Spirit Ascendancy (24 page)

“I think so, yes. At least, they found a way to temporarily induce a state similar to that of a Wraith.”

“The Necromancers may have begun as a scholarly brotherhood, but scholarship is the furthest thing from their true agenda now,” Flavia said, and I could see that she felt personally affronted as an academic herself. “For centuries now, it has been about power, not knowledge, and the Wraiths would be the ultimate attainment of power for them. The reversal of the Gateway will create an army of the dead, ready to do the bidding of the Necromancers. It is, above all, the thing they crave most. They will have total control.”

“If they succeed, there must be some way to fight them, right? I mean, the Durupinen must have some kind of measures in place to deal with Wraiths. We seem to have a casting that handles just about everything else.”

“No, and that’s the most devastating part. All of our castings will be useless, because they are meant to be placed upon spirits that still have their humanity. Expulsion, binding, caging; none of it will work on a Wraith. We will be helpless against them if they use them to attack. We’ll be decimated.”

We stared at each other, and the horror expanded between us, filling the space like something noxious and choking.

“Jess, I know you don’t want to admit that this prophecy may be happening, and I agree that you should do everything in your power to avoid it, but I hope you are trying to formulate a plan, in case of the worst,” Flavia said.

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s becoming clearer and clearer that I’m going to have to do that.”

We sat in silence for a while, sipping our tea and watching the flames leap and dance among the logs in the belly of the stove. It was a very cheerful sight, and it made me feel strangely alone, despite the person sitting within three feet of me. When I had drained the tea to the dregs, I placed it on the chipped old saucer and willed myself out of the chair.

“I’d better get going before I fall asleep in that chair for the night.”

“You’re welcome to. I’ve done it many times,” Flavia said with a gentle smile.

“Better not,” I said. “Thanks again. I won’t tell anyone that you helped me. But you’ve been a really good friend to me, and I appreciate all you’ve done. If I do have to Walk to end this whole thing, and I manage to pull it off, it will be mostly because of your help.”

“If you have to Walk to end this, it will be your strength alone that gets you through it. And you have that in abundance; we’ve all seen it, and we have faith in you.”

“Right. Well. Thanks again,” I said, and turned to go before she could see the tears that had sprung suddenly into my eyes and were now racing each other down my cheeks as I stumbled back through the darkness.

WE TOOK THE NEXT DAY TO REST and to formulate our plan. Milo was still much too weak to attempt it without a few more days rest, so we decided on the upcoming Saturday, four days away, to make a break for it. And as much as we hated to, we also agreed that we would not try to connect with Hannah again until after we had made it across the borders of the encampment. We couldn’t risk the journey and the probably subsequent chase if Milo couldn’t even keep up with us. “Us” included Annabelle and Savvy.

“Are you kidding? Get me the bollocks out of here!” was Savvy’s refined response upon hearing that we were planning our escape. “If this godforsaken wasteland had proper walls, I’d be climbing them by now. And anyway, you’ll need all the help you can get. Of course I’m bloody well coming!”

I wasn’t at all sure that Annabelle would want to come, now that we’d landed among her extended family, but she agreed readily.

“Are you sure?” I asked her. “You’ve got roots here. I wouldn’t blame you at all for wanting to stay.”

“Those roots don’t run as deep as I’d hoped they would,” Annabelle said with a bitter little laugh. “I’m more like the weed amongst the carefully tended roses around here. No one has much interest in a Dormant who can’t even claim a direct living Durupinen relative. It’s been… interesting being here, but I’m ready to leave when you are.”

“It’s not just that we’re leaving,” I said. “This is out of the frying pan and into the fire here, Annabelle. We’re actually going to look for the people who killed Pierce. I don’t know what’s going to happen. Seriously, no one would blame you if you decided not to come.”

“But that’s just it. They killed David. If I can help finish them, I will. End of discussion.”

I met her eye, and the fire in hers felt like a direct reflection of the fire in mine. We understood each other.

“I think you should go to Ileana,” Annabelle said, looking thoughtful, “and tell her you want to Walk again.”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“I think it would be an excellent way to throw her off the track. After your outburst, she’s probably expecting you to leave, and she’ll be prepared for it. But if you tell her you want to Walk again, and maybe even throw in a well-rehearsed apology, she’ll let her guard down and we’ll have a better chance of sneaking out unnoticed.”

“I don’t know if I can stomach an apology,” I said with a grimace, “but that’s a really good idea. Of course, it means I have to Walk again.”

“Yes, it does, but you really are getting better at it, and it can’t hurt to give it one more shot, especially seeing as you might need it for real sometime in the near future,” Annabelle said.

There was too much sense in this to reasonably argue against it. We knew it was a long shot, finding out where Hannah was, arriving at said location without getting caught or killed, and somehow, miraculously getting her safely out before she reversed the Gateway. Continuing to improve my Walking skills, however unappealing, was a good idea no matter what.

And so I played my part. I went to Ileana and told her I would continue honing my abilities. Even she, with all her lordly show, couldn’t hide her relief. I showed up at the enclosure on Thursday afternoon, however reluctantly, knowing that I shouldn’t waste the opportunity. I avoided eye contact with Flavia as she tied a soul catcher to my wrist, though I thought she gave my hand an extra squeeze before she let it go. The other Travelers were keeping their distance from me, like one false move might spook me and spoil everything. Even Anca, who stood guard over the entrance to the enclosure, took a wary step back as I approached, and nodded respectfully as I passed.

“You may find Irina uncooperative today,” she said as I made to crawl through.

I paused, both hands on the ground. “You mean more than usual?”

“Yes. Ever since your last Walking, she’s hardly risen. She’s realized that this is really just a bigger cage, and she’s just about given up hope that she’ll find a way out of it.” Anca looked past me into the enclosure, frowning. “I don’t think she’ll be inclined to help much.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” I said.

As I sliced through the soul catcher and rose into the air, however, I did not see Irina soaring about like a caged bird. She was sitting arms clasped around her knees, in the corner of the enclosure, right beside her body.

Gathering my concentration, I envisioned myself sitting beside her, and before I could even blink, I was there. I could not feel the ground beneath me, but the proximity of her spirit gave off a sort of warmth that grounded me in space.

“Hi.”

She did not reply. Her chin, resting on her knees, was trembling.

“Irina? Are you okay?”

Again, she did not answer except to throw me a scathing look, so venomous I nearly backed away from her.

“Can I help you?”

“You don’t care about helping me,” she whispered.

“I do care,” I said, and I meant it. “What can I do?”

She glared at me with hollow eyes and pointed a finger down at her body, crumpled on the grass beside her. “You can reach over to that… that thing on the ground there and snap its neck.”

“I’m not going to do that.”

She dropped her hand. “Fine then,” she said, and her voiced hitched over a repressed sob, “Open this prison and let me out.”

“You know I can’t do that either,” I said.

“I know. You don’t care.”

“It’s not that,” I said. “But it’s not my decision. The Traveler Council are the ones who built the enclosure for us. They are the ones keeping you here. Why don’t you speak to one of them?”

“You think I haven’t tried? You think I haven’t used every word, every argument and plea that I can summon? They have long since stopped listening to me,” Irina said, staring down at her body with a curiously detached expression. “I cannot make them hear me. I cannot make them understand what it is to live like this—the endless, torturous longing.”

And I was revisited by a sudden and startlingly detailed memory of a decrepit old man in a nursing home, sitting in a chair at a window, his body tensed for the flight he desperately hoped would come. His anguished voice reverberated across the intervening months: “I’ve seen it! I’ve seen it! Send me back!”

And in that moment, my sadness for Irina overflowed, pressing upon me like a suffocating weight.

“I will talk to them for you,” I said. “I’ve got some bargaining power here.”

Irina looked away from her body and stared at me instead. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that they need me to cooperate. And so I’m going to make it clear that they need to release you.”

“Do not lie to me,” Irina said, as more of a plea than a threat.

“I’m not lying. I mean it. I can’t pretend to understand what you’re going through, but I understand it better than you might think. And you shouldn’t have to suffer like this anymore.”

Irina’s mouth twitched into a semblance of a smile. “I would be forever in your debt, Northern Girl.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” I said. “You don’t owe anything to anyone. Not anymore.”

We sat together a moment, and then she asked, “How do you feel?”

“Me? I don’t know. Fine, I guess.”

“You aren’t disoriented? Dizzy?”

I took stock of myself. I’d been so intent on her that I hadn’t been paying attention. But now that she mentioned it…

“No! I feel… comfortable.”

“You let go,” Irina said, and she nodded approvingly. “You were so intent on your state before that you could not allow yourself to just be.”

It was true. I’d been so focused on the actual act of Walking that I couldn’t allow it to happen freely. I’d been preoccupied with all the what-ifs, all the pressure of what hung in the balance if I failed. But with my focus on Irina, I’d managed, without realizing it, to cut those last few mental strings that held me back. I felt better than fine. I felt wonderful!

I imagined a long and looping flight for myself and took off, flowing like water, buffeting like a breeze, and it was bliss. Irina watched me and laughed—actually laughed.

“You’ve got it now, Northern Girl,” she called.

And she was right. I had it. Now, I thought, as I looped and turned, I just had to pray that I never ever needed to use it.

The wagon was empty. We’d packed up our rag-tag assortment of temporary belongings. Savvy and Annabelle had gone off to the center of camp to scavenge for as much food and other supplies as they could without being noticed, while Milo and I made our way, quickly and quietly, in the direction of the encampment’s western border, near the place where Irina’s wagon now lay abandoned. This was the place along the border, according to Flavia, that we would be least likely to meet a Caomhnóir on patrol.

“Right, let’s make it quick,” I said, as we reached the outer limits. A rune carved into a nearby tree marked the place where the casting for the ward had been performed. I could see it hanging in the air before us, the light glimmering off of it like a spider web. “Savvy and Annabelle will be back soon. I know it’s tempting to stay connected so we can hear Hannah, but we need to make sure you’ve got enough strength to take us all across.”

“I know, I know,” Milo said, a little sulkily.

“I want to see her, too,” I said.

“I know you do. So let’s get this over with so we can see her for real,” he said. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

He surged forward and stepped into my space, expanding at once inside my head. I’d taken only a single step toward the ward when it happened. Something I couldn’t define made me stop, made me turn and look over my shoulder.

“Uh, Jess? Wrong way, sweetness,” Milo’s voice said.

But I had seen her. Mary stood on the edge of the clearing, her tiny frame aglow from within, luminous in its spirit state. She held a candle between her grubby fingers.

“Mary?”

She nodded at me, and lifted a finger to her lips, begging my silence. I walked toward her, moving, or so it felt, with the strange gliding motion of a dream.

“What are you doing here?” I asked her.

She wasn’t looking at me. She was looking down at the candle flame, watching it leap and dance in the darkness. Her expression was unreadable.

“Mary? What are you doing here? Did you come from Fairhaven? Is everything alright?” I asked.

She kept looking at the candle, and so I stared at it, too, wondering what was so fascinating.

“They are coming.”

I snapped my gaze back to Mary’s face. She was looking at me now, her eyes wide and anxious.

“What did you say?”

“They are coming!” Her voice answered me, but her mouth did not move. It seemed to be emanating from the candle in her hands.

“Who is coming?” I asked her.

She said nothing, but leaned down and blew out the candle. At the same moment, twin flames lit in her eyes, bathing her face in an orange glow. She opened her mouth wide and revealed a yawning cavern of leaping dancing flames. And then she began to scream.

I came to my senses suddenly, and at the same moment Milo leapt from my body as though burned. I was drenched in cold sweat. As I wiped the icy beads of it away from my eyes, I thought for a moment that the sound I was hearing was just an echo, the vision clinging on into consciousness. But then as I blinked the last vestiges of Mary away, I realized that the screams were coming from around us, through the trees, from the direction of the camp.

“What the hell? What just happened?” Milo asked.

“I had a sort of… vision? I don’t really know. Didn’t you see it?”

“No. But I couldn’t see or hear anything else either. As soon as you turned around, it all sort of went black. What was it?”

“It was Mary. The Silent Child. She said they were coming.”

Milo didn’t ask who she meant. There could only be one “they” that could inspire fear coursing through us at that moment.

Another scream, and a muffled shout echoed in the night.

“Stay here,” I said, struggling to my feet. “I’m going to see what’s happening.”

“What? No! You can’t go back there! That’s got to be the Necromancers! We’ve got to get you out of here!”

“Of course it’s the Necromancers!” I said. “And we’re not leaving without Savvy and Annabelle. You need to blink out, so they don’t see you.”

“No, I’m coming to help you!”

“Don’t you remember what happened the last time they put a casting on you? You could wind up like that again, or worse! Just blink out, Milo, and stay close to me. Don’t communicate and don’t show yourself! Got it?”

“Okay, okay!” Milo said. “I’ll be right here with you.” And he vanished.

I took off back through the forest, following the cries of distress rather than the path. I could feel Milo’s presence with me, just a suggestion of a bright spot somewhere in my periphery. I rounded one last bend and threw myself behind a massive oak tree.

Hell had broken loose, in a much more literal sense than I ever would have thought possible. Pandemonium reigned. Everywhere I looked, spirits were jetting through the air, flinging themselves at people, toppling wagons and shredding tents through mass demonstrations of poltergeist skill. Flaming logs from the central bonfire were soaring through the air in all directions, and screams rent the night as the Travelers scattered in all directions. Grunts and shouts joined the din as the Caomhnóir joined in the fray, wielding both castings and brute force to try to protect the camp. And everywhere, their black cloaks swirling like bats out of hell, were the Necromancers, their faces masked with tattooed skulls, like calaveras come frighteningly to life.

“Fan out! Search every inch of this camp! Find the Ballard girl!” a deep booming voice called over the tumult.

I stood rooted to the spot, panic buzzing loudly in my brain, wanting to do something, anything to help, but utterly incapable of acting. I just watched, paralyzed, as the ghost of an old man sent a red hot crumbling log through the air straight into the side of a tent, which collapsed on one side and immediately caught fire. Three dark-haired figures crawled out of it moments later, coughing and yelling.

“Jess! Come here! Now!”

I looked around for the voice, but before I could find it, a small cold hand had found mine and was tugging me into a nearby clump of bushes. I opened my mouth to shout for help, but the hand leapt from my wrist to my mouth, covering it.