Ghosts. Or something like them anyways. Lauryn had lived with Myrnai long enough to know that such things existed. The question was, could they hurt her? Probably. And there were dozens of them, likely surrounding the mansion. Still, she’d better check the other side. If there was a gap she’d have to make a run for it—there was no way she could fight those things.
Lauryn turned and ran down the hall, glancing through the windows as she went. No…No…No…wait, yes! Two thirds the way around the house, she spotted a gap and bolted for the door. The instant it opened, something huge and dark reared up just inches from her face. Lauryn screamed and scrambled back as the thing reached for her, tripping over the rug and tumbling into a pile of hard leather cylinders. She grabbed the nearest one and struck out at the creature just as it latched onto her leg. The blow was enough to break its tentative grip and in an instant Lauryn was back on her feet. She sprinted up a nearby staircase, hoping that then they could only come up a few at a time and wracking her brain for anything that might help her escape this alive.
The second floor was a maze: rooms and hallways connected haphazardly so it seemed no matter where she turned she was left facing a dead end. The ghosts were everywhere. Lauryn backed against a wall and flailed at them uselessly with her makeshift club, her other hand scrabbling uselessly behind her for the door handle. She finally found it and ducked inside, forcing it shut and twisting the lock. The otherwise silent attackers slammed against the other side and continued to thump menacingly as she caught her breath.
Lauryn allowed herself a momentary sigh of relief—she hadn’t been sure physical walls would stop them. Just then an icy cold hand passed through her chest and she dropped to her knees as a grey, faceless woman floated through the door and passed over her. Her heart constricted painfully and she gasped as the feeling of cold spread to the rest of her body. She could feel herself slowly growing weaker as the apparition hovered nearby...but it didn’t attack. Lauryn struggled to her feet as the pounding and scratching at the door continued behind her. Apparently not all the creatures were insubstantial. Maybe she had a chance…she had to find another way out of this room.
Breathing heavily with the effort, she stumbled across to the windows on the other side—but they were set directly into the walls, not meant to open. The small panels and thick glass made it unlikely she’d be able to break through, especially if she wanted to avoid tumbling to her death. She turned, swatting irritably at the ghoulish figure that continued to float just behind her, and scanned the rest of the dark room. There was a small door in the far corner, likely servants’ quarters…hopefully not just a closet.
She crossed the room to open it just as the door she had entered through splintered under the pounding of the shadow creatures. Sparing no time to see if they’d made it inside, Lauryn darted through the door into a small room with a single rotting cot standing in one corner. In the wall across from her was another door, this one opened onto a pitch black staircase. She paused for a moment to pull her lantern from her pack. If she attempted to traverse the rickety staircase in the dark she’d likely break a leg. She hurriedly struck the flint and lit the wick, nervously glancing over her shoulder at the sound of more splintering wood. Finally! The flame caught and the lantern flickered to life.
One hand still holding her makeshift club, the other raising the lantern to light her way, Lauryn descended the staircase as quickly as she dared. The feeling of weakness that had come over her earlier was fading. She spared a quick glance back and noticed the ghost hanging back, hovering outside the circle of light her lantern created.
So they don’t like light, she thought grimly. It made sense she supposed. In stories, ghosts and monsters were always portrayed as coming out at night—maybe because light actually was harmful to them? Too bad she wasn’t a mage; she could have conjured a fire to fight them, or even just created a shield of light to keep them back. But she had no such talent, and lacked time and fuel to build a fire the traditional way. Her dim lantern would have to do.
At the bottom of the stairs was what looked like a serving preparation area just off the kitchen at the corner of the house. Lauryn quickly took the door that led outside, wondering if she could possibly outrun the things while slogging through that mucky swamp. She never got the chance to find out. Something large and black lunged at her from just around the corner. Yelling and swinging wildly at the thing, she stumbled away down the path, towards an outcropping of trees. More shadows appeared on either side and in front of her. There was no way she could fight them all off. If it was just one she could probably outrun it, but the sheer number of creatures was just too much.
She made it to the tree-line just as the creatures converged on her. She felt so cold…numbly she dropped to her knees and covered her head, waiting to feel the icy claws tear into her. They never came. Something hot seared her back as someone landed beside her with a heavy thump, knocking aside the nearest shadow.
“Here!”
A burning torch was thrust into her hands and she shook herself alert just in time to keep it from dropping to the ground.
The creatures were edging closer again, having scattered momentarily at the sight of fire. Lauryn desperately thrust the burning end of her torch towards them, waving it from side to side to keep them away. She risked a glance at her rescuer—they stood nearly back to back, but she recognized Sukylar as he fended off demons with another torch and one of his swords.
“What’s the plan?” she asked, as one of the creatures risked a swipe and howled as her torch burned a hole in its arm.
Sukylar expertly slashed at two of the creatures, severing their arms as he warned them away with his torch. “In my pack,” he replied tersely, “the flares, right on top…I’ll keep these things back while you dig them out.”
Lauryn waved her torch one-handedly at the shadows while her other had desperately worked to fish out the flares—a process made difficult be Sukylar’s frequent movements and her own scattered concentration. She kept on eye on their attackers as her free hand finally closed around a thick bundle. One of the creatures slipped under Sukylar’s guard and managed to latch onto his leg before being seared off by his torch.
“Light one!” Sukylar grunted through teeth clenched in pain. Lauryn pulled out one at random and held it to her torch, dropping it the instant it caught. A bright flash of light pulsed and flickered, driving most of the creatures a little further back.
“Where’s your horse?” Sukylar asked, taking one of the flares from her and eyeing the shadows surrounding them.
“I left it outside the swamp, at a farm.”
Sukylar grunted, “I guess we’ll have to share then, mine’s not far. Get ready to light another flare—we’ll have to drop a new one and make a break for it. Follow me closely, and keep throwing flares”
Lauryn nodded, her nerves taut. She didn’t know how Sukylar had found her, but she was grateful for the rescue. She stooped quickly to pick up the leather cylinder she’d dropped earlier, sliding it into the top of her pack in case she needed it again. The flare at their feet started to sputter.
“Ready?” Sukylar said tersely. She nodded. He quickly lit his flare and tossed it in front of them while she lit another and tossed it even farther ahead. The shadows writhed backwards and the two stumbled through the gap and deeper into the forest as light exploded around them. Lauryn threw another flare and then another. They were ahead of the creatures now. A moment later Sukylar disappeared around a rock and then emerged atop his horse. He reached down and pulled her up just as she threw the last flare behind them. It landed beside another still-burning flare and lit up the smoke that filled the air behind them. Damp underbrush resisted the fire until, finally, something caught. The forest began to burn.
* * * * *
Ky’ara leaned on her sword, breathing heavily, and looked over at Taren and Joran.
“What were those?” Joran asked shakily, clearly more than a little frightened.
�
�Shadows,” Taren responded grimly, “and Remnants.”
“Remnants of what?” Joran asked.
“Remnants are necromantic soldiers. The necromancer forms a physical shape from shadows and magic, then puts a little bit of someone’s soul in to control it.”
“I don’t understand!” Ky’ara exploded suddenly, “I killed him! I know he came back after Hallahna stabbed him, but I killed him with magic, his body was completely destroyed. How am I supposed to get rid of someone who won’t die?!!”
“We don’t know it’s the same necromancer you fought in Ainon Caseia,” Taren pointed out, “It could be another one. Or it could be the Destroyer himself…Necromancy would be well within the abilities of anyone who held that much dark magic.”
Ky’ara shook her head. “It’s him…I can feel it.” She shivered suddenly. “And I bet it’s him who took all those people at night…that shadow stuff I keep seeing, it’s always been when he is involved.”
Taren pursed his lips but didn’t reply, obviously not agreeing but not wanting to agitate her further. “What did that fairy you were talking to have to say?” he asked.
Ky’ara’s annoyance at his abrupt change of subject was somewhat mitigated by her excitement over what the naiad had revealed.
“She knew how to get to Eléirathös! She showed me the way…I’m not entirely sure I can remember it all, but she said the nymphs would help.”
Taren looked a little taken aback, but didn’t seem to have any comment. Joran just gave her a look like he thought she was a little crazy.
“What?” she asked peevishly.
Joran shook his head, “Are you sure you really saw some magical flying fairy? Maybe it was just an illusion meant to lead us in the wrong direction.”
“Nymph,” Ky’ara corrected him, “And yes, I’m certain she wasn’t an illusion. She knew what I was thinking and her voice was inside my head…I don’t think dark magic could simulate that without me being able to sense that it was dark.”
“Are you sure?” Joran asked skeptically, “cuz I certainly couldn’t see it…”
“It was real,” Taren interjected calmly, “I could see her. I could see all of them, when they helped us against the Remnants.”
Ky’ara glanced towards him in surprise, wanting to ask—but instead she choked back the thoughts that came forward and schooled her face to emptiness. Taren’s brow furrowed and he looked like he wanted to say something else. The air suddenly felt constricting. Ky’ara sheathed her sword and turned to walk back toward the village.
“I’d like to leave at dawn. I have a feeling the only way to help these villagers is to get as far away as possible. If a necromancer is behind the disappearances, then the best thing we can do is draw his attention away. The sooner we leave, the sooner we can figure out what in the name of Light I’m supposed to do with this crystal!”
* * * * *
Sukylar and Lauryn made their way along the back of a hill, their horse picking out a path that circumnavigated the swamp and ended near the farm where Lauryn had left her steed. Once they had recovered her horse and started making their way to the meeting place, Lauryn felt her mind begin to clear as the excitement of the attack wore off.
“How did you know where to find me?” Lauryn asked, “And more importantly, how did you know a path that didn’t include slogging through all that mud?”
“It’s an old family house—belonged to my great uncle on my mom’s side…when you described what Myrnai had told you I figured that was where you were going.”
“Why didn’t you say anything then? Or better yet why didn’t you come with me so I didn’t waste so much blasted time wading through the swamp trying to find that place?!” Lauryn was exasperated and grateful at the same time. If he hadn’t known where it was she would probably be dead—or worse.
Sukylar shrugged noncommittally, “You seemed to know where you were going and you certainly couldn’t have gone to find information from the person I was seeing…I figured it was better to divide and conquer…though in this case it seems my trip wasn’t worth much except to get an old friend killed…”
Lauryn furrowed her brow in confusion, but decided not to ask. Sukylar was irritable after riding all night and she was sure the place where he’d been bitten probably hurt a great deal. She’d question him more after they’d stopped and gotten some rest. They had been riding for hours when the glow of the forest fire behind them finally faded into the beginnings of daybreak. Fear of any more encounters with the shadow creatures had led them to push on well past the point of exhaustion. Light was their only protection, so they would sleep when the sun was up. They made camp quickly, doing little more than securing the horses and laying out their bedrolls before collapsing into them.
Some hours later Lauryn awoke to Sukylar’s tossing and turning. “Are you alright?” she asked, her mind still blurry with fatigue. When no answer was forthcoming she sat upright and looked over at the huddled figure. Sukylar was tangled in his bedroll, shifting from side to side as a small moan escaped his lips. His eyes were closed and his brow glistened with sweat.
“Sukylar?” Lauryn went over to where he lay, shaking his arm gently, “Sukylar can you hear me? Where do you hurt? What’s wrong?”
The man gave no indication that he could hear or feel her, his breathing came in shallow gasps and when she pulled back his eyelids, his eyes rolled back in his head. Briskly, Lauryn set about untangling him from his bedroll and trying to take stock of his wounds. She had seen him get bitten on the leg, but he might have other wounds she didn’t know about. Living with Myrnai had taught her a lot about healing and rid her of any qualms she may have had over invading someone else’s privacy.
Without so much as blushing, she removed his leggings to get a better look at the bite wound, and then pulled up his shirt to discover a makeshift bandage around his side. When removed, it revealed a series of blackened lesions running parallel to each other, like claw marks. The blackness spider-webbed out from the wound, spreading across his chest and back. The area around the bite mark on his leg was starting to turn grey as well. Whatever those creatures were, they were obviously poisonous…whether magical or more mundane she didn’t know. What she did know was that if he did not get to a healer soon, he was going to be beyond saving.
Aside from these two major threats to his life, the backs of his legs had been burned, as had his right hand—the latter of which was covered in sores from blisters that had broken open. His heart was pounding wildly, he was sweating profusely, and he sported a nasty bruise on his back…Lauryn was baffled by how he had managed to ride all night while in such a condition. She quickly cleaned his wounds, dressing them with some yarrow and skullcap she found nearby, and then bandaged his side and leg loosely. She added some crushed skullcap to a bit of water and tilted it down Sukylar’s throat, hoping he would swallow enough of it to help slow his pulse…if she could only keep his pounding heart from pumping that shadow-poison all over his body, he might have a chance!
Then, hoping she hadn’t wasted too much time already, Lauryn bundled his inert figure back into his bedroll and somehow managed to get him onto his horse’s back. Now she just had to hope his condition wouldn’t worsen considerably on the ride back to Veré…And pray that Ky’ara met them soon. She doubted an ordinary healer could do much for this kind of wound, and if those wanted posters were any indication, they should probably avoid drawing any attention to themselves.
* * * * *
Berd was blessedly incurious about why they suddenly had to leave or where they were going.
“Tis none o’ my business, and that’s what I’ll be tellin’ any folk who come askin’ ‘bout ye,” he’d commented when Taren apologized for not being more forthcoming.
Now that they stood ready to leave, though, Ky’ara had a sudden longing to explain everything to this quirky, kind, old man who’d taken them in without a thought. But the less he knew the safer he was, and she would not endanger him just to satis
fy her need to confide. She suddenly felt the strain of being so completely alone. Taren and Joran had been with her nearly since the beginning of this tiresome search for answers…but the gulf that separated Ky’ara and Taren had remained unchanged despite the night he’d comforted her after her nightmare, and the distance between them had crept between her and Joran as well. No matter how much she Blocked their link, she could not hide her pain from him completely, and that made it impossible for her to really talk with him—his pity for her just made her pain worse. She felt this acutely as soon as they had said their goodbyes and left the little man’s house. Traveling alone together had been hard enough before reaching the village…with the added stress of not having a sure plan for after they met up with Lauryn and Sukylar, Ky’ara was afraid she might not do so well.
First things first, we have to reach Veré, she thought to herself, then we can worry about what to do next…maybe Lauryn and Sukylar found out something that can help translate these pictures Nisse put in my head into an actual route…but travelling to the meeting place would take them at least three days and there was no guarantee that Sukylar and Lauryn would be there when they arrived. Ky’ara sighed, resigning herself to the isolation she had unintentionally imposed on herself. Well, maybe not so unintentionally. If she could only forget that she’d ever had feelings for Taren! Even the thought of him with…with someone else…Ky’ara clenched her teeth and banished the pain again. She couldn’t even begin to think things through without feeling like she had shattered into a million pieces.
How could she possibly try to talk things through with Him if she couldn’t even think them through? Focus on the task at hand, she told herself, when you’ve figured out this stupid crystal and gotten rid of that necromancer for good…then maybe you can fall apart. Because one thing was certain: if she truly acknowledged the pain she felt, she would fall completely apart…and if that happened she wasn’t sure she’d be able to pull herself back together again.
The Keeper's Heritage Page 13