by Graeme Ing
The wraith stooped, stunned, among the wooden debris of its ancient sarcophagus. Halfway between us glistened the blade of my dagger. The gem was dull, the soul long absorbed by the wraith. I leaned against the wall to pull myself to my feet, but my legs refused to walk. I’d never crawl that far. I had enough magic for one more spell. It had to be enough.
“Run.”
Ayla stirred, said something I couldn’t hear, and groped and pawed at the heavy stone door.
“Get up,” I said. “Now.”
I lunged for the knife. When I hit the ground, I dumped every last shred of my energy into a Necrotic Ray aimed at the wraith’s face. The rags of its clothing erupted into flame, a red halo around the creature’s blue eyes.
It shrieked and turned on me. Not again. No more. The depraved intent of the creature was palpable as it dominated my head, crushing my life essence into a corner, where I cowered, watching it tear through my thoughts. Everything I was lay on the brink of extinction. Why had I been so arrogant to think I could win this fight?
A curious, unknown stream of energy washed through me, seeming to come from behind, not from the wraith. What was this? No time to reason. Beggars can’t be choosers. I tugged at it, grasping for one more thing to try. Power gushed into me like a river over a burst dam. My skin buzzed. The magic was raw but malleable. I siphoned it crudely through my body, no finesse, no control, then let it blast from my fingers. The magic broke over the wraith like a glowing blue wave. Much of the power missed its mark and splashed the chamber walls.
The creature tumbled from my skull like driftwood coming ashore in a storm. I reclaimed my head, grimacing against the surge of sensations and emotions.
The wraith knelt before me, bones splintered, its ghostly image winking in and out of existence. I thrust my Ashtar dagger so hard into its eye socket that I bruised my knuckles. Its bones tumbled into a heap amid smoldering rags.
In an instant, the river of power ceased. Silence dominated. I crumpled to the ground and the world went black.
My entire head throbbed and ached. Needles of pain stabbed me all over. I had no memory of why. Had I been fighting again? Lak himself by the feel of it. Warmth bathed my face, so I peered cautiously through narrowed eyes. I lay on my back with a square of blazing daylight above. Vertical walls of earth filled my peripheral vision.
Great, I’d woken in a grave in time to be buried. I expected to see Caradan’s Tower looming above, but I saw only a sky of leaf green.
My jumbled memories made no sense—luminous blue strands, a girl, bright blue orbs, and a skeleton. Oh, and pain. Lots of that.
“Thank Belaya,” said a female voice from out of sight. “I was terrified that thing had taken you, leaving your body an empty husk. I don’t know what I’d have done if you’d never woken.”
“I’m not sure that waking did me any favors, Phyxia.” I raised a hand to my head. Ouch.
“I’m Ayla,” she said firmly.
Yes, of course.
“The elemental was here?” I asked. That didn’t sound right.
“The fire creature? No, the soul wraith.”
It all came flooding back. “My dagger, where is it?”
“I put it back in its sheath on your belt.”
I struggled to reach it. The hilt gem pulsed menacingly. I exhaled noisily. Thank the Gods. I hadn’t fought the wraith in vain.
“Relax,” she said. “You defeated it. It’s just a pile of bones, though it’s been creeping me out all night.”
We were still in the barrow. I sat up, ever so carefully, and rested my back against the damp earthen wall. Above me lay the entrance, and I faced the hallway of statues. The ground looked disturbed, grooved.
“I tried to drag you out,” she said, following my gaze, “but I couldn’t lift you out of the hole.”
She shivered, her lips blue, and she pulled her cloak tight.
The poor thing had stayed here with me all night. The lightstick must have gone out not long after I had, leaving her in pitch blackness. The nights can be freezing up here on the moors.
“I can walk.” I winced as I stood. “It won’t be the first time I’ve leaned on your shoulder. Let’s go home and get some hot food.”
I lay on the deck of our boat, soaking up the noon rays. The wind was calm, and the harbor reflected Solas like a mirror. Sailing vessels sat becalmed at anchor while smaller boats rowed between them. A small flotilla of boats had set off from the Market Pier. It was a gorgeous day, the sky a clear, pale green. Ayla’s singing filtered up through gaps in the wooden boards, as she bathed in the tiny tub belowdecks.
My stomach full from a hot breakfast, I nursed an egg-beer. Perfect cure for hangovers and it worked as well on my headache. Even so, I was exhausted. Twice now, I had sucked every ounce of magic from my core. At least I knew what I was capable of. I gnawed my lip. It hadn’t cut it in either fight. It hurt to realize that I was no longer a match for everything out there. Ghouls and wights were easy, but now I’d entered a world I hadn’t prepared for.
There’d been a bizarre surge of power back in the barrow. Had Belaya or Lak chosen to respond to my plea? I chuckled. I’d go to temple every day if I thought that was likely to happen. If only I’d paid more attention to Master Semplis prattling on, instead of summoning impish germaines to annoy the old man. He’d probably talked about all sorts of energy sources. I closed my eyes and tried to recapture the feeling of the cool energy flowing into me, but couldn’t. Learning more about it would be a game changer.
Last night had nearly ended in disaster, but the risk had paid off. I glanced at the dagger on my belt and shuddered to think of that creature so close to my skin. Was the soul wraith strong enough to weaken the elemental?
I shifted onto my side and stretched my back. Maybe I could lie right there for a few days. I downed the rest of my beer.
The cluster of boats had made good progress into the middle of the smooth-surfaced harbor. They maneuvered into a tight circle, having stopped well short of Sal-Mah, the royal isle. War galleys stood sentinel around its rocky shores. The little boats had been draped in purple linens, matching the robes of the priests and mourners aboard. There was no wind to carry their prayers to me, so I watched in silence as their ceremony unfolded, ending with the lowering of a purple-shrouded corpse, weighted with iron chains. It sank below the surface.
I rolled to my other side where warehouses fronted Boattown. Water burials were stupid, encouraged by an ignorant clergy that feared the undead. Draugr inhabited the harbor. I’d seen their dark silhouettes on Lunas-bright nights. If the corpse escaped their clutches, then the tides would drag the dead out to sea, and the Nikar would claim them. Bodies given freely to the waters were beyond my help. Savage practice—no better than the graves of Solas worshippers. Crypts and mausoleums were much more civilized, and I could protect them with wards, replenishing the magic often to defend the deceased.
I knew then what I had to do.
No matter how much I hated the idea, I couldn’t push it from my mind. I tossed this way and that, and finally sat cross-legged and practiced calming mantras. My fingers drummed on the deck. I clenched them into fists and counted chimneystacks across the city, except that I kept losing count.
Kristach!
“Are you dressed down there?” I called to Ayla.
“Yes.”
I climbed down the ladder and walked to her cabin. She looked up from her book—my book. Her hair was wet but brushed, and she had dressed in one of the new sets of clothes we had bought. It was a knee-length wool skirt, brown with flecks of gold. Into it, she had tucked a crisp, pearl-colored blouse. How can women present themselves so immaculately in such squalid conditions?
“We’re going to visit my mother,” I muttered, and dropped my gaze to a spider. Yes. I’ll go scurrying to mother.
“But you said she was… Oh. All right.”
This time I didn’t want anything to do with the tristak bargees. It would have been quicker t
o descend via the Gilt Road sump. We’d have gotten cold and wet, but the breech boy would have zipped us straight down the vertical spill sewer. We didn’t take that way because the bargees operated it.
Instead, it had taken us hours to get deep below the western flank of Kand Hill, away from the mines. I think Ayla sensed my irritation and kept silent, and the only sounds were our boots on stone and the incessant buzzing of the glow beetle in its cage. Unlike the sewers, the air down here was warm and still, making us cough on the dust we disturbed.
We emerged from a side tunnel onto a wide, stone staircase that looped back on itself down into the darkness. A stifling-hot wind blew up the central shaft, like a chimney from Lak’s kitchen. Ayla kicked a pebble over the edge. We never heard from it again.
“Who built such a grand stairway?” she asked.
She fingered elaborate stone handrails carved to resemble serpents. Pictographs and runes adorned the walls as far down as we could see.
“This is the infamous Eastern Stair,” I said as we descended.
“Infamous? Why, where does it go?”
“Down.”
“Funny.”
Our voices echoed, so we spoke in whispers. Ayla kept licking her lips as she peered around each corner.
“It goes into the very bowels of the earth,” I said.
“Have you been to the bottom?”
I shook my head. “This section’s barely two centuries old, but it merges with another, more impressive stair that predates the Iathic. Even the deep dwellers don’t know who built it or why.”
“We should go to the bottom,” she said, her eyes huge. “See where it leads.”
“Not today.”
“You’ve never spoken about your mother. What was she like?”
I let out a huge sigh and kept moving downward. “I was young when she died.”
When she abandoned me.
We made another circuit of the stairs.
“You said female necromancers were rare,” Ayla said,
“She was one of the best.”
“You should be very proud—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Tunnels led into the darkness from many of the landings, and at the sixth landing I led us into a triangular-shaped hallway, its walls covered top to bottom with faded glyphs. We heard a primitive grunting in the distance. Ayla paused and tilted her head.
“Ghouls,” I whispered.
“Are we going to fight them? Like the skeletons?”
“Why are you so bloodthirsty?”
I turned right down a set of shallow stairs grooved into a crisscross pattern, and then left at the bottom. Ten minutes later the tunnel came to an abrupt stop. Ayla faltered, but I showed her the optical illusion that masked an entrance in the left wall. Her eyes lit up. She joined me and we stepped inside.
The air stank of desiccated flesh, embalming chemicals, and moldering cloth. I breathed deep of the familiar smells. Niches lined the vaulted hallway, each filled with a vertically standing coffin. I held the beetle cage aloft. The wood was riddled with tiny worm and beetle holes, as well as ominous scratches and bite marks. Most of the coffins were intact, but some had collapsed, spewing bones and rags across the floor.
Ayla’s glance swept around the crypt.
“Is this where your mother’s grave is? I’d expected something more…”
The catacombs stretched away in every direction, hallway upon hallway stacked with coffins. Stone mausoleums stood in the open spaces. Some were simple slabs while others had been decorated with statues of creatures and deities. In places, the wall or ceiling had collapsed, and more than one sarcophagus had been smashed open. We walked the wide avenues in silence, sidestepping heaps of stone and bones. Webs draped in front of our faces. I accidentally kicked a bone, and the sound of it skittering along the ground made Ayla jump.
I shook my head. How dare people let these catacombs fall into such disrepair. So disrespectful to the dead, and to think I’d been poo-pooing water burials. The Guild should be taking care of this and hundreds across the city. How much had I learned as an apprentice, exploring these places to restore wards and protections? Didn’t they make apprentices do that anymore? Disgraceful.
Ayla seemed oblivious to the ramifications of the damage, and instead poked her head into every gap or hole. I studied her as she moved from coffin to coffin, bending to get a better view of a skeleton in rags. I’d never met a girl like her. Had my mother been like this as an apprentice?
We emerged from the cobwebs and stepped out under a magnificent dome. Ayla gasped and craned her neck to study the faded paintings and scripts covering the hemisphere. Not a single sound filtered down from the outside world. How many topsiders knew that such an elaborate and tranquil boneyard lay deep under their feet? How many cared?
The largest and most elaborate mausoleums stood under the dome. I dodged behind a tasteless obsidian edifice, and into the second row, to the simple porcelain slab marking my mother’s tomb. There I knelt.
“This is it?” Ayla whispered, scanning the slab for an engraving, of which there was none. “Are you going to raise her, or whatever you call it?”
“A summons would be extremely rude. Imagine me dragging you from a toasty warm bed and throwing you in a tub full of ice. We’re just going to chat.”
“Then why did you lecture me about not speaking to my mother?”
I sighed. “Not now, Ayla.”
“Can I help?”
I handed her the beetle cage. “Watch for ghouls.”
It’d been a long time. I should have come more often. My stomach fluttered. Maybe I should leave? Another idea would come to me. No, I’d put this off for too long. Keeping my Perception focused outward into the crypt, I channeled energy into my hands and laid them on the cold stone. Careful to keep anger from tainting my magic, I cast a very gentle Séance. She’d probably ignore me. I hoped she’d ignore me.
A pale spectral form leeched from the stone and coalesced in the air. Her youthful face and shoulder-length hair was just as I remembered. In my mind it was a light brown, while her eyes were the brightest blue, yet the ghost before me was monochrome.
I rocked back onto my heels and stared into my mother’s soft eyes. A smile spread across her face. Beside me, Ayla scanned the crypt, oblivious to the ghost.
Maldren, what a wonderful surprise. How I’ve missed you. You’ve grown so much.
Her hands reached toward me, paused, and then withdrew.
It was wonderful to hear my mother’s clear, singsong voice in my head.
Hello, Mother.
Thank the Gods I didn’t have to actually speak with the huge lump in my throat. I swallowed hard.
I see you wear the robes.
I straightened my collar. It’s an honest profession, Mother. I know you would have forbidden me.
She frowned. How is that life treating you?
You hate that I followed you into the Guild, don’t you?
I wanted something better for you, to—
It was good enough for you. Did I not meet your impossible standards? Were you that disappointed in me?
Our gazes locked and I searched her face for the truth.
Of course not. You were young, and I worried about you.
You had a funny way of showing it. I needed you.
Her spectral body sighed, but no sound came out of her mouth.
I regret not being there for you. I only wanted to protect you. Let’s not argue. We have much to catch up on, but I’m sure you came here for other reasons than to reminisce.
I need your help.
Said so grudgingly. She blinked slowly. I thought as much. You wouldn’t have come here simply to pay your dearest mother a social visit. Your life is so busy that you can’t spare a few precious moments for me?
I clenched my fists. That’s rich. You left me to fend for myself.
Her eyes flashed. If you’re so independent, you don’t need my help then, do you?
She crossed her arms and scowled.
I stood. Ayla jumped up and looked around, peering down each of the crypt’s hallways.
I should have known you wouldn’t help me.
She stamped her foot silently in midair. Don’t be a brat, Maldren. I raised you better.
You never raised me at all. You put everyone else above me, your own son.
The city needed me. I had responsibilities, I—
I flung my hands into the air. Why did you do it, Mother? You gave everything you had—your life, for Lak’s sake—for the city. I needed you and you deprived me. I loved you, and then you weren’t there anymore.
My vision blurred, and I scrunched my face to stop from crying.
Ayla’s eyes grew huge. “Is your mother here now? Why can’t I see her?”
My mother inched forward. I did what I had to. Life is full of hard choices. It’s not fair to treat me like this. You’d better be kinder to her than you are me.
Who?
She rolled her eyes. Your woman.
She’s my apprentice.
Typical. You’re so wrapped up in yourself that you’re oblivious.
What do you mean?
She shook her head. You don’t know her at all, do you?
I snapped my head around and studied Ayla. She flinched but met my stare, her eyes flicking between mine.
“What?” Ayla whispered. “What’s happening?”
Don’t be selfish, Maldren. Don’t break her heart.
My mother’s ghost rotated in midair to face Ayla, who startled and turned pale, looking up into my mother’s face. A moment later, Ayla gulped and nodded.
What did you say to her, Mother?
Never you mind. Why are you still so angry with me?
Mother’s eyes became dazzling white, and I found myself drawn into their depth. My Séance flowed in reverse, and there was nothing I could do to stop her from reading my thoughts. I shivered, remembering the soul wraith, but nothing messed with my mind. Only the hairs on my neck stood on end. Her eyes returned to normal.