“First,” Obel said, “I need to know how you summoned him.”
A blend of irritation and anxiety tensed Deckard’s shoulders. He wanted to go back to the hotel, get Evylin, and leave Mouroc before the Alliance could stop them. Their situation was growing perilous. As a Bonded couple, he already knew the Alliance would desire their appointment as Relic bearers. Now that he was named a Space Mage...
Outwardly, Deckard controlled his fearful impulse, knowing more was at stake than their personal desires. He took asteadying breath and replied, “I don’t know how I summoned him. He was just...there.”
Obel regarded him with an unexpected patience. “Walk me through when he first appeared to you.”
Running a hand over his mouth, Deckard thought back. He furrowed his brow, remembering the shovel in his hands, the frozen terrae that fought against him, the tears that blinded him, and the voice that rang in his mind:“Don’t take my choices from me.”
Deckard couldn’t help his sad smile. “It was at his grave,” he said. “I was digging after his death, thinking of him...thinking of how I still needed him, how Evylin needed him. And then...he was there.”
“You were digging his grave?” Obel asked.
“Yes,” he said. “I didn’t realize he was anything more than a figment—a vision brought on due to my grief. It wasn’t until weeks later that I realized he was a true ghost, and I was the one who summoned him.”
After Deckard concluded his explanation, Obel nodded sagely. The corner of his mouth twitched, and his severe stare twinkled like stars. “This,” he said, “is nothing.”
Deckard blinked, uncomprehending.
Auden sat up. “Summoning a ghost is not nothing. It’s the start of the Deep. And just because Jonn is not a Night Mage doesn’t mean the Deep can’t come upon him should he continue to meddle in death itself.”
Obel drew in an annoyed breath. “Highlord Calder, if you’re going to discuss Night magic, I’d recommend you study it further.” He turned back to Deckard then, emphasizing each word as he repeated, “This isnothing.”
“I’d beg you to explain, Your Grace,” Deckard said, leaning forward.
Obel met his desperation with a grin. “When you summon a ghost, you have to enter into their death mind, body, and spirit,” he said casually. “As you were digging his grave, and due to your travels, presumably near the scene of his death and within hours of it, that makes the summoning of his ghost rather mundane. You aren’t some Night magic prodigy, Colonel. You were simply in the right place at the right time, feeling the right thing to channel him. What’s more, it sounds like he was a willing soul since he came to your call without a fight.”
Deckard’s brow pinched. “So this isn’t a shock?”
“No.”
“And I shouldn’t be concerned?”
“No.”
“And I’m not a Night Mage?”
Obel raised his brow. “If you were, it wouldn’t be such a bad thing. But you’re not. While it’s clear Night is your second resource, I’m certain you’re a Space Mage.” He gave a slow shake of his head. “No, Colonel, this is nothing to concern yourself with. The danger in summoning a ghost is entering the essence of their death and violating the laws of life.Thatis what drives Mages to insanity.”
A small grumble came from Auden, but he remained otherwise silent.
The relief returned to Deckard, but he pressed on. “How do I release Hewitt, then?” he asked.
“The same way you summoned him,” Obel said. “The only way to release a ghost is to return it to the place of its death. You’ve summoned a soul from its body before it entered the afterlife. You must give it back to him so he can resume his journey to the Heavens.”
Deckard frowned. “I have to return to his grave?”
“Yes,” Obel said with a single nod. “Go back to his grave and let him go. Treat it like all magic: Tap into your focus and use the power of your thought.”
“It’s that simple?”
“For you,” Obel grinned, “it’s that simple. In other cases, with other Mages, this would be another conversation. But—” He raised his hand then, pointing at Deckard, “you have to mean to release him in all truth. It sounds as though this man meant something to you and this Evylin—your wife, I presume. You cannot harbor within you an ounce of desire to hold him here. The release won’t take otherwise.”
Deckard drew in a long breath. That was easier said than done. Even though he no longer needed Hewitt to earn Evylin’s love, he didn’t want to release the man, ghost or not. He didn’t want to lose him. He’d become a mentor, a father-like figure, a friend—the thought of letting him go forever broke Deckard’s heart.
“Now,” Obel said, moving on, “I have a final question.”
Deckard nodded, prompting him to ask.
