Gail Martin - The summoner

"Tris can take care of himself," Vahanian assured her, dragging her with him toward the cliff. He stopped just below the ledges. "Berry, jump!" he urged, holding out his arms. Her weight nearly drove him to his knees, but he staggered and held his feet, dragging both Carina and Berry toward a cleft in the rock. He thrust Berry in first, then Carina despite her protests, then Carroway, and sealed the opening with his body. His sword was ready in his right hand, and his left arm shielded his face, instinctively protecting himself against the spirits in their murderous rage.

Tris opened himself to the spirits, staking his waning power and his soul to hold a faint blue shield of power over the crevice where his friends sought refuge.

And then, the moon went dark.

Tris knew the sounds of pitched battle, had heard the cries of dying men before, but what erupted around him in the glade was far from human, and the torments inflicted by the spirits upon the slavers surpassed any artist's fancy of the Place of Darkness. Bitter cold, the vengeful spirits hunted their prey, toying with the desperate raiders. The shrieks of dying men mingled with inhuman wails until Tris longed to clap his hands over his ears and dared not open his eyes to guard his sanity. The metallic tang of blood was heavy on the wind, and Tris felt the graze of spectral teeth against his flesh, shuddering as the revenants passed over him and through him, unwillingly linked to their gory vengeance, unable to pull himself free from the force that was determined to cleanse the glade and extract revenge.

The darkness seemed to last forever. At last, Tris felt the spirits wane, sated with their kill. He chanced a look skyward, to see the bright disk of the moon obliterated by a dark orb, which gradually slipped sideways, until at last, after what seemed an eternity, the moonlight shone again. The fog, its bloody work complete, rolled reluctantly back toward the forest.

We have kept our bargain, kin of Bava K'aa, the voices howled. None held by force were harmed. Now, give us our rest.

Gathering the last of his remaining strength, Tris stretched out his arms in blessing. As he began to murmur the words of power, he felt the spirits swirl around him, but their mood was longing, grieving, lonely. He drew strength from the compassion that welled up in him for the spirits' long exile, their betrayal, their loss and grief, and wove that strength into the final blessing, working the passing-over ritual. In the plains of spirit visible only to the mageborn, Tris could see the souls that awaited release, and in the distance, at the edge of darkness, felt more than saw the presence of She Who Rules the Night.

Her call to the lost spirits was the sweetest thing his soul had ever heard, although he could never utter it in mortal tongue. Even his own spirit yearned toward it, though his body anchored him from following.

Rest now, Tris said in benediction as the revenants began to slip free of the bonds that held them to the forest. Rest forever.

As if he were suddenly released from the clutch of strong fingers, the spirits left him, and Tris fell to his knees, too spent to feel the ground rush up to meet him as everything went black.

WHEN VAHANIAN DARED to open his eyes, the glade was still. The ghosts of Ruune Videya had taken their vengeance well. Strewn about the camp like broken dolls, the slavers lay in contorted heaps, faces twisted with fear. Heavy wagons were upended like toys amid shredded tents. Tris lay face down in the midst of the wreckage, motionless. Of the captives, there were none in sight, save for Alyzza, who stumbled toward Tris, her eyes bright with madness.

Vahanian signaled cautiously for the others to leave their hiding place, and he heard Carina gasp as she spotted Tris. The healer broke into a run to reach him and gently turned him over.

"Is he-" Vahanian started.

"Alive," Carina nodded, tears in her eyes. "I don't know what he did, or how he did it, and I don't think I want to. But he's drained himself badly," she said. "He's going to have one hell of a headache when he comes around."

"What about the rest of the captives, are they dead like the slavers?" Vahanian asked as Carroway and Berry spread out among the fallen bodies.

"There is no need to fear for the safety of the other captives," a voice said from behind them. Vahanian wheeled, sword in hand, then stared in astonishment at the flaxen-haired man who emerged from the darkness. "They are safe. They have scattered, but nothing your friend summoned will harm them," the newcomer vowed, walking closer with an uncanny gliding step. The aristocratic man stopped an arm's length from Vahanian and then bowed low in respect.

"Who are you?" Carina asked, although Vahanian would have bet the healer could guess the nature of their visitor.

"I am Gabriel," the vayash moru replied. "I serve the Dark Lady, our mistress," he said as if

it were a common introduction. "I have been sent for you."

"Why?" Vahanian asked suspiciously.

"The spirits of the forest obeyed your friend's command," Gabriel said smoothly, "But there are other, less natural, beings that serve the Darkness. My Lady has sent me to guide you safely to a place where you might spend the night and attend to your needs."

"Ah, Jonmarc," Carroway said, his eyes never leaving Gabriel, "Tris and I had really bad luck the last time a ghost found us a place to stay-"

"You do this a lot?" Vahanian questioned, and Gabriel turned his unreadable eyes on him.

"The Lady watches over her own," Gabriel replied.

"You know him?" Carina exclaimed. Berry, wide-eyed, shrank between Vahanian and Carina, wary but fascinated.

"Uh, we've met," Vahanian managed, and Gabriel's thin lips formed a faint smile.

"Your companions are known to my mistress," Gabriel replied in a courtly tone. "Their quest is familiar to Her."

"We can tell by how easy it's been," Vahanian muttered.

Behind them, deep in the forest, there was a rustling noise, and a howl not made by any creature Vahanian could name.

"Come," Gabriel said. "Dawn is not far off. Follow me." He leaned down and lifted Tns's motionless body as if he were a sleeping child, carrying him effortlessly at a brisk stride.

They followed in silence down a path all but obscured by the thick branches of the forest. Without prompting, the group packed closely together in the center of the trail. It was as if the forest itself were watching them, Vahanian thought. He was as relieved as any of them when they finally emerged and saw a crossroads ahead, and just past it, the welcoming lanterns of an inn. Gabriel led them up the back stairs, to a room large enough for the group, and laid Tris on one of the beds.

"I will make arrangements with the innkeeper. You will be safe here," Gabriel said.

"Just like that?" Vahanian asked. "You're going to leave us here?"

Gabriel nodded. "We will meet again. You have far to travel before your quest is complete. But this message I bear from the Sisterhood. Tris must not pass the Dhasson border. Arontala spelled the border, and called the beasts that threaten the northern kingdom. The spell is particular. Should Tris try to cross into Dhasson, the beasts will mass. He will not survive."

Unbidden, memories of those beasts came to Vahanian, far too real. "Then where-"

"You must travel to the Library at Westmarch," replied Gabriel.

"I was supposed to get paid in Dhasson," Vahanian said levelly.

Gabriel slipped a signet ring from his left hand and gave it to Vahanian. "The ring alone is worth your trouble," the vayash moru said evenly. "Consider it a downpayment. After Tris has

gained what he needs at the Library, you will go to Principality City. There, my accounts-and King Harrol's-are more than sufficient to pay what you were promised."