The Book of the Ghost

by Eric Asher

  “That’s it…” The voice said something more, but it was weak, drowning in something else.

  It took him some time to place the voice, weakened as it was, but the vision of Dirge with the necromancer, the forest reborn, and the whispered words of the man as he passed out told Terrence he was probably right. Once more he looked back at the girl and the werewolves, and then he struck out toward the colossus and the only thing in the world that shone brighter than the sun.

  * * *

  Terrence’s memories of the past few hours slowly came back to his mind like enough puzzle pieces had been settled that he could see the patterns of the bigger picture. He had been in Greenville with Dirge and the other ghosts. But something had called to him, dragged him into a darkness like nothing he’d ever seen before. And by the time he’d reappeared, he wasn’t himself anymore. But that girl had given him some piece of himself back. And he was fairly certain that what had dragged him through that darkness had been the necromancer, and that somehow the necromancer had summoned the colossus.

  But if Damian had summoned this thing, why would he have given it a beacon for Terrence to follow? If he summoned it as a weapon, or transport, or…

  But the longer Terrence studied the movements of the colossus, the longer he realized it didn’t appear to be on anyone’s side. If it was a weapon, it was a weapon with no allegiance, striking down fairies and werewolves and ghosts without prejudice, or hesitation. At times it appeared to be traveling with the helmeted vampires, the dark-touched he’d heard them called. In time, those too fell prey to the colossus.

  But the golden light was the only thing in the world that looked different to his eye. He couldn’t fight the compulsion to find out why.

  Terrence had learned many things in the skirmishes he’d witnessed and participated in during the Civil War. There was a part of his brain that marveled at the fact he was still using some of those lessons so long after he’d died. He stayed at the edge of the tree line whenever he could, and when there was no tree line, he knew to hide near the base of the bizarre buildings of the fairies. Impossibly smooth steeples and spires soared toward the heavens where they hadn’t been brought down into ruins.

  But even there on the outskirts, he didn’t go wholly unnoticed. Creatures of blackened bark took notice of him when he moved out of sequence with his fellow ghosts. Dead, milk-white eyes caused his very soul to shiver. When he slowed his pace, and matched his steps to those of the other ghosts plodding along in the colossus’s path, the dark creatures would lose their interest and turn their unnerving gaze upon others engaged on the battlefield.

  Not all of his enemies were so easily dissuaded. More than one of the armored vampires charged at him, as if they sensed he was different, other, and needed to be removed from this world. But Terrence’s journey from Greenville to Falias had had many side effects.

  The first of the creatures leaned in as if to sniff at the old soldier, only to have a bayonet rammed through its eye before Terrence pulled the trigger and fired a ghostly lead slug into its braincase. Terrence stared down at the broken heap of flesh, and the massive fangs protruding from the shadows of the thing’s helmet. Darkness oozed from the thing’s lips, as if it had dragged a piece of hell up with it.

  Terrence moved deeper into Falias, avoiding what enemies he could, and bringing low those he couldn’t. He still didn’t understand the mechanics of the gun he carried in his hand. He had no need to reload it, no need for powder, paper, or even fire. It was an impossible thing, but so was the fact he still stood.

  After a time, Terrence came to realize he’d crossed the enemy lines. No longer did he see the werewolves or hear the howls and the shriek of claws on metal. Instead, he found the horrible skeletons and their riders posted along various city blocks. They stood still, waiting, but none of them moved against the ghost. Each of them seemed to look away, as if something had told them to ignore him.

  The streets of the golden city narrowed the deeper Terrence explored them. The stone beneath his feet that had been little more than rubble not a quarter mile before were now shined like a captain’s boot. The very rock glowed with a life of its own, but the looming silhouette of the colossus darkened everything around it.

  Most of the skeletons turned away as Terrence grew close to them, but not all of them did. A few reached out for the ghost, only to have their movements turn jerky and unnatural. Terrence almost laughed to himself at the thought of a skeleton’s movement being natural. Nothing felt very natural anymore. Except perhaps Dirge, and the tension of guitar strings beneath his fingers.

  But those weren’t here. In this place, the music was overwhelmed by the screams of the dying and the cacophony of a distant battle. Terrence moved into a dark alley, hidden from the sun, and even from the colossus. But losing sight of his goal, losing sight of that flashing golden beacon, unsettled him to his core.

  A heavy sense of worry and dread crawled up into Terrence’s throat, until he hurried out the other end of the alley and could once again see the hulking form of the colossus, and the flashing light hidden in the flesh of its back. He was closer now. For whatever reason, the colossus had slowed. It stared down at some unseen point deeper in the city.

  Terrence didn’t waste the opportunity. He no longer tried to follow the even march of the ghosts he’d left behind. Instead, he hurried, like a child trying to escape the monsters in the shadows.

  “Who are you?” A voice boomed from behind and just above Terrence.

  He glanced back and frowned at the small fairy hovering above him. In his experience, most of the Fae tended to ignore ghosts. But Terrence supposed things were different now that the ghosts could hurt them.

  The fairy casually drew the sword from the sheath on his back, narrowly avoiding his black and white wings as he leveled the whip-thin blade at Terrence.

  “You can’t kill me,” Terrence said. And though his voice sounded sure, for all he knew the Fae could easily strike him down.

  “Aye,” the fairy said. “I might not be able to kill you, but I can cut little pieces off you. It won’t feel so good.”

  Terrence crossed the block, the smooth marble-like street whispering beneath his translucent footsteps. “You fight for him? Nudd?”

  The fairy, now hovering a few feet in front of Terrence, frowned. His wings pulsed slowly as he hung just out of reach of Terrence, but did not impede the ghost’s progress in any way.

  “You ask dangerous questions, ghost. Why aren’t you falling in line like all the others?”

  A raven cried out above them, drawing both of their gazes to the sky. The bird circled, the fairy cursed, and Terrence continued on his way.

  “You’re with the Inn?” the fairy asked.

  The Inn? It took a moment for Terrence’s memories to coalesce. He’d heard the name, but there was more to it. The words came out of his mouth as a whisper. “The Obsidian Inn.”

  “Aye,” the fairy said. “Do you stand with them?”

  Terrence wasn’t sure what the right answer was. He couldn’t be sure who the fairy was, but no matter which side the Fae stood on, Terrence thought there might be one alliance he’d respect. “I stand with the forest gods, and I live in the woods of the one called Dirge.”

  The fairy frowned and then smiled. He sheathed his sword. “You’re not with Nudd. How did you get so deep into the city? Why aren’t you under the control of whatever’s drawing all of the dead here?”

  Terrence shook his head. “I think I am. I have to get to the necromancer.”

  “The necromancer?” The fairy asked.

  Terrence gestured toward the colossus. “He … saved me. Released me. I think it’s why I’m free.” Terrence frowned. He wasn’t truly free, but his actions were more his own than those of the ghosts he’d seen on the battlefield.

  “Damian?” The fairy burst into a string of curses that Terrence was fairly sure were Gaelic.

  Terrence turned the question around on the fairy. “Who are you?”


  “Name’s Angus,” he said. “And I’m no friend of Nudd.”

  “There’s a girl with the werewolves,” Terrence said. “They need help. Back in the fields, right at the outskirts of the city. I think they’re trying to get back to the Obsidian Inn, but there’s more in their way than they know.”

  “Dammit Morrigan,” Angus muttered, looking up at the raven that had returned. “Go,” he shouted. “I’ll learn what I can and meet you at the Inn.”

  The raven released an unnaturally loud call and rocketed back the way Terrence had come.

  “You’re in luck, dead man,” Angus said. “I know the streets better than most. And you’re only a block away from being obliterated by one of the higher orders of dark-touched.”

  “The vampires?”

  Angus nodded. “Follow me. I’ll get you as close as I can, but I’m no match for whatever Damian has become.” The fairy looked up at the shadow in the distance, and something like grief crossed his face for only a second before steel replaced it. “Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  A millennium he’d waited for this. Every year, every day, spent tinkering and nudging and preparing for this fight. And it was bearing more fruit than he ever could have hoped.

  A slow smile crawled across Nudd’s face in the torchlight, a smile that he tempered when footsteps sounded in the hall. Light danced across stone in the underground hall.

  “The titan is nearly here, Nudd,” a gravelly voice said from the edge of the darkness of the room. Behind the flickering light, shadows waited, deep enough to make his guards invisible, or hide an assassin.

  Nudd turned toward the helmeted form, its eyes lost within. “I told you to call me ‘Lord.’ Our plan is progressing well enough. Soon the Seal between you and those of your kind trapped in the Burning Lands will fall.”

  “Many of our lords were stranded in the outer rings.” The vampire paused. “We’ve seen your weapon. We grow concerned you may turn it against your allies.”

  Nudd narrowed his eyes and looked away. “Damian will do my bidding. You’ve also seen the commoners. Your kind will have a feast for ages.”

  Nudd understood the vampire’s loyalty stayed with his master. The dark-touched were ruled over by an entity that any being with common sense would fear, and he’d long suspected the vampires shared a hive mind. And their alliance had not come cheaply. But he had the weapon now, he’d turned Vesik, and the timing for the rest had to be perfect.

  Success would mean Nudd could finally return the Courts to their rightful place. There would be no need to hide in Faerie, and magic could flow freely between the realms once more. It would no longer be restrained to the rivers of ley lines, but it could be an ocean once more, limitless, and his people would thrive in a new oasis.

  Geb, the old Watcher, had once asked Nudd if he thought the price of the alliance was worth it. If the price of betraying his own wife had been worth it. But Geb didn’t understand. Returning Faerie to its rightful status was not a choice. It was this, or the slow inevitable death of the Fae as the magic that sustained them ran too thin in the commoners’ realm. Things would be right again one day. He’d make sure of it, by force when necessary, and by sacrifice when there was no other path.

  “You’ve taken the commoners’ weapons,” the vampire said. “With them, you have no need of us.”

  Nudd blew out a short breath. “Detonating them would be the end of us. No magic can draw that poison out of the earth once it’s unleashed. It would outlive us all.”

  “That is not a problem for my masters.”

  It wouldn’t be a problem for any of them if they were dead. But Nudd didn’t speak those thoughts aloud.

  “Still your tongue,” Nudd said, his voice growing low and dangerous. For a moment he considered lopping off the head of yet another dark-touched vampire. But a small part of him was concerned one of their masters would descend on the realm if he killed too many, and Nudd was not sure he could defeat one of them without aid. So he let it go, instead allowing the vampire to draw another breath, letting his footsteps soil the golden tiles beneath his feet.

  He still owed the dark-touched a favor, and these were not beings to whom one wished to owe favor. But Damian, Damian’s powers, those would turn the tide. Nudd would restore the glory of Faerie, and then turn his creature on the lords of the dark-touched themselves. The necromancer would rain down more pain and blood than even Camazotz could imagine.

  Nudd’s smile widened as the footfalls of a giant reverberated on the earth above him.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Terrence followed Angus through the tangled narrow alleys of another street. The fairy zipped forward and checked each intersection before they crossed through sunlight and back into shadow. More of the skeletons waited at every corner, but what unnerved Terrence more were the gargoyle-like vampires perched along the edges of the roof tops. There were more dark-touched here than he’d ever seen before, except perhaps at the fight in Greenville, when this mess started.

  “And you’re sure that’s Damian?” Angus asked.

  Terrence grew more vigilant as the shadows deepened around them. “I can’t explain it.” He tried to keep his voice low, barely above a whisper, but the fairy still seemed to be able to understand him just fine. “The girl, she touched me, and I could see it all again. I could see it all again, the flashback of when I died. But there were other people there this time … The girl was behind us, the necromancer stood above me. It wasn’t how I remembered dying. They weren’t there.”

  Angus nodded. “Aye. One of the necromancer’s visions. They call them knowings. Happens when he touches the dead. He’s close with the girl, with Vicky. It may be her bond is why you saw something out of the normal.”

  “Normal,” Terrence said with a small laugh. “As if such a thing exists.”

  “Oh aye, if you’ve met Damian and his ragtag bunch of misfits, you get a whole new perspective on normal.”

  Angus slid his sword into the keyhole on a brick set in a towering wall. He jostled around, cursed, and reached his arm into the space beside his sword. Angus grunted with the effort until the stone turned like a deadbolt. The doorway that had been impossibly flush with the golden stone slid open. “Come on.”

  Terrence followed Angus into the building, only to have anxiety expand in his chest once he lost sight of the colossus again. It was a terrible feeling, and one he couldn’t shake. The sooner they were out of the shadows, the better. At least that had been his initial thought, but as reason returned to his mind, common sense bled through the cracks of dread trying to consume him. It was better for them to be hidden. Perhaps he didn’t have the reassurance of being able to see the colossus, but they had the safety in being hidden from the dark-touched.

  “We’re safe from the vampires here?” Terrence asked.

  “Oh yes,” Angus said. “This is a place they could never walk. I was a little concerned you might not be able to walk here, given the magicks that protect this place. Have you felt anything odd?”

  Terrence shook his head. “Nothing new. A little unease.”

  Angus gave a sharp nod of approval. “Good. Honestly, you probably would’ve been dead already if this wasn’t going to go right.”

  “Has anyone ever told you you’re not very reassuring?”

  “Just my cousin. But she’s dead now.”

  Terrence hesitated. “Did you kill her?”

  “Cassie?” Angus gave a quick shake of his head and snorted a wholly inappropriate chuckle.

  The sound was loud enough Terrence worried it was dangerous.

  “If I didn’t know better I’d think Adannaya’s humor had worn off on you. No, I didn’t kill my cousin. An Old God by the name of Gurges did. He’s dead now. He’d been under the command of Hern, held allegiance to Hern, and Hern has done my family much damage. I’m here to kill him.”

  The realization was like a slap to Terrence. “But Damian…”

  “Aye,” Angus said.
“It put a wee wrinkle in my plan.”

  “How did you—”

  The sword strike came from nowhere. Terrence didn’t understand how Angus managed to keep his head, much less avoid the strike altogether.

  Massive talons soared out of the shadows of the ceiling, reaching for Terrence’s eyes. He barely raised his rifle in time as the enormous owl crashed into him, the talons digging into the translucent wood of his rifle. The owl scratched at Terrence’s pale flesh, splitting his skin though no blood oozed from his wounds. The owl cocked its head and then launched itself back into the air.

  In that same moment, Angus exploded, the small fairy becoming a burly, musclebound warrior as he faced off with the owl’s rider. Terrence leveled his rifle at the other Fae. Golden accents adorned the bright armor and an owl’s claw was carved into the forehead of the Fae’s helmet. Metal rang against metal as swords collided and sparked in the shadows. Angus forced the fairy backward before landing a quick shot to his knee, causing the other fairy to collapse.

  “Leave this place,” Angus said. “I have no quarrel with you. I’m here for Hern.”

  “You trespass upon the new Royal Courts of Faerie. You die.”

  Terrence swung his rifle around, trying to find a clear shot past Angus’s wings.

  Angus grimaced, and when the fairy lunged for him, Angus grabbed the sword by the blade, deflecting it just enough that his own sword could ram up through the other fairy’s unarmored neck. Blood filled the Fae’s mouth before the white eyes went blank and the knight collapsed into a screaming mass. The owl hovered and then rocketed off into the darkness above.

  “Hurry,” Angus said. “There will be more.”

  They dodged through the corridors of the place the knight had called the new Royal Courts. Terrence didn’t think they could have been that new, as Angus knew his way around. He led them from shadow to shadow, light barely touching them at all. Every distant sound that could have been a flap of wings sent Terrence’s gaze toward the rafters, compounding the dread in his gut. Only there weren’t truly rafters here. There were shadows and towering sculptures of violence and punishment. Brilliant stone carvings of wars long past and glories that were anything but.