Cry of the Ghost Wolf

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

When the thing had first seized Menduarthis, he had never before been so afraid. Over the years, he had learned the value of caution, though with the power he had gained in Ellestharn, there were few things that he truly feared. But the one that still haunted him, the one secret he told absolutely no one, was the one that had been with him the longest. Since childhood. More than anything, being confined in a tight place terrified him. Small rooms made his skin feel too tight, and he could not even abide heavy blankets while he slept.

On Maaqua’s doorstep, he thought he had done a reasonably good job of hiding his growing panic. When the rotten thing had gouged her yellowed fingernail into his forehead, even then he had held on to reason-he’d suffered far worse wounds in his days than a little ripped skin. But then-so quickly he hadn’t even had time to resist-that wound had opened a doorway into his mind, and some thing had entered him.

That had been his worst moment. It had been confinement not just of his body but of his mind as well. Every movement, every sensation, taste, touch, sight, all of it had been taken from him. It had felt like drowning, pressure, sinking, blackness-but it had burned like fire.

Since then, awareness had come to him in broken images and sounds. Like dreams. Only they were all confused. He tasted light, felt sounds, heard smells-all of them tinged with the reek of flame. Now and then, the dream splintered, and he woke to fight. But every time the black fire returned.

Menduarthis was growing weaker, and he knew it. He could no longer put names to many of the images in his dreams, could not remember the feel of winter or the smell of flowers. But always the fire burned in his mind.

And then it was gone. All at once the substance of Menduarthis’s reality-fraught with hundreds of cracks and fissures-shattered entirely.

He fell to the ground, fighting to breathe, and only then remembered what ground and breath were. Dry grass rasped between his fingers, and he could feel wind-real wind and not the foul miasmas of his dreams-stirring his hair. His tongue felt swollen, his skin dry and cracked.

“It’s awake,” said a deep voice from nearby.

Menduarthis opened his eyes, and the sheet of silver stars overhead struck him as the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, their light pure and unsullied. Then a deeper darkness moved between him and the sky.

It took most of his strength and all of his will to raise his head. He was outside. It was full dark, but the starlight seemed very bright, and Selune, riding a third of the way up the sky, was only a few days from her fullness. The wall of cliffs in the distance told Menduarthis where he was. He’d never been here, but the place had a reputation. Nar-sek Qu’istrade, the grass-covered valley at the foot of Highwatch, hemmed in by the last embrace of the Giantspires.

“I know you,” said another voice.

The sound that hit Menduarthis’s ears cracked with the effort of speaking. But under it he sensed a will that was far stronger than anything he had ever faced. Kunin Gatar’s power would melt and steam away before this flame.

“I know who you are. I know what you are. And what you tried to become. You reached far, grasping at mist. And when true power came into your reach … you let her go. I know what you are. And I name you: fool.”

… her? Her who? Hweilan.

The name floated up out of the darkness to settle in Menduarthis’s mind. And around it, more of reality solidified. Beyond the sensation of his surroundings, Menduarthis remembered who Hweilan was, who he was … and who was speaking to him.

He raised his head. Other figures stood nearby. Not pacing. But every one of them swayed or twitched with nervous energy, and Menduarthis was reminded of cocoons twitching as moths struggled to break free.

Beyond all of them was a deeper shadow that the moon and starlight seemed unable to touch. It gave off a presence-not one Menduarthis could feel on his skin, but it burned his spirit. Jagun Ghen. Menduarthis knew it beyond a doubt. He had scoffed at Lendri’s tale to Hweilan. But his derision had only been to mask his own fear. Even he had heard of the Destroyer. The Burning Hunger from the Abyss.

Menduarthis knew he was doomed. However, now that he could see starlight and feel the wind again, it didn’t seem so bad. And even though he did not have the strength to rise, neither would he cringe.

So instead he laughed. It was little more than a rasping croak, and it hurt so badly that it brought tears to his eyes. But he clenched his jaw against the pain and forced words out of his mouth. “Let … her go. You make it … sound easy. You’ve been chasing her. For months. Me? I wasn’t even trying. Not much. And I still came closer to her than you. Me a fool? Heh. Name thyself.”

He felt the shadow stir, but nothing more. He cursed his luck. Infuriating others had always been one of his greatest talents. He’d hoped to stir this monster to a rage, to provoke the demon into killing him before the fire returned to bind Menduarthis and pull him back down to darkness.

“The spider,” said Jagun Ghen.

“What?”

“Your … little flower. She fancies herself a hunter. She learned from the Old Spider. All the lore and knowledge of her people. But she missed the most important lesson. Of all the hunters, the spider is the wisest. It never leaves its lair. It spins its web … and waits for the fly.”

“If you think Hweilan is a fly, then you are a fool.”

The silence lasted long enough that Menduarthis began to hope he had finally stirred the demon to wrath. But no. When Jagun Ghen spoke again, there was no hint of anger in his voice. If anything, he seemed … curious.

“You don’t seem afraid.”

“You don’t seem very frightening.”

Jagun Ghen laughed. “You are a vain thing. Were I to slice open your throat, I suspect you’d use your last breath to spit in my face. But I know the truth.”

“And what-” Menduarthis’s throat constricted, and he had to swallow hard before he could continue. “What is that?”

“You are not afraid because you think you have nothing left to lose. I named you true. You are a fool.”

The shadow surged toward him. Just for a moment, Menduarthis saw what lived inside that shape, and he screamed.