Blaine considered her warning for a moment before he spoke. “Is what you’ve seen certain? There isn’t a possibility that circumstances could change the outcome?”
He could see the grief in Zaryae’s dark eyes. “Perhaps. But I have found that the harder we try to avoid an outcome, the more certain it becomes.”
More of the maze was shrouded in shadow as the sun moved west. The high thornbushes loomed large and menacing. Wicked-looking, inch-long thorns protruded from gnarled wooden stems that tangled around each other to form an impenetrable wall. Even Borya and Desya held no illusions about being able to climb the maze.
They turned right, and the maze passageway grew much narrower. The walkway was almost completely dark. Piran moved to go forward, but Connor thrust out an arm, blocking him.
“Wait,” he said abruptly. He drew his sword and slashed at the darkness. There was a metallic ring as his blade struck something.
“What in Raka is that?” Piran demanded as Connor raised his lantern. A dull gleam reflected light, and Connor pressed at the area with his sword, exposing a thin, sharp wire fastened across the walkway at a height that would take the average man through the throat.
“More wire,” Connor said with a grimace.
“Blimey,” Verran said and swallowed hard, his hand going to his neck. “That’d take a bloke’s head right off.”
Connor nodded grimly. “Aye. And it may not be the only one. Keep your eyes open.”
The narrow passageway allowed only one person at a time to pass without being snagged by the long thorns. Connor led the way, testing the air in front of him at every step with his sword. Three more wire traps blocked the passage before the walkway widened.
“We should be close to the end,” Blaine observed. “We’re far beyond what Desya was able to see from the start.” They stopped for a moment, and Kestel studied the rough pattern Desya had sketched earlier in the day.
Connor paused as if listening to a voice only he could hear. “There’s a new warning,” he said, and his tone made the others look toward him.
“What’s that?” Blaine asked.
Connor met his gaze. “‘Beware the hunters in the maze. After dark, all become prey,’” he repeated from the clue Quintrel had planted in his memory. He sighed. “Apparently, there are things that live in the maze – more of Zaryae’s ‘shadows.’ They come out after dark. We don’t want to meet them.”
Piran exploded with curses. “Well that’s just bloody lovely, now, isn’t it? And I’m betting these ‘things’ aren’t friendly little puppy dogs, are they?”
“Probably not,” Kestel observed dryly. “And I’d rather not find out what they are. So let’s keep going.”
Verran cast a nervous glance over one shoulder. “I could swear I heard something growling in the bushes.”
Piran opened his mouth to make a sarcastic retort but just then, an unmistakable and unfriendly growl sounded from somewhere behind them in the tangled thorns. “Let’s get out of here,” Piran said, drawing his sword.
We’ve only conquered two Guardians, Connor thought. If the Knights were right, we have two more to go.
Blaine looked back at the maze and eyed the cliffs above them, searching.
“See something?” Kestel asked. The archers also looked skyward, although nothing was visible on the canyon rim.
Blaine shook his head. “No. But I can’t shake the feeling that we’re being watched.”
Deep in the canyon, the shadows were long and much of the pathway was in shadow. They walked farther, weapons at the ready. When the canyon widened again, they found themselves facing rows of cairns.
“I don’t like the look of that,” Lowrey murmured. “Those are old graves. I didn’t have any ability with death magic, but I knew mages who did, and they swore that old graves were powerful – and dangerous.”
“What was Nidhud’s riddle?” Kestel said. “‘Blood is the coin to pass among the shadows. Narrow is the path through the flames.’” She frowned. “If that refers to the next two Guardians, it doesn’t sound like fun.”
Zaryae moved to the front of the group and pulled at Connor’s sleeve. “Can you feel the spirits?”
Connor nodded. “They’re waiting.”
Piran gave a skeptical look toward the grave mounds. “There are ghosts, aren’t there?”
“And they’re angry,” Zaryae replied. “They don’t want us to pass.” She paused. “This could be tricky, since Connor is a medium.”
Blaine looked to Connor. “Now what?”
Connor let out a long breath. The fate of the entire party rests with me, and because of Blaine, the fate of magic itself. No pressure at all.
Before he could answer, a voice in his head spoke to him, and he recognized the presence of the Wraith Lord. You’ll need my help, he said. The spirits will be more likely to defer to me.
With a sigh, Connor nodded his assent. If you can help us get through here alive, then use me.
I cannot promise that you all will live, but I will do everything in my power to protect you, the Wraith Lord replied.
Blaine frowned as if he noticed a change had taken place, and Connor felt the rush of power that coincided with possession by the vampire’s ancient spirit.
“We will go first,” Connor said. He noticed that everyone was looking at him as if trying to figure out what was different.
“Am I addressing the Wraith Lord?” Kestel asked, and Connor saw concern on her face as she searched his gaze.
“Yes.”
“By ‘we’ you mean you – and Connor?”
“Yes.”
“Be careful with him,” Kestel admonished. “We’d like him back in good condition.”
The Wraith Lord’s laughter was a rich, rolling thunder in Connor’s mind. “I have already given Lord Penhallow my word to that effect, but I will also give it to you, m’lady,” the Wraith Lord replied.
Kestel looked askance at him but merely nodded. The others stepped back, giving way for Connor to move toward the cairns.
This area of the canyon was wide, filled with more cairns than Connor could quickly count. At least a hundred, he guessed, maybe more. Connor felt a smothering press of spirits, legions of grim-faced specters awaiting his entrance. Some stood near their tombs while others floated nearby. And all of them were staring straight at him.
A circle of stones on the ground indicated the boundaries of the cairns and signified where a warding had been cast. When Connor stepped across the stones, he felt a crushing weight of ominous power as if the air itself had become thick and heavy. The spirits left their places and swirled around him, and the air became far colder than the winter wind. Connor felt the heat leeching from his body, as if the spirits were drawing away his life and soul.
As the ghosts rushed toward Connor, he could sense their hunger. They descended on him like a cloud, and the strongest spirits forced themselves into his consciousness. Sweet Esthrane, Connor thought. They’re fighting over who can possess me!
I’m with you now. I’ll handle this, the Wraith Lord murmured to Connor.
Connor felt the Wraith Lord’s presence fill him completely, forcing his consciousness to a small corner of his mind. The spirits of the cairns shrieked as they fled to a safe distance, where they withdrew to watch balefully as Connor walked into their midst.
“Enough!” the Wraith Lord roared. “You will allow me and my party to pass uninjured among your cairns.”
The spirits had pulled back, enough so that Connor no longer felt as if they were drawing the breath from his body. But they circled hungrily, like wolves around prey, and Connor was painfully aware that the only thing holding them at bay was the Wraith Lord’s presence, a presence that could not long be sustained.
What a choice. Allow the Wraith Lord’s possession and burn alive. Lose his power and be sucked dry by vengeful spirits, Connor thought.
“You are no longer among the living,” one of the spirits challenged in a voice like the rustle
of wind through dry branches. He was dressed as a soldier, in an old style of uniform. His ghost was dark and menacing and looked at Connor with unconcealed malice.
“A sacrifice must be given,” another spirit said. “We must have blood to allow any to pass. Those are the rules of the Guardians.”
“The medium whose body carries your spirit can’t sustain you forever,” the soldier’s spirit said, smiling unpleasantly. “If we detain you long enough, we’re sure to have the blood we require.”
Connor felt the ghosts gather once more, massing like a thunderhead. The spirits swelled toward him, smothering him. Their raw power rivaled that of the ocean. For an instant, Connor was overwhelmed by the memory of nearly drowning in the icy seawaters off the Edgeland coast. He gasped for air. The press of the spirits plunged him into a cloud of freezing mist, cold enough to offset the warmth of the Wraith Lord’s possession. There are too many of them, Connor thought. I’m going to die.
Connor felt the Wraith Lord’s spirit well up inside him. This time, he did more than fling the ravenous ghosts away. Connor felt the Wraith Lord’s essence extend beyond the confines of his body like a glowing aura. He might be bound by constraints among the living, but here in the realm of the dead, his power was unfettered.
Every spirit touched by the Wraith Lord’s aura shrieked in terror and screamed in pain. The Wraith Lord burned away the cold, flashing across the cairns like lightning without ever losing his hold on Connor. It happened in the blink of an eye, but when it was over, the spirits had drawn back against their cairns, cowed and trembling.
“I am changing your rules.” Whether or not the others could see it, Connor felt as if his whole form glowed with the indomitable will of the Wraith Lord.
“I am talishte. I was a patron and protector of the Knights of Esthrane. You were put here by the Knights, and I can sweep you into oblivion if you have outlasted your usefulness.
“Say now what you will do,” the Wraith Lord continued. “May my party pass unharmed, or will you go to Raka by my hand?” The talishte’s voice seemed to echo from the cliff sides, deafeningly loud. The power that filled his body made it difficult to breathe, and Connor felt as if he would collapse with fever.
I might not be around for the fourth Guardian, Connor thought, trying to hang on to the shred of consciousness that belonged to him. The spirits shrank back at the ferocity of the Wraith Lord’s ultimatum. One by one, the ghosts sank to their knees.
“We will yield,” the ghost soldier said. “Forgive us, my lord. We did not recognize you.”
“Allow us to pass,” the Wraith Lord commanded. Around him a corridor cleared as the specters drew back.
“Come now. Be quick,” the Wraith Lord said to the others who waited at the edge of the cairns.
As if he were physically holding back the storm, the Wraith Lord led the group past the rows of cairns as hundreds of angry ghosts stared at them, hungry for blood. Whether Blaine and the others could see the ghosts, Connor did not know, but they shrank from the edges of the path the Wraith Lord had cleared, as if on some primal level they understood the danger of what sight and sound could not communicate.
“If we must pass this way again, you will not threaten us,” the Wraith Lord instructed the ghosts. “You will do nothing to cause us misfortune. This is your command.”
“Yes, my lord,” the ghost soldier replied with a deep bow.
“Then be at rest,” the Wraith Lord said, holding up a hand in benediction. Connor could see the spectral soldiers melting into the shadows until the canyon appeared to be deserted except for his companions
They cleared the edge of the burying ground, and Connor felt the weight of the unseen power lift so he could breathe once more. Once the forbidding presence of the cairn ghosts was gone, Connor sank to his knees, burning up inside, gasping for air.
“You’ve got to let him go!” Kestel said, kneeling beside Connor and grasping his shoulders.
Zaryae knelt on Connor’s other side, and Connor could hear her chanting in a strange language. Blood thundered, making it impossible to think, but somewhere in the chaos, Connor thought he sensed Penhallow’s presence warning the Wraith Lord to withdraw.
I will leave you, for now, the Wraith Lord’s voice spoke in Connor’s mind. I regret if I have damaged you. The spirits of the cairns would not have been as gentle. With that, the Wraith Lord’s presence vanished, and Connor fell forward as the world swam around him.
When Connor came around, he found his companions watching him worriedly. Zaryae and Kestel helped him sit up. “We need to keep going,” Connor said, his voice hoarse.
“We were waiting to make sure you were still alive,” Piran remarked. “It was a little iffy.”
Connor got to his feet, and although he was a bit unsteady he managed to stand without assistance. “I’ll live. We’ve got to get through the last Guardian.”
Zaryae eyed him as if she doubted his account but said nothing, although she stayed close behind him.
Blaine fell into step behind him. “Could we have gotten through the cairns without the Wraith Lord’s help?”
Connor was exhausted enough that he took a while to answer. He could feel Penhallow lending him energy, but he could also feel tension through the kruvgaldur and guessed that Penhallow himself was facing some kind of challenge. Is he under attack? Maybe Pollard and Reese made their final assault.
“Not without cost,” Connor replied. “They intended to demand a blood price, either my life or Zaryae’s because our abilities called to them.” He paused. “If Nidhud had come with us, he might have been able to appease the spirits, since he was one of the Knights.” The memory of the spirit’s lust for blood came back to Connor, and he shivered. “Then again, maybe not.”
“We’ve got one more Guardian to pass,” Lowrey reminded them. Connor was surprised that the old scholar was still chipper, but he seemed to be reveling in the adventure when he wasn’t quailing with fright. “Did Quintrel leave you a clue?”
“Nothing yet,” Connor said, wondering if the others could hear the exhaustion in his voice. “Let’s hope I remember something useful once we get there.”
They did not have far to go. They were quite far back in the canyon, and the next turn brought them to a strange sight. The air shimmered above a crack in the stone, presenting waves of heat despite the cold day.
“How do we get past that?” Borya asked and cursed.
“The fissures go from side to side,” Blaine said. “And I don’t relish the idea of trying to jump across.”
“A narrow path through the flame,” Kestel murmured, recalling the knight’s riddle.
Connor had gone still, listening for the voice of Quintrel in his mind. He saw the stars burning overhead, then it seemed as if one constellation came into sharp contrast. Vessa, the Fire Bringer. The same constellation he had seen drawn on the star map in the king’s library in Quillarth Castle the night of the Great Fire. He saw the points of light in the sky that were Vessa’s constellation, and he knew.
“There’s a path through the fire,” Connor said. “It follows the outline of Vessa’s constellation. The path isn’t clear from the ground, but if you could see it from above, it would be the shape of the star figure.”
“Where’s the fire coming from? That’s what I want to know,” Piran said. “We never had volcanoes here in Donderath, not like we had in Edgeland.”
Lowrey had ventured close enough that the hem of his cloak smoldered and as he ambled back to the group, his beard smelled of smoke. “Take a good whiff,” he said, raising his nose and breathing in. “What do you smell?”
“Smells like a coal fire to me,” Verran said.
Lowrey nodded. “Aye. And that’s what’s burning. One huge coal fire.” At their blank looks, he went on. “You’ve never heard of a coal seam catching on fire? Oh, it doesn’t happen often, I grant you, but a burst of lightning can do it. Sometimes it just happens and no one knows why. Magic could start one, back when the
re was magic to be used. Once it began, it would go by itself, without the magic.” He pushed his spectacles back up his nose. “I’ve heard tell of fires that have been burning for a hundred years without going out.” He chuckled. “Very clever, using it as a trap.”
“If I may intrude?” They looked up to see Illarion, flanked by Borya and Desya, who appeared to be quietly arguing. “Since the last Guardian was very taxing for Connor, I wanted to volunteer to take the lead this time. I was accustomed to juggling and tumbling with fire. I will scout the path.”
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