Plague of the Shattered

by E. E. Holmes

  The word seemed to act as a trigger, for as soon as Keira uttered it, the Shards began to spin very fast over the Heads of the Hosts like a luminous halo. They spun so fast, that is became impossible to distinguish one from the other; they were simply a blur. Then, with a force like an explosion, they merged.

  The force of the event blew out across the room, knocking everyone off their feet. The energy that blasted past us felt like a tidal wave, and my breath caught in my throat as it rushed over me like a powerful ocean current, threatening to drown me in a sea of negative emotion.

  And then it was gone. And only Eleanora remained.

  She hovered in the space above the Hosts, blinking down at them in surprise and then concern, as though she could not possibly comprehend what any of them were doing there. She appeared just as she had in my sketches; her thick dark hair was swept up into an elegant mass of curls, delicate tendrils framing her face. An elaborate formal dress fanned out beneath her, swaying slightly, so that she might have been dancing on a breeze. She looked beyond the Hosts to the Circle, and then at the space around her, trying to understand where she was.

  I scrambled to my feet and walked forward to the edge of the Circle just as the others in the room were beginning to stir. I did not wait for instructions. I did not care.

  “Eleanora?” I asked softly.

  Eleanora looked around and spotted me. Recognition broke across her bewildered expression.

  “You,” she said. “You are the Muse.” Her voice was an echo, a distant song that I struggled to recognize the tune of.

  I nodded. “Don’t be afraid. Do you know where you are?”

  Eleanora looked around the room again. “I know this place. My sister died in this room.”

  “That’s right. You’re at Fairhaven Hall.”

  The other Durupinen were assembling around the Circle again, but no one made any movements to stop me from speaking with Eleanora. In the corner, I heard the Scribe’s pen scribbling across paper, recording the content of our conversation.

  “You don’t need to be afraid,” I told her, for at the mention of the name “Fairhaven,” terror had spasmed across Eleanora’s face. “No one here wants to harm you. The Prophecy they once feared has come to pass. You were not to blame for it. They have no reason to fear you anymore.”

  Eleanora covered her face with her hands, trying to compose herself. “Oh, thank God. Thank you dear, sweet God,” she whispered. Then she looked up at me. “How do you know about that?”

  “I found your little book,” I said. “I read it. I know all about what happened to you.”

  “How? How did you find it?” Eleanora asked.

  “You led me to it,” I said. “Don’t you remember?”

  Eleanora shook her head. “No… I… I don’t think I… what happened to me? How did I get here?”

  I looked over at Mrs. Mistlemoore for guidance. “The Shattering was very disorienting. She likely remembers or understands very little of it,” she whispered.

  “Take me back to the last things you do remember,” I prompted. “You were in the príosún on the Isle of Skye, right?”

  Eleanora nodded. “I have been trapped there for well over a century now. I was first brought there to await examination as a Caller, an examination that never came. They locked me away under every Casting they could conjure up that would prevent me from Calling. It seemed I would languish there forever, and then a new High Priestess came into power. She was more sympathetic to my plight, less prone to allow fear to guide her decisions. My clan petitioned her on my behalf, and I was hopeful that I might soon be free. But then, three days before my petition was to be heard, a great fire came.”

  Her face contracted as she said it, and she nearly flickered out of sight, as though the trauma of the memory sapped her energy.

  “It swept through the príosún in the dead of night. I cannot believe it was an accident. A strong smell of oil was the first thing to wake me up. The guard that was usually posted at the end of my corridor was inexplicably absent. I screamed and screamed from my cell for help, but no one… no one ever came.” She shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself, as though the gesture could prevent her from falling to actual pieces. “Dozens of us perished, but though the príosún crumbled, the Castings that held us there remained intact. We could not make ourselves heard. We could not flee the ruins, even as spirits, could not roam in search of help or even for a Gateway to Cross us. We were forgotten.”

  I couldn’t help but glare at the Council members, even though they had not been alive when Eleanora’s sentence had been handed down, and obviously weren’t responsible for it. Every one of them looked utterly horrified, which gave me a modicum of satisfaction.

  “When the príosún was rebuilt, it was simply built over us. No one searched for us, or made any attempt to strip old Castings away. I cannot say for sure if this was purposeful, but if not, it was an inexcusable oversight. And so, I continued to languish there, until the other Caller arrived.”

  At that, every Council member perked up, looking from Eleanora, to Hannah, and to Lucida, now slumped unconscious on the floor. But I would not allow their suspicions to persist a moment longer.

  “Who was the Caller that you met?” I prompted, knowing, of course, what her answer would be.

  Eleanora looked below her and pointed to Lucida’s motionless form. “There.”

  I wanted to be very, very sure. “And she is the only other Caller you’ve ever met?”

  Eleanora nodded again. “I would have given anything to meet others, to know that I was not alone in my gift that was far more curse than blessing. Alas, I never had that chance.”

  I looked back at Hannah, who smiled gratefully at me. It was what I wanted to know above all else, but there were other questions still to be answered, and although I was growing more and more positive that my theory was correct, I knew we all must have concrete answers to them.

  “What happened when you met Lucida?” I prompted.

  Eleanora shook her head ruefully. “We sensed each other by our gifts. She was so sympathetic, so understanding of all I had been through. She pressed me for every detail, and told me in depth of her own mistreatment by the Durupinen. I thought I had found an ally at last. She promised to find a way to undo the Castings upon me, so that I could finally seek rest.”

  “Did she keep her promise?” I asked.

  “She did,” Eleanora confirmed. “I do not know how she did it. Perhaps she found someone to help her. I cannot say. But at last, she kept her word. I was free.”

  “And what did you want to do with that freedom?” I asked.

  “All I wished for was to Cross. I was so very weary, so ready to see my sister and my family again. Most spirits are left behind because they want to stay, but imagine the unendurable agony of wanting to go and being forced to remain behind. It was torture of the cruelest kind for more than a century.”

  I swallowed an urge to cry, and pressed on. “What did Lucida think of that?”

  Eleanora looked down upon Lucida, examining her face with a long, sad look. “She wanted me to seek revenge. She kept trying to convince me, over and over again, that I must come to Fairhaven and make the Council pay for what they had done to me, and to all the Callers who had the audacity to simply exist since the Isherwood Prophecy had been foretold. I admit I was tempted. I argued with myself. Surely, I owed it to the many victims of injustice to seek an explanation? But in the end, I knew that my desire for peace was far greater than my desire for revenge.”

  “So, you refused?”

  “Yes. I refused. She was clearly angry with me. I thought perhaps she might then refuse in turn to set me free, but she surprised me. After a few moments of silence, she apologized to me. She said she applauded my integrity, and she would not deny me the rest and peace I so deserved. She promised to free me anyway. And at last, she did.”

  “How?” I asked. “How did she do it?” I asked in a whisper.

  “I d
o not know how she broke through the Castings,” Eleanora said. “She had no Casting bag, nor any accomplices that I could discover. Suddenly, one night, I felt them lift. It was like great chains had been removed from my form. I could leave my cell. For a brief moment, I could have gone anywhere, done anything; but then she Called me.”

  Hannah stifled a sob behind me. I knew how painful it must be for her, hearing another of Lucida’s victims tell her story.

  Eleanora went on, “Her Call was so powerful. I never knew what it felt like for a spirit to be Called, only what it felt like to do the Calling. It was intense, hypnotic. It was as though she opened me up and thrust purpose into me, a purpose that I could not ignore. I could only think of one thing: to Cross through the Caller as soon as possible.

  “I threw caution and knowledge to the wind; they held no sway over me. I only knew that I could feel the pull of the Gateway, and that I must answer it. ‘Come to me,’ she was saying, drawing me ever nearer. ‘Come to me, and find your rest. Cross here, right now.’” Eleanora wrung her hands, her eyes filling with spectral tears. “I ought to have known that I could not, but her Call and my desperate desire overwhelmed me. I saw the glimmer of it ahead, nestled in the Caller, and I could not stop myself. And then…” She raised her hands in a helpless gesture, then crumpled in on herself.

  “You Shattered,” I said.

  She nodded, shaking with sobs. “I remember little after that, but scattered, blurred moments I can barely piece together. These faces…” she gestured to the slumping mass of Hosts below her. “I was searching. I was lost and scattered. I remember you,” she said, pointing a shaking finger at me. “I remember recognizing myself, and… and wandering in the snow to find Hattie…” She dissolved into sobs again.

  “So, Lucida knew,” Hannah said, realization dawning in her tone. “She knew that there was a chance that Eleanora would Shatter, and that the Shattering could break right through to her connection with Catriona.”

  I looked down at Lucida, crumpled on the floor, and nodded. “She tried to use Eleanora for revenge on the Council, but when Eleanora refused to go, Lucida decided to Shatter her instead. She knew there was a chance that the Shattering would disrupt the Airechtas and wreak havoc on Fairhaven.”

  “My God,” Fiona said from the far side of the Circle. “This wasn’t an accident? This was an attack?”

  I nodded, repressing an urge to walk right over to Lucida’s motionless body and kick it. “A calculated attack. One betrayed Caller used another to wage her revenge. And it worked.”

  “She couldn’t have really thought it would work!” Keira said incredulously. “Shatterings are incredibly rare. There was no way to predict if the Shards would break through to the other half of the Gateway!”

  “She didn’t need to predict it,” I said. “It was a desperate last attempt. She had nothing to lose if it failed, but if it succeeded, she could wreak havoc on the Airechtas from afar. How would anyone ever have known it was her that caused all of this?”

  No one answered. They didn’t need to. We all knew the damage that could have been caused if we hadn’t been able to trace the Shattering to its source. Savvy, Celeste, Catriona, and every other Host, trapped forever in bodies they couldn’t control.

  “It’s okay now, Eleanora,” I said softly. “Everything will be okay now.” I turned to Keira and the other Council members. “Haven’t we had enough of this? She’s suffered terribly. She’s told you what she can. Please. Please let her go now.”

  I expected resistance. I expected a lecture about procedure and votes and the proper way in which things must be done. I expected the kind of compassionless “justice” Catriona had shown to Irina just a couple of months prior.

  Instead, Keira stepped forward, placed a hand on my shoulder, her eyes glassy with emotion, and said, “Yes. Our sister has earned the peace of the Aether.” She turned to address the room at large. “We will close out this Casting and return the Hosts to their beds. Then we will allow this soul to Cross at last. Jessica and Hannah, would you please do the honors?”

  Hannah stepped forward eagerly to stand beside me. If any of the other Council members had objections, they did not voice them. As soon as Keira muttered a quick incantation, they all came forward into the center of the Circle to assist in moving the Hosts back to their beds. Mrs. Mistlemoore called out instructions, hovering like a bee at a blossom over each bed in turn, ensuring that the occupant was okay. Under cover of the general commotion, Hannah and I knelt down beside Eleanora, who was still trying to control her crying.

  “We are so very sorry for everything you went through,” I whispered to her.

  “I was such a fool,” Eleanora gasped. “I oughtn’t to have allowed myself to be taken in like that. But I was so lonely and so desperate and Lucida said so many of the things I needed to hear.”

  Hannah knelt down beside me. “I know exactly what you mean,” Hannah said. “It wasn’t your fault. Lucida is a master manipulator. She is to blame, not you. Please let that go. Don’t carry it with you to the other side. It’s not your burden, and you shouldn’t have to bear it.”

  I nudged Hannah with my elbow so that she turned to look at me. “I think I know someone else who would be a lot happier if she took that same advice.”

  Hannah blushed and dropped her eyes, a tiny smile appearing on her face. “Yeah, I think I do, too.”

  I squeezed her shoulder before turning back to Eleanora. “Hannah’s right. And anyway, it’s much more my fault than yours. You tried to reach out to me, but I didn’t know what it meant. I only wish I could have discovered who you were before the Shattering happened. I could have prevented all of this.”

  Eleanora looked up at me, her face glazed with tears. “Reached out to you? What do you mean?”

  I frowned. “The sketches. The psychic drawings I did of you—the ones that I showed you to help you remember who you were.”

  Eleanora looked blank. “What about the drawings? I didn’t have anything to do with them.”

  “Of course you did,” I said, half-laughing. “You had to have reached out to me those nights while I was sleeping. How else could I have drawn them?”

  “I haven’t the faintest idea,” Eleanora said. “I never saw the drawings, or you, until the moment you showed them to me. How could I have? I was still trapped in the príosún, unable to communicate.”

  I simply stared at her. Her words made no sense. “But how did I—”

  “Eleanora? Are you ready now?” Keira came to stand beside us. I looked up, startled. The Hosts lay in their beds, and the Council members were all standing around expectantly.

  “Oh, yes,” Eleanora breathed, rising and smoothing her dress in one of those endearing human habits that sometimes carried over into spirit form. “I have been ready for a very long time.”

  “The Council promises a full investigation into the injustices perpetrated against you,” Keira said. “You have my word on that.”

  “Thank you,” Eleanora said, bowing her head.

  Keira turned to look at Hannah and me. “Clan Sassanaigh, whenever you are ready.”

  Hannah and I took hands, the power of our gift—our destiny—coursing between us like the blood we shared.

  §

  “So obviously, you lot are never allowed at another Airechtas,” Savvy announced, slapping me on the back.

  Hannah, Milo, and I were all sitting around her bed in the hospital ward, waiting for her to finish lacing up her boots. Three days had passed since Eleanora had Crossed, and the Hosts were finally being cleared for release by Mrs. Mistlemoore.

  “Oh, come on,” I cried. “Even Marion can’t pretend we were responsible for this one.”

  “It’s got nothing to do with responsibility, mate. You’re just bad bloody luck. You attract it, just like I attract blokes who like to mess me about,” Savvy said matter-of-factly. “The sooner you accept it, the easier life will be.”

  I just laughed. I was so happy to have Savvy
back that I didn’t even bother crafting a scathing reply.

  “What’s the matter then, Hannah? You don’t agree?” Savvy asked, nudging her on the arm.

  But Hannah hadn’t been paying attention. She was staring at something across the hospital ward. “Huh? What? Oh, sorry. What did you say?”

  “She ain’t awake yet,” Savvy said gently, cocking her head in the direction that Hannah had been gazing. “Mrs. Mistlemoore said the effects were harsher for Lucida, what with her being the point of entry for the spirit and all. They don’t know how long it’ll take for her to recover.”

  We all looked over at the bed in the far corner. A privacy curtain blocked Lucida from view, but the four Caomhnóir standing guard around her were clearly visible.

  “And when she’s well enough they are transferring her straight back to the príosún at Skye,” I said firmly. “She’ll be gone again before any of us even have to look at her.”

  “I personally still haven’t ruled out a long, dramatic telling-off,” Milo said, his eyes narrowed in Lucida’s direction as though he could shoot laser beams of sass right through her privacy curtain.

  “Have they decided when the sessions will start up again?” Savvy asked, swinging her legs down off of the bed and getting to her feet. She was still moving a bit gingerly, like she had spent too long at the gym or something.

  “Day after tomorrow,” I told her, extending a hand in case she needed it, but she waved it aside with a snorting sound. “There’s a lot for them to sort out, and all of the clans need to make new travel arrangements so that they can stay longer. If Lucida was looking to cause a logistical nightmare, she definitely succeeded.”

  We walked out of the hospital ward, moving a bit slower than usual to accommodate Savvy, and found Frankie waiting on the other side of the door. She was holding a notebook and looking sheepish.

  “Oh, hi,” she said, twisting the end her braid around her finger nervously. “I… some of the other girls at breakfast said that a few of the Hosts had been released today, so I came to see if… how are you feeling?” she asked Savvy.