Eight 4

There was a line between good and bad magic, mis abuelos had taught me. The first led people to their best selves, the second to their worst, turning them into the playthings of the shadows hiding in the world’s corners.

“Look at the cost,” my grandfather had once said, cigarette in hand while he sat on the back step of my parent’s house. He’d been brooding, which was rare for him. Despite being a man of the present most of the time, every now and again the past came back to cover his eyes with people and events he never talked about.

At the time, I’d been eleven and at the cusp of letting go of the traditions they had worked so hard to instill in me. I remember how I’d looked at his nicotine-stained fingers and waited for him to continue talking, to emerge from the gloominess of his memories.

“Look at the cost,” my grandfather had then repeated, “of what the spirits ask in return for their promises, because the thing is, mi corazonito, the bad spirits lie. They pretend to be good and offer the things you want most. That is why we must be careful about what we desire.”

He’d taken a drag on the cigarette, then his eyes had settled on me, finally seeing me in front of him. I’d thought he might smile—he did that whenever he saw me coming home from school or found me in the living room as I read on the couch—but not that time. His expression had remained steady, like the past had followed him into the present. “There is evil in the world; don’t let your teachers at school tell you otherwise. And it will whisper its lures in the ears of even the best men and women.”

###

The Deer God had treated me well over the years. I owed him my spirit eyes, and they’d saved my life and the lives of my loved ones countless times.

I recognized that he sought power, but the things he did with his power had been in line with the values he’d brought with him from my old world—namely a respect for nature and the cycles of life and death. More importantly, though, mis abuelos had approved of the Deer God, celebrating when I’d first dreamt of him, and I trusted their finely honed judgement.

He repeatedly smashed into the wall proclaiming the Testament of Hunger. My little pings paled in comparison, but small steps turned into long journeys over time. Besides, it gave me the opportunity to observe so much.

For example, the tine in my hands felt both dense and light at the same time. And the Deer God wasn’t mindless in his attacks. I saw the small adjustments he made to angle his antlers just so. Sometimes they glowed the green of newly grown pine needles, sometimes the hue of over-ripe squashes. Yes, he was angry, but when I properly looked, I noted how his anger didn’t control him.

Spirits didn’t tire, so I continued to bang on the wall beside him, and because it was me, I turned it into one long practice session of the lodge’s stabbing forms. I doubted the effort would translate into muscle memory, but at least it would be a way to stay focused.

Unaware of the drama happening beside them, the watch shifts changed twice. The only one who seemed to notice something going on was Ikfael. Like before, she couldn’t see the Deer God—or me, for that matter—but she kept looking in my direction, her expression confused.

Anya also stood guard during that shift, and the Magic Scholar was similarly distracted. In her case, she’d gone back to studying the enchantments locking the secret door. It was surreal, seeing her pondering the wall while immediately next to her an earth spirit marshalled his all to destroy it—the two layers of reality overlapping but not affecting each other.

Until I felt a crack.

The sensation ran through me, connected to me through the tine. I wasn’t the cause, though. No, the Deer God’s antlers had finally pierced through the invisible barrier protecting the wall. Fissures radiated out, spreading from his epicenter. They reached where my own improvised weapon touched the barrier, and a smaller, secondary crack sounded—fine lines spreading from where I stood too.

I heard a pane of glass shattering, and I jumped back just as shards of glimmering magic started to fall. Then, I remembered Anya and turned to pull her away, but none of the broken pieces touched the peltwei. The Deer God protected her from the invisible harm that had threatened her.

His eyes turned toward me briefly, and then he charged through the wall.

Anya’s beak opened in surprise, and it took her a moment to register. “The enchantment is… gone. I can unlock the door.”

Behind me, I heard Haol say, “I can’t wake Eight.”

Was it that time already? A glance showed the others out of their bedrolls except for me, Haol kneeling at my side. Mumu went to crouch beside him and check my eyes, to look for places I might’ve been stung or bitten by something hiding in my bedroll.

The silver cord connecting me to my body flashed, and I knew I could go back if I wanted to. Or... I could follow the Deer God; the cord had also remained looped around his antlers.

His broken tine felt good in my hands.

As mad as my time in Diaksha had been, I’d found that I enjoyed being in the Deer God’s care. Of course, him eating the power within Ithia’s throne had been reckless, but I trusted he’d had a good reason—that it wasn’t purely power for power’s sake.

Which is probably how Ikfael feels about Heleitia, I thought. How is trusting my grandparents’ judgement different from trusting hers? The tine in my hand really did feel good, though. like it belonged there. All right, I’ll think about that later. For now, I’m going.

Despite not being able to see my spirit, Ikfael somehow knew my thoughts. She signed to me, “Safe hunting.”

A smile spread across my face, and I metaphorically girded my loins. Whatever was on the other side of the wall was unlikely to be pretty.

###

Even with the barrier down, the Testament of Hunger resisted me passing through. The Deer God had made it look easy, like any other wall, but it felt like pushing through mud. Suction gripped me until I could get free.

And on the other side? A catastrophe.

The Deer God had wreaked havoc in the time I’d hesitated. The forms of dismembered ghosts were dispersing at each of the corners of a room covered in runes. Behind a large fountain-sculpture thing, an old man with blazing-red eyes smashed a staff against the earth spirit’s antlers.

My training kicked in, and I circled around, impromptu stiletto in hand. There were no spells in this borderland between the material and the spiritual. No land to speak of either, or at least none that I could access. But I used the fountain for cover and lingered there out of sight.

The tine in my hand shivered once, then twice. Through it, I felt the impact of the ghost’s staff against the Deer God’s antlers. Then, when the tine vibrated a third time, I shot from around the cover to stab at the ghost from behind. It felt like sticking a spike into a block of soft cheese, and dragging the tine carved a jagged line into his back.

The ghost arched as if in pain. His staff spun to clear the space around him, but I’d already fallen back, circling to put the Deer God between us. I noted in the meantime how the staff had glowed with the same red as the ghost’s eyes.

He was thin—too thin to be healthy, with gaunt cheeks and stick-thin arms that somehow still managed to swing the staff with tremendous power. There was no sound whenever it impacted the Deer God’s antlers, but I felt the blows like ripples in the air.

Back and forth the two went, with me watching the ghost’s staff to get a feel for its flow. His martial art consisted of offense and defense in equal parts, and it handled the twists and jerks of the Deer God’s antlers well.

Some of the movements, especially in how the wrists rotated, reminded me of the hunter’s spear. Others looked like what I’d seen of the soldiers’ use of polearms. Seeing the similarities was like finding a resemblance in a distance relative.

From the Deer God, I felt endless patience. A predator was supposed to study their prey, so I felt no rush to move until I was ready. I’d seen enough, though. The staff’s reach would be a problem, but I could at least distract the ghost and create openings for the Deer God.

I swung around from behind him, which caused our opponent to immediately shift to keep us both in view. The ghost maneuvered around the room, refusing to give me his back, using the fountain to obstruct us. His affronted eyes glowed with hatred for our trespass.

If only I had my spear. Or access to Dog’s Agility. Then again, the room appeared to be one big ritual space, and the lack of magic likely hurt the ghost more than it did me. So we danced, the three of us.

Mostly I baited the ghost, ducking in farther than I should, but he never bit. He recognized the threat posed by the Deer God’s antlers and played a conservative game.

All right, then, I eventually thought. You want to be like that? Let’s reset the board.

I withdrew from the fight, backtracking through the secret door. Once I was clear, I turned, only to find Anya in my face—she’d been closely examining the wall, and my spirit shivered as I passed through her body. Her arms immediately crossed as if a cold wind swept through her.

Meanwhile, the others sat around my body. They appeared to be consulting with Ikfael. All I caught was the word “unharmed” before I rushed to the wall’s farthest corner. I pressed my hand against the surface, and yes, I was able to push through the clinginess.

The ghosts had used the secret door; that was their habit. That meant an enemy coming through from elsewhere would be unexpected.

I left my hand where it was and stilled, paying attention to the rhythms within me—among them, the reverberations of the Deer God’s strikes, his intent and willfulness. I let myself synchronize with his flow, sensing for the timing.

There! I pushed through in a low crouch, the wall gripping but not able to hold me. I padded into the room to find the ghost maneuvered to face the other corner where the secret door was. The Deer God appeared to be content to continue the fight there.

Slowly, I moved around the room’s edge until I was directly behind the ghost, then I crept toward his back. I’d only have one shot at this—afterward the gimmick would be revealed—so I made sure of my grip on the improvised stiletto and stepped into the cleanest stab I knew how to make. The Deer God attacked with the same timing, the ghost caught between us.

The tine in my hand punched straight through the ghost’s chest. His staff twirled to clear the space around him, but I dropped under it and shifted my grip to drag the tine with me. Down his spine it went and out the side where the right kidney would’ve been.

The ghost’s face was a rictus of pain as he spun his staff to dislodge me. Alas for him, he focused too much on me and left his flank inadequately defended. The result was gored torso, the Deer God’s antlers glowing white like a snowy day in the high mountains.

Impaled, the ghost attempted to swing his staff around at the Deer God one-handed, but I jumped into the gap to stab him in the armpit and use my other hand to claw at his eyes. The Deer God lifted us both with his antlers and swung his neck to pin the ghost to the ground. Then, I used the chance to stab the ghost over and over again.

I’ll say one thing about that old man, he knew how to hold on. He resisted the Deer God for a long time before he was finally—with a soft pop—forced out of the mortal world.

All I wanted to do afterward was to lie down. I wasn’t tired, per se, but my will felt drained. There was a lassitude that told me I shouldn’t fight any more ghosts until I had a chance to recover.

While I caught my breath, the Deer God went over to the fountain. It was about five feet across and grooved on the inside. A smooth oval ring of stone spun while floating in the air above it, which was cool, mysterious, and more than a little eerie.

The wonder vanished, though, when the ring glowed with an ugly, twisted light. A silver globule appeared inside, then the silver flowed down into the basin, only to pass through the stone as if it wasn’t there. That was all I was able to see before the Deer God slammed his hooves into the basin. There was no barrier this time, so it shattered immediately. The physical structure remained intact, but I felt the magical or spiritual purpose it served break under the impact.

The Deer God huffed in satisfaction and turned to eye the rest of the room. The anger was definitely still there as he then bounded into the basin, disappearing as if he’d leapt into a pit. A moment later, I was jerked downward by the silver cord connecting us. There was a pit, or more like a well about ten feet deep that led to an underground passage.

The Deer God was already running ahead, the silver cord spooling behind him so that I wouldn’t be dragged along. A flash in the distance, an angry satisfaction in my belly—both told of him finding another ghost to gore.

I was... I was free to return to my body, but this remained too good an opportunity to scout ahead for my team. Grooves ran along the passage like the ones in the basin, and some of the runes looked the same too.

That had been silverlight I’d seen collected earlier, and it seemed to have been funneled down here and then away toward the pyramid. That jived with the mental map I had of Old Baxteiyel.

If that was right, then all the silverlight from the undead... hells, maybe all the silverlight of any creature that died within the city’s boundaries… was being put to some nefarious use inside the pyramid.

Hold your horses there, Ollie. Asiik didn’t become silvered on air and sunshine. He must have gotten some of it. Or all of it? I shook my head at that thought. There was no way something this elaborate was created as a... a convenience for picking up silverlight that was too bothersome to personally collect. Unless the magic was a way for the city’s rulers to steal the silverlight of the dead. Could it really have been a tax scheme?

There was a saying in my previous world that the only two constants were death and taxes. It was possible that the people of Old Baxteiyel had taken that idea to an incredible extreme.

That was simply a hypothesis for now. Verification would require following the Deer God and possibly entering the pyramid via a heretofore-unknown secret passage. My heart stirred, and I felt a longing to go.

A longing that—when I focused on it—wasn’t mine. The feeling came from the spot where Heleitia had marked my forehead.

A ladder had been carved into the stone leading up to the fountain. I floated up for a closer look and saw that it was designed to be moved to the side, allowing access to the area below. This underground passage I was now in was meant to be accessed by the living as well as the dead.

I floated back down and followed after the Deer God, sensing the places where he had dispatched the ghosts he’d encountered. There didn’t appear to be any traps along the way—no giant rolling balls or pits full of poisonous snakes. There were insects, but they appeared to have wandered inside as opposed to being intentionally left behind.

As I traveled, a heaviness came over me, and the farther I went, the greater the weight. The bugs didn’t seem to mind—they kept doing their thing—but I got to the point where I felt like a hundred-pound bag was laying across my shoulders. And the weight continued to increase until I could barely plod along.

The Deer God must’ve encountered the same issue, because I felt his annoyance. Moments later, I saw him returning. Apparently, the way ahead was impossible for spirits. We’d have to come back with our bodies. Correction: with my body.

Fingers crossed, we might actually be able to enter the pyramid.