“Do you ever see any of the poltergeists created from the soldiers we killed in the woods?” Scarlet asked.
“Nah, they hate us and stay far away,” Cryton, another poltergeist, stated. “If they could, they’d kill us.”
“But they can’t,” another chortled in amusement.
“It’s fun to laugh and point at them,” Cryton said. “Some of them cry.”
“You can cry?” Mr. Fletcher inquired in disbelief.
“Well, we’re not monsters,” Farley retorted.
Some of the crowd snickered at this, but they went silent when the poltergeists glowered their way. No one wanted the wrath of the specters turned on them.
“You got a problem with us?” Cryton demanded. “Because we can fix it.”
“Enough,” I said in a harsh whisper. “We’re all in this together. Fighting each other will put an end to this mission real fast, and those children will be the ones to suffer.”
The poltergeists huffed, but some of their aggression eased as they floated a little further back. The spirits enjoyed a good slaughter, but they wouldn’t harm children or purposely put them in danger.
Despite the deafening properties of the fog, the increased chatter of the army floated to us as the mist engulfed the parapets. No one shouted an alarm yet, but I was sure some of them had fled for the palace to either get more troops or alert someone.
I didn’t think they’d wake the duke… yet, but I could be wrong. There was also the chance the man was still awake and aware of the increasing fog.
Figures started to emerge through the thick fog as some of the guards crept toward the woods. We remained hidden in the shadows of the trees and the light mist drifting around us.
The soldiers’ sluggish pace made it clear they wanted nothing to do with the woods. If this fog was unnatural, then hiding in the woods was the best possibility for the amsirah controlling it. They hoped to find us, even as they knew stepping into this forest could spell their death.
We had to move before they came through those trees. If we didn’t, their screams would carry throughout the land.
“Try to silence them before killing them,” I said to Farley. “If we can keep them quiet, then it might buy us a little more time.”
“Aww, but I like their screams,” Farley groused.
This time, when some of the amsirah chuckled, the poltergeists basked in their laughter. The fighters stopped advancing and craned their heads to try peering through the trees. Their silhouettes were all I could see of them, but I heard the murmur of their voices before they turned and vanished into the fog.
“Fuck,” Cryton grumbled.
“They’ll come,” Ianto assured them. “The duke will ensure that when he learns of this… if he doesn’t already know. They’re more scared of him than they are these woods.”
“Then they’re fools,” a poltergeist retorted as she waved her dagger in the air.
“You offer them a quick death; the duke doesn’t.”
The poltergeists muttered to themselves as I rose to stand beside Indon.
“You have a lot of power,” the gargoyle stated.
“So I’ve been told.”
“It’s more than I realized. I can feel it emanating from you when you use your abilities.”
I glanced at him while I waited for more, but nothing followed. An uneasy feeling churned in my stomach.
Did he fear me turning against him? When this was finished, would he do something to ensure I could never imprison them?
I’d grown to trust the gargoyles, but I wasn’t sure what Indon was thinking. After being imprisoned for countless millennia, I was sure they’d do everything they could never to lose the Heart of Stone again.
I almost told him that he had nothing to worry about from me, but I’d already done that. Besides, they were just words. Actions would prove them.
