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Her thoughts raced, and she barely felt the hard grip of Gharek’s hand on her elbow as he finally reached her. All her life Siora had seen ghosts, talked with them. That dark gift was the hallmark of a shade speaker, but it wasn’t sorcery. She knew nothing of necromancy nor wanted to, had never tried to learn or invoke any of the horrid spells such magic users employed to enslave the dead. Even had she been tempted, there was no reason to try. She didn’t possess magic, couldn’t wield it.
Or could she?
Her father’s terrified face. Kalun’s as well, and all the otherphantoms surrounding her, begging for help. Gharek’s hard words as they returned to Zaredis’s camp.Your honor blinds you.
To be devoured or be enslaved. Shades of evil made gray or black by the motivation behind the act.
“Hold fast,” she bellowed into the din, reciting the simple spell she’d memorized despite her revulsion for its purpose. “I am bound to earth and you to me. I name you, Skavol of Kraelag,” she told her father. “And you, Kalun, brother of Zaredis, to serve my will and only my will. Hold fast!”
A greater darkness erupted this time, spilling from Siora’s skin. She wanted to scream but found the sound locked in her throat. She made to wrench Estred off of her to give to Gharek for safekeeping. She was no longer a safe haven for the living, only for the dead. Shadowy hands clawed at her as she tried to free herself from Estred, whose unthinking terror only made her cling harder, her slender legs wrapped so tightly around her erstwhile nurse’s middle, Siora wheezed.
The memory of Kraelag with its vast crowd covering the summer fields in a chilly haze burst across her mind’s eye. She didn’t know the individual names of those apparitions fleeing the wolf that gave chase, but one at Kraelag, who’d called her “witch of the dead,” had named them all.
She repeated the spell, changing part of it to capture all who hovered around her, begging for help in ethereal voices only she could hear. “I name you, the Forgotten, to serve my will. Hold fast!”
More darkness burst from her like blood and just as thick. Siora no longer saw Gharek beside her or Estred still in her arms.She couldn’t see the ghosts either, Kalun or her father. But they were still there, beside her, more solid than before.
A raging, shrieking howl drowned out all voices, and suddenly Siora was jerked backward so hard, she thought someone had grabbed her spine and tried to wrench it free of her body. Estred screamed into her neck, and far off, as if he shouted from the edge of a distant field, Gharek cried out his daughter’s name and Siora’s as well in an anguished voice.
Blackness swallowed her.
CHAPTER NINE
Gods damnit, move!” Gharek shouted, knocking people aside as he lunged toward the spiraling vortex that had wrenched Estred and Siora out of his arms, sucking them into a black maw that diminished at alarming speed. For a brief moment, he felt the awful compulsion to obey as the ghost-eater demanded its meat, only this time, instead of resisting, he thrust his hand toward its center, uncaring what might grab him on the other side. The spinning darkness collapsed abruptly, winking out of existence with a final blast of frigid air, taking Siora and Estred with it.
“No!” His bellow erupted from his throat, carried on a wave of helpless terror as he stared at the empty space where his purpose and his redemption had both vanished. He spun and rushed for the tent’s entrance. He needed a horse and a blessing of speed from the gods to reach Midrigar, where the eater of ghosts lurked.
“Stop him!” Zaredis thundered behind him. “Don’t kill him.”
Gharek had a foot outside the tent when he went airborne before landing on his back with a breath-stealing thump. An explosion of color burst across his vision, splinters of agony lancing the inside of his skull. Several hands held him down in punishing grips. One overly enthusiastic soldier knelt on his chest with all hisweight, compressing every bit of air out of Gharek’s lungs until his sight grayed at the edges.
“Let him up,” Zaredis ordered.
Gharek inhaled on a gasp when the soldier kneeling on him stood. He was hauled to his feet, still held prisoner in the grip of the general’s minions.
Dark eyes flashing with the same fury consuming his captive, Zaredis grasped Gharek’s chin to halt his struggles. “Listen to me.” Rough fingers dug deeper into his cheeks. “Listen!” Gharek stilled. “That thing has my brother as well as your daughter and your woman. Do you want to save them?” At his stilted nod, Zaredis dropped his hand. “Then you finish drawing that map and make it right.”
Blind rage nearly choked Gharek. “Fuck you and fuck your map,” he said in a guttural voice.
One of the soldiers holding him growled and struck him on the back of his head for the impertinence.
Unmoved by his prisoner’s profanity, Zaredis held up a hand to halt any more retribution. “The map,” he told Gharek, his features resolute as horror wrenched his expression. “And when you’re done, we ride to Domora and you take us to the Windcry. Rurian will break the ward. I’ll release you to save your daughter and the shade speaker when we have the Windcry. If you try to escape, I’ll kill the only hope either of them have of surviving.”
Gharek’s thoughts reeled at his nemesis’s words. A choice wrapped in a bargain and enrobed in a threat. Zaredis might love his dead twin but taking the throne came first.
He’d never been one to trust or accept the word of anotherwithout initial suspicion or follow-up investigation. The second wasn’t an option for him here, and suspicion was an indulgence of time to spare. He didn’t have that either. He was forced once more to accept Zaredis’s bargain and trust the man meant to keep his word. His insides knotted at the thought.
“You said nothing of your brother,” he pointed out to the general.
Anguish glittered in Zaredis’s eyes even though his stoic facade didn’t change. “He’s dead already, and we all heard your shade speaker invoke the enchantment. He’s bound to her until she frees him.” The corners of his mouth quirked. “Seems there’s more to her than just a voice for ghosts.” His grim humor faded. “Give me your answer. We’re wasting time.”
There was only one answer to give. “Done,” Gharek said.
Another person might have been too distracted by fear and worry for their captured loved ones to concentrate on such things as the complexity of an accurate map drawn strictly from memory, but Gharek had no issue. His value as a cat’s-paw hadn’t only been in his ruthlessness but in his ability to focus on the task at hand and see it to its completion. His mind remained quiet even if his spirit was howling in panic.
He employed that skill to finish the map, his memory sharp as he recalled the details of the corridors he’d walked, the hidden doors he’d passed through, the chambers he’d visited, and the path he’d taken to the coveted Windcry with its numerous wards in place to protect it from thieves.
He ignored Zaredis and Rurian, who stood on either side of him, watching as the map changed from a rough sketch to adetailed rendering with every swoop and scrawl of the charcoal he held.
