17. Farren
Farren
I just barely held back my scream when the specter that had been haunting us all day came flying out of the bushes. Locke had been the first to notice we weren’t alone out here. When he did, his attitude changed.
Before it was as though he couldn’t wait to put some distance between us, but after, he stayed close to me. And the spirit just kept creeping closer and closer until he was in the trees above our camp.
At one point, I asked Locke under my breath if we should move our camp, but he declined. The ghost would follow us there anyway. So we stayed where we were.
By sunset, it looked like all the ghost wanted to do was hang around our campsite and watch us. Nothing too strange there, I’d come across a few spirits in my travels and they were all either lost to themselves or curious about the living that drew near them.
This one was very different, however. He looked like he could have died anywhere between this morning and two years ago, but his essence felt much, much older. He also didn’t appear to enjoy having his voyeuristic tendencies interrupted. Every time his gaze would linger too long on either of us, we would look up and match his gaze.
After a few seconds of staring at one another, he would break first and look away for a time. I honestly didn’t know what to make of him.
There was, of course, the possibility that he wasn’t a friendly ghost, and engaging with him could set him off. If he really was as old as his aura hinted towards, he would have had plenty of time to build up a lot of power.
I’d met a few ghosts who were only a decade or two old, and they had enough power to knock me flat on my ass before I could release their hold on this plane. Rarer still were ghosts who’d been around long enough to see the world wars, and if they were in foul moods, they could hurt me physically.
Something about this ghost felt so much older than even those ones, so I was terrified of what kind of strength he’d have. Probably more than enough to send Locke into a tree, if not through one in his bear form.
Friendlier ghosts at least seemed content enough with being trapped and would either look for people to talk to or find someone that would be able to help them fulfill their final requests.
I sincerely hoped we were dealing with the latter. Experience, unfortunately, had me leaning towards the former option as the most likely.
Spectral stalkers usually weren’t friendly. Even if they wanted to be, they usually weren’t made from friendly people in life.
So, when our uninvited guest decided to finally drop in on us, Locke took his chance to confront him.
He asked me if there was any way I could use my magic to hide him long enough to sneak up on the spirit. I barely gave him the subtlest of nods before he strode away from my side, the first time he'd done so since he initially felt the spirit's presence.
After he left, I gave myself a few seconds to feel fear before I sucked it up and turned my attention to casting a spell that would urge the wind to block Locke’s scent and sound. As I cast, I felt the ghost creep closer, almost curious-like. I had to pause a few times to catch my breath and still my nerves so I wouldn’t fumble the spell.
When Locke struck the ghost and sent him sprawling into the ground before me, I hurriedly changed the spell I was chanting. This new spell twisted and strengthened the air currents to form binds that restrained the ghost. As the chains settled on him, Locke picked up the specter and placed it against a tree trunk on the other side of the fire.
Prisoner placed, Locke returned to my side while we waited for him to wake up.