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Chapter Thirty-One

At a distance, the flames sweeping through the warehouse district in Aervelling looked almost peaceful. The fire spread like clingroot across a stone wall, digging into the streets of the sloped city, burrowing through homes and setting buildings alight. The sounds of the disaster echoed gently off the valley walls. They watched from the head of the valley, mounted on stolen horses that pranced nervously, unsettled by the smell of smoke.

“That should keep the justicars busy,” Estev said, almost proudly. “Nothing like a good conflagration to draw the attention of the local do-gooders.”

“That’s horrible,” La said. “Those are people’s homes.”

“Yes, yes, a tragedy. But a tragedy that works in our favor,” Estev said. “It will be days before young Caeris and her cohort are able to trace our movements and pick up the trail. Maybe longer. Maybe they’ll think we died fighting that monster.”

“That was him,” Rae said quietly. “That was truly him.”

“The mage who killed your parents?” Estev asked. “Yes, I would hope so. Would hate to think there are two fiendbinders on our trail.”

“So we should be safe now?” La asked. “I mean, at least for a bit. Though someone sent those bandits, and—”

“No, you don’t understand. That was him. That was Rassek Brant,” Rae said.

Estev pulled up short and regarded Rae with a look of deep concern.

“Rassek Brant is dead,” Estev said. “Killed by the justicars at Hadroy House, the day the Eye formed. Everyone knows that.”

“He was. Or at least, that’s what I’ve always been told. But I remember that face from Hadroy House. More scars, but it’s the same man.” Rae hugged himself, shivering as he remembered the demon’s visage peeking through Rassek’s features.

“Well, if he wasn’t dead before, he’s certainly dead now,” Mahk said. “Whole building went up like a fireworks factory. They’ll be scraping pieces of him off the clouds.”

“Is he?” Rae wondered aloud. Estev didn’t answer, but led them away from the burning city of Aervelling.

Thin birch trees lined the road out of Aervelling, and the horses’ hooves crunched against an avenue of crushed shells, the path shining bright white in the moonlight. They didn’t even need lanterns to guide their way. Gentle hills stretched in both directions, dotted with farmhouses and separated by low walls of stone and wicker. Several of the taller hills were topped by standing stones, laid out in concentric circles and formed into the sigils of Order and Life. Estev noticed Rae’s gaze.

“Those predate human habitation in the steading,” Estev said quietly. “They must be remnants of the faerie occupation, though how they knew the forms of Order before Heaven breached the material plane is an ongoing mystery. They’re beautiful during the day. Beautiful at night, as well, and in the rain.” Estev gave a long sigh. “They give me hope, that something of Order and Life was here before us, and will remain after us, should we fail in our task.”

“What task is that?” Rae asked.

“Surviving,” Estev answered. He rode next to Rae in silence for a long time. “Surviving,” he said again, more quietly, then kicked his horse forward for a while, leading the way.

They rode for another hour before Estev let them pause to adjust their saddles and get their bearings. They stopped under the crooked branches of an apple tree, its fruit scattered across the road. Rae rolled from his mount and collapsed against the gnarled roots of the tree. His horse stood over him, whickering quietly. Estev dismounted and retrieved a packet of hardtack from his saddle, passing it around quietly. Rae bit into the hard biscuit.

Rae had never been so tired or sore in his entire life. The fight with the fiendbinder had left him drained down to the bones. The wraith murmured in the corner of his awareness, but didn’t seem interested in coherent conversation. La dropped heavily from her saddle, but quickly turned to care for the horse. Always meticulous in her chores, Rae grumbled silently. She moved mechanically through the process of settling the saddle, scrubbing the horse briskly with a brush that she seemed to produce from nowhere, then setting a feedbag across its muzzle. Estev watched appreciatively.

“You have a hand for animals,” Estev rumbled. “Have you considered following your brother’s path? You would make a fine lifebinder.”

“He’s caused enough trouble for the both of us,” La answered. She turned to Rae. “So was that really him? The man who killed Mom and Dad?”

“I think so,” Rae answered.

“Then why are we still running?” Mahk asked.

Because he’s died before. Because he’s not dead yet. Because he’ll chase us to the end of Hell and back. Because there’s no escape. Rae shook his head, trying to clear the negative thoughts. They persisted.

“Because we still don’t know why your parents were killed, nor who ordered the attack,” Estev said. “I believe that the justicars were tracking him, not us. But they will certainly find traces of your involvement. And there are questions they will ask that I do not think you want to answer. At least not yet.” He tore off another piece of hardtack and chewed it distastefully. “Besides, I hardly think our troubles with the demon are over.”

“The justicar who came to our house, the day before Hallowsphere. He said he was tracking a diabolist,” Rae said, turning to his sister. “That must have been Rassek he was looking for.”

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep running,” La said. “First the demon, then justicars . . . it feels like the whole world is on our tail.”

“Not the whole world,” Estev said. “Just the dangerous parts.”

“No,” Rae said. “No more running. I’m done with that.”

“Well, if you intend to face the justicars, you’ll do it alone,” Estev said lightly. “Besides—”

“I’m serious. I’m done running.” He twisted a bit of hardtack in his hands, finally throwing the ruined biscuit to the ground. “Even if Rassek Brant is dead, we don’t know why he killed our parents. Or why my father had that diagram of the soul in this blade.”

“No, we don’t,” Estev agreed. “But as you say, he’s dead. We may never know.”

“I know how we find out,” Rae said. “The Heretic’s Eye.”

“The Eye? What good will that damnable place do us?” Estev asked.

“I told you what I saw there. The pattern for this sword, and a memory of someone searching our house,” Rae said. “And that’s where this whole thing started. The Hadroy Heresy destroyed my family. It ended my father’s career, and sent us to the end of the world. It just took a while for it to actually kill him.”

“I don’t know what you hope to find there,” Estev said dismissively. “It fell to Chaos. Hadroy thought he was going to throw the rest of the world into Hell. Cruel irony meant the defenses his mages built to protect his estate from that ended up containing the breach that opened in the manor house.”

“We’ve been beyond the orderwall,” Rae said. “It’s possible to survive. No one knows what’s inside the Eye, not since the justicars sealed it off. The same justicars who are chasing us, looking for this.” He thumped the bundled glass sword that rested beside him. “The same blade that high mage was looking for. Stands to reason the secret of the sword is still resting inside the Eye.”

Estev opened his mouth to answer, then waited for a long moment. Finally he shrugged. “I don’t like it, but I have no good argument against going there. You may be right.” He drank from a canteen, wincing in displeasure at the taste. “Can’t be any more dangerous than this.”

“How long would it take us to get there?” La asked.

“A few months, maybe? Depends on how much attention you want to draw. The roads out of Aervelling are ordered and safe, but probably also watched. The barrier between this steading and the next is easily crossed, though. A week in the forests, another on the river, and we’d be far enough from this mess to buy passage on a boat.”

“And if we didn’t want to take months?” Rae asked. “If we were willing to draw attention to settle this, before someone notices that their fiendbinder is dead and sends a new monster to hunt us down?”

“Oh, well then . . . A week or two? We could make our way to Oesterling, catch a windship, and get as close to Hadroy House as possible. There are no roads to that cursed place, and certainly no windship docks. Enough complaining. I have taken us the long way, to try to throw off our true destination. With luck they’ll fly east, to Hartsburg, and miss us completely. Now heed your sister. We have miles to go before the dawn.”

Groaning, Rae got to his feet and went to his horse. La had to help him get the saddle properly settled. Whatever enchantment Estev had wrapped through the horses’ spirits was beginning to fade. The beasts grumbled about Rae’s inexpert care. When Rae went to mount, the horse sidestepped, nearly dragging him to the ground.

“Can’t you magic them again?” Rae asked.

“I won’t risk it. We both burned bright in Aervelling, and the enchantment will have left a trail,” Estev answered as he mounted. “It is good that the spell has faded, though it will make our travel more difficult. If I were to reinforce the enchantment now, Caeris and her companion would sense our deception.” He looked slightly ridiculous, his rotund form balanced precariously on the back of a horse. But he handled the beast like a racemaster.

Rae climbed stiffly into the saddle. Estev was already riding between the trees of the little clearing where they’d stopped. Lalette looked at her brother with disapproval.

“What good is it to go to Hadroy House?” she asked quietly. “Rassek Brant is dead, if your story is to be believed. Why can’t we just go to the justicars?”

“Two reasons. First, I don’t trust the justicars. Do you?” Rae asked. He looked sideways at his sister. “And second, there’s something we don’t know yet. Father was hiding from the Iron College just as much as he was hiding from whoever sent the demon. Do you ever wonder why?”

“I have wondered many things about our dear father,” La answered. “Why he knew to flee Hadroy’s estate before the justicars showed up. What he knew about the Heresy.”

“Now you’re making him sound like a heretic,” Rae said with a shake of his head. “There is something I haven’t told you. Something I don’t want Estev to know.”

“Like what?” La asked skeptically.

“This sword was somehow bound to that demon,” he said quietly. “I don’t understand it, not yet. He had his own spiritblade, and is clearly not a stormbinder himself. But it was able to summon a connection to the wraith in my soul.”

“Rae!”

“Hush,” he hissed. “That’s how Rassek was tracking us. If he’s dead, then it doesn’t matter. I don’t think he is, honestly, but for now let’s pretend that fire was the end of Rassek Brant. I want to understand what this sword is, and why Father had it. He and Mom both died protecting it. If I can find out what, I might finally be able to avenge them.”

“Raelle Kelthannis, wraithbinder, bent on vengeance,” she said with a smirk. “Hard to believe. But I just watched you fight a fiendbinder and survive. I might believe anything.”

“It felt good, La. Killing that bastard,” he said. “But it wasn’t enough. Rassek wasn’t working alone. Someone was pulling his strings. I’m going to find out who, and I’m going to give them what they deserve.”

“You’re a farmer’s son, Rae. Stop talking like an assassin.”

“I’m becoming something else, La. Someone who will be able to see justice done.”

“You are becoming something, Raelle Kelthannis,” she said. “I’m just not sure I like it.”

“I’m not sure I do, either,” Rae said with a derisive snort. “But I will become what I must, to avenge our parents’ death.”

La watched him for a long moment, then shook her head. She trotted off after Estev. Rae turned to see Mahk was still watching him. The big man sat his horse nervously, but his eyes were burning a hole in Rae’s chest.

“Problem?” Rae asked.

“Not yet. Hopefully, not ever,” Mahk answered. He rubbed his troubled arm again, then set off after La. Rae watched him go.

“Jealous, all of you, and too trusting.” He booted the horse forward, wincing as his sore legs complained. “Waiting for someone else to solve your troubles. Not me. Never me.”


They rode until the sun rose and set again, with occasional breaks to rest the horses and the riders. Estev drove them like dogs. The soft image of a benevolent professor melted away, revealing a hard taskmaster, bent on pushing them until they broke. Estev used his lifebinding skills to keep the horses healthy. He did nothing for Rae, Lalette, or Mahk, except remind them that however cruel he seemed, the justicars would be twice as harsh.

“There are chambers in Fulcrum, beneath the Iron College, that would stop your heart to consider,” Estev said. “They know more about death than you can imagine. And less about mercy. Your father knew what he was doing, running from them.”

“Perhaps. I just wish I knew why,” Rae said.

They were riding through a low copse at the crest of a rolling hillside. A small village crowned the horizon, and the thin vein of an airdock, devoid of any windships. Maybe we can stop there, he thought. Maybe we can finally rest.

Estev pulled them up short. He stared at the distant village, his breath misting in the air, before he finally spoke.

“We will stop here for the night. No more windships will land after dusk, and there’s no reason to attract attention in the village inns, if we can avoid it.”

“What happened to soft beds and warm baths?” La moaned.

“I will forgo both, if it means I can also avoid a cold grave,” Estev said. He slid stiffly from the saddle, stretching his back as he turned back into the cover of the copse. “Get some sleep. We’ll be up early. Hopefully a flight comes in overnight.”

Mahk followed the old man with a grunt. Rae and La exchanged an anxious look.

“Do you think Rassek is still following us?” La asked.

“I don’t know. But our friend Estev is running from more than the justicars,” Rae said. “Maybe it’s Rassek. Maybe it’s something more.”

“I think he knows more than he’s saying,” La whispered. “I just wish I knew what.”

“Good luck with that.”

“What do you think he was doing in the wastelands? When Caeris picked us all up?” she asked. The siblings threw a glance at Estev, ambling up the hill. “Was he in Hammerwall when it fell? And why is he going so far out of his way to help us?”

“I don’t know. But I think we need to start trusting ourselves more than him,” Rae said. They fell silent as Mahk rode past them. The big man stared at them impassively. Once he was past, Rae bent his head close to Lalette. “Something’s going on here. Something we don’t yet understand.”

They rode into the copse, swaying silently in their saddles. Rae dropped from his horse like a bag of flour, though with less grace. By the time he had straightened and worked the kinks out of his legs, La was already brushing her horse. Rae shook his head, then went to find someplace to sleep.


Sleep escaped him. He lay on the ground, staring at the cold autumn sky through the thin branches of the copse, waiting for dawn. Estev snored soundly to his right, Mahk to his left. La had sought a modicum of privacy deeper into the copse, promising to return before breakfast. For Rae, the waiting was intolerable. Waiting to get caught, waiting for Rassek, or the justicars, or whatever other horrors were on their trail. Waiting for vengeance.

He turned restlessly onto his side and stared at Estev’s sleeping profile. Travel and the constant binding of his fae had changed the man. Estev’s cheeks were hollow, and his skin hung in loose folds across his neck. At the same time, his frequent channeling of Elysium cast his features in otherworldly guise. His eyes were larger, and his forehead sloped back, with the faint glimmer of antlers pressed through his skin. Estev’s hands had grown rough, his chubby fingers now thick, the nails wooden and dark. It was unsettling, as though another creature lived beneath Estev’s skin, something feral that was only now poking through the loose skin of its human disguise.

Frustrated by his own wakefulness and disturbed by the changes in Estev’s appearance, Rae rose and crept quietly toward the edge of the copse. He was tired of waiting. He had questions, questions that only one person could answer.

Settling into the grasses that surrounded the copse, Rae tilted his head back, relaxed his body, and reached for the wraith.

The world sharpened. The sounds of dry grasses rubbing against his leg, of distant insects chirping and fluttering, of wind stirring the trees behind him, all grew loud in his head. Mist rose from the ground, snaking its way across his fingers, coiling across his shoulders. The stars flashed as bright as flares, turning the sky into an early dawn. Rae shuddered under the sudden light. He was about to pull back from the wraith when icy fingers clasped his hand.

—the shadow is not always dark, the wraith whispered. some memories are brighter. not many. but some.

“I thought it was Rassek. I thought he had found me again.”

—he is lurking. i can feel him, pulling at the threads that hold him to this world, waiting to rise again. The wraith appeared, standing beside Rae and staring at the distant village, now limned in silver light. Rae stood up. you are going to hadroy’s estate?

“It seems like it. There must be something left of my father’s research. In the shadowlands, if not the material plane.”

—the iron college watches the grounds. you could be walking into a trap.

“So you’re saying we shouldn’t go there?”

—i am saying you should be careful. be wise.

“Wise is Lalette’s department.” Rae lifted his hand. The wraithblade was already there, with hardly a thought. “I have been given a different task.”

The wraith looked over at him. The long, skeletal face stared at the sparkling sword. There was no emotion to be read on its features, though Rae sensed a tension in the spirit’s shoulders.

—a familiar blade.

“Who are you?” Rae asked. The wraith tore its gaze from the sword to settle on Rae. He forced himself to meet that stare, to not flinch back from the mist-wreathed eyes. “You’ve led me this far, but without explanation. You’ve shown me my father’s study, and saved me from Rassek. You even got me out of Hammerwall, though I think you were still mad from your time in Oblivion. You know more than what you’re telling me.”

—i only have fragments. they broke me before they evicted me from the flesh. or...The wraith shook its head and turned back to the village. i have told you what i can. it must be enough.

“It isn’t,” Rae said. The wraith chuckled.

—impatient child. and curious. like your father, unfortunately.

“You don’t understand,” Rae said. “It isn’t enough. I need to know why that demon was able to track you. How is that possible? You have to tell me!”

—i can’t. you will have to—

“Tell me!” Rae growled. He gestured with the blade, drawing the skeins of spiritual power that linked his soul with the wraith, wrapping them around his wrists like a fishing net. The wraith startled back, trying to back away, trying to escape into Oblivion. Rae grimaced and pulled, pinning the wraith in place.

—what are you doing, you fool?

“We have played enough games, dead man! You’ve fed me crumbs, given me clues, led me down dark alleys and abandoned me when I needed you most. I’ve been led long enough. It’s time you start being honest with me,” Rae said. “And we’re going to start with your name, and how you know so much about my damned father!”

The wraith thrashed like a fish on the line, but Rae didn’t relent. Once he was sure his grip was secure, he started to ascend, out of the shadowlands and back into the material plane. The stars grew faint, the distant light of the horizon returning to dim shadow. An aura of incandescent light sparked and flickered around the wraith’s form, the friction from moving a spiritual body into the real world.

“Who are you?” Rae yelled. “Tell me!”

—you don’t know what you’re asking! you don’t—

“I don’t care! Tell me!”

The ghostly cloak that wrapped the wraith solidified, its tattered hem going gray, the light from its depths fading. The skeletal hands that writhed against the bonds holding it to Rae’s soul turned bone white, then wrinkled with flesh. The long mask of its face, bisected by that glowing scar, retreated into the dark folds of its hood. Pulling hard on its chains, the wraith lashed out at Rae, battering soft hands against his fists. Rae grabbed one of those hands and was shocked at how frail it seemed, how thin. He pulled the wraith close. In its material form, the spirit stood hunched over, with a long white beard. Rae grabbed the hood and threw it back.

An unfamiliar face stared back at him. Wrinkled flesh, so thin Rae thought he could see the skull beneath, and black eyes sunken with age and horror. A long white scar ran the length of the spirit’s left cheek, cutting across the eye, leaving a milky orb in its wake. Rae pulled him upright.

“Who are you? How did you know my father?”

“No one,” the spirit whispered. “Not anymore. I’m a dead man without a body.”

“A soulslave, then? Were you the one Button controlled? That poor bastard in Dwehlling?”

“I don’t know what’s become of my body, child. Only that it has been consumed by another. By a demon.” The man’s remaining eye grew haunted, and his lips flickered. “I felt Hell rushing in, like a fire through dry grass. I tried to run, but they held me . . . they held me . . .”

Growling in frustration, Rae pulled at the robe. Tattered cloth fell aside, revealing a stick-thin neck, and prominent collarbones. But the wraith wasn’t naked beneath the cloth. A uniform, dingy, worn thin by age and dirt, collar open and unbuttoned halfway down his chest. Rae stared at the tabs across the collar, the insignia of rank, peeking out from beneath the scraggly beard.

“So,” he said carefully. “Shall I simply call you Justicar? Or do you have a name?”

The spirit stared at him in horror. His lips moved slowly, trying to form words, trying to remember something that had been burned out of him. Finally, he spoke.

“Yveth,” he whispered. “Yveth Maelys.”


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