“And in all this time, neither side has won?” Calfon asked incredulously.
Brock shrugged. “Humans can’t settle a score between gods. But each time the battle starts again, we can hold the line. And each time Colduraan fails to destroy us, there is a break—a time of peace—before the cycle starts again.” He looked to Mina with a fond smile. “That’s what I’m fighting for. Not an end to the war, but for a space in which we can live and raise our children without fear of the monsters and the taint before we pass the sword to the next generation.”
“Do either of you know anything that would help us open a Rift and pull Rigan and our friends out?” Corran asked.
“I think so,” Mina replied. She went to her rucksack and returned with a scrap of parchment and a bit of charcoal. “Give this to your witches,” she said, marking some sigils on the parchment and a few words that meant nothing to Corran. He recognized one of the marks as the same one Rigan saw in a dream.
“Is it Wanderer magic?”
She shook her head. “It’s bastardized magic—a little Wanderer and a little other. The Wanderers use their sigils for many things—but one use helps to ward against Rifts opening. This is the reverse. With luck, it will help you open a Rift in the place and time of your choosing.”
Corran took the parchment. “If you can stop Rifts from opening—”
“Why don’t we?” Brock finished for him. “Because it takes quite a lot of magic—energy—to activate the sigil and keep it active. There aren’t enough of us to do that everywhere, and here in Sarolinia, unsanctioned magic is prohibited, as it is in Ravenwood. We dare not draw attention to ourselves too much. So we do what we can, to protect as many as we can.”
“If—when—Rigan comes back, can he use his Wanderer magic to work the protection sigil?” Corran asked.
Mina took back the scrap and marked a second, different symbol on the other side. “That is the sigil to keep Rifts from opening. I don’t know what your brother will be able to do. But warn him that such magic is visible to those who look for it. Be careful.”
“Thank you,” Corran said, tucking the parchment into his vest. “We need to head back. It seems we have a common enemy. Maybe we can help each other from time to time. How can we find you again?”
Brock rose to walk them to the edge of the camp. “We are often along the border. If you’re near, we will find you. Good hunting.”
To Corran’s relief, the clouds overhead which had threatened rain parted without a storm. He and the others made sure their horses had food and water before starting the journey back to the monastery, but they were all anxious to get home. His body ached in every muscle and joint, and his gashes throbbed despite Mina’s healing, making him fear how they might have been without it.
Aiden and Elinor greeted them when they came down the steps. “Thank the gods you’re alive. When you didn’t return, we worried,” Elinor said, taking in the blood and dirt on their clothing and the evident exhaustion.
“Polly said she wasn’t waiting up, so she went to bed,” Aiden added with a chuckle. “Although I noticed she took a shot of whiskey before she went. We were all worried.”
Corran found that between the ghouls’ cuts and the ride, he couldn’t help limping. “It’s been a long night. I’ll fill you in tomorrow. But in the meantime, there’s this.” He pulled out the parchment and handed it to Aiden. “A Sarolinian witch said it might be the key to opening a Rift, to getting Rigan home.”
Aiden and Elinor exchanged a glance. “I’ll make more coffee,” Aiden said. “We’ll get on this right away.”
The next morning, Corran found Aiden asleep slumped over one of the worktables in their makeshift library. Aiden roused at the sound of footsteps. “I sent Elinor to get some sleep,” he said, stretching and rubbing his eyes. He touched the half-empty coffee cup on the other side of the table. “It’s still warm, so she hasn’t been gone long.”
“You didn’t have to stay up all night,” Corran chided.
Aiden yawned. “New information makes my mind churn. I wouldn’t have slept even if I’d tried.” He pushed out a chair with his foot. “Sit. Tell me what happened.”
Aiden listened intently as Corran recapped the fight and their meeting with the Sarolinian hunters. “And then she gave me the sigils,” he said, barely stifling a yawn himself. “Can you make anything of it?”
Ross came in with a tray of hard biscuits, boiled eggs, and salt beef, along with some fruit and a kettle full of coffee. “Polly left breakfast in the kitchen for us, and I figured I’d find you two in here. Elinor and Polly are still sleeping.”
“Thanks,” Aiden said, reaching immediately to refill his cup.
“Calfon’s going to make some more arrows,” Ross told Corran. “Right now, he’s sharpening the axes, in case there are more higani or ghouls.”
Ross went to help Calfon, and Corran turned back to Aiden. “What else?”
“Elinor and I went through more of the old texts,” Aiden said, running a hand over his eyes. “Damn but some of them are hard to read! We found more about blood magic. I think it’s enough for us to try opening a Rift—but then again, we don’t know what we don’t know. Might work, might kill us all.”
“Aren’t you cheery in the morning?” Corran muttered.
Aiden waved vaguely in the direction of their basement hideout’s ceiling. “If it even is morning. Feels more like midnight.”
“Pretty sure it was already after midnight when we got back,” Corran replied, pouring some of the coffee for himself.
Aiden leaned back in his chair. “What your Sarolinian friend told you about Colduraan and Eshtamon—I’ve found legends to that effect in the lore books. Normally, I’d consider them to be just stories, but now that I actually know someone who talked to an Elder God,” he cleared his throat with a pointed look at Corran.
“I’ve reconsidered my appraisal. Maybe there’s some truth to the legend. Some of the old sages believed that the realm on the other side of the Rifts belongs to Colduraan, and it’s a twisted mirror of our own. Order and chaos again. Colduraan doesn’t seem to have been overly popular with the other Elder Gods. Ardevan and Balledec didn’t get involved in the argument, and Oj and Ren seemed to be curious about how it would all end.”
“Curious,” Corran echoed. “Two gods start a pissing match that could wipe out the world, and the Eternal Mother and Forever Father are merely ‘curious’?”
“Maybe they figure if the kids break their toys, they’ll make new ones,” Aiden observed. “Gods aren’t known for compassion.”
“Did you find anything other than stories?” Corran felt his patience dissolving. It had already been four days since Rigan’s disappearance into a hostile realm. Even with magic, he and the others could only fight for their lives for so long.
“Some of those stories make a lot of sense,” Aiden replied, sipping his coffee. “Like the ones about the monsters that come through the Rift—the ‘conjured’ monsters. Once they come to this side, they can’t breed. So if blood witches stop bringing them across, or we could seal the Rifts—after we get Rigan and the others back,” he added hurriedly, holding up a hand to stave off Corran’s protest, “then they would die out on this side.”
“What about the other ones, like the strix?”
“Plenty of stories, nothing authoritative. They seem to belong here, like other predators. Some of them can breed, and others make ‘offspring’ by killing and turning humans. But they don’t seem to have anything to do with the Rifts or the blood magic,” Aiden said. “Which is probably another reason why we never saw any in the city. They wouldn’t have been controlled by the Lord Mayor and his pet blood witch.”
“Or by whoever’s using blood magic now,” Corran muttered. “Someone brought those ghouls across last night. And the taint from the Rifts is getting worse.”
“The more unstable the Rifts become, and the more skewed the Balance is, the worse that will get,” Aiden said with a sigh. “It�
��s all part of the energy trying to find equilibrium. If the Cull doesn’t satisfy the Balance and the blood mages don’t pay for their power, then the taint kills more and more to even it out.”
Corran pointed to the sigil Mina had drawn. “Can you use it to open the Rift?”
“Probably. But before we try, I need a little more information.”
“Rigan’s running out of time.”
Aiden fixed Corran with a look. “I know that. But we’ve probably got one shot at this, and if we don’t do it right, not only do we not get Rigan and the others back, but we could make things worse.”
“What do you need?”
Aiden smiled. “I need to see a ghost about some unfinished business.”
“Rigan is the one who knows how to summon spirits,” Corran grumbled. “I’m more experienced at banishing them.”
“How do you know this ghost is even going to show?” Polly asked.
“We found some of the old records about this monastery,” Elinor replied. “One of the monks who was an original resident here felt so strongly about his duty that he swore his spirit would never leave this place and that he would watch over those who came after and help where he could.”
“And you think that’s true?” Calfon asked skeptically.
“I do,” Elinor said. “Aiden and I have had a lot of strange incidents happen since we’ve gotten here. We’ll be looking for something and not find it, and then turn around, and the book will be pulled out from the shelf, but neither of us did it. Or we’ll be searching a manuscript in the middle of the night and close our eyes for a moment, and when we open them, the pages have turned to exactly the right place.”
Aiden nodded. “It’s always cool down here, but there are times when it suddenly gets cold enough to see my breath, for no good reason. I’ve seen candles flicker with no breeze, or a draft come out of nowhere. Doors open and shut on their own. Never anything that made me feel threatened—”
“More like having a teacher watching over your shoulder,” Elinor finished for him.
“Did Rigan ever have any experiences with this ghost of yours?” Corran asked. “Because I’d have thought he would have summoned him before this, if there really is a ghost.”
The door to the workroom slammed shut, without anyone near it.
Aiden raised an eyebrow. “As you were saying?”
“Nothing ever happened when Rigan was around,” Elinor jumped in. “We teased him that the ghost was afraid of him. Maybe since Rigan’s an undertaker, the ghost was afraid he’d send him to the After.”
Corran frowned. “He could do that, but he wouldn’t if the spirit objected. There have been many times we’ve allowed spirits to stay if they weren’t hurting anyone.”
“We always meant to ask Rigan to see if he could contact the ghost, but then… well,” Elinor said. She had to close her eyes for a moment and look away.
“If Rigan scared him off, what makes you think he won’t be scared of me?” Corran asked. “I didn’t have Rigan’s Confessor magic, but I’ve got the same grave magic.”
“We were hoping you could introduce yourself and let him know you don’t mean him any harm,” Aiden said, a flush rising in his cheeks.
“I’ll try,” Corran replied. “I usually let Rigan talk to the ghosts. He’s the patient one.”
“What do you want the rest of us to do?” Polly asked.
Elinor shook her head. “Nothing. Make sure we aren’t disturbed, which should be easy enough. And have something ready for us to eat afterward because we’re likely to be drained from the magic.”
“That I can do,” Polly said. She elbowed Ross. “With a little help.”
“Anything you need, Polly,” Ross chuckled.
“Tell me a little about this ghost,” Corran said as he set out the materials he needed, the salt mixture and the pigments to draw the sigils of the summoning circle. Now that he had taken a good look at Mina’s rune, he saw similarities to the markings he had made for years to send the dead to their rest. Mina’s sigil was similar, but the slight differences were vitally important. They would not be using her mark tonight.
“The only name we have for him is ‘Tophen,’” Elinor replied. “He had been with the Order for many years, from the time he was a boy until he died of old age—and if the record is correct, he was ninety when he passed away. He was very smart and memorized a lot of their most important materials.”
“Tophen became something of a wise man,” Aiden said, preparing for his part of the ritual with a scrying bowl, special candles, and several rune stones which he positioned in a circle at the center of the larger summoning circle which Corran drew on the floor.
“The stories say he refused to let anyone help him pass over,” Aiden continued. “He wanted to stay and watch out for those who came later.”
“But he couldn’t protect them when the Crown Princes drove out the monks,” Corran replied quietly.
“No, he couldn’t. But he stayed on—whether he’s stuck or whether he wanted to remain, I don’t know. The stories stop before the time that the monastery was abandoned. I guess up to that time, Tophen moved among the monks like an invisible brother. They talked to him and about him as if he never left.”
“I think he’s been lonely,” Elinor said with a sad smile. “The monastery’s been abandoned for a long time. Maybe that’s why he’s tried to be helpful. He wants us to stay.”
“I looked through the journal Rigan brought with us, the one where he found the summoning ritual,” Corran said. “So I can call his spirit so you can see and hear him—if he’ll come. It’s possible to compel a ghost, but in this case, I don’t think it’s wise.”
He remembered what Rigan had told him—after the fact—about interrogating the spirit of someone who had betrayed them. Spirits could get angry and vengeful, and if that happened, it sometimes took all of Rigan’s and Corran’s magic together to send the ghost on and emerge unscathed. He did not want to take that chance working alone.
“I’m hoping we don’t have to,” Aiden replied. “And if the stories are true, Tophen might be happy to help us.”
Corran marked four sigils on the worn wooden floor at each quarter, one in blue woad, orange ochre, white chalk, and black soot, with a line of the salt-aconite-amanita mixture connecting them to form a circle. Corran, Elinor, and Aiden would be inside the circle, and if all went well, the spirit would remain at a safe distance on the other side of the line.
“I won’t be able to hold the connection long,” Corran warned. “So don’t spend too long chatting. Do you have your questions ready?” Aiden nodded.
“I can help you strengthen your bond with the spirit,” Elinor said and withdrew an old string of prayer beads. “We found these with one of the monastery histories. They’re said to belong to Tophen. I can do sympathetic magic—taking the properties of one thing and projecting them onto something else.”
Elinor held up a small kerchief, and as it fluttered in the air, Corran caught the scenes of several types of plants. “I’ve steeped it in a ‘tea’ I made of plants that affect the memory or that support fidelity and loyalty. Once you open the conversation and call Tophen here, I’ll put the kerchief over the beads. It won’t force him to stay, but I’m counting on it to enhance the characteristics that would cause him to want to help us.”
“Let’s do it,” Corran said. “The sooner you get your answers, the sooner we get Rigan and the rest of them back here with us.”
It felt strange and wrong to work the grave magic without Rigan, and Corran fought down a lump in his throat at his brother’s absence.
He shook off his fears, knowing that they were doing all they could. Whether it would be enough… remained to be seen.
Corran closed his eyes and began the chant. He and Rigan had done many banishing rituals together, but only Rigan had done the summoning spell. Corran had seen it once, the night of Kell’s death when Rigan brought their younger brother’s spirit back to them for a final
goodbye. Between his memory of that night and Rigan’s notes, Corran did his best.
It has been a long time since someone called to me. The ghost of a short, pudgy man with a bald head stood outside the circle, peering at Corran through slightly-askew spectacles. You don’t look like monks.
Corran sat back on his haunches. “We aren’t monks. We’re only staying here for a while. We needed a safe place to hide from people who are trying to hurt us.” He paused. “Are you Tophen?”
The monk nodded. Yes. I wondered why strangers had come to the monastery. I tried to let you know I was here.
Corran did his best to look non-threatening. “We noticed, but we didn’t want to disturb you. I’m sorry to bother you now, but we need your help.”
Tophen’s ghost pushed up his spectacles and peered at Corran. No bother. It was too quiet around here after everyone left. Nice to see people again. You need help?
“The monks said you knew a lot of things. We need to find out how to get someone back from beyond a Rift.”
Tophen’s expression went from curious to cautious. Why?
“Someone’s been using blood magic to open Rifts and bring monsters through,” Corran explained. “Something from the other side of the Rift snatched my brother and our friends. We want to bring them home.”
The ghost began to pace. Oh, dear. That’s not good. Not good at all, he muttered, shaking his head. I thought people had learned their lesson back in my day about monsters and Rifts and blood magic, but I guess not.
“As a general rule, people don’t learn well from experience,” Corran commented.
Tophen gave a nervous chuckle. They don’t, do they? I guess some things never change. He nodded, as if ending an internal discussion, and turned back to Corran. What help did you think I could provide?
“Your fellow monks thought that you knew all the lore.”
They were generous with their praise and very young, Tophen deferred.
“Have living people ever gone beyond a Rift—and gotten back alive?” Corran asked, and found himself holding his breath, waiting for an answer.
Vengeance Page 33
