by Graeme Ing
I stared through her to the next mausoleum, its walls cracked and pitted. Fortak was still trying to impress Caradan. Wasn’t the elemental enough for him?
Good question, she said.
I’d forgotten she could read my surface thoughts.
Her eyes flashed dark. Fortak’s a fool. He failed before because Phyxia and I put a stop to his plans, though the cost was high.
One hand flew to my nose and rubbed it. Gods, it had been the two of them that had prevented Fortak resurrecting Caradan. Why hadn’t I known that? Why had Phyxia never spoken about her friendship with my mother? She’d been fond of reminding me of her inability to get involved, but I’d call stopping Fortak being completely involved. She’d stopped him then, but now she was helping him with the elemental. That made no sense. I knew next to nothing about the woman.
I blew out my held breath. Caradan is no friend of Fortak. He told me so.
Had the events in the tower soured attempts for me to gain his help, his trust? I believed we could still be allies.
I can win over Caradan if I knew how to reach him. He’s the most powerful, evil force in recent history. I know he can help.
She smirked. You’re lucky that train of thought makes sense to me. Don’t underestimate him, Maldren. I can protect you, but be careful.
I can’t go back to the tower. Not that place. Never again.
I can summon him if you truly believe you can win him over. She sat cross-legged on her grave—actually, about a foot above it.
I didn’t, but I had to try. I’d promised Ayla that much.
This is going to be fun. Her outstretched hand passed through mine. I savored the delicious tingling. Mother and son working together.
Dead mother, which was a little weird, but I was game. I shifted into a more comfortable sitting position.
Magic washed out from her, shaping a spell that resembled a Ward, with something else thrown in that I’d never seen. Green sparks traced a circle on the ground around us. She twirled a single finger and the sparkles grew vertically until a shimmering cylinder encased us. With a final flourish, she drew the magic above her head. It was like sitting in a giant glow beetle cage.
Bell Ward, she said. As long as it holds, don’t attempt protections of your own. They’ll interfere.
I nodded and canceled my Perception. She hadn’t mentioned it specifically but if this green cylinder could keep us safe from Caradan, I wasn’t worried about any ghouls that decided to investigate.
Ready?
Not really.
“Yes.”
The magic of Mother’s Summoning was familiar as it rippled through my body, but her finesse in shaping it was incredible. She stepped up the power beyond my entire reserves, maintained, and then ramped it up further. Being dead had its benefits, or had she wielded this much power when alive? I’d heard my mother’s name spoken reverently among the Guild, but I hadn’t really thought it through to the operational level. The surge of family pride surprised me. I started to think I should be asking her to defeat the elemental, when her power reached a crescendo and then faded.
A sensation of malice overwhelmed me. The air turned chill and stung my throat. I studied my trembling hands, and my heart fluttered. The brooding menace took form as a dark blotch in the air beyond the shimmering cylinder. It coalesced into a gray, spectral form and then resolved further until Caradan hovered before us, tall and defiant. His robe billowed out in an unfelt wind, and silver symbols rippled along its hems.
Lassira, he boomed in my mind, lips unmoving. He glared at my mother. I’d hoped never to see you again. How dare you bring me here?
They knew each other on a first-name basis? Caradan had lived and died way before her time. There was clearly a juicy story in how she’d prevented Fortak resurrecting Caradan.
I do as I please, she said, and I was glad I could hear their conversation. Your feelings for me are mutual. I have little to say, but my son may possess greater wisdom than us both.
She turned her attention to me, and he followed her gaze, his brow furrowing deeper. My heart raced under such scrutiny.
Don’t try to trick me again, boy. I’m not the fool you think. Your woman had more in common with Yolanda than you know.
What did that mean? If he’d had his way they would have been united in death. I erected a barrier over my thoughts, hopefully not too late.
Fortak must die and you will do it. That is the price of my help. You want a better Guild? Actions, boy. Words are cheap.
A cloying miasma of evil flowed from his spirit into me, and my stomach flipped. I swallowed hard. Yakking on my mother’s grave wouldn’t do. I had no doubt he would tear me apart were he to catch me outside the Bell Ward. I stood, trying to meet him face-to-face, yet falling at least a foot short.
You’ll help for revenge but not to save the city? I asked.
His mental guffaw rattled in my skull. It’s all I have left, boy. The laugh is on me. I corrupted the Guild long before Fortak’s birth. I’m saving the city from the choices I made. Make your own. If they are right, I will help.
His form faded.
Wait. You’ll defeat the elemental? Let the people see you fight for them and they will fear you no more.
I stepped to the edge of the shimmering wall. His will commanded me to step through. I clenched my fists and resisted.
What do you know of fear? he asked. Maybe fear is good for people. They aren’t afraid enough of what lurks beyond their fragile world. Perhaps Fortak acts with the blessing of the Gods, to teach them a lesson with his pet elemental.
His eyes bore into mine, but I refused to look away. Damn it, I was losing him.
Like my mother, like you, I’m not afraid of the ultimate sacrifice. I will not stop. If I fail, Fortak wins. You want him to lead the Guild down the path you did? The path you regret?
Caradan’s face turned cold and expressionless. He looked to my mother.
He is without doubt your son, Lassira. And then to me, You trust me to help? You won’t have your mummy’s spells to protect you.
I do. Kristach, I needed him.
I’ll consider your plea. Lassira, send me back.
They locked eyes for such a long time that I wondered if a private conversation occurred between them. She nodded, waved her hand, and he vanished. A sense of lightness replaced the menace that had hung heavy in the air. The glow from my beetle seemed to fill the catacombs with light.
You could not have done more, she said to me.
Are you going to fight with us?
It is your time, your destiny, not mine. Thank you for the lilies. It means a lot that you no longer resent me. Her eyes sought confirmation in mine.
I promise to visit more often.
If I’m alive three days from now.
Go and look after your woman. She’s what you need right now.
I smiled, retrieved the beetle cage, and headed out of the catacombs. Before turning the corner, I glanced back. She was watching me—a pale glow in the shadows. I waved once and hurried away. Would I ever see her again?
I took my time in walking back from Eastside to Temple Plaza as I measured the pulse of the city. A chill wind gusted through the narrow streets and I wrapped my robe tighter. When I reached the river, I looked up Kand Hill. The black scar of my old neighborhood still blighted the skyline.
I sensed a mixed mood among the people. Families labored together to hang decorations and bunches of purple feresens from their houses. The merriment was muted, devoid of the raucous laughter, pranks, and singing of previous celebrations. I perceived a collective feeling of impending doom, of not knowing when disaster might strike, not knowing if their house or street would burn before the next dawn. People jumped at every fall of a hammer or clattering cart wheel. In every street I walked, they scowled at me, muttering prayers and shooing their children in the other direction. My presence wasn’t helping their mood.
A light fog had rolled in as Solas dipped below the horizon, t
he mist flowing upriver and spreading into the maze of streets. Atop the southern bridge, I paused to study the eerie patterns in the slow-flowing river. They reminded me of the inky smoke let loose by the elemental. I shivered and hurried down the other side.
The uncertainty was killing me. What if I was wrong about coronation day? Maybe the elemental would strike tonight. Had I convinced Caradan or had he outsmarted me? What had I expected? With Ayla out of the fight, I had no chance alone against the elemental. According to Phyxia, Fortak lacked full control over the creature. Damn the woman. Why was she involved at all? If only I’d heard the rest of her words at the Covenant meeting.
A dark figure stood at the far end of the bridge, partly obscured by the drifting fog. Something told me I should turn back. He stepped out of the shadows and proceeded toward me. He wore no Guild robe, nor was he dressed like the Duke’s spies. His right hand was tucked inside his jacket. My own hand dropped to my dagger.
We closed rapidly, the only people on the bridge. The clamor of the city sounded from both sides of the river, but it was like the two of us were in our own silent world. Only twenty feet from me, his hand slid from his jacket. I tensed. My fingers clutched the familiar grooves of my dagger hilt.
Ten feet. He withdrew a slip of paper. His head was lowered, hidden beneath long, wayward hair. He passed on the left side of me, holding the piece of paper toward me. I took it and he continued without missing a step. I exhaled violently. The note bore no seal, so I fumbled to unfold it and immediately recognized Kolta’s scrawl.
Noon tomorrow. Pudge Street Cistern. I’ll have Semplis and hopefully others.
So Semplis had come around and learned the truth. To have the support of the other masters was more than I’d hoped for. With new plans careening through my head, it seemed to take no time at all to reach Temple Square.
My robe garnered little attention as I marched through the main temple and into the back hallway. A couple of the priests greeted me warmly. On the way here, the whole city had judged and cursed me, and the lack of accusation in this place refreshed me as much as the delicious floral scent. Perris intercepted me and with a firm grip on my arm, steered me away from Ayla’s room.
“This is a critical time for her. Dine with me.”
“Another time?” I asked. “I’m very tired.”
In reality, my brain was fizzing like a lightstick, but I needed the void of sleep. My head hurt going over the options, the what-ifs and contingency plans. Enough of this whole Lak-be-damned crisis. Perris knew none of what I knew and I certainly wasn’t going to weigh down his—what had he called it?—qe with all my worries. All I wanted was to see Ayla again, to see her smile and to touch her. The faster I went to sleep, the sooner that moment would arrive.
“As you wish. The same room is yours.” He clapped me on the shoulder and left.
I sighed. The Guild could learn from how these men selflessly gave of themselves to those in need.
I woke long before dawn to the soothing sound of chanting drifting from the depths of the temple. Part of me wanted to leap up, dress, and run next door, but I practiced restraint. Perris knew my anxiety. He wouldn’t make me wait a moment longer than necessary. Slowly, as the black turned to gray outside my window, I tuned in to more and more sounds: birds in the bush outside, people walking and laughing, and eventually, voices in the room behind my head—Ayla’s room. It seemed like forever since I had last seen her.
I slipped out of bed, washed in a basin of cold water, and dressed. A tray of food sat invitingly on a side table but I still didn’t feel like eating. The drape across the door swished, and Perris bade me good morning as he tied it open. He stepped back, gesturing to the hallway.
It was time.
I hesitated at first, my mind reeling with everything that I wanted to tell her: how sorry I was for letting her down, for nearly killing her, that I loved her? I’d never genuinely loved a woman before. The words were important. I blew out my breath and strode into her room. The contraption with the metallic pillars had been removed. She sat upright on the bed, back against the wall. A smile spread across her face and she raised her hands to embrace me.
Her eyes were colored a violet so bright that they almost shone. Gone was the chestnut with tiny green flecks. Her hair had been washed and neatly tied back, but was now albino white. Her entire body was deathly pale.
I faltered halfway to the bed.
“Oh, dear Gods,” I muttered.
Her beaming smile collapsed and her wide eyes searched my face.
“What?” she asked, voice wavering.
I scrutinized every inch of her, expecting her to shimmer and fade like a ghost. It was like staring at the picture of Caradan’s wife, Yolanda, in the book. What had he done to her? Was it even Ayla?
“Who are you?” I asked. “What are you?”
She recoiled and brought her knees up to her stomach.
“What do you mean?” She whimpered. “You know who I am. You’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”
She didn’t know. Why hadn’t those tristak priests told her? I looked for Perris but he had gone.
“You…you look different.” What else could I say?
She inspected her legs, turned her arms, and studied both sides of her hands. Then she touched her right breast that had been pierced by Caradan’s dagger.
“No I don’t.”
I couldn’t stop staring at her eyes.
She trembled and drew her knees tighter. “Stop it. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Your hair…”
She grabbed behind her head and tugged her hair free of the clip. She’d cut it too short to cascade over her shoulders, so she pulled at it, desperate to see it.
“It’s white,” she said shrilly. “Who bleached it?”
Those violet eyes flashed and I took a step back.
We spotted the hand mirror on the side table at the same time. I leaped to intercept, but she snatched it. After a single glance in the mirror, she yelped and dropped it on the bed as if it had burned her.
I extended a hand toward her. “It’s all right…”
She jerked away. “No, it’s not. What did they do to me?”
She yanked at her hair, trying to get a better look. Some of it tore loose in her hand.
“Don’t,” I said softly. “Stop that.”
She brought the mirror to her face again. Then she flung it against the wall, where it smashed into a thousand shards that rained down on the floor.
“My eyes. I’m a monster.”
“Calm down. Let me help…” I couldn’t say her name. Shame filled me.
“You can’t help,” she said. “I’m horrible. Leave me alone.”
“I want to be with you. I…I…”
I couldn’t say that I loved her? But I did. Why couldn’t I say it?
“Go away.”
Her demonic eyes bore into me and I averted my gaze. I didn’t know how to make her feel better. Every part of her was tensed, and her raised legs formed a barrier between us. I reached for her but all she did was stare at my hand. My gut turned upside down. She didn’t love me anymore.
Perris appeared in the doorway, surveyed the broken glass, and then looked at Ayla as if for the first time.
“Why didn’t you warn me?” Ayla snapped at him. “Break it to me gently?”
“I—”
“Get out,” she said. “Both of you. I’m hideous and I want to be alone.”
She snatched up a full pitcher of juice, ready to hurl it. Perris pulled me from the room.
He rushed me down the hallway to a small refectory that looked far too small to serve the number of priests I had seen. He pushed me gently onto a bench.
“When was the last time you ate?” he asked. “Eat and then we’ll talk.”
He filled two plates and goblets from a side table. I stared vacantly at the plate he set before me, stacked with bread, cheeses, and meats. Food was the last thing I wanted.
“Tell me now
. What did you do to her?” I asked.
“I’m sorry. I hadn’t been informed of her physical changes.”
“What did you do to her?”
“Qe-afreet never causes harm. The ritual cannot alter someone like that.”
“Clearly you’re wrong.”
He sighed. “I would not challenge your profession. Please trust mine. In rare cases the ritual reveals the inner person, but in a spiritual way, never a physical one. Please eat something.”
As if to set an example, he bit into cheese on bread.
“Did she die?” I had to know. “Is it possible she’s someone else? Possessed?”
I couldn’t tell if his smile was sympathetic or humoring. Kristach, Yolanda had possessed her.
“She came close to death more than once. Only you can answer your other questions.”
“Because I’m a necromancer?” I growled.
“Because you’re her friend. You saved her life. Give her time.” He continued eating.
Time was one thing we didn’t have.
I picked at the pungent cheese and washed it down with wazh. Did the ghost of Yolanda look through her eyes? Was she still my Ayla? That sounded so selfish. The poor girl must be tormented out of her mind.
“The internal demons are harder to battle, aren’t they?” he asked a while later. His gaze fixed on something behind me, and his brow furrowed. He stood. “I have things to attend to. Stay as long as you wish.”
I swiveled on the bench. Ayla had entered the room. My whole body tensed. I wanted to run to her, to hold her. I didn’t dare.
She approached cautiously. A line of stitching scarred the material of her blue dress below her right breast. The hem rode higher on her legs, where someone had removed the section I had torn to bind her wounds. A faded green headscarf hid her hair.
I didn’t know what to say. Instead, I pushed my plate toward her. She took it and sat at the opposite end of the table. I searched her face. If only I could read minds like my mother.
“Don’t stare at me,” she said.
I mumbled an apology and studied her hands instead, as she ate swiftly but with manners. I could chew the tension in the air as easily as the cheese.
