In his mind, he visualized the spell. Fire, white hot, burning but not consuming. Too hot and intense for its size. Blazing on the floor between he and the Soul Gaunts, turning the horror of the blackness into bright light, driving them back.
He could see it, and could see the words needed to make it happen. He concentrated on them, saying them over and over in his mind. In between his fingers, the thread started to warm, pleasantly at first, but quickly becoming uncomfortable. Another moment and…
The pain was incredible. He shot up, pressed against the wall again. At first, he thought his spell had happened too quickly, and the thread had flared into magical fire too early. Then the realization hit. It wasn’t the thread at all. The heat that was running down his hand wasn’t from that, it was from his fingers. Specifically, the two that were now gone.
He screamed, for real this time, and pulled his hand back against his chest, feeling his shirt grow wet from the blood. The whole world was nothing but pain, starting in his hand, radiating down his arm and into his torso. He screamed again, the tears flowing down his cheeks as fast as the blood down his arm.
There was a spitting sound and something hit him in the darkness. Even in his agony, he flinched away, but there was nothing further. He groped down with his uninjured hand, and found two cylindrical items on his lap. His fingers.
They had known, the whole time they had known what he was doing, and let him do it, only to take it away at the last moment.
The Soul Gaunts chuckled all around him, the noise worse than it had ever been before.
“Why?” Thaddeus moaned. “I haven’t done anything to you. Why?”
They only chuckled louder, and then started to flow away, the feeling of menace growing less, the air warming. Thaddeus lay slumped against the wall, his damaged hand cradled to his chest. Finally, exhaustion, pain, and blood loss took over, and he passed out.
This time, when he came to, there was still no sign, or feeling of, the Soul Gaunts being around him. If anything, the air was warmer than it had been since they had first come into the tree. His hand throbbed and ached, but had stopped bleeding.
But he still felt dizzy and sick. Pushing himself up, he looked around the room, glancing over quickly to see that the man who had been hung there was still in place.
“Didn’t take a walk, huh?” he muttered. “Just going to keep hanging around?”
He was horrified to hear his own voice, being so blatantly disrespectful to the dead. But then, what would he care? The corpse’s one remaining eye stared out into the darkness, as useless to him as both of Thaddeus’s were.
Wait. Why was it that Thaddeus could see the dead man? More, he could see the room. It was still dark, and he couldn’t make out details, but he could see the walls, and the shapes of furniture.
Were his eyes adjusting to the darkness, or was it actually getting lighter?
The door to the room creaked, and through the gloom, Thaddeus could see it swing open, revealing nothing but more gloom, not quite total darkness, beyond it. But there was no sense of evil, and no drop in temperature that accompanied the Soul Gaunts.
As Thaddeus watched, a darker shape appeared in the doorway and started to walk toward him. Not glide, hovering above the floor, but taking firm, deliberate steps.
CHAPTER 28
Glittering Birch made all other compounds look lesser in comparison. Not run down, or neglected, just…less. Less grand, less opulent, less wealthy. There had been a time that it hadn’t been so. Florian had visited here several times over the years, starting as a child, when he, Jediah, and others would come to play games with Jamshir, then nothing more than a child himself.
At that time it had been a magnificent sight, as all of the Folk’s compounds were, even the lesser houses. But it had stood as the first among equals. There was no doubt that you were in the presence of the ruling house, but it hadn’t felt the need to flaunt it so much.
But that was the difference between Jamshir and his father. Roland, the previous ruler, had governed by competence and ability. He had the respect of the other Heads of Houses, and had earned it. When the Hairy Men had attacked, it was Roland in the vanguard who had driven them back. As Jediah got older, and showed remarkable promise as a soldier, it was Roland who had encouraged it, and had helped to turn Towering Oaks into the force it was today. He had always had a kind word for Jamshir’s friends, and took what seemed to be an honest interest in their pursuits.
Then, time had passed. Out of the three of them, Florian had become the Head of his House first, at an earlier age than most of the Folk did. The memory of the loss of his parents still stung, all these years later. But Roland had been there to offer advice. Florian made his mistakes, of course, but overall, he acquitted himself well, and Whispering Pines continued to flourish.
It was then, he realized, looking around at the magnificent gardens through which they rode, that things had begun to change. Jamshir had always had a sharp wit, but his jibes began to sting more keenly and seemed to be more directly aimed at Florian. Jediah hadn’t noticed, but by then, he was more interested in his training than anything else.
“It’s a shame,” Florian said, talking quietly, so that only Jediah could hear him without straining. Shireen and Orlando rode behind, as did two members of his own House.
“What’s that?”
“What happened. To the three of us, I mean. You and I have managed to mend fences, but the divide with Jamshir happened long before that.”
“I suppose it did. I was preoccupied in those days, I’m afraid. I should have been there more when your parents died. And I should have made sure that he was too. I am sorry about that.”
“That was long ago. And you did come around, and did check up on me. But we were growing into our roles, I understood that then, and I do now. Maybe it was the same for Jamshir.”
“Maybe,” Jediah said, “but he’s still not the man his father was.”
Florian saw Jediah look around him with an expression of distaste. The gardens, the sculptures, the fountains, they all seemed to vie for attention. As if there were no real cohesion to them all, but instead had been picked out simply because they were expensive.
“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, my friend,” Florian said, which earned him a wry chuckle from Jediah.
“Indeed. Let’s find out if Jamshir really has gone blind.”
“Ah, my friends, returned to Glittering Birch after all this time!” Jamshir stood up from what could only be described as a shaped wooden throne and came down the stairs, his silver robes glinting in the light from the high windows.
“It wasn’t that long ago that I was here last, Jamshir,” Jediah said, his voice with a quiet edge to it.
“What? When was…oh, that. Well, never mind that unpleasantness. Now you’re back, and together! It does my heart good to see my two oldest, dearest friends reunited. Come, come. Sit with me.”
He led the way to the side of the large room where a grouping of comfortable chairs was placed. Indicating that they should sit, he took one for himself. Florian’s guards, and Shireen and Orlando, had been held at the door to the hall, where they stayed now, standing at attention. Not that it mattered. There had to be at least twenty Glittering Birch soldiers spaced around the room, armored and armed to the teeth.
“So, what brings you both here?” Jamshir asked. He snapped his fingers, and a servant stepped forward with three glasses of cool red wine.
“Soul Gaunts,” Jediah said with his usual lack of tact. Florian winced. That wasn’t how he would have approached the subject.
“Oh? You came to share children’s tales with me?” Jamshir leaned back in his chair, sipped his wine and smiled at them over the rim. “Please, continue. I could use a break from the rigors of governing.”
“Not tales, Jam…” Jediah began, but Florian interrupted him. “I know how unbelievable this sounds, my friend. I felt the same way when Jediah came to see me, but trust me, it’s true. Soul Gaunts
have invaded the Greenweald.”
Jamshir tilted his head to the side, his smile fading, but not disappearing. “Surely, you jest. I’ll admit that I know the blasted things are real, but one hasn’t been seen in….”
“Since Solomon defeated the last one.” Jediah took a sip of his own wine. “That’s why we’re here. We need him back.”
Jamshir’s eyes widened in disbelief as he looked from Jediah to Florian and back again. Then, he threw his head back and burst out laughing. “Oh! I see. What is the occasion today? Some local holiday involving pranks that I’ve missed out on?” He downed the rest of his wine in a gulp and signaled for more.
Florian saw Jediah’s face darken and placed a warning hand on his friend’s arm. “No joke, I’m afraid. Jediah’s best soldiers, those standing near your doors, have seen them. I, myself, have lost someone dear to me to them. Don’t mock this, Jamshir, I beg of you.”
Jamshir stopped laughing and regarded the two in silence. Finally, “Tell me.”
Jediah told him what had occurred on the patrol to the north that Shireen and Orlando had been sent on, and what they had witnessed inside the Rustling Elms compound.
“Wait,” Jamshir interrupted, holding up his hand. “Are you telling me that a House, minor or not, has been wiped out?”
“Yes,” Florian said. “Unfortunately, that is the case.”
“Why am I just now hearing about it, then?”
Florian saw Jediah glance at him, his own thoughts reflected in his friend’s eyes. Maybe if you spent more time ruling, and less on playing at being a ruler, you would have known.
“We thought to gather what information we could first,” he said, attempting to placate Jamshir. “That way, you’d be better able to formulate a plan.”
“I see,” Jamshir said quietly, but Florian could hear the distrust in his voice. “Go on.”
“It wasn’t one Soul Gaunt,” Jediah said, “It was several. We’ve never seen, or faced, more than one before. Honestly, I don’t even know how we’ll do it now.”
“Isn’t that your job?” Jamshir asked, his eyes glinting. “I mean, from the time my father helped you, you’ve developed your house into a military force, am I not correct? If this type of thing isn’t what you were building to, then one has to wonder what exactly you are preparing for.”
The implication was clear. Jamshir was sure that Towering Oaks was readying itself to attempt a coup. He shook his head, dismayed at their former friend’s delusions.
“I don’t think the might of Towering Oaks and Glittering Birch together will be enough,” Jediah said. “Not even if Whispering Pines and all the other houses were to back us. By the time we finished the job, so many would be dead that we’d be easy prey for anyone outside of the Greenweald.”
“Ah. So, then. What do you suggest?”
“As I said, we need Solomon back.”
Jamshir sipped at his wine again and regarded the two of them. He sighed, looked around the room and then back to them. “No.”
“No? What the blazes do you mean ‘no’?” Jediah surged to his feet, an action that caused the guards around the room to put their hands on their sword hilts. They stopped at a signal from Jamshir.
“I mean no. How can I possibly be more clear?”
“Jamshir,” Florian said, “we’ve worked it out. I was wrong to insist on his exile, I know that. I was hurt and grieving and took it out on the wrong person.”
“What makes you think I care one whit about that?” Jamshir snorted.
“Then, I don’t understand. Why would you say no?”
“Why would I say yes? Why would I want him back?”
“Because we’ll need him to defeat the Soul Gaunts, you idiot,” Jediah said.
Jamshir stiffened, his glare turning icy as he looked at Jediah. “I’ll forgive that, in memory of good times gone past. But don’t overstep yourself, Jediah. You can be removed.”
Jediah started to respond, but stopped himself and sank back into his chair.
“Jamshir,” Florian said. “Forgive Jediah. He’s hot headed, and we’ve known that since we were kids. But his point is valid. Surely you must realize how valuable Solomon is, and how much use he would be during this time of crises. Even I freely admit, he is the best that the Folk have seen in many a generation.”
“Exactly,” Jamshir said. “So why then would I want someone like that around where they can be used against me?”
“I have no designs on your position,” Jediah said. “I never have. You were my friend at one time, and even if you weren’t, I would never disrespect your father’s memory that way.”
“Ah, yes, my father. Such a wise, noble, ruler, wasn’t he? Do you think I don’t hear the whispers? Not half the man my father was. That’s what they say about me, isn’t it? Well, maybe it’s true. But still, the Greenweald is mine to rule as I see fit, and mine alone. You’ve made your request, and I’ve answered it.”
“What about the Soul Gaunts?” Florian asked.
“I’ll send some of my people to investigate. If, and I highly doubt it, things are as dire as you say, then I’ll send word to the Houses. If I find it necessary. Or you may find that House Glittering Birch has resources that you’re not aware of, and I’ll deal with the problem myself. Either way, you’ll know my decision when I choose to tell you. Now, is there anything else?”
Florian looked over at Jediah, who sat in silence with a stony expression on his face.
“No, Jamshir. I think we’re finished here.”
CHAPTER 29
Solomon finished tying his shirt around the wound in his arm. It had taken longer than he thought it would, and the Soul Gaunt was moving closer to Lacy as he watched. He actually had no idea how the lights were going to affect it. When he had fought the other one, years ago now, the light from his sword seemed to hurt it as much as the blade itself did. With any luck, these lights, being so much brighter, would do more than cause it pain.
He moved his arm gingerly as he watched the thing spin and hiss in the sudden light, a grim smile on his face. It hurt, but he was still able to use it. The Gaunt had gotten a good shot in when he was pulling Luke away from it. Its claws had gone deep, and the cold had penetrated further than the actual cut had. It felt like his arm was bathed in ice water, and there was a deep muscle ache that made him feel that he had no strength left.
Taking the thing by surprise was all that had allowed him to get Luke and get away. He had seen Luke’s face too, and knew that the Gaunt had taken one of his eyes. From what he remembered of the old stories, that was a favorite of theirs. He supposed he should be glad that thing had only taken the one.
He flexed his arm, watched and waited for his moment, enjoying every second of the Soul Gaunts misery. But quicker than he would have wished, it stopped its mad gyrations and turned its attention back to Lacy. It began to move forward again, taking its time. Solomon could see the near panic on her face as she looked desperately around, wondering where he was.
“Hold on,” he muttered. “You can do it.”
He needed the thing to be fully committed. The lights would weaken it, and deaden its senses somewhat, but the more focused on her it was, the better chance he had of taking it by surprise. He had barely been able to pull his arm away when it had latched on to him before, so he was under no delusions that the thing was horrifically strong.
But, so was he. All of the Folk were strong, much more than the humans of this earth, but out of them all, Solomon had the most natural gifts. Even for his own kind, he was fast, strong, smart and deadly. If anyone had a chance, unarmed and one-on-one, with a Soul Gaunt, it was him.
He kept that thought playing in his mind as he braced himself. The Soul Gaunt moved forward, closer to Lacy, hissing again and chuckling, thinking that its prey was frozen in place with fear. Close enough. It was now or never!
He rose and burst through the undergrowth, moving as fast as he could. He covered the ground between he and the Soul Gaunt in a flash
, and had just enough time to see it spin around to face him before he barreled into it.
The filthy robes of the thing enveloped him, blocking out the light and making it impossible to see. They stank and he breathed shallowly, trying to keep the stench from going too deep into his lungs. The cold was unbelievable, and he knew he only had moments to do what needed to be done before it began to sap even his strength.
But the most potent weapon, the fear that a Soul Gaunt wielded…that was gone. He could feel its body, somewhere in there, under the robes. It was bony, and thin. If he could get his hand around one of those bones, he’d be able to snap it like a twig. That thought, that sudden reveal of the underlying weakness of the thing, gave him a courage that negated the things fear like the sun dispelled the darkness of night.
Wrapping his arms around it, he squeezed it to him, and bore it to the ground. It hissed and writhed under him like an enraged cat. And like a cat, it had claws. In spite of his best efforts, the Soul Gaunt managed to turn and hook a claw into his shoulder, digging deep. It was like a spike of cold fire had been driven into him, but he gritted his teeth, and squeezed it to him harder.
The Gaunt worked the finger deeper, its sharp claw driving further into him, threatening to kill his whole arm. He struggled to his feet, ignoring the pain and the blood that he could feel flowing down his chest. Then, he spun and fell forward, driving the thing into the ground, hoping that would shock it. It worked for a moment. The force of the blow caused the thing’s claw to come out of his shoulder, although the damage was done.
It was the same arm as the one that the Gaunt had cut before, and now it was definitely losing strength rapidly. Solomon knew that not even he could hope to prevail against it one-handed. This needed to end quickly.
He surged to his feet again, and took three steps toward the pool. But his arm weakened further, and the thing was able to start working its way around, bringing its clawed hand up between them. As he started to lift it, it slashed that claw forward and a line of fire suddenly bloomed along his face, starting at his hairline and extending down through his right eye, across his nose, and ending at the corner of his mouth. Now it was his turn and he screamed as the world went dark from that eye.
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