Chapter Twenty-Nine
The narrow path led to an alleyway between the stables and a tall, wood-planked building that smelled like a rendering house. Rivulets of slick grease ran across the path. Rae kept looking over his shoulder to see if the justicars had followed them. He nearly stumbled over a set of haphazardly spaced wooden stairs that led higher up this side of Aervelling. They clattered up the ramshackle structure, their footsteps ringing like alarm bells off the silent buildings surrounding them. Rae and Mahk and La came out on a terraced road that overlooked the stables and their inn across the way.
“Where’s Estev?” La asked. “Rae, what’d you do with him?”
“He was right by me,” Rae said. “He must have fallen behind.”
“Sorry . . . terribly sorry,” Estev said, huffing up the path. “Wrong turn. Thought I’d . . . thought I’d lost you.” Estev’s round form topped the stairs. He bent over, resting both hands on his knees, breathing heavily. “Couldn’t we have . . . run . . . downhill?”
“Estev, you’re still channeling!” Rae hissed. The lifebinder looked up. His face was creased by miniature antlers, and his eyes were deep brown pools that glimmered in the moonlight. He blinked, and the transformation faded.
“If those justicars find us, I’d rather have the spirit in hand to face them,” Estev said. He pushed himself upright. “You should consider doing the same, Raelle. The dead are handy in a fight.”
Rae swallowed hard. The thought of that ghostly presence lingering in the back of his head revolted him. He didn’t want to keep it in hand, any more than he wanted to hold a rotten egg in his mouth. But as Mahk and Estev started up the terraced road, Rae reached into his soul, feeling along the bonds that tied him to the wraith. The spirit answered with a low, mournful groan that shivered through Rae’s soul.
Down the path, in the direction from which they’d come, the sound of horses complaining and people arguing rose above the roofs. Lantern light sparked in the stable yard. Rae caught up with Estev. The lifebinder winked at him.
“Had a word with the horses. They’ll make passage inconvenient, if nothing else.”
“And the justicars won’t detect that tampering?”
“They will. But we’ll be long gone,” Estev said.
“Not at this rate we won’t,” Mahk grunted. He and La were both paces ahead of them, champing at the bit to go faster. Rae didn’t want to lose track of Estev again, not with justicars hot on their trail. Then again, Estev didn’t look like he could go much longer.
“We should have grabbed some horses,” La muttered.
“I will not steal horses. I am not a criminal,” Estev said through lung-deep gasps.
“Those justicars might disagree,” Mahk said. “I’m inclined to argue the point.”
“Enough talking. Just keep moving,” La said harshly.
They fell into a silent jog, Estev’s breath coming more and more ragged as they tromped up the hill. The terraced road led to a switchback crowned with hovels. Aervelling spread out below them in silent steps, only a dim constellation of house lights and streetlamps cutting through the darkness. The commotion in the stableyard went quiet long before they got to the top of the road. Once they reached the switchback, they stopped in the lee of the crown while Estev regained his lungs. Rae and Mahk turned their attention back the way they had come.
“No signs of them,” Rae said. “You think we’ve lost them?”
“I think two justicars with the edict of the Iron College could have crossed this distance twice,” Mahk said. “I don’t think they were stopped by a couple horses.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning they’re close. Or they’re chasing the wrong rabbit.”
“We can only hope. What if—”
Rae dropped silent. A shadow stole across the road behind them, crossing from the roof of the stable to disappear in the shadows on the bluff-side of the terrace. It moved with unnatural grace, a tangle of liquid night. Rae’s heart leapt into his throat.
“What was that?” Mahk whispered.
“Not a rabbit, I’ll warrant,” Rae answered. He grabbed Mahk’s shoulder and pushed him uphill. “Get the others moving. I’ll watch our back.”
“But—”
“Go!” Rae hissed. Mahk obeyed, drawing La and Estev farther down the road. The three exchanged harsh whispers. Estev’s fae flared as the old mage swelled in size, but Mahk and La dragged him up the road. Rae sunk into the shadows surrounding the hovels, trying to calm his breathing. His heart hammered through his skull. The wraith itched in the depths of his soul, but Rae pushed it away. If the justicars really could feel the binding of spirits, he didn’t want to give them any kind of lead.
The tangled shadow detached from the bluff and loped up the road toward the switchback. In heartbeats it covered the distance that had taken Rae and the others long minutes. The shadow seemed to glide across the uneven pavement. Rae caught a flicker of raven-black wings, and heard the swooshing air of their beating. He glanced up at Estev and the others, waddling breathless up the road. They weren’t going to make it. He had to do something.
Just as the shadow reached the switchback, a light shone on the road below. Caeris and the other justicar, his tall, thin arm cradling a frictionlamp, topped the staircase and strode into the middle of the street. Caeris had her angelic sword out. It was a slash of copper flame flickering against the darkness.
The shadow-creature froze, melting against the rugged face of the bluff. Its form settled, darkness dissipating into a man wearing a gray half-cloak and baggy pants, with knee-high riding boots. The hood of the cloak covered the man’s face, but his clenched fists were stitched with scars. He pressed himself deeper into the bluff, watching the two justicars down the road.
Caeris lifted her sword and drew more and more of her angel into the material plane. Bright robes swirled around her legs, and a mantle of heavenly light rose from her shoulders, forming feathered wings. The other justicar watched the road, eyes darting back and forth, settling briefly on the shadows where Rae was hiding. Rae’s soul kindled into panic until the justicar turned his attention in the other direction, down the road. The tall man bent and spoke to Caeris, then trotted away from Rae and the shadowy man. Caeris hesitated before following. She reeled the angel back inside, leaving the street in darkness.
The half-cloaked man breathed a deep sigh, then stepped away from the bluff. He watched until the justicars turned the corner at the far end of the road, then strolled casually up to the switchback, passing Rae on the way. Rae held his breath as the man walked past. Up the road, Estev and the others had disappeared. The man stood in the middle of the road, looking from the hovels to the road to the roofs that stretched down to the river, his eyes probing the shadows. He threw his hood back and seemed to scent the air, like a hound on the hunt. Rae finally got a good look at their pursuer.
Thick black hair interrupted by a blunt scar covered his head. His face was a hatchwork of scars, and the skin between them seemed to hang slack over his skull. It gave Rae the impression of a jigsaw puzzle with pieces that didn’t quite fit together. The man snuffled at the air.
The glass sword on Rae’s back grew warm. The man’s head cocked and the snuffling sound grew anxious. Startled, Rae took a step back until his back pressed against the rough wooden wall of the hovel. His heel scraped along the edge of the terrace. Below him was a twenty-foot drop into the backyard of a row house.
When he looked up, the half-cloaked man was slinking up the road in the direction Estev had gone. Once their mysterious stalker had gotten a good way up the road, Rae detached himself from the shadows and crept along in his wake. He was just about to climb the steep angle of the switchback when the man paused. Rae froze. He was too far into the intersection to dive back into the hovels, and not far enough along to reach the homes that lined the higher street. If the man turned around, he would be looking directly at Rae.
There was only one place Rae could go.
Gathering the strands of his bonded soul in his mind, Rae seized the wraith and channeled. The wraithblade formed in his hand like frost on a still pond. But instead of drawing the wraith into the material plane, he pulled himself down into the shadowlands, using the wraith like a diver uses an anchor. The silver light of the moon grew sharper, the shadows grew deeper, and a shiver of frigid ice went through Rae’s veins. The wraith’s insubstantial cloak wrapped around Rae’s form, lifting him off the ground. The image of the man sharpened and shifted, resembling the loping blackness that Rae had first spotted. Rae drifted slowly back down the street.
The man straightened. To Rae’s eyes, his soul was a constellation of bright lights, woven through with a darker spirit. The demon. The half-cloaked man started to channel, the lights of his soul shifting around, shuffling like a deck of cards to bring the demon to the top of the deck. Night-black wings rose from his shoulders as the fiendbinder swelled in size and mass. His face split into a crown of barbed thorns, with a row of six eyes that glowed with profane light. The fiendbinder raised his hand, revealing a three-fingered claw tipped with amber talons. He gestured, sketching a rune in the air, sparks trailing from the tips of his talons. Rae recognized the central symbol of Oblivion, the summoning sigil of the realm of Death. Silver strands of light wriggled free of the rune and cut through the air, to latch onto Rae’s soul. The demon turned to look in his direction.
A sudden panic filled Rae’s heart. Wispy strands of light trailed from the mage’s upturned claw, like the strings of a marionette. The fiendbinder pulled the strings, and they went taut.
Rae’s soul answered. He could feel the strands of light wrapping around his own spirit, dancing to the man’s gestures. The wraith let out a wordless shriek. The seam between Rae’s soul and the wraith burned like a scar, long forgotten but never healed.
The fiendbinder cast back and forth, blunt head swinging, black eyes glimmering. Even through the veil of death, Rae could feel the demon’s sulfurous breath. Rae’s heart beat fast. He wanted to run, but was afraid to move, in case the fiend caught the movement.
A taloned fist swung forward, holding the wriggling knot that led to the wraith bound to Rae’s soul. He waved it back and forth like a searching lantern. The knot tugged at Rae’s spirit. A jagged smile peeled open on the fiendbinder’s face. He held the knot aloft.
“Can’t run forever, boy. Even the dead know that.” The fiendbinder crushed his fist closed. Rae felt those blackened talons close on his soul, their razor-sharp tips iron-hard and desecrated, cutting into his bones. A jerk, and Rae collapsed into the material plane, boots slapping hard against the pavement. A halo of mist rolled out, carrying the stink of the grave, sharp with Rae’s terror. The wraithblade winked out of existence, disappearing with the fleeing wraith, burrowing somewhere deep in Rae’s soul. The fiendbinder loomed over him.
Rae looked up at the fiendbinder, and his heart stopped in terror. Moonlight splashed across the man’s face, revealing ink-black eyes and a cruel smile. But more than that, they revealed a memory. Rae knew this man. This dead man.
This was Rassek Brant, risen from the grave.