Then Gabriel's words echoed in his head, Nothing you do will make a difference.
Snow was walking slowly out onto the field. He stopped about a third in and stood there, a lone figure in the sunlight, hair and skin bright splotches interrupted by navy uniform. Something floated closer, some cold, otherworldly energy that made Elstrin's jaw clench and ears hum. He'd planned on following Snow as close as he could, but this was his limit. Any further and he'd probably end up sick. Gabriel stayed next to him, probably to haul him away at a moment's notice rather than from the negative effects emanating from the thing that felt like a terrible oncoming storm.
The outer hall exploded quietly. It was gone in a brief, chalky puff, dry plaster blowing into the field as its walls gave out, reinforced glass-and-steel doors bent and broken. It offered no noise apart from the thud of falling cement. A dim figure loomed across the dust steadily. Then it cleared the wreckage and came into the sunlight, and Elstrin clapped a hand over his mouth to hold in his automatic gasp of horror.
The spirit glided forward, grey skin flapping loosely in the wind, its dress hanging off the body of its host like a piece of torn tissue. It was a young woman, half-decayed and moist with black dirt, white burial dress ripped and stained as the spirit had carelessly dug itself out. Splinters and clumps of soil were caught in its lank hair. Chunks were missing from its side and arm and legs; the red-black zigzagging Y of an autopsy wound peeked through its collar.
It paused, a mere few feet from Snow, and hovered like a puppet, head rolling upon its neck as it inspected him. Its mouth opened, revealing missing teeth and black, rotted gums.
"You should not have come," it sighed. Its voice was surprisingly feminine, high-pitched and weary like a grieving woman during a war. That, coupled with its choice of host, clearly meant the ghost itself was female—with enough intelligence and awareness to figure out its own sex and appearance, and pick accordingly. Elstrin didn't even know that was possible; from what Kana had hinted at, spirits only retained vague ideas of the thing they held on to, be it revenge or love or protection. But in the past few weeks his definition of 'impossible' had been pushed back several dramatic steps. If even Gabriel didn't know what this creature was, then the fact that it had a gender was probably the most harmless thing about it.
Snow studied her sunken eyes, her clumsy, jerky flight, her twitching fingers and downturned lips. He frowned and took a slight step back. "What do you mean?" he asked. He made no move to draw a weapon or defend himself. "Who are you? Why are you here?"
"I am…" She gurgled and hissed. "I seek the one who took my children. You should not have come."
"Why not?"
"You… do you protect?"
"Yes."
"Strange winds are brewing, o Winter Guardian, o Storm Drinker… the Szikatr rises…" The
spirit flew around Snow once, quick as a snake, dress billowing out and in. "The ghosts here, brave soldier, so many ghosts… they are yours too?"
Snow hesitated. Quietly, he answered, "Yes."
"You should not have come!" she said again, jaws stretching wide, a noiseless screech rising from her ruined throat. "You should not have kept them. They do not belong."
"I don't keep them. They go when they decide to go. I just let them stay until they're ready."
"Ah… that is kind, soldier…" She dipped and rose, regarding him silently. Suddenly, without warning, she shrieked and flew right through him, her form morphing briefly into fog and shadow. Snow gasped and shuddered, but held his ground. The ghost circled back, restless now, gazing at him from every angle, bony hands clenching and opening. "You are not him, yet—"
"Who are you?" Snow said harshly, quickly. "You're unlike any spirit I've ever seen. There's nothing that can come back and still remember its old life—what children? Why do you come here now? I'm looking through every single memory, every scrap of knowledge Rem gave me and there is nothing in there about you—do you know your name? Do you know Rem? Why did you kill those people?"
"I did not kill them. It was the will of the dark-mad-weeping man who chained me to his flesh."
"You could've broken free. You just ripped apart Rem's shields in five minutes. You're too powerful to be held inside any ritual, even one fed by a willing life. Why did you kill those people?"
To that, the thing didn't answer. She just let out a hissing growl that raised the hairs on the back of Elstrin's neck. The worst thing about it was it sounded somehow like a laugh. A mocking, evil laugh that didn't really even contain humour, only the desire to harm. "O Storm Drinker, watch the Szikatr as its shadow stretches into the sky," she cackled."The tracks fade under the dust, and oh how they tremble. I have been freed… and the one who took my children shall pay!"
"What—"
"Her name is Lilea. Some called her the Laughing Widow," a soft voice said from behind him. Elstrin turned around so fast his back popped. He hadn't even heard the gate open, but suddenly Rem was there, looking every bit as fragile and young as the day Elstrin first saw him. But his eyes were dim and tired and ancient. Behind him were Stag and a team of soldiers covered head to foot in armour so strange and heavy that they seemed like fictional warriors from the future. Beside them was a scarred white dragon. It trotted over to Gabriel and nudged his arm affectionately.
"Gille," Gabriel whispered, eyes wide. His shocked gaze swept over the newcomers. "Cadno?"
"Yep," the man in the lead said. He chuckled roughly. "We found it, Gabe."
"I… oh, god." Sadness dawned on Gabriel's face. "Rem…"
Rem walked calmly past them without a word, bare feet leaving no footprints on the dirt. He paused two paces from Snow, who was staring at him in disbelief and hurt and fear. Rem ignored him, gazing up at the spirit evenly. "It is admittedly not nice to see you again, Lilea, but—"
"Why aren't you talking to me?" Snow asked. His voice rose quickly to a panicked shout. "Rem, why are you blocking everything—"
"But I think I'll use this opportunity to ask you something, nicely."
Snow seized Rem's thin shoulders, unmindful that there was a dangerous, unknown creature floating not five steps away, and shook the boy slightly. "Stop it! Stop it right now!"
Rem spared him a small glance and smiled. "Hush, Snow," he said. His words echoed and seemed to float above the air, and for a moment the sound of his voice literally felt and tastedlike clean water shot through with bitter ink. It was the voice of something that didn't quite belong—like the ghost's but a thousand times more layered—and Elstrin knew if he'd been talking, he would've been struck dumb as Snow immediately was. It was gone again when Rem next spoke, stern and formal. "Lilea, I ask you to please leave."
The spirit made the growling hiss-laugh again. Her form swelled in a nonexistent updraft. "You will pay, vile taker of children, destroyer of hearts. You will pay dearly."
"I think I've repented enough," Rem said softly, coldly. "And if I haven't, you will not be the one to make me start again. Leave."
"You will pay, false angel—"
"LEAVE!" Rem shouted, his voice booming over the field, as foreboding and unchained as the roar of an avalanche. The trees shuddered. Elstrin cowered and flinched, felt Gabriel's hand hook onto his shoulder. The dragon snarled and arched its neck. The spirit let out an ear-splitting shriek of pure rage, drew back like a striking cobra and shot towards Snow.
Rem moved with unexpected speed. He dove between them, knocked the spirit aside and wrapped his fingers around her throat, squeezing with bared teeth and wild eyes. On the surface, they seemed to be a boy grappling with a decaying corpse, but just underneath were two writhing creatures of darkness tearing at each other. One was made of complex, fragmented ice; the other was a mass of tangled black strands that struck and stabbed at its opponent. Snow scrambled to his feet as the spirit yanked herself backwards, trying to physically dislodge her body from Rem's hands.
The shadowy thing seemed to be doing the same, half-clawing out of the woman's skin like a
shedding snake, but it was held fast in place where Rem crushed it together with skin and bone. The area under his palms was starting to glow blue-white, accompanied by a noise akin to sizzling oil. The spirit howled in agony. Its jumping, straining mass of shadow drew together and spiked out aggressively into Rem's chest, slamming into the ice and breaking off tiny slivers. Rem stepped back with a grunt, though he held on grimly. His palms were shining almost too bright to look at. The spirit's smoke-flesh burnt and crackled as loud as an angry firework, and she was screaming nonstop like a pig being dragged to the slaughterhouse—the sound frightened Elstrin more than her manic laughter had.
A few seconds later she had dropped all attempts to hurt him and was single-mindedly trying to escape, squirming and jerking at a sickening pace, trapped in her own host. Still, Rem didn't let go, hands as dazzling as the sun and expression warped with primal anger and madness, pale eyes shining. Wind whipped up a swirling nimbus of dust around them. The discordant, desperate screeching of the dying spirit reached an unbearable crescendo—and suddenly choked off into nothing. The last shred of its darkness fizzled away, burnt from the woman's skin like a final lick of oil.
The sounds of the breeze and trees seemed to return cautiously, venturing back into awareness as they realised the coast was clear. Rem finally opened his hands and let the empty body thud down. His shoulders sagged, and the light on his palms splintered apart and faded away. He stood without swaying, though Elstrin half-expected him to fall over any moment. Snow was still near him, frozen to the spot, seemingly unable to decide if he should go closer or just stay away. Rem had probably just released enough energy to blow up a neighbourhood, and had given off the air of a rabid animal while doing it. The human instinct to stop and back away slowly then turn tail and run from such a creature was almost too strong to ignore. Elstrin felt himself shaking. Sweat prickled his forehead; his chest was tight with fear and uncertainty.
Rem sighed, gazing sadly at the limp, broken corpse on the ground. "Poor girl," he murmured. He crouched down and closed her eyes gently. Two blue sparks jumped from his fingers onto her eyelids. They split into four sparks, then eight, again and again until a sky-coloured fire whooshed quickly over her entire body. It burnt noiselessly and neatly and was gone in less than a minute, leaving behind a pile of ash and the charred suggestions of bones crumbling from their shapes. When Rem stood up again, he seemed centuries older.
"Rem?" Snow asked hesitantly.
"I'm here. It's okay. It's over."
"What did you just do?"
"I destroyed her," Rem stated with chilling certainty. "She was a threat too powerful for any of you to fight. Almost too powerful for me, too." He shivered suddenly. "I'm very tired, Snow," he whispered.
Snow stepped forward, reaching out. "I'll come back. Right now. Right now, Rem."
Rem lifted his head and met his eyes. His face had changed again, into one of slow, serene acceptance. "No."
"You're dying."
"Not if I move fast enough. Not if I finally know where I need to go."
"I—"
"Look over there, Snow." Rem pointed in Elstrin's direction. "Cadno is back. You know what this means."
Snow wasn't listening. "Rem, whatever is wrong, just let me come back. However long you need. It'll fix it, it'll fix everything." He tried to grab Rem again, though Rem swatted his hands away with an irritated scoff.
"Stop it," he muttered.
"I won't!" Snow yelled. "Why won't you let me? For god's sake—"
"We've been through this before. I'll live without you, Snowy. Now go away. Be happy."
"How the hell do I do that? I'm you! You are keeping me alive—and if I don't come back we both die. Rem, just let—"
"Pretend we're starfish," Rem said flatly.
"I—what?"
"Starfish. Lose an arm, grow a new one, and that old arm floats off into the big blue ocean and becomes a new starfish. You were that arm. You were a part of me, a direct chunk of my soul that I cut off. I know. I can't grow back that arm because I'm old and sick, yes, but I can't reattach you to the wound anymore. You've changed too much. Become something new." Snow threatened to interrupt and Rem raised a hand, eyes blazing. "Listen. You know what I'm saying is true. We're different now. It's not that I don't want you back. Don't ever think that, Snowy. But I can't let you in. Not won't. Can't. Do you understand?"
"But—but you'll die—"
Rem smiled, a sad little twitch of his lips. "I'll be the one to decide that, thanks, and I say I won't. If things get really bad I can always ask Vyraan for some assistance. Or you can help me. We're… compatible. That's the word. But we can't become one. It's impossible."
Snow stared at him. "You told me… when I first—my first day here. You told me you didn't believe in impossibilities, and neither should I."
"I've changed my mind," Rem said with a small shrug. Then he stepped forward and hugged Snow fiercely, suddenly, like there wouldn't be another chance to do so ever again. Snow's arms drifted up slowly. Rem grabbed the back of his uniform and squirmed closer. "Be happy," he murmured, eyes closed.
"No," Elstrin whispered. He didn't know what was going on, what they were talking about or even what kind of relationship the two shared. He didn't understand, but he knew he didn't want what was coming to happen. The pain that waited after the event was too great—pain for Snow, but surely so much of it that it would spill out and infect everyone else.
Snow took half a breath. "Rem—"
"Thank you for everything, Snowy. I owe you one." He stepped back, blinking a little too often, and smiled again, wider and warmer. A breeze curled around him, stirred up the dust around his feet. "Snow, I release you from our bonds," he declared. "You are free to go where you wish, as am I. We have no further obligations between us. And no matter what happens, you have my blessing."
Rem's form exploded into a blinding blue shape, like a piece of some distant star, the ground beneath him melting and sizzling dryly. Snow flinched away from the brilliance, but it began to wane quickly, swirling away into nothing as the Laughing Widow had mere minutes ago. Snow's eyes widened. He lunged forward, reaching for the dimming light.
"No! Please, Rem—no—" A flash of deep blue and Snow was thrown back to sprawl hard onto the dirt, coughing and gasping, as the star shrank into a mere pinpoint, descending onto the cherry-red crater it had been standing on. With a final weak glimmer, it disappeared altogether. Snow spluttered and crawled towards it, grasping frantically at the molten sand with his bare hands. His skin didn't burn. He dug at the space desperately as if it would somehow bring the light back.
"Fucking hell," the soldier in the strange armour rumbled from beside Elstrin. In the intensity of the spirit's banishment and the terrible, all-too-sudden departure of Rem, Elstrin had almost forgotten he was there. The man strode towards Snow, the red band on his helmet gleaming dully. Snow didn't notice him approach, still scrabbling at the ground feverishly though his fingers were bleeding now, muttering no no no no over and over again under his breath, between what sounded suspiciously like sobs.
The spell broke for the rest of them when the soldier reached him. Elstrin's legs carried him forward automatically, Stag right behind him. Gabriel still stayed where he was with the dragon, watching them from afar, lips pressed together. The other six bulky men remained with him. They finally slipped off their helmets and kerchiefs, bowing their heads in unison towards Snow in a brief sign of respect or condolence, though Elstrin didn't turn around to look.
"Please," Snow gasped thinly, clawing blindly at the soldier's arms as he was hauled away from the ashes and the crater. "Please please Rem just come back, I can't—god, I can't do this please—"
"Hey. Hey, Snowy," the soldier murmured, gripping his shoulders, voice like an idling motorcycle. "It's me. Garth. I'm back. You still recognise me?" He waited, but got no reply other than Snow's disjointed babbling. "C'mon, Snowy, it ain't the end of the world. You gotta keep on doing what Rem wanted
, yeah? Otherwise all this happened for shit. I don't know about you, but it's been a very hard mission, this one, and I would like nothin' more than to kick back with a dozen beers and my ol' buddy and have a nice long chat about cool guns and hot women. Okay, Snowy? Be a sport and welcome a fellow soldier home."
Snow finally stopped trying to push away from the man's hold and instead sank into it, slumping against Garth's dusty uniform abruptly like he'd lost all his strength. He was pale and trembling and seemed on the verge of passing out. He wasn't crying but more like hyperventilating, breaths coming in short, shell-shocked gasps, but his face was the perfect embodiment of a pain so deep there were no words for it. He mumbled in a tiny, shaking voice, "You look like shit."
Garth laughed, a short roar of noise that almost sounded derisive if not for the obvious relief behind it. "Yeah, wow, thanks a bunch."
Dragon Bone Page 38