A Dance of Ghosts

CHAPTER 8

I don’t see it,” Nathaniel said, rubbing his forehead with his only hand as he stared at the scroll unrolled before him on the desk. He sat in John Gandrem’s room, and the lord paced behind him, arms locked behind his back, a sign Nathaniel knew meant that John was getting closer and closer to losing his patience. Not that he’d yell or strike him, only give him that disappointed sigh and a condescending answer that always made him feel horrible.

“Think harder,” John said. “Look at the map, and remember everything you’ve learned. Sir Eldon knew he couldn’t outrun the enemy on his heels, so where would have been best to meet his foe in battle?”

Nathaniel leaned closer, scanning the colored lines drawn all across the scroll. Before him was a representation of a stretch of land he’d never see, and sketched in along the northern half with triangles, squares, and circles were various units of Sir Eldon Gemcroft. Giving chase on the southern half were even more triangles and circles of the combined forces of Derrik Blackbard. The battle had taken place hundreds of years ago, and for the life of him, Nathaniel could not figure out why he needed to know anything about it.

“Here?” Nathaniel asked, pointing to the only river on the map. It was the best guess he had.

“Why?” John asked, still pacing. Nathaniel let out a sigh. Of course, John had to ask why. No answer was ever good enough. A lucky guess never counted, even if it were correct, if Nathaniel couldn’t provide reason for the guess.

“The river would slow down their charge,” Nathaniel said. He pointed to the many triangles in Sir Eldon’s forces. “Since his army was mostly archers, Sir Eldon could use that advantage to win.”

“Good thinking,” John said. “But you’re wrong.”

He tapped a finger on a set of hills nearby.

“That river’s barely a foot deep, more of a stream, and Derrik’s horses would have thundered right across. No, he went and camped his army on top of this hill here, for reasons similar to what you listed earlier.”

Nathaniel frowned.

“But they could just surround him on the hill instead of charging up it. Why not wait them out?”

John beamed at the question.

“Now you’re beginning to think like a lord,” he said. “And that’s exactly what Derrik did, and exactly what Sir Eldon was hoping Derrik would do. You see, just before reaching the hill, he split off what few knights he had and…”

The door to the room opened, and with a rattle of hinges, in stepped Melody Gemcroft.

“Am I interrupting?” she asked. She wore a long crimson dress, and despite the Gemcroft family crest sewn into its sleeves with golden thread, it only seemed to make Melody all the more a stranger in Nathaniel’s mind, highlighting just how unknown she was to him.

“Not at all,” John said, and Nathaniel wished he had the courage to disagree. As frustrating as his studies with John could be, he still preferred them to the lectures Melody gave him when alone. Lectures about law, order, and the gods in particular. The way Melody talked about the gods unnerved him, made him wish he could pretend neither existed. That and the dreams …

“I fail to see why Nathaniel must learn such uncivilized matters,” Melody said, crossing the room on bare feet and standing beside the table. Nathaniel felt squished between the two, an adult on either side of his chair. “Will Nathaniel one day lead men to war on the battlefield?”

“A strategic mind excels in all battlefields,” John said, “not just those in brute warfare. And though he may not believe it himself, Nathaniel here has a good mind for it, should he ever focus on the little details and stop wildly guessing when he doesn’t immediately know the answer.”

Nathaniel felt his ears turning red. He hated when adults talked about him when he was in the room. It always embarrassed him, no matter if they were praising his virtues, condemning his failures, or pitying him for his missing arm. The pity was the worst, though, always the worst.

“I should go back to my room,” Nathaniel said, and he pushed back his chair in hopes one of the two would move out of the way so he might leave. “I haven’t practiced my numbers for today.”

“Very well, we can resume this tomorrow,” said John. Nathaniel hopped down, and he hid his smile at the sudden freedom.

“Mind if an old lady walks with you?” Melody asked, and that freedom died.

“Of course,” Nathaniel said, knowing it’d be akin to suicide to deny the request, particularly in front of John. Doing so would have earned him a reaction little different from if he spit at Melody’s feet.

His grandmother offered him a hand, and he took it. Despite the veins along her hands, her fingers were still surprisingly soft and warm. Just thinking that made Nathaniel feel awkward, and he wished he were anywhere but with her. Still, he had no choice, and he walked with his head slumped and eyes cast to the floor. From his experience, acting like the carpet was the most fascinating thing ever was the best way to slide through conversations with his grandmother.

“You would do well to listen to John,” Melody said as they walked down the hall, passing by soldier after soldier keeping guard. “Even if it seems rather … unnecessary. The future is always chaotic, and the skills you end up needing may surprise you.”

“You think I will ever lead soldiers in a fight?” Nathaniel asked. It sounded stupid to his ears. Surely Melody didn’t think differently?

“Wars have caused stranger things,” Melody said. “And a war is coming; have no doubt on that. You’ve seen the visions. You know what approaches.”

Even harder now did he stare at the floor. Of course, she mentioned his visions. Why did she always have to mention the visions? Could she not see they terrified him? Could she not just let him be instead of dragging him into stupid conversations and asking stupid questions?

“I guess so,” he mumbled.

They were almost to his room now. Desperate, he silently begged that she would leave him be when he got there, but he knew she wouldn’t. She’d come to him for a reason, and just what, he’d soon discover.

“We’ll need to make preparations soon,” Melody said, making it sound no different from if they were preparing for a picnic. “Perhaps bring in some more mercenaries from the south. John’s men will help, but they won’t be enough. I fear nothing will be enough. If only we knew more of his arrival…”

They were at his room now, and he tried to let go of Melody’s hand so he could open the door, but she refused. Instead, she opened it for him, then stepped inside after.

Waiting for him on his bed were the bowl, silver chains, and various gems of the chrysarium. The very sight of it made Nathaniel’s stomach clench.

“Grandmother?” he asked.

“We need to know,” she said, walking over to the curtains and pulling them shut to darken the room. “Too many questions, too many threats to Luther’s plan. We have to know anything and everything that we can.” She turned to him. “You’ve been blessed with the sight by our beloved Karak, and such a blessing cannot go unused. It is a sin to take the gifts we’ve been given and bury them deep in the earth to remain hidden forever.”

“I don’t want to,” he said, first quietly, then louder. “I don’t want to!”

“You must!”

She reached for his shoulder, and he yanked away.

“I’ll tell Mother!” he shouted at her, and this finally seemed to make her pause. His grandmother’s eyes narrowed, and suddenly he felt very young and very alone.

“You won’t,” she said.

“Why not? I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Because deep down, you know I’m right.” She took a single step toward him, her body shrouded in shadows due to the heavy curtains. “Because you’ve seen his face, haven’t you? Never the same, except for the eyes, those burning eyes. Even thinking about him makes you scared, doesn’t it? Well, he makes me scared, too. He’s old, as old as mankind itself, and we must prepare for his arrival. We must be ready. This city must be made righteous. It must be made faithful.”

She pointed to the chrysarium.

“Karak’s voice waits for you in the darkness. Do not deny the power of our god. The coming days are the prelude to the fated hour. This is your chance, Nathaniel. Your chance to be something special. Your chance to change the fate of the entire world.”

Every word she said put a weight on his shoulders, and he felt it settling, felt it pushing down at his resistance. Was he really so important? These visions, if Karak had chosen them for him … did it mean he was special? As special as his grandmother claimed?

“I don’t understand them,” he said.

“Just try,” she said. “And even if you do not, I and those I serve still may.”

Slowly, Nathaniel approached the chrysarium as if it were a snake that might bite him. It’d been several weeks since he last succumbed to one of the visions, at least while awake. His dreams, on the other hand, he never remembered come morning, but every time he awoke, his heart was racing, his hands shaking, his body covered with sweat. The very idea of seeing whatever it was, of whatever his mind somehow blanked out, terrified him to his very core.

His fingers touched the bowl, and he was surprised by its warmth. Swallowing down a dry lump in his throat, he leaned closer, staring into the very center of the slender bowl. Beside him, Melody began to pray, her words spidery things that made no sense to his ears. The gems rattled, glowing from their centers as if an infinitesimal fire had begun to burn within them. Melody’s words quickened, the darkness in the center of the chrysarium deepened, and then the gems lifted one by one into the air, stretching the length of their thin silver chains. Nathaniel felt himself being pulled into it, felt his mind giving in to whatever power resided within the gems and the words his grandmother spoke.

The shift was harsh, a jerk that made his very mind ache. He saw not the bowl, nor the darkness, but instead a great chasm. It seemed to go on for miles on either side of him, and the fall down was so great that the few trees growing at the far bottom looked no bigger than tiny green dots. Water flowed down there as well, a meager river that seemed almost mocked by the grand size of the chasm.

Even in death, the faithless may be made to serve, said a voice, and it rumbled across the very sky like thunder. Nathaniel found himself unable to look away despite the great distance of the chasm and the fear it put into his gut that he might fall. Down there, he saw movement, just the faintest hint of it, like observing ants, only even smaller. What it might be, he didn’t know, but the movement continued, becoming vague shapes crawling up both sides of the chasm. Time passed, and while he was aware of its passing, it still seemed like the minutes were but seconds vanishing with each breath he took. The vague shapes gained clarity, and he saw they numbered in the thousands.

They were rotten, broken, bone and flesh, and they were dead.

Higher and higher they climbed, and Nathaniel realized they would soon reach his side of the chasm, their skeletal fingers reaching up toward the top, and he let out a scream of terror. Compared to the voice that had spoken before, he felt miniscule and worthless, but it seemed the very sky recoiled at the noise he made. Clouds swirled, the sky turned red, and suddenly he stared into the face of a man on the other side of the chasm, only the man’s face never remained the same, the nose shrinking, the lips widening, forehead deepening, only to reverse as his cry continued to echo throughout the dreamscape.

Even in death … said the man, and Nathaniel wanted to hear no more. He begged for safety, for escape, for anyone to stop the being on the other side of the chasm, and then he felt himself flying. The world passed beneath him as if he were a bird, and for a brief moment, he thought he caught sight of the glow of the chrysarium’s crystals at the edges of his sight. Then his movement stopped, and below him was a great building, shaped as a black spire rising out of the cracked earth. He fell through its ceilings until he was in a small, cramped room full of books, desks, and a lone bed.

All sound ceased but for the turning of a page. Then another. There was a man at a desk, and he wore black robes. His head was bowed, his long hair gray. Hovering above him, Nathaniel stared down, confused as to who he saw and why.

“We save this world by healing it,” said the man, and he sounded tired, very tired. “Not with fire, not with destruction.”

Nathaniel felt an impulse, and he obeyed, reaching down to touch the shoulder of the man. Just before he could, the chair turned, and in the chair was a dying man, his throat cut. Despite it, still he talked, even letting out a laugh.

“Fire and destruction,” he said, his eyes clouded gray, his voice losing strength. “Forgive me, Jerico, but I saw no other way.”

Nathaniel could take no more. He slammed his eyes shut, and he begged to be home, to be in the arms of his mother. A roaring filled his ears, his entire body shook, and suddenly he was back in his room, his grandmother lurking over him.

“You were not out long,” she said, taking the chrysarium from him. Nathaniel looked at her, then away. He didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to be with her. His heart pounded in his chest, and he felt the vision chasing after him, the man with the ever-changing face lurking just behind his neck.

“What did you see?” she asked, the question he knew she would ask. He thought to tell her of the man at the chasm, but the very idea of it made his throat constrict. Instead, he thought of the second man, the dying one, and he hoped that by his speaking of him instead, she might leave him alone.

“I … I saw a man in a tower,” he said. “An older man with gray hair.”

Nathaniel hadn’t expected her to know him, nor react, but instead, she froze as if he’d flung a rope around her neck and pulled it tight.

“An older man?” she asked. “His robes, were they black, like a priest’s?”

He nodded, and he watched her swallow.

“Did he say anything to you?”

Nathaniel felt a shiver crawl up his spine as he thought of the man’s cut throat, and of the way his eyes had turned a cloudy gray.

“He was dying,” Nathaniel said. “His throat was cut. He said he only knew fire and destruction. That’s when I woke up.”

He’d thought the second vision would be easier, less frightening, but the way Melody grabbed his shoulders terrified him. She fell to her knees, staring at him as tears filled her eyes.

“No,” she said. “He can’t be dying. He can’t. I need him, I need … We need…”

She started crying, and she pulled him against her, holding him with his face pressed against her neck. Her entire thin body seemed overwhelmed by her sobs. Nathaniel waited it out, awkward and confused.

“I’m sorry,” she told him when she regained control. “It’s only that … sometimes when you love someone, love them so much, you’ll forfeit everything to be with them. And if this world were just, that sacrifice would mean something, but it never does. This world is cruel and horrible, and it’s only going to get worse without Karak here to guide us.”

She leaned back, eyes red, her hair sticking to her face, which was wet from her tears.

“I’m sorry,” Nathaniel said. He wasn’t sure for what, but it felt like the appropriate thing to say at the time.

“Shh,” she said, touching his face with her shaking fingers. “It’s not your fault; you see only what you were meant to see. But if Luther falls, we’ll need you all the more. So much will rest on your tiny little shoulders…”

When she stood, he went to the windows and pulled back the curtains, letting in the light. Immediately, he felt better, the images fading in Nathaniel’s mind, becoming like dreams, hazy and distant.

“Not yet,” Melody said, and she walked back to the curtains, shutting them, spoiling his relief. “I must use it myself.”

“May I go?” he asked, and he could not describe the relief when she said yes. He bowed his head in respect, then rushed to the door. As he stepped out into the hallway, he turned to shut the door, and as he did, he saw Melody on her knees before his bed, the chrysarium settled atop the blankets.

“Luther?” he heard his grandmother ask. “Luther, are you there? Please, my love, answer me…”

He shut the door and hurried away.