soldier to investigate, or worse, a hungry spirit, eager to taste his living essence. He threw open a door to a room belonging to one of the servants. Once he had changed and pulled a pair of boots on his aching feet, he felt almost human again. As he made his way to the front door, he paused. I need a weapon . He ran back to the kitchens and grabbed a large butcher knife off the counter. The weight of the weapon in his hand made him feel better, braver somehow.
The street outside was still empty, although he could hear people running and shouting nearby. Senda didn't know if they were friend or foe, so he assumed the worst and stayed hidden from view, darting in and out of the shadows, heading to the opposite end of the island.
Senda stopped dead in his tracks. Apparitions floated down the street. He stayed where he was, terrified of alerting them to his presence.
A man stumbled into view, a large knapsack over one shoulder pulling him off balance. He spotted the ghosts and tried to run. But the sack was too heavy. Senda silently prodded the man to drop it and run !
He seemed to hear Senda's cry and let go of his burden, but it was too late. The spirits of the dead flew at the man at breakneck speed, surrounding him in a matter of seconds. His shrill scream pierced Senda to the bone, hurting his ears.
In seconds, the spirits had reduced the man to nothing but skin and bones. They shoved his now lifeless body to the ground and continued their patrol.
Senda stayed where he was, too scared to move. He glanced around, looking for any more spirits while he moved slowly through the shadows. His eyes were never still, probing the intersections, alleys, buildings, and shadows. Senda knew he had to not only watch for specters, but for the living as well. A soldier could end his escape just as easily as a ghost.
He passed several more grisly scenes of the spirits of the dead sucking the life from the living. Senda kept his head down and his eyes peeled for danger. His instinct to survive outweighed the urge to help his fellow man. What can I do to help?
The tang of salt water on the air alerted Senda to the coast. He sent up one final prayer for a boat or canoe, or even a raft that he could use to escape the island. It was blessedly quiet, lulling Senda into a false sense of security. He boldly walked toward the coast and stopped dead in his tracks when the cackle sounded from directly behind him.
TEN
“I KNEW YOU WOULD END UP HERE.”
Senda turned to face the one man he feared most. “Where is Lucian?”
“He is in the castle. And there his spirit will stay for all eternity.”
“He is dead, then?”
“Oh, most surely. You see, one does not often long survive my…ahem… ministrations .” The Mystic laughed.
Senda looked at the man, hope leaving him with each passing moment. “Why? Why did you come?”
“You asked for someone who could cure your Lord. I merely answered the call.”
“That's not what I mean,” Senda snapped. “Why did you turn Lucian against his own people? Why kill them?”
“Because I can !” The Mystic stepped from the shadows and he raised his hands to lower his hood.
Senda gasped at the changes that had occurred in the Mystic. His face was drawn and pale, looking much like the faces of the spirits that now inhabited Lucian's island. Anali had sprouted long fingernails, giving his hands the look of a predatory bird with its talons outstretched.
“And now, it's time. I must be off soon, and I can't leave anyone living behind.”
Anali raised his hands. Senda took his hand from behind his back where he had carefully kept the knife hidden. Just as Anali wasabout to say the word of power, Senda flung his hand forward, releasing the blade.
The blade sunk to the hilt in the Mystic's chest. Senda dove to the side as a fireball flew past. He jumped to his feet. Anali stood in shock, gingerly touching the hilt of the knife. Blood dripped from his mouth as he hit his knees. His mouth
The street outside was still empty, although he could hear people running and shouting nearby. Senda didn't know if they were friend or foe, so he assumed the worst and stayed hidden from view, darting in and out of the shadows, heading to the opposite end of the island.
Senda stopped dead in his tracks. Apparitions floated down the street. He stayed where he was, terrified of alerting them to his presence.
A man stumbled into view, a large knapsack over one shoulder pulling him off balance. He spotted the ghosts and tried to run. But the sack was too heavy. Senda silently prodded the man to drop it and run !
He seemed to hear Senda's cry and let go of his burden, but it was too late. The spirits of the dead flew at the man at breakneck speed, surrounding him in a matter of seconds. His shrill scream pierced Senda to the bone, hurting his ears.
In seconds, the spirits had reduced the man to nothing but skin and bones. They shoved his now lifeless body to the ground and continued their patrol.
Senda stayed where he was, too scared to move. He glanced around, looking for any more spirits while he moved slowly through the shadows. His eyes were never still, probing the intersections, alleys, buildings, and shadows. Senda knew he had to not only watch for specters, but for the living as well. A soldier could end his escape just as easily as a ghost.
He passed several more grisly scenes of the spirits of the dead sucking the life from the living. Senda kept his head down and his eyes peeled for danger. His instinct to survive outweighed the urge to help his fellow man. What can I do to help?
The tang of salt water on the air alerted Senda to the coast. He sent up one final prayer for a boat or canoe, or even a raft that he could use to escape the island. It was blessedly quiet, lulling Senda into a false sense of security. He boldly walked toward the coast and stopped dead in his tracks when the cackle sounded from directly behind him.
TEN
“I KNEW YOU WOULD END UP HERE.”
Senda turned to face the one man he feared most. “Where is Lucian?”
“He is in the castle. And there his spirit will stay for all eternity.”
“He is dead, then?”
“Oh, most surely. You see, one does not often long survive my…ahem… ministrations .” The Mystic laughed.
Senda looked at the man, hope leaving him with each passing moment. “Why? Why did you come?”
“You asked for someone who could cure your Lord. I merely answered the call.”
“That's not what I mean,” Senda snapped. “Why did you turn Lucian against his own people? Why kill them?”
“Because I can !” The Mystic stepped from the shadows and he raised his hands to lower his hood.
Senda gasped at the changes that had occurred in the Mystic. His face was drawn and pale, looking much like the faces of the spirits that now inhabited Lucian's island. Anali had sprouted long fingernails, giving his hands the look of a predatory bird with its talons outstretched.
“And now, it's time. I must be off soon, and I can't leave anyone living behind.”
Anali raised his hands. Senda took his hand from behind his back where he had carefully kept the knife hidden. Just as Anali wasabout to say the word of power, Senda flung his hand forward, releasing the blade.
The blade sunk to the hilt in the Mystic's chest. Senda dove to the side as a fireball flew past. He jumped to his feet. Anali stood in shock, gingerly touching the hilt of the knife. Blood dripped from his mouth as he hit his knees. His mouth
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