The Shield of Weeping Ghosts - James P. Davis [86]
She slowed, allowing the nearest torch to leave her behind several strides.
"This is no time for confessions," she whispered and turned in a slow circle, searching the bodies, observing their faces and states of death. "Bastun's secret is what matters now."
"I agree."
She spun and raised her hands, a spell rising to her lips before noting the dark mask of the durthan appearing through the shadows. Lowering her hands, though keeping the spell in mind, she was astonished by the durthans stealth. Magic could keep one hidden in darkness and hide the sound of one's footsteps, but Thaena would have seen such tricks like a beacon against the Shield's muted aura.
"And what do you intend to do?" Thaena asked.
"I presume the same as you," Anilya replied and walked past her toward the body of an older man leaning against the wall. The ice had kept the man in relatively good condition. The durthan knelt close, studying the soldier's well-made armor and the area around his throat. "To discover what happened here-what might happen again if the vremyonni truly has turned against his homeland."
Thaena approached the corpse and looked it over. Anilya had chosen well. With his fine armor, the man appeared an officer of some sort and was among the many physically uninjured. Details of Shandaular's destruction were sketchy at best, and deeper secrets were known only to the hathrans and vremyonni. She needed to know at least some of what Bastun knew about the Shield, though she dreaded the method of gleaning that information.
"He will do," Thaena said softly and knelt beside the durthan. Looking back toward the fang she added, "Wait a moment longer. They already believe this place to be smordanya. There is no reason to feed their superstition with this."
"As you wish," Anilya said, "but it does not change the fact that they may be correct."
They sat in silence as the glow of torches drew farther away, leaving them in darkness. Thaena heard the durthan's robes rustling, and she reached out, touching Anilya's arm.
"No," she said. "I will do this."
Receiving no answer, she let her fingertips rest on the hand of the frozen soldier as she whispered the incantation that would give voice to his remains. Time disappeared as she carefully intoned the ritual which was, to the wychlaren, a sacred magic that she felt obliged to cast herself. Her eyes widened in the dark as she chanted, feeling the last words slip past her lips with a quiet shudder. The hand she touched flinched.
Drawing back, she stared into the place where the body's face would be, and she shivered as two points of light appeared in its eyes. There was no spirit or soul summoned by the casting, only a reflection of who this soldier was and what he knew. A wheezing breath scratched its way out of a long-unused throat.
"Who disturbs this one?" the voice said in a hoarse whisper.
"We do," Thaena answered, though she was taken aback by a question from a corpse that should have little sense of itself. "There are questions that demand answers."
"I pray this one's answers please you, and quickly."
Thaena felt a shiver run down her spine and was thankful for the darkness that blinded her from all'but the bright eyes that stared into nothing.
"For what reason did you come to the Shield?" she asked, deciding to begin simply.
"By order of the prince we came, through burning Shandaular and fallen portal, to capture the Shield and keep it whole."
"Of what value is the Shield without city and portal?"
"We do not know," it replied, then paused, its wheezing breath tortured and deep. "This one does not question orders. Though there are rumors…"
"Tell us," she commanded, eager to have her answers and end the spell.
"Secret eyes, a traitor to his king, lead