“What happened to Thieron? I assume she doesn’t have it anymore?” Herbert asked, following up on Kill’s statements. It was a reasonable assumption.
“Well, the word is that one of those ancient Hermessi—you know, the ones who started the first ritual—the word is that one of them managed to steal Thieron from Death, somehow,” Kill replied.
Herbert and I were understandably baffled. “What?”
Kill nodded, delightfully amused. “I have no idea how that happened, but it did. Death transferred a significant amount of her power into Thieron, long before the Hermessi even cooked up their ritual, and no one knows why she did it to begin with. Point is, one Hermessi saw an opportunity, and they took it.”
I now understood why Herbert had considered this detour necessary. This was an incredible development, and I was already even more eager to return to my body, so I could reach out to GASP and tell them everything I’d just learned.
“That’s amazing,” Herbert managed. “A little disappointing, coming from Death, but…”
“Oh, don’t hold it against her.” Kill laughed. “I think stopping the ritual wore her out enough to make her momentarily vulnerable. I only know what I heard from other Reapers before I dropped out, and from other, older ghouls.”
“Would you know where Thieron might be?” Herbert asked.
Kill thought about it for a moment. He took a deep breath and flashed across the twenty yards of white dust that had separated us until now. Before Herbert could react, Kill was right in front of us, taking deep breaths as a hungry smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“I wonder, Herbert. Are you asking for me or for that soul you’re hiding inside you?” Kill shot back, his tone cold and sharp and spelling all kinds of doom.
Herbert was paralyzed by what I could feel as genuine fear. Original ghouls were faster and stronger than devolved ghouls. Kill’s crew came down from the tall rocks on which they’d been sitting. With light steps, they made their way toward us.
Terror gripped me. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to,” Herbert said.
“Don’t insult my intelligence or my instincts, Herbert,” Kill replied. “I could sniff that soul from twenty yards away, and I’ve spent the past five minutes wondering why you’d carry one inside you without eating it, given your condition.”
He reached a hand out, black claws itching to find me. Herbert moved back. His leg muscles, as wiry as they were, had turned to rocks, his entire body ready to spring to action and defend me.
“Right now, I am inches from it, Herbert, and it smells so good. I can only think of one reason why it’s here, intact, and not coursing through your flimsy veins,” Kill continued, a look of determination settling on his face. “That deal you made with your warlock. It had to involve carting this soul somewhere. Correct me if I’m wrong.”
I’m afraid we’re in a pinch of trouble, Herbert thought.
You don’t say.
The other ghouls had reached Kill. We now had eight of them to deal with. If they took Herbert down, they would crack him open, pull me out, and eat me. My body was so close, it hurt me to even think that I might die here, before my time. My biggest concern now was not finding an answer to one of my more dangerous questions: Exactly what were the differences between the Nevertide original ghouls, such as my ancestor Hellswan, and Kill’s crew? The answer could dictate our survival.
They’re not to be trifled with, Herbert said to me, internally. That didn’t make me feel any better. It just amplified the fear creeping through me like tendrils of ice water.
All I could think of was ways to get us out of here in one piece, but I knew little about the original ghouls—certainly not enough to save me. The only creature who could do something here was Herbert, and he was temporarily frozen by fear. Quite the pinch of trouble…
Taeral
I couldn’t get that Reaper’s thinly veiled warning out of my head. “You’re not safe here, you know,” he’d said. As we continued our trek through the seemingly endless forest, his words echoed on an irritating loop. I’d failed to get more out of him, but Raphael had made a fair point—surely, we’d find another Reaper in these parts, one whom we could maybe get to help us.
We still didn’t know where we were, but we had a faint understanding of how Yamani’s scythe worked, along with the fact that all these wandering souls I could still see were being “herded,” probably by more than that one Reaper, because of a “mess” that Death had made. It wasn’t nearly as much as we’d have liked to know, but it beat total ignorance.
Word had come in from Calliope via Telluris. We’d learned about Harper’s impending return via Herbert, and the fact that Varga and his crew were currently on their way to Mortis. Thanks to Herbert’s memories, Ibrahim had been able to give them an accurate location. My only hope was that they’d make it there in one piece, since they were traveling with a “blind” interplanetary spell, without an item from their destination.
“You look worried,” Eira said to me. I led the group, with her by my side.
“There’s just a lot to process and think about,” I replied.
Amelia, Raphael, and Lumi were right behind us, following up on what we’d heard from GASP about Harper and the others. I’d stayed silent for the most part, as I had possession of the scythe and could see souls watching us from nearby, on all sides.
“About Varga’s team, you mean.” Eira sighed. “I know, I’m concerned about them, too.”
“Technically speaking, we shouldn’t be, because they’ve got two full swamp witches with them, but… I don’t know, my experience tells me that we’re not going to get anything easily handed to us in this quest,” I said.
She glanced around, frowning slightly. “You can still see them, right?”
“Yeah. They’re quiet. Won’t dare approach us. I figure it’s only a matter of time before that Reaper I saw comes around again.”
“We’ve been at this for a day, now. It’s night again,” she observed.
Above, wherever the sprawling tree crowns allowed it, the starry sky unraveled. Somewhere to the northeast, a full moon was rising, its milky light spilling downward across the forest. Insects chirped from dark bushes, and predators prowled the area. None of them dared approach us, though. Their instincts had probably warned them to stay away.
“He’ll show up again, I’m sure of it,” I said. “He’s got a job to do.”
As if summoned by my ardent desire to confront him again, I could see the signs of his presence. I came to a sudden halt, causing the others to bump into me. Around us, the spirits were vanishing again. One after the other, they faded into the darkness of the woods.
“What’s wrong?” Raphael whispered.
“I think there’s a Reaper here,” I replied. Looking around, I couldn’t see anything suspicious on our level. However, about fifty yards ahead, at our ten o’clock, a cliff rose from the greenery, its top covered in wildflowers, and a stream poured down into a nearby river. We all heard the water rushing over the rounded stones.
Eira followed my gaze. “What do you see?”
At the top of the cliff, three dark figures stood. I didn’t have a clear view, but it was obvious that I was the only one seeing them. They weren’t moving, and I could feel them watching us. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up like spikes.
“Everybody, link hands,” I said, settling the scythe in a thigh pocket, its blade out and glistening in the moonlight. I did appreciate its short handle, allowing me to move easily with it like this.
