Spellshift Page 12

  Eventually, silence became too heavy for stillness. Drake formed the winds to carry them home. He towed Argus’ body in flight behind them.

  Chapter 13

  Arrangements for Argus were made that evening. It was a paltry gathering—just those at Idrian’s estate standing under the starlight holding hands. There should have been hundreds. Garen wasn’t sure how many were in the rambunctious crowd Argus frequented, but it didn’t matter. He deserved hundreds. He was too kind, too loving, too loved for only seven people to pay their respects.

  “We can give him no greater tribute,” Idrian said, “than to shoulder his passions and his dreams ourselves.” Garen tried to focus on the ceremony, but his mind was elsewhere.

  Just a season ago, nearly a thousand huddled together into Vikar-Tola’s largest sanctuary to remember the legacy of Seth Renyld. It was a beautiful service. They practically worshipped him. Five speakers, all strangers to Garen, told how their lives had been changed by his father. Acolytes of the fire shrine formed a chorus to mourn him. Every shop on Grand Market closed for the day out of reverence to one of their heroes. Nothing could ever remove the pain of losing his father so quickly, but the sheer respect let him bear it gracefully.

  By all comparisons, this was pitiful. If Vikar-Tola was still standing, there would certainly be another day of mourning, the kind fitting for a lifelong servant of this kingdom. But Argus would never receive that. Amidst the chaos, he would be forgotten entirely for more pressing issues. By his friends. By his family, if any of them were left. And now, seven people stood in a circle. One of them a boy who barely knew him. One of them the idiot who saw him fall but couldn’t save him. He deserved a sendoff worthy of the Spellhammer. This wasn’t it.

  Idrian continued. “Argus lived to make others joyful, to protect those he loved, and to repay his debts tenfold. Some of those, I believe he can rest knowing he achieved. Other debts we will take on. Argus chose his life as a Spellsword due to the kindness of Layna Renyld. Though she left this world, he continued to pay that kindness forward to her son. Garen, your life has been changed due to the love that flowed through him. Will you promise to carry that love with you and continue his legacy?”

  Their stares waited on his response. Garen knew he should say yes and play along. It came out differently. “This is ridiculous.”

  He let go of Belen and Naia’s hands and walked away from the house. The fields were flat and there was no brush to disappear into. It didn’t matter. They could gawk and judge him all they wanted. He couldn’t stand there and pretend this was good enough, that his empty pledge would make him half the man Argus was. If Garen was even close to being able to live as Argus did, to protect those he loved, Argus would still be alive.

  Don’t you think this makes it worse? Kallista asked.

  “Well, I can’t make it any better now. And I don’t remember asking you. Stay out of this one.”

  Gladly.

  Garen took a seat in the tall grass. He was too far away to discern their words. The voices stopped for a moment, and Garen heard them sing a dirge he knew by heart:

  Spirits give us strength

  Until spirit we become

  Spare our children’s ears

  Where you march us by the drum

  As dust to smoke to spirit fade

  And spirit spark to flame

  Our loss is lived in motion

  No spirit stays the same

  The raspy voice intruded next. I have no idea why they find that song comforting. Grim nonsense if you ask me.

  I believe he’d prefer we kept silent for a moment, Ampelis.

  What, so just because the brat grew ears I’ve gotta keep my mouth shut? How am I even supposed to know when he can hear me?

  “Well if you can see my face, it’s wearing a lot of disgust right now. That seems pretty telling.”

  I’m sure he’d appreciate the cunning jab, Kallista said, but he can neither see your face nor hear your voice at this moment. His senses are tied to Naia’s much the same way mine are tied to yours. If you want to taunt the old fool, you’ll need Naia’s eyes or ears present for it.

  “That’s absurd,” Garen vented. “And the more he talks, downright creepy. So, how can I hear him?”

  He hears through Naia, but he doesn’t speak through her. That would be, as you put it, ‘downright creepy.’ Communication within the Spirit Realm is different. There is no distance. You choose to say something to them. They choose to hear it.

  Hey Kallista, Ampelis jumped in, remember that time an obnoxious woman told me to keep silent and then wouldn’t shut her river of a mouth?

  Garen picked absentmindedly at the grass, plucking one blade at a time. “What happened to, as you put it, ‘choosing to hear it’?” Garen mocked her.

  Kallista answered plainly. You entangled your soul’s thread with Naia’s. In a sense, we’re now wrapped around each other.

  Ampelis broke into laughter. You know you can’t put it that way to a kid, right?

  Kallista groaned. Please forgive his tactlessness. It has been at least a hundred years since someone had to tell him not to make crass jokes at a funeral.

  “You’re both terrible comforters.” Garen tried to massage the headache he felt growing. “But a decent distraction. What’s that ‘hundred years’ business? I can’t tell if that’s long or short for a spirit.”

  Long for us, Kallista said. I was only born about 30 years before the Dawn of Magic.

  Garen was surprised. He didn’t know the first thing about the life of a spirit, but being “born” wasn’t the way he expected them to describe it.

  Not too far from here, either, she continued. A bit further north. Back when it was just Tola.

  His curiosity multiplied. “You’re joking.”

  Kallista’s words startled Ampelis. Are you doing this now? Even I think this feels all kinds of out of place.

  He asked, Kallista said. You know that I lost the taste for lies a long time ago. You may prefer that he treat us like gods, but I would rather he know our limits and rely elsewhere.

  Spit and souls, kid. I hope you’re sitting.

  Garen buried his face in his hands. He was evenly torn between wanting them both to shut up and needing to know more. It didn’t take long for need to win out. “Go on.”

  We weren’t born as spirits, Kallista said. We were people. The men who opened the gate at the Theltus Nisdal…they didn’t stretch it. They propped it open. And they used our souls to do it.

  “You were…? They sacrificed you?”

  Kallista didn’t have to say yes for Garen to understand. We were not the first. They attempted it for years, hoping a dying soul could see the other side and still communicate with them. They couldn’t keep the soul tethered to this realm. Not until they tried killing a person…slower.

  The idea sent shivers down Garen’s spine. The spirit he’d been sharing a home with was actually his prisoner. It was somehow more unnerving than when he thought she was a deity. He still couldn’t believe that was how the Spellswords began. “They just sacrificed innocent people until they got it right?”

  I wish I could say I was innocent at the time, Kallista said. No, we were chosen because we would not be missed. All five of us, and several others who died in the failed attempts, were criminals of the River Cities. We would have been put to death anyway. I seem to go back and forth on which I’d have preferred.

  “So, you’re not miserable, I mean,” Garen spoke before he understood the question. He couldn’t find the words to ask if she wanted to die.

  Stay calm. Remember, I know your thoughts as well. I do not regret my own existence. I had a chance to end it the first time we talked at the Theltus Nisdal. I could have kept silent, but I cared for both of our lives. I blame your mother for half of that. I don’t normally let myself get attached in that way. She was different than the other hosts. There was a pause in her words. The spirit had no sniffles or labored breaths, but she started to sound teary-eyed. Be
cause of her, even saying goodbye to Argus is more painful than I am accustomed.

  Yeah, yeah, Ampelis mocked without consideration of her pain. Cut the sentiments so the kid will look up.

  Garen lifted his head from his palms and saw Naia standing above him.

  “Mind if I sit?” she asked.

  “Sure,” Garen shrugged. “Ground’s a little damp, though.”

  “Not a problem,” she said. Droplets of water rose from the grass. Naia brushed them aside as easily as shooing a fly. She sat beside him in silence. Garen wasn’t sure if she was comfortable, but he actually enjoyed having company that didn’t echo inside his head.

  They sat facing away from the estate. The wetlands weren’t much to behold in the day, but it made for a tranquil, shimmering landscape in the moonlight. “Okay, so what the—” Naia stopped herself mid-accusation and took a calming breath. “What happened back there?”

  “I don’t…” Garen had to close his eyes to gather his thoughts. Too much was flooding his mind. He couldn’t separate the new facts from the lingering emotions tied to Argus. “It’s complicated.”

  “I assume you were talking to the spirits again?”

  “Yeah. I think they mean well, but they really aren’t helping.”

  Ampelis grunted. I didn’t sign up to be your goffing counselor.

  “Isn’t it weird, having voices in your head?” Naia asked.

  Garen took in all the silence he could before responding. “Weirder than you can imagine. Everything feels different now. New voices. So many people talking, but I’ll never hear Argus again. I don’t know how we’re going to go back to the way things were.”

  Naia tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

  “You know, random missions. Long conversations on patrol. Dinners with the five of us.”

  “There’s…” she paused to think. Naia huffed and shook her head. “No, there’s no going back to that. That’s not how our lives work.”

  Garen tried to play along. “Yeah, okay. You’re not the most comforting either, but I get it.”

  Naia looked him in the eyes. “Do you?” Her voice was painfully sincere. “We don’t get to go back.” She swallowed and tried to keep her words emotionless. “Someone stronger or luckier always comes along to take these spirits. It’s just a matter of time. I thought maybe losing your dad would have helped you see that.”

  Garen had no response. Naia eventually stood and wiped a bit of dirt from her trousers. “Sorry, that should have waited. We’re all hurting.”

  Garen kept his head down.

  “Anyway,” Naia said, “I came over to say a few of us wanted to sit up and tell Argus stories. I know you’ve got a couple. No one tells ‘The Two-Hundred Teeth Brigade’ quite as well.”

  Garen went back to plucking the grass. “Some other time.”

  “Okay. Join us if you want. I’ll let the others know not to come bug you like me.”

  “No, you’re…thanks.”

  She walked toward the house. “You’re welcome. Just don’t be stupid and fall asleep out here. Micah says big plans in store.”

  He bit his tongue to keep from lashing back. She was right, and he needed to be prepared for whatever came next. Calm moments like these were a luxury, and if he cursed them now, he’d be twice as regretful later. He took in the silence. No spirit voices. No commotion of a city. Only the drone of crickets, the distant whinny of a horse, and his own steady sighs of guilt.

  Chapter 14

  Garen stayed in bed late the next morning. He needed to share what he’d learned about the real nature of the spirits. He should probably check on how Drake was handling a second one. But the more things he considered doing, the more he wanted to stay put and fall right back to sleep.

  The sound of stones slamming together outside forced him awake. Visions of the collapsing palace replayed through his mind. He saw the streets stained red, lit by the fires around them. He imagined the roof overhead crashing down like the cavern.

  Garen raced out of the room. He bolted down the staircase to the display floor where windows would let him see who or what was attacking them. Naia reclined in the center of the room, somehow unaware. Belen stood against one of the massive glass walls, watching as the ground erupted outside.

  “Get away from there!” Garen shouted and sprung over the railing. He glided down to Belen as fast as he could. Outside, the wetlands were upheaved into the air. Garen stood in front of Belen and shielded his face, bracing for the window to shatter. The ground outside churned, but nothing hit the glass. He heard a dismissive sigh from Naia.

  Garen saw Naia’s composure and tried to think from a calmer state of mind. “Oh. It’s Drake, isn’t it?”

  She went heavy on the sarcasm. “Big scary Drake is on the loose. Belen and I are all that’s left. Save us, Garen.”

  “Seriously, what would it have taken for some kind of warning?” Garen looked around in frustration. “He’s practically turning the world upside down out there.”

  “Yeah, but then I’d have missed that bit of heroism. I think he’s still testing his new abilities.”

  A question from Ampelis startled Garen. Is it safe for him to draw that much from the conjoined gates? He’s not exactly taking it slow. Once Garen processed the words, he shared the concern, but had no answer.

  We’ll know soon enough, Kallista said. Garen, you will need to caution Drake about the scale of his magic.

  “Uh, okay. What problems does that create?”

  It’s difficult to explain, she said.

  “Who is he talking to?” Belen asked Naia.

  The Gate of Rupture and the Gate of Persistence, or as you probably think of them, Wind and Earth, now share a soul.

  Naia rolled her eyes. “Don’t mind him. Garen lost his mind and likes to talk to himself sometimes.”

  Imagine two jars side by side, Kallista said. If you pour into them slowly, everything goes where it should. But if you go too fast, it makes a mess.”

  “A mess…how?” Garen asked.

  I’m not exactly equipped to explain it better. Ampelis?

  He snorted. Not a chance. You’re the one that wants to play teacher.

  Fine, Kallista said sharply. Normal souls have just a…normal gate. Their depth is passed back and forth with the toll of spells. There’s no harm unless they give all of it away. The Spellswords’ gates are different: Truth, Persistence, and so on. But it’s still only one gate. Drake is now passing his depth through two gates, which can be done, albeit carefully. But when change is seen as permanence, and permanent things as rupturing, the soul can warp the mind.

  Belen could hear none of Kallista’s words. The boy gave Naia an inquisitive glare. “Master Idrian told me not to listen to you. He said you were nice, just not to people. What does that mean?”

  Naia snorted. “It means I made a good first impression. Really though, Garen, what are they saying?”

  “Give me a second,” Garen said. “It’s hard enough with you both talking over each other.”

  Ha, you’ll learn to block her out over time, Ampelis said. She’s not much fun to listen to. Amazing to look at, though. Right? I mean, a fighter’s tunic isn’t doing her any favors, and the scar is a certain shame, but you should see those curves when she steps out of the—”

  “Alright, never mind. You two can keep talking, they’re shutting up now,” Garen insisted.

  “Well, what was it, then?” Naia asked. “Were you talking to the Water Spirit?”

  “Yeah, that would be Ampelis.”

  Naia ran her finger absentmindedly along the scar. “Not that I’d want to, but I’m curious. What’s it like?”

  “Mostly like a normal conversation. They’ve got voices and personality like us.”

  “Huh,” Naia contemplated. “I figured they’d be kind of above us, you know, in their own weird way.”

  “Sometimes they’re that, too,” Garen said.

  “So, what’s mine like? And why does it call itse
lf Ampelis? That sounds like an old guy’s name. Which is weird because…” Naia sat up straight. “Spirits don’t have genders, right?”

  “That’s a thing I should probably get everyone together for. But Ampelis is…he’s a perfect gentleman,” Garen said convincingly. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  Half a lie, Ampelis chuckled. But I’ll take it.

  “Ugh, that’s still weird,” Naia shivered and pulled her shoulders in tight. “Can he—?”

  “Sorry, no time for questions,” Garen said, bolting toward the door. “I have to go stop Drake from pouring too much depth of something into the wrong jar of something else.”

  * * * * *

  Garen stopped Drake’s experimenting with the terrain and called everyone into a meeting. The seven sat in Idrian’s central room. They were surrounded by a beautiful, sun-filled expanse outside one set of windows and a landscape of turmoil to the other. As Garen retold the origin of the spirits, several of them fidgeted and grew uncomfortable.

  Morgan looked physically ill. “Should we even call them spirits anymore?” she asked.

  Idrian shrugged. “What else would we call them?”

  Drake was too lost in thought to read his face. “It makes far more sense.”

  “What do you mean?” Garen asked.

  “It always felt different drawing depth with the Wind Spirit,” Drake said. “When I want to create fire or water, it’s just me. A simple exchange. But the moment I need wind, it’s like there’s another hand on the reins. It doesn’t feel like some ambivalent power. It feels eager and impatient and thirsty. It feels…human.”

  How long do you think he can survive tethered like that? Kallista asked.

  Goff if I know. Makes me sick just thinking about sharing a soul with him again. If I could vomit, this soul would be swimming in it.

  “That’s a lovely image,” Garen restrained his own nausea. “Thank you.”

  “They can show you images?” Idrian asked.

  “No, no, Ampelis was just being—” Garen looked over to Naia’s curious face. “—a perfect gentleman.”