The Shield of Weeping Ghosts - James P. Davis [71]
"I have magic that can wring the truth from you if you like," he said, "but it will not be pleasant."
She stared at him, considering her alternatives before answering. "No," she said, slumping and shivering in obvious pain. "We came to him. Those of us who believed."
"Why? Why is he here?" Bastun kept his voice firm, but he was not quite prepared to believe that a two-thousand-year-old prince of Narfell had drawn anything to himself but rot and dust.
"Our priests say that he searches for the Breath." Her voice bespoke the passion and the fury she felt. "That he covets the Word, and that he will summon a cleansing flame, returning the long lost empire to our people… the bloodline… will rule again."
Madness, Bastun thought as the woman shuddered and tensed. Her head lolled to the side, and she mumbled. He stared in wonder, looked at the bodies around them, and shook his head in disbelief.
"The Creel are as lost as we are," he whispered. "There is no flame to summon in this place. They have no idea what they're doing, what they're dying for."
"We die for the promise," she murmured, her eyes rolling. "The old Order… twilight… failed us. Their old man is dead. Prince Serevan rises with a promise… of power."
The moment the name was spoken Bastun grabbed his axe. Rising slowly, he watched the shadows around the woman deepen and grow thick. Tiny hands gripped her legs, little fingers digging into her flesh. The children screamed as she stirred, and her pitiful cries joined them. They roared and wrapped their chains around her, pulling themselves out of the stone and pushing themselves through her.
Bastun looked away and stepped toward the stairs, careful not to gain their attention. He could not help her, had no magic that could harm the spirits now. His quiet prayer for her quick death went unanswered. Her cries followed him down the stairs, back to the hallway, and drifted past him to bury themselves in the pit of the tower.
He rested his hand on the Breath and stared across the pit at the long bridge. His old friends would die if he left them and took the Breath as far away as he could manage. The durthan, if she survived, would look for him. The man, the prince, or whatever it was calling himself Serevan Crell, would fail, might search for Bastun as well. The Creel tribesman would remain, hold the Shield, and perhaps convince the rest of their tribe to join them. The wychlaren would come for him, the vremyonni also. These thoughts raced through his mind, analyzing the paths and possibilities open to him.
"I would become the exile they believe me to be," he said aloud, staring into the dark void beneath him. "Not one drop of Rashemi blood on my hands, and I would be hunted as a murderer and a traitor."
Tiny whimpers reached him, echoing from the far side of the room. Peering into the shadow he could see the faint form of the little one, huddled against the wall and staring wide-eyed toward the gruesome scene that played out in the room at his back. She was so much like the memory of his sister-an echo of a past he could not change. A simple dare-to spy the wychlaren of the Urlingwood-had sent her away from him and forged the life he lived amid rumor and accusation. When Keffrass was slain and the Shield scrolls stolen, the groundwork of his apparent guilt had already been laid by his foolish childhood game.
He'd never mustered the courage to challenge their perceptions of him-had never cared to defend his own honor.
"This last thing," he said, walking to ropes that still hung along the side of the pit, "then freedom."
He grabbed the ropes, found a foothold, and edged himself along the wall.
"Win or lose. In body"-the cries of the Creel woman faded away, leaving only the wind to answer him-"or in spirit."
Chapter Fifteen
Snow, lit by the eerily silent lightning, painted the path before Thaena. She and the fang pushed through the wind and piling snow. The first of three guard towers along the west wall was hidden by a storm that slowed their march to a crawl. Duras forged a path just ahead of her. There had