Grave Ghost

by Tia Reed

  “Food store,” Erok said. “Move. Quick.”

  The tunnel narrowed until they were forced to lie flat and worm their way over the rough rock. When she thought it might close off, a speck of light marked an opening into a wider chamber.

  “We’re high up,” she said.

  “Is there a ledge?”

  She swallowed.

  “Sian. We can’t go back. Look for a way down.”

  “I’ll fall.”

  “I won’t let you.”

  Erok held her legs as she wriggled over the edge to hang halfway up the side of a cavern patched with the dim light of torches. Leaning down, her arms just reached a shelf. She gripped a jut of rock.

  “Okay.”

  Erok let go. She fell hard, righted herself and felt for toeholds to climb down. Erok came down faster.

  Stone cairns dotted the floor of the chamber. Atop each one sat the broad skull of an ogre. In front of them, thick bones formed a stack. She would have thought they had no order were each pile not arranged in the exact same way. Erok pulled her towards the gaping blackness opposite.

  “Burial chamber,” he said, sensing her fear.

  A rat scurried up a cairn onto a desiccated head, rose on its haunches and wiggled its nose. Deciding they were of no consequence it wove into an eye socket and out of the mouth, dislodging the head which rolled down the stones to land at her feet. Grey hair tangled over desiccated skin. She gasped because this one was human. Erok hustled to the cairn with its mummified corpse. A necklace of rodent teeth was draped over the grey stones.

  “Pa’akerin,” he said, recognising the animal designs scratched into the incisors. He stuffed it into the pouch he carried at his waist and urged her on.

  Down the main passage into the room came the heavy footfalls of angry ogres scuffling against rock in their attempt to find her. Erok flung an arm out to halt her. They retreated, looking around for another exit. Erok grabbed a long bone, ready to fight against impossible odds.

  “Get in the tunnel,” he said.

  “No. This way,” she said, catching sight of a spirit. It flew into a crack just wide enough for Erok to squeeze through. A few spearlengths on, they clambered out into a wider passage.

  “We have to be close to the surface,” Erok said, tugging one of the roots growing from the roof. Various yowls, grunts and howls echoed around them. In the twisting, intersecting maze it was not possible to gauge how close they drew. They ran on, slowing as they wearied.

  “Look.” Ahead, a patch of pallid light promised safety. Brushing aside roots, Sian raced for it. Erok caught her arm and swung her against him as she catapulted through the light. They had reached a dead end. A hole high in the roof teased them about a way out.

  Seconds later, the ogres arrived, their angry yowls turning to hoots of triumph. The beasts spread around them. Erok turned until he stood back to back with her, panting as hard as she from their mad dash. She shivered as Gor stomped up, club in hand.

  “Gir-erl come. Gor ke-ep.”

  Sian swallowed and shook her head. A nasty grin broke Gor’s hideous face. He raised his club and poked her in the side. The force drove her sideways. Her shoulder spilled outside the circle but Erok spun and threw his arms around her, holding her inside the light. Gor prodded again. Erok widened his stance and twisted side on to take the brunt of the blow. Gor jabbed again but, unwilling to risk moving too close to the light, was unable to muster enough force to budge him. The frustrated man-ogre thumped the butt of his club onto the ground and stared straight at her, startling her into a yelp. Around him, the ogres cooed, and settled in for a long wait.

  “We have to get out before nightfall,” Erok said.

  The large male which had dragged her in grunted.

  “Gir-erl well. Gor wayt. Ogre wayt. Ogre feasht tonaiyte. Gor kish girl tonaiyte.”

  Sian gasped. Erok bent and whispered in her ear. Her eyes roved over the rocky face of the cliff. “Can you do it?” he asked. She swallowed and nodded, not sure that she could.

  Careful to keep his feet in the light, Erok knelt so she could sit upon his shoulders. He stood and gripped her legs as she worked her way to a crouch. He squatted and counted to three. She jumped as he straightened and flew to a root. Her motion as she caught it swung her to the wall. She grabbed for a crag, ignoring the blow to her chest as she hit. An ogre latched onto her foot. It pulled, and her hand slipped. A moment later, a knife landed in its arm. It yelped and let go. She met Erok’s eyes. He urged her up with a flick of his chin, and she scrambled for a higher foothold. A club smashed against the rock, just missing her toes. She pulled herself higher, to the point rock sloped into roof. She stretched a hand towards a thick root. It dangled an arm-span away. Below her, Gor was bellowing in rage. Ogres were clawing at the rock, searching for a way up. The small black one was already a body-length off the ground. She looked at Erok. His face showed nothing but confidence. Taking a deep breath, Sian launched herself at the root. She dropped, flailed for it, grabbed on. The root swung her through the light towards the opposite wall. The black ogre reached for her leg. Its hand snared her, but the root swung back. The ogre let go of the wall and rocked with her. Fibres tore through her hands as its weight pulled her down. She kicked out, and the root travelled into the light. The ogre screamed and dropped. It thrashed on the ground, its hand a useless hunk of stone. The big male walked to it and clubbed it on its head, sending bone and blood spattering across the cave.

  Sian sobbed.

  “Keep moving,” Erok called, calm, though his face was ashen.

  She heaved herself up until she could twist the root around a foot. She climbed hand over hand to the lip of the hole. The first arm was easy to throw over edge but her muscles were burning, her chest heaving and she was clammy with the fear Erok was still down there. She had to wiggle and wriggle to find enough purchase to drag herself through the hole and onto the hill. Her legs wouldn’t obey, so she lay panting in the grass, clearing her head with the fresh smell of the forest.

  “Sian?”

  Need overcame exhaustion and fear. She dragged herself up and staggered through the trees searching for anything that might help her rescue Erok. A serpent slithered along a branch, forcing her off the pass. She had to climb down a way to find vines strong enough to splice. When she was satisfied, she dragged her rope up the hill, hitched it around an ironwood tree close to the hole and lowered it in, careful to keep the tip within the circle of light. The length was just enough for Erok for reach. With a jump, he caught it and hauled himself up.

  The ogres howled. Gor barked and swung his club, catching Erok across the back. The air huffed out of his lungs but he held on. Gor grabbed an ogre and pushed him towards Erok. The ogre screamed as it fell onto Erok and turned to stone. The impact drove Erok to the edge of the light. Another ogre grabbed at his shirt. He brought his legs up and kicked, took one hand off the vine and punched it in the throat. The blow sent the ogre tottering with a choking gurgle. Erok found a footing on the shoulders of the stone ogre, adjusted his grip on the vine and wormed his way up.

  A swish drew her attention. The rock was cutting through the vine where it hung over the lip. Sian tried to roll it off the sharp spur, but Erok’s weight pulled it fast.

  “The vine’s breaking,” she called. The end in her hand went slack as it snapped. “Erok,” she stuck her head into the hole.

  Her brave hunter was dangling from a root. He lifted a hand towards her. Reaching in, she was just able to brush his fingers with her own. A section of the root pulled through the dirt, sending a shower of earth below and lowering Erok further, dragging him to the edge of the light. The ogres were hooting, clambering up the sides of the cave and over each other in an attempt to reach him.

  Sian froze. She could think of nothing to do.

  “Sian!”

  She wriggled out of her shirt and trousers, tied them to the frayed end of vine and lowered it in.

  “The Myklaani better know how to st
itch,” Erok said, grabbing a leg. Grunting, he hauled himself up and out of the hole, turned over and lay staring at the sky as he gulped air. Cheeks burning, Sian shimmied into her clothes. When she was dressed, she knelt by Erok’s head, looking into his handsome face until he reached up and placed a hand on her cheek. Never before had she been so glad of a warm touch that her heart skipped a beat. She wanted to stay just so for as long as the birds trilled their songs, but a few chirps later Erok removed his hand. She turned her head, wary of him guessing how she felt.

  “We need to go,” he said. “Fast.”

  Chapter 9

  “YEAH!” VINSANT CRIED as he parried the flurry of strikes almost by reflex. He had given ground, but his front foot was still within the training circle. He wasn’t sure how, but magic instruction was having the added benefit of making him faster and more agile with a sword.

  The next stroke disarmed him. It was followed by a sweep of his ankles which sent him sprawling onto his behind, right onto a knob of rock. He picked himself up and rubbed the sore spot.

  “You have much to learn, apprentice.”

  “Yes, mahktashaan,” he said, struggling to dampen his growing smile. He had never inflicted a blow unless his mahktashaan teachers wanted him to, but he was sure he had mastered enough to show Mariano a thing or two.

  “You are dismissed.”

  Now he knew he had done well. It was early and he judged he had an hour or so before a very welcome dinner. He stamped his right foot in the soldier’s manner. “Thank you.”

  “Mahktashaan Fenz bid me remind you that your presence is expected at Apprentice Tokver’s induction this evening.”

  Make that a few hours before a wicked celebratory feast. It had been another most productive day. He had even found two more crystals, and added one to his secret cache. That added up to too much energy for him to mope about in his bare room. Somewhere in the vast library there had to be details about the statues of Mahktos, or the power of the crystals, or some other mystery Levi deemed too secret for a mere apprentice.

  Vinsant raced through the tunnels, and skidded to a halt in the anteroom. Someone had left a quill on a blotter next to a set of notes on a piece of parchment. The scribble didn’t look like anything more interesting than an assignment. Both this room and the sitting area were deserted, and the ebony double doors to the library proper were shut. He lowered the handles, and pushed. The doors didn’t budge, and nobody answered his rattle. Locking up from the inside was weird, and he could see crystal light seeping under the doors. Whoever was in charge had to be getting ready for Tokver’s induction. They couldn’t have realised what a studious apprentice he was.

  “Latchtos.” The lock clicked. He opened the doors. So many dust motes floated through the light, something had to have been disturbed. He walked from one shelf to the other. The few books which were missing had left drag marks through the dust. He sneezed as he turned from a set of tomes on the history of The Three Realms. Somewhere in here there had to be a book on magic. He looked around, patting down the spike of hair that was bound to have sprung up. The ladder over by the far wall had to be a good place to start. Most of the interesting books were bound to be out of easy reach. He climbed up, and ran a finger along the spine of some volumes on the medicinal use of plants. Maybe the opposite shelves would have more intriguing topics. It was just as well he looked across, because he also looked over the whole room and from up here it was obvious that the rug had been moved. A slender unfaded, wedge of floor contrasted against wood worn dull from the tramp of boots.

  Vinsant slid down. Hands on hips, he looked at the pedestal with the statue of Mahktos on it. Two hands, because he was a respectful apprentice, he moved the statue. Then he moved the pedestal. Its base was hollow, and wouldn’t you know that it covered a bulge in the rug. He rolled up the carpet. His instincts were roaring because there was a locked trapdoor beneath. Forget the books he could see: the real secrets wouldn’t be stored in the library proper. That lock was just inviting temptation.

  Vinsant knelt and took the lock in his hand. “Latchtos.” The metal arm snapped open. Vinsant unhooked it, pulled the iron ring which the pedestal had concealed, and opened the trapdoor. He descended into a walled stairwell, eased the door closed, and crept down through chilly air. The steps led to a small chamber with a crimson floor. In the centre stood a pedestal, its display covered with a black drape, a heated ball of light floating above it. Beyond that, an arch led into an alcove stuffed with books.

  From the left came a frustrated cry, followed by the thump of a fist striking stone. “No. It’s not possible,” a raspy voice breathed. Vinsant swallowed. It was Levi. No way would the excuse the trapdoor lay revealed wash. His skin crawled with goosebumps as he pictured another week in the cells, chained up for two whole hours every day instead of one.

  “Explain this,” Levi demanded.

  “Majoria, the seal was unbroken until we came,” Fenz’s tenor replied.

  A great mystery brewed here, one that stumped even these mahktashaan. How cool was that! Vinsant snuck lower, the better to hear.

  “This illusion bears the smell of calculation. Someone entered. Someone removed the Eye.”

  “Impossible unless it was Guntek himself. The door bore his seal. Two of the officed three must agree to enter –”

  “I am well aware of the restrictions enforced by the seal,” Levi interrupted.

  “Majoria, it is possible the Eye of Mahktos was never here.”

  The Eye of Mahktos! The same eye that should lie behind the lid Guntek had closed? Vinsant took another two steps down. He had to peer around the corner to see them. They faced another alcove, their cloaked backs obscuring whatever mystery lay inside just waiting for his inquisitive mind. A third, unlit alcove stood ignored to the right of the stairs.

  “You dare to accuse Guntek of lying.”

  “Majoria, if he did, it would not have been without cause.”

  “Arrr.” A frustrated bang echoed through the chamber. “Seal it.”

  Vinsant pressed himself against the wall of the stairs as Levi stormed towards the alcove opposite, the one overflowing with books that were bound to be more interesting than any regular history of the Crystal War.

  “Guntek’s journal,” Levi demanded.

  Fenz selected a volume and placed it on a lectern. Crisp pages swished as they turned. From across the chamber, Vinsant couldn’t make out the words in the murmur of their voices.

  Levi slapped the lectern. “This is treason,” he spat.

  With the majoria in that foul a mood, this adventure was beginning to seem like a terrible idea. Vinsant crept up the stairs and pushed the trapdoor. It didn’t budge. Bracing his shoulder against the wood, he heaved. Not even a creak. He tried again. His puffs came out in white clouds. He shivered. Oh, no! Indigo smoke curled around him. Vinsant left off pushing, and tucked himself into the corner between door and stair. The smoke swirled up and down the steps, solidifying at the end of three breaths into the hated djinn.

  “Leaving so soon, coward of a flea?”

  “Open the door.”

  “What is it worth?”

  “I can face punishment. I don’t need to make a deal. In fact, I can blame you for being here.” He grimaced as he pressed the back of his hand over his nose to blot out the stink of rotting fish. The stench would linger long enough that Levi would believe him.

  “Conceited specked of flea dirt, aren’t we? What makes you think I’m here to deal with you? Watch and you might learn a thing or two about your respected majoria.” Indigo spun into the chamber as Levi exited the alcove. Vinsant bounded down after him.

  “You!” Levi exclaimed. “How is it you enter this charmed place?”

  The djinn bared its blackened teeth. “Your folly is my reward.”

  “Begone, foul djinn,” Levi ordered pointing with his good hand.

  Vermillion eyes flashed. The djinn bobbed above the floor, ankles crossed, arms folded, a snarl on his fa
ce. “Make me, if you dare. Or has the memory of our last encounter drifted from your mind?”

  “Begone,” Fenz added his voice to Levi’s.

  Their crystals glowed black and violet. Together, they chanted rumbling words. A wind stirred, ruffling their hair, turning pages of the books. It whistled into a blustering whip, tugging at their robes and tossing the lightest of the books onto the floor. Safe within the eye, the djinn’s snarl widened. He spun, faster and faster until he was a blur of indigo and his slippered feet turned into smoke. The air around him spiralled out, snagging Levi and Fenz, and hurling them into its howl. They whipped around and around until the djinn halted with a sharp clap of his hands. Levi and Fenz crashed to the floor, their hoods falling off their heads.

  Levi moved first. He lifted his head and extended his good arm. “Begone, I say.”

  Vinsant took hold of the corner. A hint of desperation had crept into the majoria’s voice. His arm was shaking, and his eyes were wide.

  The djinn lowered his head in front of Levi. “I think I’ll stay.” He blew and Levi’s hem erupted in flame.

  “No!” Vinsant screamed. He ducked up a step and pressed against the wall as Fenz turned towards him.

  Levi waved and the flames went out. Like a feeble reed, he swayed as he picked himself up. “No good can spout from your foul mouth.”

  The djinn drifted, yawned and flicked dirt from beneath a fingernail. “You are curious, are you not? Curious how I entered this chamber, the first djinn in millennia to breach your precious seal. Curious about the Eye of Mahktos.” He clicked his fingers and a rolled parchment appeared in his hand, tied with a burgundy ribbon. “Curious why Guntek lied.”