Spirit Ascendancy

by E. E. Holmes

  “She talked a bit about it to me,” I said, thinking back with mild horror to my introduction to Irina. “I think with a little coaxing she might be able to tell me more.”

  “There is one thing,” Ileana said. She was running a soot-blackened finger along the inside rim of her pipe, refusing to meet my eye.

  “Oh, I think there’s more than one thing,” I said. “But which one are you talking about?”

  “The casting for the moment of parting,” Ileana said. “We do not possess all of the instructions.”

  My heart stuttered. “Isn’t that pretty much the most important part?”

  “It is crucial, yes,” Ileana said with a grim smile. “We know the items the casting requires, but it will be up to Irina to show you how to do it. We possess none of the words to be spoken, if indeed there are any, nor the steps required to achieve the parted state. You must find a way to pull it from Irina, if you can.”

  I couldn’t help it. I turned right around and heaved emptily into the nearest bush. Ileana didn’t seem to care in the slightest. She watched me with detachment until I had gulped and wretched myself into silence again, and went on. “We have prepared the necessary materials for you. Right this way.”

  I followed her around the outskirts of the strange structure to a table where the other Durupinen were poring over heaps of scrolls and books, many of which looked as old as the ones at the library in Fairhaven. Even in my current situation, my inner bookworm sent up a quiet, yet fervent prayer that the fire hadn’t decimated that collection of irreplaceable books, before I focused on what was in front of me.

  “This is Flavia,” Ileana said, gesturing to the woman who sat nearest me. Flavia looked to be about twenty-five, with three nose-piercings. Her long black hair, shaved close to her scalp on one side, was thrown over her other shoulder in a heavy braid. Her eyes swam at me from behind dark-framed bifocals, which she flipped up onto her head to better focus on me.

  “She is our newest but most prolific Scribe. Her special field of study has been obscure and antiquated castings, and it was largely her research that helped us to plan the set-up of the clearing,” Ileana said.

  “I told you I’d only take credit if it actually worked,” Flavia said, in an unusually soft-spoken voice. She smiled very gently at me. “I’ve done my best. This is fairly uncharted territory.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Certainly. Let me show you what we have for you,” Flavia said, sliding out from behind the table. The other two Scribes, both much older women, did not even look up. “The earliest descriptions of the castings describe in great detail the set-up and preparation of materials, so we have a really good handle on how to start. The casting is a double circle, which we’ve already taken care of. It has to be cleansed by burning sage and lavender, and all other residual spirit energy needs to be expelled. It seems that this will not be necessary as you progress in your Walking abilities, but for the first attempt, you need as empty a spiritual space as you can create.”

  “Is it okay for Irina to be in there?” I asked, looking at her properly for the first time. She was still in chains, still covered in runes. She also appeared to be asleep.

  “We think so,” Flavia said. “There is mention in the early writings about the helpfulness of a guide who can instruct in the Walking process. That guide would need to be within the sacred space in order to interact with you once you have parted company with your body.”

  “Okay, then,” I said, and then my eyes fell on a row of bracelets on the tabletop. “Are those for me, too?”

  “Yes,” Flavia said, picking one up and laying it on my upturned palm. “These are the most important element of the Walking process. No matter how skilled of a Walker you become, you will always need one of these to perform the act. It is called a soul catcher.”

  “These are what Irina has been making for herself,” I said, turning it over and examining the knots, seven in all, each of which looked both unique and complex. “She was weaving them out of her own hair that she was pulling out of her head.”

  “Yes,” Flavia said sadly. “They are not generally made from hair, of course, but that was all she could get her hands on. We’ve woven these from hemp and beads. They are exact replicas of the only known illustration of a soul catcher we have, found in a scroll from pre-medieval times.” Her voice flared just for a moment with a touch of academic excitement, and I could tell that she was restraining herself, for my benefit, from completely geeking out over all of this.

  “Why do I need so many?” I asked.

  “You don’t,” Flavia said. “At least, not today. Today you only need one. Each time you Walk, you will need to use one as a part of the casting that separates soul from body. We have simply made a stock for you, so that you don’t have to make them yourself. You can just focus on practicing. Eventually you will need to make your own, when you’ve exhausted this supply.”

  I looked at the nine soul catchers remaining on the table, desperately hoping that I’d actually get the chance to use them all.

  “So how do I use them?”

  Flavia’s gentle smile faded away. “That’s the biggest gap in our knowledge,” she said. “We don’t have the exact steps for the casting itself. We know that Irina knows them, because she has successfully Walked many times, and still continues to make regular attempts. You will need to coax the right words out of her, in order to complete the casting. Generally, though, you tie it to your left wrist and cut it away here,” she pointed to the space between the third and fourth knot, where a red thread had been woven in, “while saying the appropriate words, at the moment you wish to separate body and spirit. The snipping of the soul catcher enables the cutting of ties between these two elements, and allows the spirit to wander free.”

  I remembered how Milo had once described dying as cutting the ties that held him here, and how Irina had talked about cutting her strings and floating away. It sounded almost too easy, too pleasant… too literal. Nothing so gentle and natural could end in such a state as Irina was now in, could it? I shuddered, and clutched the soul catcher more tightly in my hand to keep from dropping it.

  “So that’s it, then? I just put it on, say the magic words, and snip, snip?” I asked.

  “According to everything we have on the subject, yes,” Flavia said. “If you are meant to Walk, the ties that bind you to your body, while loosened, should still hold, and you should be able to return when you choose. Body and soul should reconnect without trouble.”

  “That word ‘should’ is a pretty demoralizing one to be hearing right now,” I said.

  Flavia’s face crumpled. “I’m sorry, I…”

  “No, no,” I said, waving a hand at her. “Sadly, it’s the only appropriate one, at the moment. Is there anything else I need to know?”

  Flavia shook her head. “I can’t think of anything else that wouldn’t just overly complicate things for you.” She gestured to the soul catcher. “Just put that on and get Irina to give you the right incantation. The rest will sort itself out.”

  “What about getting back into my body?” I asked. “To be honest, that’s the part I’m most worried about.”

  “There’s nothing ceremonial about it, that we have been able to discover; no castings that need to be performed,” Flavia said. “If you’re meant to Walk, you will be able to reenter your body any time you choose, and the two elements will rejoin without a problem.”

  “And if I’m not meant to Walk?” I asked.

  Flavia grimaced. “We will do what we can, through castings, to help you. I can’t say for sure if anything will work. There is no casting I know of that can force the rejoining of body and soul, but we can bring the two together, and hope your will to live is strong enough to bridge the gap.”

  I laughed mirthlessly. It was a slightly hysterical sound. “I’ve been seriously questioning my will to live just by agreeing to do this.”

  She reached out and gave my upper arm a friendly squeeze. �
��You are doing a wonderful thing. Every source, every sign that I have studied points toward the same conclusion; you are meant to be a Walker, and that ability is the key to salvation for our entire order. I would stake my role as Scribe on this going well today.”

  I wouldn’t have thought words from a virtual stranger could comfort me so much in this moment, but I found myself fighting the urge to fling myself on this girl and hug her. Instead I smiled and said, “Thank you for all you’ve done to help.”

  As she smiled back at me, I had a strange fleeting moment of something akin to déjà vu, like I was imagining an alternate universe where both of our lives were normal, and she was just the barista who made my latte at the local hipster coffee joint, or maybe the young adult librarian who read manga at the desk and made great recommendations when I dropped off my stacks of library books.

  Maybe she sensed it too, for her smile turned a little sad as she said. “You’re welcome. I’m only sorry you needed me to do it at all. Best of luck to you.”

  I turned back to Ileana, who had lit her pipe during my conversation with Flavia; her face floated toward me out of a sweet haze, like it was forming from a foggy atmosphere.

  “Are you ready?” she asked me.

  “Yes.”

  She pointed to a space, just wide enough to crawl through, on the far side of the dome. “You enter there.”

  I thought about taking one last look at Savvy, Annabelle, and Milo, but I knew that whatever I saw in their faces would only weaken my resolve, not strengthen it, and so I kept my eyes trained on the entrance and focused all of my energy on forcing my feet to keep moving toward it. There was an upsurge of excited whispering from the surrounding Travelers, so that it sounded like a strong breeze was rising up around me.

  This was it, I told myself.

  And she will have the power of sacrifice to end it all…

  Please, please let this not really be the end of it all.

  Taking a deep breath like I was about to plunge into icy water, I ducked my head, fell to my knees, and crawled through the opening of the dome.

  Whether a result of the castings or simply because a hush had fallen, silence and stillness met me on the other side of the web. It was as though everyone and everything outside of it had ceased to exist. I did not know why I found this thought comforting, but for some reason, it calmed me. I didn’t have to think or worry about anything beyond the immediate; it was just her, and me, and what we had to do.

  I stood up straight and looked above me, where the runes hung in the air like constellations. Again, I felt comforted by their presence, though I could not recognize half of them, they seemed to give order to the chaos of the crisscrossing barriers above us. I tore my eyes from them and found Irina, still huddled in the fetal position on the grass. From where I stood, only the back of her head and the curve of her back were visible, along with the dirty soles of her feet. I walked forward and knelt down beside her. I could have reached out and touched her, although I would not have dared do it. Not yet.

  Her breath, even and yet harsh, sounded abnormally loud in my ears with the silence pressing in all around. Her hand twitched in her sleep, a movement that nearly sent me backward like a skittish animal, and my eyes fell on a row of at least a dozen bracelets, carefully woven from glossy black hair, that adorned her wrist like the most grisly of jewelry. I realized with a jolt that I still had the soul catcher clutched in my sweaty palm, and fumbled to tie it tightly around my wrist. The moment I let it rest, fully fastened to me, I felt my pulse quicken beneath it, as though my very blood knew what was coming.

  It was not easy to convince my hand, now shaking, to extend toward her shoulder. I meant to shake her gently, but I never had the chance. Before I could so much as lay a finger upon her, she jerked awake, eyes wide and hyperaware the very moment they snapped open. Her lip lifted back from her teeth in a snarl.

  “What do you want? Who are you?” she hissed at me.

  “I’m Jess Ballard,” I choked out around the knot of terror that threatened to obstruct my windpipe. “I’m the—”

  “The Northern Clans,” Irina said, as recognition flickered to life in her eyes. “The girl who brings the danger.”

  Well, there was a badass nickname I had absolutely no desire for. Still, I nodded.

  “Yes. We met a few nights ago. Anca brought me to see you.”

  “They said you would be coming here,” she said, and seemed to take in her surroundings for the first time. “They told me, but I did not believe them. They never tell the truth, not to me.”

  “Well, they told it to you this time,” I said. “I’m here, and I still need your help.”

  She simply stared, childlike, into my face as though I’d just agreed to tell her a bedtime story. She tucked her legs beneath her and clasped her hands in her lap, waiting.

  Well, at least she wasn’t leaping out of her own skin to attack me yet. I took that as an encouraging sign and went on.

  “You say that I bring danger. Well, I didn’t bring it on purpose. It has followed me here, and I am trying to protect us all from it, including you, and especially my sister.”

  “What have they done to her?” Irina asked, very seriously. I couldn’t tell if she knew who the ‘they’ were that we were talking about. Perhaps she thought I meant the other Traveler Durupinen, since they were the ones who had kept her locked up for so long.

  “The Necromancers want her to do something very, very bad,” I said. “She is extremely powerful, and they want her to open the Gateway and bring the spirits back to earth.”

  Irina frowned. “Bring them back? That cannot be.”

  “I know,” I said. “”No one should be able to bring spirits back. But my sister can. And I need your help to stop her.”

  Irina nodded solemnly. “We must not let her do that. The spirits are happy where they are. They are at peace. We must be sure they stay there.”

  “Yes,” I said, relieved that she had understood so much of what I had told her thus far; I’d half expected her to burst into angry gibberish the moment she’d laid eyes on me. “I’m the one who can help the spirits stay on the other side. I’m the one who can make sure they stay happy.”

  Irina smiled at me, but it was a mechanical thing, devoid of actual happiness; I wondered if she, in her state, could even remember what it was to be truly happy herself. “Well done, you.”

  A short bark of laughter escaped me, and Irina flinched. “Thanks,” I said. “Don’t congratulate me yet. I’m still not sure how to do what I have to, and that’s why I need your help. You have to teach me how to Walk.”

  As she had done when I met her in her prison on wheels, Irina became anxious the moment I mentioned Walking. Her fingers found the row of bracelets on her wrist and began to twist them in agitation. “I haven’t done it. I’ve stayed here. I’ve stayed in the cage.”

  “I know,” I said, as soothingly as I could when my own voice was trembling in fear. “And the other Travelers know it too. You aren’t in trouble here. In fact, they want you to help me, and that’s why they’ve brought you here.” I gestured around to our surroundings. “They’ve made this place for us. They’re standing by, in case we need them. But I need to learn to Walk, just like Anca told you, and I need you to show me how to do it.”

  Irina narrowed her eyes at me. “Are you trying to trick me?”

  “No,” I said. “No, Irina, I don’t want to trick you. See?” And I held up my own wrist, so that she could see my bracelet. “They made this for me, but I don’t know how to use it. I know I need to cut it, but I don’t know what to say. I need you to tell me what to say.”

  “Why would I do that? Why would I enable another to do what is denied to me?” she asked, and she pouted, making her look momentarily like a small child about to throw a tantrum.

  “Because,” I said, and I smiled in what I hoped was a conspiratorial way, “they’ve left us alone here. They’ve taken the bonds off of you, Irina. You can Walk in here.
See?” And I gestured around us.

  She took in her surroundings properly for the first time, noticing the specific runes in the space above us. She looked down at her arms and chest, from which the runes had been scrubbed away and, as comprehension slowly dawned, her face lit up like the sun peeking over the horizon. When she looked at me again, she was transfigured with joy, almost unrecognizable.

  “I’m… free?” she whispered.

  “In here, you are,” I said, crouching closer and pasting on a grin. “You can leave your cage, Irina, as long as you agree to show me how to do it as well. But first,” I tried to keep the smile in place, but my fear was threatening to overwhelm me, “is there any way to… can you tell if… If I will be able to Walk safely?”

  She cocked her head to one side, considering me. Then she leaned forward and reached both of her hands out for mine. I extended them, and she grasped them with surprising force. Her fingers were cold and dry as she pulled me closer, staring into my eyes. I tried not to blink as those fathomless eyes bore into me.

  At last she said, “You can, if you choose.”

  I nearly cried with relief. “I can?”

  “If you choose,” she repeated, nodding. “You are strong in soul. I can see it in the spaces behind your eyes, but you must choose. The choice is the hardest part.”

  “But if I choose to return, I will be able to?”

  “Yes.” Her expression turned momentarily skeptical. “If you really do prefer it. But the other…” Her lower lip trembled. “It’s wonderful.”

  “I know. You keep telling me that.” I pulled myself back together with a cleansing breath. This was it. “I want to feel it too. Won’t you Walk with me?”