The First Confessor: The Legend of Magda Searus

Chapter 39

Magda could see his boots just on the other side of the hanging cloth. Her back was to the wall at the dead end of the corridor. The delicate cloth hung perfectly still, not three paces away from her.

She tried to think what to do, how she could get away. She thought that maybe, if he came around one side, she could dash out the other side at the same time and run.

But where? She didn’t have the map. She realized, then, that even if she had the map it likely wouldn’t do her much good. There was really no way to run and read the map at the same time. It had been hard enough to decipher when she had been able to stand still, study it, and count intersections.

The truth was she was lost in the maze. A maze designed to attract the spirits of the dead. Magda didn’t think that this man, or creature, or whatever it was, had been what Isidore had been trying to attract, but in dealing with dark forces perhaps she had inadvertently gotten the attention of things she hadn’t intended to attract.

An arm thrust around the cloth, clawing at the air, as if trying to feel around to find her, hoping to snag flesh.

Magda pressed her back against the wall behind, trying to stay as far away from the sweep of the clawed hand as possible. The cloth was sheer enough that had there been light beyond in the tunnel she would probably have been able to see the man through it. With her lantern, she thought that he could probably see her. She turned the lantern window aside, hoping not to illuminate herself for him.

She leaned to the side away from the arm reaching blindly for her and carefully peered through the small gap between the wall and the other end of the cloth. The hall wasn’t as wide as some. She could see that if she went for the gap opposite the man he would likely be able to reach over and grab her.

Again he swung the arm, groping into the dead end, trying to catch her up. She was far enough away from where he was standing, though, that he couldn’t reach her.

But as soon as he came around the flimsy, hanging cloth, he would be able to snatch her unless she could somehow get past him as he came for her. She was fast, but from what she had seen back in Isidore’s place, he was faster. Making it worse, the hall wasn’t very wide. There was no maneuvering room.

Magda wondered how long it would be until he came around and had her. She kept imagining being ripped open the way he had ripped open Isidore. She knew that the end was going to come at any moment.

But instead, he moved to the other side of the cloth, reaching around with his other hand, clawing the air on that side. He didn’t even lean over and look around, probably because his glowing eyes could see her on the other side of the cloth. She could see those eyes clearly enough, and they only added to her terror.

Even as she gasped for air, trying to get her breath as she struggled to figure out what to do, Magda frowned. Why didn’t he simply come around the cloth to get her? It was obvious that he knew she was back there.

He roared in frustration, slashing wildly, blindly, around the side of the cloth. He raced over to the other side, trying again to reach back and snag her. But he wasn’t leaning in far enough to get to her. She couldn’t imagine why not.

It seemed like the silky cloth was somehow keeping him back.

Magda wondered . . . could it be?

She remembered Isidore saying that some of the spells on the hanging fabric were her own creation. Isidore knew more about the underworld and the dead than most people.

Magda held the lantern up. She could see then, through the diaphanous cloth, besides his glowing eyes, that there were symbols all over the other side. They were drawn rather crudely with what looked to be a thin wash of paint that wrinkled the fabric. Magda could see that they were definitely spell-forms. She tried to picture in her mind what they would look like if she were on the other side and wasn’t looking at them backward.

She had frequently seen Baraccus draw spells. She tried to think if she recognized these drawn spells. They were unusual; they didn’t look like anything she had ever seen Baraccus draw.

The man lunged, reaching around the side, grasping empty air with his clawed fingers. Magda ducked in and jabbed at the filmy cloth, pushing it toward him. He stepped back with a surprised, angry growl, then raced to the other side to try again to reach around and get her while she was close.

Magda remembered Isidore saying that the spells she had drawn were born of her work as a spiritist, and that they were both powerful and significant.

Magda remembered Isidore saying The dead must heed them.

The man on the other side hadn’t yet tried to come past the cloth but he showed no signs of giving up. She knew that he would not leave until he had her. If anything, he was getting ever more frantic to reach her.

There was no telling when or if someone, someone like a wizard, would be coming down to the maze to see Isidore. But even if someone did come to visit the spiritist, it was possible that they wouldn’t come this way. The maze was a sprawling complex. For all Magda knew, she could be far off the regular route in. Even if someone did come to see Isidore, they might never come this way and happen across Magda.

Worse, even if someone did come this way they very likely would be killed just as swiftly as Isidore had been murdered. Isidore had used powerful magic and it hadn’t saved her.

Magda could be stuck down in the deserted tunnels forever, with the crazed killer ready to strike at any moment. For all she knew it was possible that his fear of the symbols on the cloth might only be a stopgap measure that wouldn’t hold him back for long. Once he got past that thin piece of cloth, it would be a horrific, painful death.

Magda realized that if she was going to escape certain death, she was going to have to get away on her own.

She had an idea. An idea she didn’t like one bit.

With her heart pounding nearly out of control, she clutched the knife tighter in her fist.

She didn’t see that she had a choice.