Read Online The Shield of Weeping Ghosts by James P. Davis - Free Book Online
Authors: James P. Davis
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around them, swirling with the fog and forming into shapes that glowed dully with magic. Faces and dim silhouettes streamed past them, crowds of spirits rushing along in a silent drama. As Bastun maintained the spell, the visions grew more intense. Dull colors of blue and black trailed behind the spirits as they appeared beside him and ran through those in front of him. He could make out a whisper of sound, snippets of an ancient language in a dialect he did not understand, and faint screams of anguish echoed in his ears as if from far away. The ghosts of fallen Shandaular.
Once again, as before when they’d first made landfall, Bastun detected a strange pattern in the sounds. Something was missing, like hearing only one side of a conversation or every other note of a familiar song. He focused on the gaps, trying to fill in what could have been taken away, but to no avail. Letting the spell fade, he shook his head as the mundane world returned in the glimmer of distant torches and tumbling snowflakes. Narrowing his eyes, he tried to make out those spirits in normal sight, but they were invisible. Their mystery troubled himthe ghosts of Shandaular weren’t a topic the scrolls detailed. They had been either overlooked, or it was something new.
A Rashemi runner came again, and the ethran raised her hand and called for a stop. After consulting with Thaena he returned to the front. Anilya stopped her own band and stood by while Thaena spoke with Duras.
“There is a large structure up ahead and what looks to be a clear road to the Shield’s gates,” she told the warrior. “We should scout for any threats before approaching the castle.”
“Agreed,” Duras said, and motioned towards Bastun. “Syrolf! You’re with me.”
Bastun let out the breath he’d almost replied with and watched as Syrolf reluctantly turned over his guard to the other warriors. The pair disappeared into the fog.
Anilya conferred with Ohriman, drawing a cautious stare from Bastun. Thaena stood on the north side of the road at the base of a ruined wall, and the vremyonni saw his chance to speak with her about his concerns. Glancing at the others, he made his way in as non-threatening a manner as he could manage. He was watched carefully but not stopped by his guardstheir distaste for him apparently not as motivated as SyrolFs.
“Ethran,” he said, “may I have a word?”
She nodded, but her eyes remained on the curving path ahead where Duras had gone. Bastun leaned against the wall beside Thaena, choosing his words carefully before speaking. Secrets and difficult subjects seemed to be gathering in crowds since they’d arrived in Shandaular, and words were only complicating matters further.
“I wanted to speak of Anilya,” he said. “Her presence here”
“Is a threat?” she replied, then looked at him. “Yes. I am aware of the threats that surround me.”
He read her meaningful glance and decided to push the subject further and gauge her response. There was power in knowledge, and he needed to know how much power she had.
“And the Shield?” he asked.
“The Shield? Do you consider the Shield itself a threat?”
“That depends,” he answered, though his thoughts swirled with the answer she had truly given him: that she did not know the secrets of Shandaularand that he was far more alone than he suspected. Looking at her he wondered what her memory of him had become. “Am I to be executed when we reach the Shield?”
For the briefest of moments he saw a glimmer of softness in the eyes behind her mask, a hint of caring that made him feel human again, but she looked away. The hardness in her voice betrayed the glance when she answered.
“The othlor have not passed any sentence upon you,” she
said. “This journeythis final journeywas at your request. The only danger you face, that any of us face, is the Nar and whatever they hope to accomplish here.”
“And the durthan,” Bastun said, motioning toward
Once again, as before when they’d first made landfall, Bastun detected a strange pattern in the sounds. Something was missing, like hearing only one side of a conversation or every other note of a familiar song. He focused on the gaps, trying to fill in what could have been taken away, but to no avail. Letting the spell fade, he shook his head as the mundane world returned in the glimmer of distant torches and tumbling snowflakes. Narrowing his eyes, he tried to make out those spirits in normal sight, but they were invisible. Their mystery troubled himthe ghosts of Shandaular weren’t a topic the scrolls detailed. They had been either overlooked, or it was something new.
A Rashemi runner came again, and the ethran raised her hand and called for a stop. After consulting with Thaena he returned to the front. Anilya stopped her own band and stood by while Thaena spoke with Duras.
“There is a large structure up ahead and what looks to be a clear road to the Shield’s gates,” she told the warrior. “We should scout for any threats before approaching the castle.”
“Agreed,” Duras said, and motioned towards Bastun. “Syrolf! You’re with me.”
Bastun let out the breath he’d almost replied with and watched as Syrolf reluctantly turned over his guard to the other warriors. The pair disappeared into the fog.
Anilya conferred with Ohriman, drawing a cautious stare from Bastun. Thaena stood on the north side of the road at the base of a ruined wall, and the vremyonni saw his chance to speak with her about his concerns. Glancing at the others, he made his way in as non-threatening a manner as he could manage. He was watched carefully but not stopped by his guardstheir distaste for him apparently not as motivated as SyrolFs.
“Ethran,” he said, “may I have a word?”
She nodded, but her eyes remained on the curving path ahead where Duras had gone. Bastun leaned against the wall beside Thaena, choosing his words carefully before speaking. Secrets and difficult subjects seemed to be gathering in crowds since they’d arrived in Shandaular, and words were only complicating matters further.
“I wanted to speak of Anilya,” he said. “Her presence here”
“Is a threat?” she replied, then looked at him. “Yes. I am aware of the threats that surround me.”
He read her meaningful glance and decided to push the subject further and gauge her response. There was power in knowledge, and he needed to know how much power she had.
“And the Shield?” he asked.
“The Shield? Do you consider the Shield itself a threat?”
“That depends,” he answered, though his thoughts swirled with the answer she had truly given him: that she did not know the secrets of Shandaularand that he was far more alone than he suspected. Looking at her he wondered what her memory of him had become. “Am I to be executed when we reach the Shield?”
For the briefest of moments he saw a glimmer of softness in the eyes behind her mask, a hint of caring that made him feel human again, but she looked away. The hardness in her voice betrayed the glance when she answered.
“The othlor have not passed any sentence upon you,” she
said. “This journeythis final journeywas at your request. The only danger you face, that any of us face, is the Nar and whatever they hope to accomplish here.”
“And the durthan,” Bastun said, motioning toward
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