Ten of Swords (Draft Only)

Chapter 8

Elise woke again in the middle of the night. It seemed that disturbed sleep was becoming the norm. Her heart raced from half-remembered nightmares that seemed to fade more quickly than they had startled her. To shake them off faster, she sat up and shifted the fit of her blanket. Around the camp she saw her son and her friend resting. Their dreaming seemed fitful, but they were asleep at the very least.

Mage was missing. Where he had been was nothing more than a pile consisting of his blanket and pack. His staff was gone as well. He must have left of his own accord then, and not for a bathroom break. She was reminded quickly of Sniffles' read on the man. Not dangerous, but not trustworthy. She shed her own blankets, picked up her knife which had been close at hand, and went to investigate.

There had been no attempt on the mage's part to cover his tracks. There were clear, steady indentations in the dirt and gravel where he had walked down the street. It had been Butcher who had taught her how to track, just as he had taught her son. In comparison to forest, tracking footprints down a gravel path was comically simple. It calmed her a little. Either the man was much too cocky for his own good, expected himself to be done long before the other awoke, or wasn't doing anything that he was particularly worried about being caught doing. Still, it was best to be cautious.

She followed the clear path to the centre of town. There stood the charred remains of the bunkhouse. There wasn't much of it left. It had probably been among the first to be set alight. As she grew closer, she could see flickering light on the walls of the nearby ruins. It acted like fire light, but the colour was wrong. It was not yellow or golden, but slightly greenish in hue.

Among the skeletal remains of the building which once stood as the town's central hub, stood Mage. In one hand was his staff, and the other held a floating ball of otherworldly fire. He wasn't alone. It was difficult to make out, but in the spaces between the light in the shadows stood figures. They whispered in unreal voices. Some were clearer than others. The voice of a woman. Some were completely inhuman. The reverberating rasps of something whose shape was contorted and strange.

Elise saw a small figure turn, and two pin-pricks of light faced in her direction. The whisperings died down. Mage turned slowly. In the light of the strange fire, his features looked ghastly.

"It's alright." His voice was gentle. He seemed to be speaking to both the figures and Elise. "You have nothing to fear. This is not necromancy."

Elise cautiously approached, dagger in hand. "Explain to me how it is not. First you talk about how awful black magic is, and then you do this?" She gestured with the same hand at the gathered ethereal creatures.

"Necromancy is a perversion of the deceased spirit and flesh. These spirits were already here. The darkfire enables us to see and hear, but it is up to them if they choose to make themselves seen and heard." He turned her back to her then, facing back towards the gathered spirits. "These ones in particular want their voices to be heard."

They started whispering again. Elise did not understand their words. It wasn't as though they spoke another language, but it was more like gibberish. Noises that conveyed emotion and little else. Yet, the more she listened, the more she understood.

Most of the little ones have crossed over already. They have no reason to linger and are eager to flee the fear and pain of this place.

It was the same feminine whispers as before, but this time directed toward Elise.

You must know, those who died in the fighting after the fires do not blame you. They are grateful that they got the chance to fight back. Had they not been given it they would have lived longer but died with the guilt of never raising a finger. We linger, not out of rage but concern. We are worried for our kin. We know what has happened is only an indication of what is to come. We want someone else to know this. We don't want this knowledge to die with us.