D. Jackson - A Plunder of Souls

“Kaille!” Mariz called.

“I know!”

He wasn’t sure how to fight the wraith; he knew only that he couldn’t allow it to touch him or Janna, and that they couldn’t avoid the shade for long in this hellish prison.

Knowing he had no choice, he dropped to one knee and gathered Janna in his arms. Standing again, he pulled her close to him, took a deep breath, and rushed at the wall of fire.

It was more dense than he had expected. He could feel the blaze searing his skin; he knew that his clothes and hair were burning. But he couldn’t stop, and he couldn’t go back. It took him no more than a second to clear the flames, but it felt like far longer, and upon emerging from the fire, he had to spin away from another shade that loomed just in front of him.

He stumbled, fell. Janna slipped from his arms. Her dress was on fire; so was his shirt. He batted at the flames on Janna until they were out, and threw himself to the ground and rolled. When at last he was no longer burning, he stopped and lay still on his back, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling, his heart racing.

“I can do that again any time I choose,” Ramsey said.

Ethan forced himself up.

Mariz burst through the wall of fire to Ethan’s left, rolled, and jumped to his feet, his shirt sleeve charred and smoking, but no longer ablaze.

Moments later a shade slipped through the same fire. Looking behind him, Ethan saw that the ghost that had menaced him had also emerged from within the flames. Other shades were closing on them as well, including that of Patience.

“How do you wish to die, Kaille?” Ramsey asked. “Burning? Freezing? Something in between?”

Mariz cut his forearm and looked expectantly at Ethan. Ethan cut himself as well.

“We’ll die fighting you,” Ethan said.

“Bravely said. But those are empty words, and we all know it.”

Ethan had one more weapon at his disposal. He had thought of using it sooner, but had not wanted to enrage Ramsey further and thus place Janna in even more danger. Now, though, he had little choice.

“A summoning,” Ethan whispered to Mariz, staring hard at him. “Do you understand?”

Mariz’s eyes widened. “But I don’t know the name.”

“He’s his namesake.”

The conjurer nodded.

Together they said, “ Provocamus te, Nathaniel Ramsey, ex regno mortuorum, ex cruore evocatum.” We summon thee, Nathaniel Ramsey, from the realm of the dead, conjured in blood.

Ethan had always used mullein for such summoning spells, believing that it was safer to use a protective herb than blood in dealing with the dead. They hadn’t that luxury this time, and Ethan could no longer concern himself with what was or wasn’t safe.

The spell thrummed and Nathaniel Ramsey appeared before them. He glanced at Ethan, but then turned, seeming to know that his son was there.

The other shades halted. The younger Ramsey paled.

“I told you never to do this again!” he said, death in his voice.

“Aye,” Ethan said. “I don’t much care. I won’t release him. If you want to kill me, you’ll have to do it with your father’s spirit watching, knowing that you’re dooming him as well.”

“Can’t you fight him?” Ramsey asked his father, desperation in his voice. He pointed at Uncle Reg. “Can’t you do something to his ghost?” He clenched his fists again. “I’m doing this for you!” he shouted. “You’ll be with me soon! Alive again!”

The shade stared back at his son briefly before turning and walking to where Gavin’s body lay. He stood over the dead man, shaking his head.

“He betrayed you at the end,” Ramsey said. There was a plea in his voice. “He could have helped you; he could have saved you. But he didn’t.”

The shade gave no indication that he had heard.

Ramsey cut his arm. “ Interfice eos ex cruore evocatum! ” he said. Kill them, conjured from blood!

The other shades jerked into motion and began to converge on them once more. Mariz sidled closer to him.

“Another spell, Kaille. Quickly!”

The shades moved slowly, but they were near enough now that in just a few seconds they could kill the conjurers much as the other wraith had killed Gavin. But that, Ethan realized, was not their purpose. They were converging not only on Ethan and Mariz, but also on Uncle Reg and Mariz’s ghost. If the shades could destroy them, Ethan and Mariz would be robbed of their powers, and the ghost of Nathaniel Ramsey would be released from their summons.

Ethan said nothing, but turned to Patience’s ghost. She would be one of the first shades to reach them. Ramsey had cast a spell to make them appear, and had cast again just now to order them back into motion. Did the symbol he had carved in the cadavers require a spell in order to work? And if so, was it possible that the spell Ethan had carved into Patience’s body worked the same way?

“Now, Kaille!” Mariz said, his voice rising.

What would the wording be? How had he cast that initial spell? The Latin, roughly translated, had said, Protect this corpse and its spirit from magick, keep it free from the influence of others, conjured in herbs and this symbol. So a spell now …

Ethan slashed at his arm. “There’s no time to teach you,” he said. “We just have to hope that I can conjure on my own this one time.”

Mariz cut his arm too, and held it out just beside Ethan’s. “I do not know what you are doing, but perhaps this will help.”

Ethan nodded. “ Tega hunc spiritum contra alienam auctoritatem, ex cruore nostro et signo meo evocatum. ” Protect this spirit from the influence of others, conjured from our blood and my symbol.

The spell pealed like a church bell and wiped the blood from their forearms. But still the shades closed in on them. One reached out a translucent hand and touched Ethan’s neck. He gasped, jerked away.

“That didn’t seem to help you very much, Kaille!” Ramsey called.

Ethan cut himself again, thinking that perhaps he had time to try the spell one last time.

But before he could speak the incantation, the shade of Patience Walters halted. Her eyes changed; they didn’t grow dimmer or brighter, but they seemed to focus once more. She could see him.

“Patience?” Ethan whispered.

She hesitated, nodded. She raised a hand, and the other shades halted their advance.

“What are you doing?” Ramsey demanded. “I told you to kill them!”

Patience gestured for the other shades to back away, and almost immediately they began to do so.

Ramsey dragged his blade across his arm and shouted out the same killing command he had given seconds before. The conjuring hummed in the floor and walls, but the shades didn’t obey him.

“What have you done, Kaille?”

“They’re not yours to control anymore.”

“Of course they are! My symbol is on them! They can’t refuse me!”

“They have a new captain. You said so yourself.”

“And she’s marked as mine, just like the rest!”

“I marked her before you did. And my symbol keeps her free.”

Ramsey’s mouth fell open. “Impossible!” he said, breathing the word. “I would have seen it!”

“Would you, Ramsey? Did you really look at her, or did you merely defile her grave, mutilate her corpse, and claim her as your own?”

The captain said nothing.

Ethan still had blood on his arm. “ Ignis ex cruore evocatus! ” Fire, conjured from blood!

Ramsey staggered as from a blow, and nearly toppled back into the hole in the floor from which he had climbed. But his warding still held. He retreated to the other side of the pit, and cut his arm, even as Ethan and Mariz cut theirs again.

Sephira and her men still fought the crew of the Muirenn . Several men lay on the floor; some of them bled, others appeared to have broken limbs. Several weren’t moving at all; Ethan couldn’t tell if they were dead or unconscious. The fight still seemed to be going Sephira’s way.