by Graeme Ing
“You won’t be capable of spells for a long while. The first step is to get accustomed to, and develop, the core of energy within you.” I tapped my gut with one fist.
She sighed. “I can barely feel it. I might even be imagining it.”
“You have the latent power. It needs to be teased out.”
That morning I’d run another check. She had a consistent, well-shaped aura, but I still couldn’t understand why it was violet and not yellow.
“So how long before I can use it?”
If I told her the best part of a solar, she’d either freak or sulk.
“It varies with each student.” That wasn’t a lie. “Do these exercises as often as you can. Every day. You’ll feel your core strengthen.”
“So we’re not going to do anything else?”
I chuckled, remembering my own frustration as a freshman apprentice.
“We have a lot of theory to cover, but not now. I’m tired just answering your questions. Enough for today.”
She brought her knees up to her chest. “Thank you. I really do appreciate it. Um…” She chewed her lip.
“Just ask,” I said. I had a fleeting vision of Phyxia saying the same thing the night I had brought her brandy and jit-nuts.
“Can you…? Would you help me talk to my mother?” She shot me a sideways glance.
“I can, but I shouldn’t.”
She sighed. “I know. We shouldn’t disturb the dead.”
“That’s true, though I was thinking about you. You need to let go.”
She nodded.
“I’m going out tonight,” I said. “Stay inside. All sorts of unsavory characters haunt this place at night, both living and dead.”
“Where are we going?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but her glare made me close it with a clack of teeth.
“You promised to include me in everything, remember? You said I was safer where you can see me.”
“I never promised, and that doesn’t work if I’m in danger too.”
“You told my father you’d look after me.”
I glanced at a crack in the deck. Had I really said that or was she guessing? It was true, though. I grunted agreement.
She smiled. “Great. So where are we going?”
“Up on the moors.” I jerked my head to the plateau high above the eastern city.
Her eyes sparkled.
I tugged Ayla up the last steep stretch of thistles and rocks. Ahead lay the dark, windswept moors, dotted with the sinister silhouettes of ancient ruins. We collapsed onto a boulder facing the city below, catching our breath and sweating from the climb.
Malkandrah appeared magical at night. The cloak of darkness masked the smoke, the smog, the slums, the chaotic tumbling tenements, and the filthy, smelly alleys. From up here, everything looked serene—a blanket of sparkling lights, a yellow warmth shimmering from tens of thousands of windows, and the threaded white lines of street lanterns.
The seemingly haphazard sprinkling of lights was as clear to read as any map. The densely packed but dimmest glows marked the sprawling slums of the Waterfront and Guildhall districts. To their right, red and green lamps wavered like a cluster of metronomes, betraying the multitude of vessels at anchor in the inky black expanse of the harbor. The black snake of the River Malik bisected the city, separating the poor from the rich. The brighter, more consistent lighting across the river made the richer districts obvious.
“What are we doing up here?” Ayla asked.
“A hunch.”
Actually, something that Phyxia had said: If you put a defenseless person between a wight and a ghoul, why do the creatures attack each other and not their victim? Nothing that woman said was by chance, and her words had been haunting me. Now I understood. Evil is chaotic. It attacks the greatest threat. Evil abhors evil.
“Care to let me in on it…Master?”
I was about to correct her that I was only a journeyman but stopped. The title was mine by rights. Besides, to her I was a master.
“One lore lesson coming up,” I said.
She swiveled on the stone, hands in her lap, back straight, face attentive. I chuckled.
“Elementals gain power from a massive loss of life, the more traumatic the better. This fire creature has been gobbling up the souls of its victims. A water elemental might feast upon the crew of a ship wrecked at sea.”
“Death attracts them, or creates them?”
“Neither. They’re ancient beings, but they wax and wane in power over the aeons, which is why we rarely see them in our world. This one was summoned here.”
“So every time it strikes, it gets stronger?” she asked.
“Exactly. The other night, while half my neighborhood burned, I sensed the trapped spirits.” I looked at a pebble next to my boot. “It was leeching their life force.”
She shivered and pulled her cloak tighter. “That’s horrible. So why are we up here?”
I stood and turned my back on the city. “It’ll be warmer if we walk.”
We trampled into the moors, its thistles and heather brushing as high as our knees. I led us wide of the first ruin, its walls and shattered pillars overrun with weeds. A single, gnarled tree pushed up through the remains of its roof. A tingling in my Perception alerted me to a handful of wights lurking inside, probably looking to pick off stray dogs, children, or lovers come up for the view. The dreadful creatures got everywhere. I knew they sensed my aura—a wide sphere of necromantic magic that yelled “don’t mess with me.”
“There’s rumored to be a soul wraith up here,” I said.
“Is that as terrifying as it sounds?” she whispered.
“Worse. Wraiths are wretched things at the best of times. This one—”
“Eats souls?”
She chuckled and her teeth flashed white in the light of Lunas above us.
“There’s no fooling you,” I said.
“Well, it’s not a clever name, is it?”
“True.”
“So you think this wraith could devour the souls trapped in the elemental, and weaken it enough that it’s forced to leave our world?”
I double blinked. Smart for a novice. I was right to insist she came along. Phyxia was smart too. The wight and the ghoul—evil fighting evil. This plan had to work.
I stopped, hands on hips. She took another step before halting, her brow furrowed.
“Now you’ve got it all figured out, you don’t need me.” I held back a laugh. “Off you go then. I’ll head home for a warm brandy.”
She gave me the evil eye.
“Sorry. You’re doing good. Really.”
After the third ruin, I veered south, picking my way carefully around the sinkholes and mine shafts that riddled the plateau. Now and then, the cranking sounds of mining lift engines drifted up from below, before being whisked away on the wind. Lunas had moved noticeably across the sky.
An earthen barrow loomed out of the fog that had drifted ashore. It stood six feet tall and fifteen feet long, covered with heather and thorny bushes. I’d seen more impressive burial mounds.
Moments later, I found a handful of stone steps descending into the ground to a slab of rock, marking an entrance that looked undisturbed by tomb raiders. That was the fake trapped entrance, of course, so I backed up two paces and yanked heather and weeds from the ground. Then I knelt and scraped away an inch of topsoil to reveal the real entrance slab.
We had a tough time lifting it. If only I’d thought to bring a crowbar. Finally, we edged our fingers under it and half lifted, half slid it aside. The hole was four feet deep and shored up with small rocks. A dark tunnel ran under the barrow.
I dropped down inside. Even doubled over, the tunnel was a tight squeeze. It reeked of damp earth and stale air. I struck a lightstick against a rock and squinted against its harsh red light. It sparked and sputtered in the dead air.
Ayla jumped down beside me. Why is it that everywhere we went, I had to crouch and she got to avoid a cri
ck in her neck?
A stone-lined hallway ran about fifteen feet, sloping downward, ending at a vertical stone that sealed the tunnel. The floor was compacted soil and devoid of tracks. Nooks in both walls served as platforms for statues. Made of stone and patinaed copper, they were effigies of ancient Iathic deities, but resembled demons in the red glow of the lightstick.
I motioned for Ayla to stay put and advanced cautiously, scrutinizing every tiny hole in the wall, checking the floor for trips or pressure plates. Nothing. At the end of the hallway, I sensed the tickling aura of magic from beyond the stone. It didn’t feel like death magic, but more like a curse. Beyond it lay an ominous presence—a dark blotch buckling the field of my Perception. Definitely tougher than a wight or ghoul. Maybe I could catch it by surprise.
I examined the solid slab that served as a door. I put all my weight behind sliding it, and the spring loading was obvious. The barest crack appeared at one edge of the slab, followed by a hiss and a cloud of yellow gas. I held my breath but the stale stench of decay made me choke. In seconds it had escaped into the hallway. I let the slab close.
I turned back to find Ayla playing with cling spirits. A half dozen luminescent threads had emerged from the walls and twirled themselves around her arms. As she moved, they snapped back only to return, probing her skin. What was it with her and those things?
“I can’t help it,” she said with a coy smile. “They came out of the floor. I didn’t do anything.”
I frowned. “You realize those are all that’s left of the soul wraith’s dinners?”
This place had to be crawling with them.
“Ew,” she murmured.
Her hand flew to her mouth and she hurried to join me. The cling spirits retreated into the walls of the barrow.
“Why did you have to say that? I thought they were pretty.”
I rolled my eyes. “This creature is not to be trifled with, so I need you to do what I say at all times.”
“Yes, Master.”
The dutiful apprentice stands before me at last.
I handed her the lightstick. “When I slide the stone back I need you to brace it. Use your whole body. It’s damn heavy. Stay out here. Don’t come in, no matter what. If I turn and run, let the stone go and run for your life.”
“But you’ll be trapped inside.”
“I’ll make it out the door, believe me. If I don’t, well…just keep running. Got that?”
“I’m not going to—”
“This is serious. If this thing touches you, you’re dead, like that.” I snapped my fingers.
Her eyes were as wide as plates. She clasped her hands together, but I saw them tremble. Good. She should be afraid.
“Isn’t there an alternative? Is this our only chance?”
I sighed. “I’m sorry that I don’t have a safer plan.” Well, any other plan at all, really. “As you reminded me, the stakes have gotten too high. I have to try this.”
She touched my arm. “You’ll run if you can’t beat it? Promise?”
“Believe it, so you’d better be ahead of me.”
I slid the stone open once more, got my weight behind it, and heaved it back halfway. Beyond, lay a square chamber fifteen feet across. Iathic runes had been etched into every inch of the slate tiles sunken into the walls. The only contents were a jumbled heap of wood, earth, cloth, and bones in the center. I shook my head. Crazy to build a barrow to survive the centuries but choose to inter the body in a cloth shroud atop a wooden altar. At least that was what I imagined it would have looked like.
I went over the plan in my mind: Step into the room, activate the curse—I’d deal with that later—the wraith would rise out of the corpse, there’d be a bloody battle to within an inch of my life, but I’d beat it down, capture it, then back to town for beer. I rubbed my nose.
Could I take down a soul wraith? Sure I could.
Ayla put her back to the stone and I inched away. It slid partway closed, her boots slipping on the earthen ground before she managed its weight.
Here goes.
I strode into the room and triggered a blast of magic that flickered through the chamber. An unseen force pushed at the center of my back, sending me stumbling forward. A restraining field. I tried to step toward Ayla but the magic was harder than rock.
Awkward.
The bones strewn about the floor collected themselves together with a hollow, rattling sound, pulling the ragged, rotten cloth with them. A cloud of dust and the stink of dry rot washed over me. The cowl of its robe fell across its skull, partly obscuring the baleful, blue orbs that pulsed in its eye sockets. A shadowy, transparent body coalesced around the bones. Non-corporeal talons slid silently from its finger bones, and two points of yellow light whirled around its head in a tight orbit, leaving a faint trail in the air. It throbbed with power.
Behind me, Ayla gasped.
Kristach! Pictures didn’t do it justice.
I resisted the sudden urge to vacate my bladder, swept out my Ashtar dagger, and released the soul of the grak from the hilt gem. Free of its prison, it sprayed out like a thin mist.
The wraith lunged at it with incredible speed, uttering a sucking sound so hideous and unnatural that the hairs on my neck stood erect. I shivered head to toe. There was a second sound, a haunting wail that grew louder with each of my rapid breaths. Was that Ayla? Ugh, it was the freed soul as the wraith devoured it.
I blundered back against the wall. I was wasting my distraction tactic. Focus.
I stabbed a blast of necrotic energy from my fingers. The wraith turned its blue-fire eyes upon me, but continued to absorb the last wisps of the grak soul. The wail had attenuated to a final gasp. What a way to die, but probably a relief to the poor person who’d had his life and memories transposed into the body of the grak. His pain and madness had finally come to an end.
I unleashed a Death’s Spark, wrapping the wraith in crackling lightning that crawled over its bones. I might as well have stuck my tongue out, for all the good my spell did. I edged around the wall, probing at the restraining field by the entrance. Its strength was beyond my power. Now I was in a jam.
In a blur of motion, a ghostly tentacle ejected from the wraith and coiled tightly around my neck. Ice seared my head and shoulders. I stumbled around the room but the tentacle remained attached, now probing up my cheeks and into my nostrils. My skin crawled even while my brain told me nothing physical touched it.
Another tentacle darted across the chamber and into my chest. My heart thumped with an erratic rhythm, skipping beats, slowing, starving my body of blood. I crumpled to the ground and cracked my head on a slate wall tile. The room blurred and dimmed, except for two menacing blue orbs bearing down on me. I gasped for breath, my chest heaving. Every muscle cramped. A tingling pain gripped me. My vision tunneled and the world faded.
Someone screamed. Me, or Ayla?
Both ghostly tendrils shifted to latch on to my head. The pain was excruciating, as if they were inside my skull, squeezing my brain. They rifled around in my head, sending garbled flashes of my life ripping through my conscious mind. Silence seized my world. My vision returned, fuzzy and dark. I could hear again. My right eye went blind. My left arm spasmed violently. Then my chest. The shock startled my heart back into rhythm.
I hadn’t expected any of this. I should have paid attention in class.
I was done for. All I could do was buy time for Ayla to escape. I strained to turn my head toward the entrance, fighting the urge to let go and give myself freely to the wraith. No!
A shadowy figure leaned against a rock, pounding on the magical barrier with one hand. Phyxia? I blinked the fog from my mind. Ayla. Why wasn’t she running?
The intense pressure on my head ruptured my mind, and a monstrous maelstrom formed inside my skull, into which my life swirled. That screeching, wailing sound was me. I teetered on the edge of the abyss, body numb. Get out of my head.
Time seemed to jump. An instant later, Ayla lay on the floor
in a fetal position. The stone slab had closed, but somehow she had gotten into the chamber. The wraith stood over her, yellow flashes whizzing insanely around its head. A spectral tentacle jabbed into her, and her back arched, her limbs thrashed. Her scream was deafening in the enclosed space.
Not her. She was supposed to run. Run, Ayla! What kind of protector was I? I willed myself to crawl to her but my body wouldn’t comply. My mind reeled as it dipped lower into the menacing whirlpool inside me. Oblivion lay within. Nothingness. No hope to return. If I succumbed, Ayla would be next.
Blue light flickered in the chamber. Angry threads of luminescence erupted from the ground all around Ayla. Cling spirits writhed over her body, coiling around her limbs until they enveloped her. They began to constrict the wraith’s spectral limbs, fizzing and sparking, yet the wraith simply shook them off. I stared, unblinking. I’d never seen cling spirits act aggressively.
I too would defend her. The creature had caught me off guard, but now I was ready. In truth, I was desperate. Magic surged through me, melting the wraith’s icy grip. Purple fire sparked across my skin and crackled into the air. My spell coalesced into a wall, which I launched at the wraith. With a nerve-jangling screech, it stumbled backward.
I pulled myself up, every movement an unbearable chore. Cramps tore through my limbs. My knees buckled and I crashed back to the earthen floor.
In an instant the wraith was back at my side. Its skeletal claws slipped into my chest. Even though they were incorporeal, pain spasmed up and down my limbs. Lashes of agony tore through me. I became the chained-up spy when my lochtar had plunged her hands into him. My insides quivered and I imagined the wraith shoving my organs aside. Did I not have a soul for it to find?
Ribbons of color flashed across my vision. I snapped my eyes shut but the colored streamers persisted. I couldn’t take much more.
Belaya, Lak, whichever of you laughs at me this moment, I confess defeat. Is that what you want to hear? I’m fallible. Happy now?
I channeled more energy and flung it blind into the chamber, sensing the magical backwash when it impacted the creature. The stabbing in my head ceased. I gasped for breath, clutched my chest, and peered tentatively through my eyelashes. One half of the room was bathed in a stark red from the lightstick, and the other a cool blue pulsing from the cling spirits enshrouding Ayla.
