly. “You have just made a very grave mistake.”
Silas turned to Kate, his face fierce and cold as the wardens backed away. “Unlock your chain,” he said, throwing a tiny key toward her. “Take the book.”
Kate freed herself quickly and snatched Wintercraft from the table beside Artemis.
“As you can see,” Silas said to Da’ru, “our situation has changed.”
“You will rot in the darkest cell for this,” said Da’ru, her face seared with anger at his betrayal. “When I am finished here, history will remember me as Albion’s greatest protector. But you? You are nothing, Silas. Even death does not want you. I could have used Wintercraft to give you peace, but I shall make you suffer for what you have done.”
“More lies,” said Silas. “Your words mean nothing to me. They are poison. Venom. You have used them as weapons against me for too long, Da’ru. I know the truth. I know what you have done. Your words are worthless. Just like you.”
“Seize the girl!” Da’ru shouted to her guards. “Seize her and take this traitor away!”
Faced with a direct order, the wardens had no choice but to obey.
Four of them rounded the table at once, heading straight for Kate; she ducked beneath the slab of stone, crawling quickly over to the other side. Artemis tried to squirm free to help her, but he was bound fast. When another warden blocked Kate’s escape, Silas snatched Da’ru’s dagger and ended the man’s life with one perfect throw to the heart. The warden was dead before he touched the ground. Kate stared at the body for a moment, then clutched Wintercraft to her chest and pushed past him. More wardens were closing in.
Any doubts the wardens had about attacking Silas vanished completely with the death of their first man. They fell upon Silas like ants. His sword flashed and swung. Bodies fell and Da’ru backed away, untouched by it all, her eyes set firmly on Kate.
People in the galleries shouted and screamed at the sight of a battle being fought below them. Some were cheering for Silas, others were backing the wardens, but most of them had left their seats and were busy fighting their way to the exits. Some tripped on the steps and no one stopped to help them up. All any of them could care about was escape. The four upper doors being guarded by wardens were swiftly overrun, but they were all sealed fast by the circle’s outer boundary. The doors would not open. No one could get out.
A wave of panic rolled like thunder across the crowd and Kate ran toward the black carriages that were gathered together within the circle of protection. She ducked behind a pair of frightened horses and ran past five carriages lined up behind them, until a door swung open farther down and a head of wild black hair leaned out.
“Edgar?”
“Quick!” Edgar shouted, reaching out an arm to help her up. “Get in.”
Kate grabbed his hand and climbed inside. Tom was in there with them, huddled on one of the seats with his knees pulled up to his chest, trying to block out everything that was going on.
“He’ll be okay,” Edgar said quickly. “What about Artemis? What’s happening?”
The gruesome sounds of Silas’s battle carried into the carriage and Kate let the horror of what they were hearing speak for itself.
“I have to close the circle,” she said, opening Wintercraft and turning desperately through its pages. “There are wardens behind me. Da’ru too. I don’t have much time.”
“Wait . . . wait!” said Edgar. “Think about this. You closed that circle in the museum, you can just do it again.”
“I don’t
know how I did that!”
“But you still did it.” Edgar put his hands on the book, stopping Kate from looking any further. “Look, I don’t know much about this stuff, but I know what I’ve seen and I don’t think this book is all it’s cracked up to be. I saw you help Silas at the museum. You helped him, Kate! And I bet this book didn’t tell you how, did it?”
“Let go,” demanded Kate, trying to pull Wintercraft away from him, but Edgar held on tight.
“This book can’t make people do things,” he said. “It just points them in the right direction. The people who wrote it didn’t need it to do what they did. They just wrote about it all afterward. Think about it, Kate. I don’t know how it all works, but it does. I think you already know what to do. You just need to trust yourself. And you definitely don’t need this.”
Kate did not want to let go of Wintercraft. There was too much at stake to simply give in and trust that everything would be all right, but she felt her fingers weaken and Edgar slid the book away.
“All right,” he said carefully. “That crowd is going to start trampling one another out there soon. If you’re going to do something, now’s the time.”
“But it’s not my circle,” said Kate. “I don’t know how to stop it. Da’ru made it, not me.”
“Da’ru can’t do what you do. She used to spend hours trying to get a good circle going. With you standing next to her it took seconds. What do you think that means?”
Edgar ducked suddenly as glass splintered across the carriage floor and the window exploded against the force of a warden’s fist. A thick arm reached in to grab hold of his neck and Edgar used the book as a weapon, hitting it against the warden’s head to fend him off while Tom leaped to his aid, punching and biting whatever part of the attacker he could reach.
“Run, Kate!” Edgar shouted. “Run!”
Kate burst out of the carriage’s opposite door and saw Silas still locked in battle on the other side of the circle. He had taken at least ten of his attackers down already, leaving the ground around him stained with blood, but not all of that blood belonged to the wardens. Silas was wounded. His injuries were coming too quickly for his body to heal itself before others took their place. The wardens were brutal, surrounding him like a pack of dogs and challenging him all at once, their daggers flashing in the night. Kate could see the pain of every blow written across Silas’s tortured face. He would not be able to keep them away for long.
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