Vantra peeked into the torch-lit room at the bottom of the scuffed stone stairs that Rayva had taken, the sense of ancientness striking her. The pale orange walls had smooth, table-sized stone blocks between pilasters that ran to the ceiling, all weathered to the point that only faint lines distinguished them. True flames, not magic-inspired baubles, sat in pitted sconces placed in the center of each one. Friezes near flush with the wall topped them, the worn centers hinting at long-eroded sculpture.
On the left, stood a single table with an inkwell and pen, a couple of yellowing pages, and a stout, unremarkable wooden chair. Three tarnished golden hoops, keys stuffed onto them, hung from wrist-large nails hammered into the rock next to a wine rack with bottles and scratched glasses on top.
Six cells sat against the walls, yellow magic encasing them, palm-sized, magic-imbued locks keeping the doors shut. Kjaelle leaned against the bars of the nearest, Katta’s head in her lap, eyeing the strewn hay with contempt. Red lounged in the cell across from them, right lower arm propped up on his raised knee, swinging his hand absently. The confinement next to his contained the four nomads who kept their emotions behind blank façades, and opposite them rested a resigned Vesh and awe-struck Lorgan. Mera and half of Rils’ people huddled in one of the final cells, Tally and the rest in the other. The twins appeared more cheerful than everyone else, and she pondered why.
She also wondered how they decided who got pushed into which cell. Why was Red alone? Why smoosh all the caravan employees together?
“I still don’t understand how Vantra did that,” Lorgan said, amazement tinging his tone. “I couldn’t sense her at all.”
“Sun’s Reflection?” Red said, then smiled. “Or maybe she uses the Sun’s Color, which magically reflects all light or absorbs all light. Ga Son was messing around with that when he realized the intimate link between Darkness and Light. That would fit her abilities well.”
Would it? She had no idea. The transparency discovery, an exhaustion-induced act of misjudged power, never struck her as an appropriate, intentional spell. She supposed she needed to speak with the mini-Joyful about it after they escaped confinement, though what she might tell them eluded her. She had no grand explanation or intricate knowledge to relate.
She studied the room but did not notice a soul other than the captives. Good.
Wet nose prodded her; she looked at Rayva, who lifted her muzzle at the keys, and nodded. She must sense no one either. Ignoring the tingle in her essence that combined the thrill of discovery with the happiness they spoke about her in a positive way, she crept to the keys.
“It’s an incredible spell,” Lorgan said. “Why didn’t she mention it?”
“If you were trained by Nolaris, would you?” Kjaelle asked, her sarcasm thick and juicy.
“Um, well, no.”
“Just ask her,” Red said. “Hey, Vantra, what spell are you using to turn invisible?”
She had not quite grabbed the hoops, but froze, keenly aware of all eyes on her. She flicked a look at the grinning Light acolyte, then snagged them, the jangling less quiet than prudent.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” Lorgan asked, pressing against the bars as she scampered to Katta and Kjaelle’s cell and attempted to stick a key in the lock. It shuddered and sparks flew. She stumbled back, avoiding the stinging flecks.
Wrong one. She set a shield around her hands, grabbed the hoop, yanked the key free, and tried another.
“It’s something I discovered by accident,” she murmured, starting as more sparks erupted from the second wrong one. “I thin my essence and I hide.”
“Thin your essence?” Red pulled his mouth down in thought. “Interesting. So you’re playing with your Ether form rather than manipulating magic? Hmm. Is that why you curled around Laken? Kinda like a shield?”
“I guess.” She tried three more keys before the right one turned; she unlocked the door and trotted to Red’s cell. What could distract him from asking more uncomfortable questions? “Makerid discorporated the soltress.”
“Ghost have done stupider things,” Red said drily. “The acolyte who brought us water said the stronger Sun acolytes already left for Black Temple. The soltress doesn’t have the magic to make him behave, but that shouldn’t matter. Ga Son won’t be happy about the violation.”
Vantra nodded. “I prayed, and he revitalized her and the injured acolytes.” The sixth key unlocked his cell, and she moved to the nomads’ confinement. “Salan wasn’t happy he attacked them, either.”
Red swung the door open and snagged Laken from Rayva before fluffing her fur. “Did Salan go after him?” The vulf whuffled and he sighed, looking at the ceiling in exasperation. “He knows better.”
“I despise the Finders like Makerid,” Lorgan said, a dark weight in his words. “Their bad behavior can make Redemptions for the next Finder the Void’s work.”
She unlocked the cell and hopped to Vesh and Lorgan’s. “Maybe, but in this case, I think it’s working in our favor. When the soltress first entered the chapel, she spoke to her acolytes about an underground passage to the ruins.”
Everyone perked up at that.
“From here?” Lorgan asked, raising a doubtful eyebrow.
“I think so. She asked where they tied the dogs up, and an acolyte said near the northern Ascendancy, at the twisted tree. They sent someone to watch them, because the last time the dogs were there, they escaped into the underground passage that runs to the ruins, and it took days to find them.”
“So they’re helping us in a roundabout way,” Red nodded as the lock clicked. “So we’ll be looking for a twisted tree to the north. I doubt the Ascendancy is far. The soltress doesn’t seem like someone who’d travel far for religious conviction.”
What did he mean by that? She unlocked Mera’s cell and headed to Tally’s as Laken’s voice rose from the pack. “Just so you know, the Finders have some sort of device that can track Vantra. We hid near that stream, and they complained that it kept pointing to the desert rather than the wagons. They thought it was broken, but that doesn’t mean they won’t try to use it again.”
“Track Vantra?” Lorgan frowned. “How would they specify her? I can see a device to target, say, the magic in Finder badges, but she doesn’t wear hers anymore.”
“My guess is they’re trying to sense Sun-touched magic because of course it would target Vantra and not a temple’s worth of ghostly acolytes.” Red’s sarcasm did not soothe her; she proved a danger to all who accompanied her. Mera and Tally’s combined laughter did not help; why find amusement in this?
A dusting of debris dislodged from the ceiling and pattered to the floor.
“Salan’s still fighting Makerid,” Vesh said, glancing at the doorway. “We need to help.”
“And Makerid won’t care about the wagons or the animals, if he’s willing to discorporate a soltress,” Mera fretted.
“Fyrij’s riding with Salan, too,” Vantra said, worry twittering through her as the final lock fell from the bars.
“He won’t let anything happen to our little avian.” Red rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. “OK. We need to break into two groups. One heads with me, Vantra, and Laken to the Ascendancy tree, and the other supports Salan, gets the wagons back, and becomes our Finder distraction.”
Rils rocked back on his heels. “Well, me and mine are for the wagons,” he said. “We’ve experience sneaking in and out of places we shouldn’t be.”
“Good, we need that expertise in abundance. Since Kenosera knows the ruins, he’s with us.”
“Then I’m going to the ruins, too,” Lesanova said.
Dedari shook her head. “No. They have no supplies, no water. Neither of you should go. And what of your arm? You are favoring it.”
Anger rippled across her visage and Lesanova opened her mouth to protest, but Kenosera held up his hand and shook his head as well. She drooped and turned away, her hand rising, unbidden, to her upper right arm. She had said nothing about it paining her, but there had not been enough time between the Watermarket healer wrapping her up and their arrival at Sunbright for it to have completely healed.
Vantra tended to forget the living had issues ghosts no longer dealt with, and Lesanova behaved as if her arm was healed. Feeling low at her lack of compassion, she studied her feet, her fingers curling into her purple skirt.
“Katta and I are going to the ruins,” Kjaelle said.
“But Katta’s unconscious,” Kenosera protested, sweeping his hands to the still form.
“Not unconscious, just not here.” Red shrugged. Vantra noted everyone but the original mini-Joyful reflected her confusion at the statement. Not here? What did that mean?
“Besides, Kjaelle will make certain he doesn’t stumble around, maybe impale himself on a—”
“I told him I’m never going through that again,” she snapped.
Red’s rosy-cheeked grin threatened to break his face. “Lorgan, I assume you’re with us?”
“Yes.” Vantra doubted anyone could convince him otherwise.
“Mera, Tally, Vesh, help Salan and get the wagons out. If you have to backtrack, do it. Lead these jackasses astray. We’ll meet up at that rock spire near the ruins that Kenosera told us about.” He regarded the vulf. “Lady Rayva, what is your pleasure?”
The vulf smooshed her nose into his chest.
Red laughed and rubbed at the spot. “Great. Let’s go before some Finder sticks their nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“But supplies—” Dedari began.
The room shook. Vesh glanced up and hissed before leaping up and phasing through the ceiling. Tally followed while Mera, Rils, and the rest of the wagon-bound ghosts rushed to the stairs. Red smacked his hands together and trotted from the room.
“But—” Dedari huffed in disbelief.
Kenosera patted her back and hastened after the ancient ghost. The Voristi snarled, then hustled to catch up. Lesanova, head down, shoulders slumped, shuffled in their wake, a worried Tagra at her side. Lorgan motioned for Vantra to precede him, and without a reason to protest, she did so.
The Sun acolytes were still in the nave. They circled a mobile fountain puffing mist into the air, but considering it was the size of a table, Vantra did not think it would re-energize many. Soltress Candara sat nearest, a cluster of ethereal wisps hovering over her, and by her annoyed expression, she wanted them to leave her be.
The ghosts heading for the wagons turned to Ether form and zipped to the entry, capturing the attention of the group. With a grumbling sigh, Red pranced up to them. Vantra did not think it a wise choice to confront them, and from Lorgan and Kenosera’s concern, neither did they.
Candara’s gaze riveted to her. “Thank you for your kindness. You could have left us at his mercy.”
She shook her head. “You should thank Salan. He cleared the nave.”
“Perhaps, but you prayed and received an answer. Our lord is kind, but he rarely involves himself in mortal affairs. How you convinced him, I don’t know, but—”
“Ruvensusche,” Kjaelle said. The woman blinked, taken aback.
“That’s true. Sincerity goes a long way with Ga Son. So where’s this twisted tree?” Red halted three steps away from the soltress, cupping Laken’s pack against his chest.
She frowned, confused. If she expected respectful behavior from the mini-Joyful, the Final Death would claim her before those words reached her ears. She recovered her composure and swept her hand towards the right side of the altar. “The last alcove has a door leading to the gardens. Take the leftway worn path, which will lead out a gate and to the Ascendancy. It’s a domed building of ancient origin, made of the black stone the Nevemere are fond of. Behind it is a ruin, something left from a previous complex. Within is the tree, which guards the passageway.” Her gaze drifted to Laken. “Makerid claimed the ghost you Redeem is a great evil.”
“I’ve been called worse,” Laken snapped as Vantra bristled. A great evil? Who held that title but the Finders who pursued them? “But I’m not the one who discorporated you, am I?”
Candara shuddered and slapped a hand to her chest. Red snickered and readjusted his hold on the pack. “Before you accuse us of carting around an evil Candidate, perhaps you’d like to share why you allowed Makerid to harass your temple in the first place?”
She smashed her lips together, pert enough that if she had lived, wrinkles would surround her mouth in numbers.
“Oh, wait, did you think you were helping the Hallowed Collective? Were you expecting something more than contempt?”
“The Hallowed Collective is not our concern,” she hissed.
“It is now.”
“Qira, we need to go.” Kjaelle headed for the alcove, leading Katta by the hand. He stared blankly ahead, eyes half-lidded, shuffling rather than walking. Apprehension twisting around agitated unease settled in Vantra’s essence. What was wrong with him?
Corresponding to the elfine’s snappy suggestion, purple flared from the open entry. Vesh? Rayva whirled and whined; Red patted her shoulder as he passed. Kenosera finished a heated argument with the other nomads and raced to catch up while they remained rooted, glaring after him. Dedari slapped Tagra in the chest and tore after him; Lesanova took a step, but the other nomad held her back.
Vantra firmed her resolve and sped to the alcove, wanting to be out of the temple, refusing to admit the soltress’s statement distressed her.
Why would Ga Son refuse to help a high-ranking acolyte in desperate need?
