Chapter 30 #2
“You would if you could, I’m sure,” the wraith murmured almost sympathetically.
“I was an enemy of the elves in life, so they killed me and bound me here. Then I became a servant of the Shadow Queen, a lieutenant in her fight. I was charged with keeping souls that threatened her here in my domain, but once I had gathered enough, once I learned how to feed on their energy, I grew stronger,” the wraith continued, as if Mal bashing its borrowed face in was of no consequence.
“I shouldn’t have to bow to anyone, not even the Deathless Lady, with a power like mine.
The one who raised you has been so unhappy you’re here, by the way, but he’s a little too tied up to greet you at the moment. ”
Mal only glared. He wasn’t going to give this thing the satisfaction of goading him into further destroying his hand. He stepped back again, eyes still on the wraith, though he kept watching the luminous gathering of spirits near his friends out of the corner of his eye too.
No wonder Rhun’s companions had never breathed a word of what they had experienced out here. The wraith would have wanted this same fate for them, to keep their souls trapped here, and it had already demonstrated how far it could travel, even if its powers were greatly muted in Linden.
“I’ve almost had the tall one a few times now too. He looks a bit like the other Warden among my ranks,” the wraith went on, clearly meaning Rhun. “He has the most elf blood of any of you; he’s going to taste the best when I grind his bones to dust and wrap him in my chains.”
The chains.
It was the mention of them that finally got Mal moving his numbed feet again, slowly and subtly inching him toward Alys and Griff and the broken blade. He needed to use it. He had an idea.
“But the girl … the girl is going to make the sweetest screams when I bind her soul to my service.” The wraith leered, once again bidding for his attention.
Mal’s jaw tightened, and he swallowed a retort that would do nothing but anger the spirit more.
Still, he couldn’t help shaking his head the slightest bit.
As if anything, man or demon or wizard or wraith, could ever take from Alys without her consent, even if she didn’t fully understand yet that she could be even stronger if she didn’t fight all her battles alone.
“You all have done a better job of avoiding all the Mire’s little misfortunes than I would have expected,” the wraith went on as Mal stepped closer yet to his friends. The soft glow of the spirits gleamed silver white along the shard of blade he was stealthily creeping toward.
“The wyvern attacking in daylight—that was you,” Mal said, hoping to keep the wraith distracted.
“And you were waiting by the silver chest, hoping to trap our souls after the Shadow Queen’s revenants ripped us apart.
All this time, you’ve been using Rhun’s things to bring us closer to where your bones are, where you’re strongest, so you could claim our spirits before your ex-lady had the chance. ”
The orc’s eyes glinted as if pleased at all this understanding.
“I’ll enjoy passing the long years with you,” the wraith laughed. “With a mind and a mouth like that, I might even put you on the front lines. The hero of my collection. My champion. So clever. Too clever, I’d say; I’ve been watching you since the moment you were handed my map.”
The map. Of course. Kage had to have known the baggage it came with, which meant there was no way his boss had expected him to return. Kage hadn’t wanted to risk sending anyone of actual importance to try to retrieve what his queen felt was still rightfully hers.
Alys’s shaking, chilled hand grasped Mal’s ankle, but he didn’t look at her.
Not yet. His scowl deepened as he locked gazes with the wraith again, the cloth hilt of the broken blade now snug in his cold fingers.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the slight rise and fall of Griff’s chest, and that was all he needed to keep going and do something truly risky.
“Well you’re not very clever, you stupid bag of bones, because I have no interest in being anyone’s hero or doing a damn thing with my life that anyone wants me to,” Mal snarled, bolting toward the spot where Rhun’s spirit watched helplessly as the wraith prepared to kill his daughter and his best friends’ sons.
Mal’s eyes met his for the briefest moment before he used the broken blade to cut the chains on Rhun’s ankles and wrists.
Somewhere behind him, the wraith howled, and the ravens answered with their own angry chorus.
Mal turned and shouted over it all, “Alys—I’m sorry about Leo. I know how much you liked him.”
He was counting on the long years of understanding between them.
And with that, he tossed the broken blade back in her direction, into her waiting hands.
“Seize them!” the wraith shrieked at someone—all the chained ghosts, Mal realized.
The long-dead entity must have power to command and compel those it held bound, just like the queen he once served. It must have forced Rhun’s spirit to wander near the wyvern’s nest that day, almost leading Griff to his death.
Mal threw himself over top of Griff’s prone form, trying his best to shield him as he felt sharp, icy fingers start to tug at his clothes and hair.
The ravens beat their wings and swarmed overhead, sounding as unhappy with this turn of events as he was, making it hard for Mal to see where Alys was now. If she was able to do what he had suggested.
He caught the flash of the blade raised above her head, and two large chunks of Leo went rolling off the pike before the wraith had a chance to slither out of there. It moaned, a death knell that made Mal’s stomach writhe, and then they were left alone in the aftershocks of a suddenly quiet night.
The icy fingers had stopped tugging at him and Griff. Even the ravens settled, no longer making a racket. Mal turned to hazard a look behind him, and there were no more gaunt, chained ghosts forced to follow orders. No spirits around them at all anymore that he could see, and definitely no shadow.
There was no more sad song in some other language echoing in the curve of his ear.
No more biting, unnatural cold. The wraith was gone from this place for good, struck by the spirit blade in the hand best suited to wielding it, banished back to the shadow realm, where it would have to answer to its maker.
Mal finally rolled off of Griff to get a better look at the other man’s face and found that he was awake again despite nearly having the life squeezed out of him.
As he did so, a heavy hand gripped his shoulder.
Not Griff’s. It was too cold to be Griff’s, broader and callused from gripping a sword for so many years.
“Rhun?” Mal asked quietly over his shoulder on a soft exhale.
The smallest breeze stirred his hair. “You shouldn’t have come here.”
It was him; Mal would never forget the rasp of that broken voice, and every word seemed to punch right through him with the bittersweet ache of things lost and found. He glanced quickly at Griff again, but the other man didn’t seem to hear a thing.
“But I’m glad you did,” Rhun went on, his words coming slowly, as if at a great cost. “Thank you. Consider any debt between us more than repaid. You’re never as alone as you think, Mal.
Nor as damaged, nor as designed to damage others.
You could just live, and live well—all three of you—and that would make all our sacrifices matter.
Look after Alys for me. I know you and Griff will look after each other, as it always should have been.
” The hand gave a gentle squeeze, followed by a pat on Mal’s back, and then it was gone.
Rhun was gone.
Griff’s pale face became a blur as Mal tried to catch his breath, the words still echoing down into the heart of him that he had convinced himself was so unreachable.
Alys rejoined them some hazy moments later, a hand rubbing her shoulder as if she, too, had felt that phantom touch. One last goodbye.
“I thought,” Griff said groggily, raising a hand to his good shoulder. “I could have sworn I felt—”
“It was him. Even if I couldn’t see him—I’ll never forget the feeling.
” Alys broke first as she finished choking the words out, the floodgates opening.
Griff must have been alert enough to put things together, because he was quick to follow, tears streaking his grimy face as he lay there not quite ready to move.
Even Mal didn’t have enough energy left to fight the burn at the back of his eyes.
The trio held each other as night deepened around them.
As the ravens began to depart in droves, no doubt to bring word of the battle to their master.
As a few green-eyed ghosts dared to come close enough to offer Mal their solemn, silent bows of thanks rather than hold up their fingers in warning.
The three old friends kept their arms around each other until their tears were mostly dry, until it was time for words again.
Time to figure out if what was between Griff and Mal could be saved too.