Requiem of Silence Read online

  Just as he suspected, the shadows didn’t let something as simple as a wall stop them. All three shot through the plaster and wood as if it was air. Two of the creatures disappeared into the Guardsmen. The third veered toward Jasminda, but bounced off her as if she was covered in invisible armor.

  The last shadow hovered for a split second before apparently seeking an easier target and darting in Varten’s direction. He braced himself for impact, knowing he couldn’t outrun a spirit who had escaped the World After. Shutting his eyes tight, he winced, waiting for the blow to come as the specter invaded his body. But it never came.

  Instead, a prickling energy floated across his skin. When he opened his eyes, the Goddess Awoken stood in front of him, between him and the spirit. Her white dress billowed in an invisible breeze. The power coating Her was so thick even he could feel it. With Her back to him, She raised an arm above her head and tightened her fist.

  The shadow spirit floating before Her appeared to shiver, convulsing and quaking in what might have been fear or pain had it been alive. A crackling light flashed from the Goddess’s closed fist, darting into the center of the shadow, illuminating the creature from within and causing it to fade.

  Jasminda shouted, tearing Varten’s gaze away. She now faced off against her own Guardsmen, except they were no longer her Guardsmen. In the places of the two Elsirans pledged to protect her, two Yalyishmen stood on either side of the door. Both were of the Daro race, pale-skinned with icy blue eyes. Their heads were shaved and even their clothes were different: the gray shirt and trousers of the servants of the Physicks. But it was obvious they weren’t in their right minds. Both growled like vicious dogs, and the one on the left was actually slavering.

  Hearing about the attack from his brother and the others had been one thing, but seeing it happen in front of him was totally different. Even Jasminda looked shocked—it wasn’t that they hadn’t believed the reports, it was just that after the Physicks’ headquarters had been destroyed, no one expected this to happen again.

  As one, the wraiths leapt forward, charging Jasminda, who knocked them back with a blast of her power. The sound of rushing wind gusted by, lifting the men off their feet and crashing them into the far wall. The Goddess rose into the air and landed at Jasminda’s side. The two women took defensive positions as the men righted themselves with superhuman speed and stood poised for another attack.

  “Go!” Jasminda yelled. Varten didn’t need to be told twice. The two powerful Earthsingers had things well in hand; there was nothing a non-magical person could do here other than be harmed. He shot a glance at Zeli, whose eyes were wide with fear.

  “This way,” he said, motioning down the hall. Zeli shook herself and they both took off, racing away to what Varten hoped was safety.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  What’s hidden within you is blinding.

  A startling, radiant reminder of all

  that has come before and is yet to be.

  Its concealment will not last.

  —THE HARMONY OF BEING

  “Any ideas?” Jasminda asked as she and Oola forced the enraged wraiths back again and again with blasts of air.

  “I have not done battle in many years and never against ones such as these.”

  “How did you stop that thing?” She motioned over her shoulder to where the faded, graying shadow was still locked in place, hovering in the air.

  “Before they take hosts, spirits are vulnerable. But it is temporary. I created a cage of Earthsong—pure life energy that the spirit must drain with Nethersong. But feeding a constant stream of energy will maintain it, though it is costly.”

  Oola was intense, some strain showing in Her eyes. “We need to immobilize them,” She said as the men raced toward them again.

  “I’ve got the one on the left.” Jasminda took a deep breath and dropped the temperature of the air around her wraith, freezing him. His skin turned blue, and his movement stopped midstep. But seconds later he shook free and began running against the wind she brought up to keep him back.

  They had amazing speed and strength and seemingly endless stamina. Oola spun Her target into a miniature cyclone then threw him against the wall. He emerged from the huge dent in the plaster unfazed. Undamaged. Of course, he was already dead.

  Lightning had little effect on them nor any other natural phenomenon either of them could conjure in the palace. Jasminda was in the midst of ripping the marble tiles from the ceiling to smash against the men, when the sound of bells clanging began again inside the Council Room. Her attention momentarily diverted by the noise, she paid for it dearly as a wraith crashed into her with immeasurable force. Her skull cracked against the ground, and several bones broke from the impact. She managed to tilt her head away in time to miss the fist that punched straight through the carpeting and into the cement below. The wraith pulled his arm back and did not bat an eye.

  The clanging, in a different tone from the bells that had marked their arrival, grew louder and the man on top of her reluctantly stood—as if compelled by the sound. Jasminda lay heaving, pain radiating from her head, neck, and back, while Oola stood stoic as ever watching as the two wraiths slumped to the ground. The spirit shadows flew out of the bodies and the third, hovering shadow gave a final shiver then darted with the others back through the closed door of the Council Room. A moment later, the ringing stopped.

  Jasminda lay on the ground, directing Earthsong to heal her various wounds. Exhausted, she rolled to her side to find her two Guards lying unconscious. Their bodies and clothes had transformed back to normal, but they were far from unscathed. All of the injuries that she and Oola had inflicted on the wraiths had been borne on the bodies of the hosts. The Goddess Awoken was already healing the men of the internal and external damage they’d taken during the fighting.

  More Guardsmen came running up with their leader, Captain Bareen, in front. Jasminda stood as Oola faced the men.

  “All is well,” Oola said calmly. Jasminda cautiously opened the door to the Council Room in order to be sure. Blessedly, the portal was closed and the room was empty and silent as a tomb.

  “I was demonstrating something to the queen,” the Goddess continued, “and got a bit carried away.” She motioned toward the devastation evident on the walls and floor, tapestries ripped and hanging off the walls, and debris everywhere.

  The two Guardsmen who had been the unlucky hosts for the spirits blinked, appearing confused. One held a hand to his head, while his partner looked around at the damage to the hallway in obvious shock. Neither seemed to remember their ordeal.

  “These men will have the rest of the day off in appreciation for their unwitting participation in my demonstration.” Oola smiled beatifically, dazzling everyone present. Jasminda bit her tongue and kept from rolling her eyes.

  “Certainly, Your Excellency,” Captain Bareen said. “Lenos, Erseen, you’re relieved.”

  The men saluted and then walked away. They would need sleep after being healed of such severe injuries.

  “Captain,” Jasminda said, “please alert the steward to the need for repairs in this hallway. And I’m sorry for alarming you.”

  “No apology necessary, Your Majesty.” He bowed and then led his men away to inspect the mess.

  Jasminda gave Oola a hard look that the woman brushed off. “Come, we must talk,” She said.

  They ended up in the eastern gardens after all, having moved through the corridors in silence. In fact, none of the servants, staff, or aristocrats they’d passed on the way had acknowledged either the queen or the Goddess Awoken at all. Considering the state of Jasminda’s dress—dirty and torn—that was a good thing. Oola must have diverted everyone’s attention with Her Song. Of course, She still looked perfectly put together.

  Once in the garden, one of Oola’s favorite spots, which overlooked the city with a view of the ocean beyond, the Goddess sat lightly on a stone bench. Jasminda remained standing. Oola’s gaze tracked the progress of a lone ship a ways
off. Not many were docking in the port due to the embargo by the king of Raun and her allies.

  “An attack of this kind inside the palace is unique,” the Goddess said, breaking their silence.

  “Yes, so why keep it quiet?”

  Oola pursed Her lips. “Knowledge of it would only serve as fodder for your enemies.”

  “I don’t know about that. I think the Guard should be aware; they’ll need to prepare. And I’ll have to call Jack back. He’ll want to be here.”

  “And what of Fremia and their aid?” Oola’s expression was guileless, but Her words stopped Jasminda midstep.

  “Someone just attacked us inside the palace using undead warriors. You don’t think we should alert the king?”

  “What good would that do?” She tilted Her head, eyes glinting in the sunlight.

  Words wouldn’t come so Jasminda simply stared. Oola turned back to the water. “It is my belief that sharing information with others who can do nothing about it is useless. Jaqros has no ability to fight the wraiths. Knowledge would only give him additional worries. What he is doing now is necessary, is it not?”

  Jasminda blinked.

  “Telling him would just be to make yourself feel better.”

  Her fists clenched. “He will want to know,” she whispered.

  “And he will know when he returns.”

  Jasminda spread her arms apart. “And what if there is nothing left to return to? We could barely hold our own against three spirits! I’m telling Darvyn, at least. Do you think that the Physicks—or whoever this is—will not try again?”

  “I am certain they will try again.” Oola was quiet for a long time. Jasminda resumed her pacing, needing to work off the energy still rushing through her limbs from the attack. She was both wound tight and completely worn out and feared if she stopped moving, she wouldn’t start again for a long, long time.

  Oola’s voice cut through her racing thoughts. “While it’s clear the Physicks were involved in this, I do not believe that they have any desire to attack us.”

  Jasminda spun around to face Her. “Who does?”

  “Who always has?”

  “The True Father? But he’s in the dungeon, powerless. How could he possibly…” Her heart grew heavy as a dark expression crossed Oola’s face. “He is still in the dungeon?”

  Oola took a deep breath. “No.”

  A bone-deep chill took over Jasminda’s body. “No?”

  “He escaped. With help. Magical help.” Her ancient gaze returned to the ocean, appearing unusually troubled.

  Jasminda’s mind buzzed with this new information. “When?”

  “Six weeks ago.”

  Her heart nearly stopped. “What?” Breathing turned shallow as she struggled to comprehend. “And so you thought I could do nothing about it and didn’t bother to tell me?”

  “I have been looking for him.” Oola’s head tilted up. She still wasn’t looking at Jasminda.

  “I take it you haven’t found him, have you?”

  “Not as of yet.”

  Breath rushed in and out of her chest. She spread her arms apart. “There are other Singers who could help you look. Maybe working together—”

  “He is not in Elsira. And there are none else alive connected to him as I am. None strong enough—not even you or Darvyn—to do what I must do.”

  Jasminda rubbed her eyes and crossed over to sit on the bench beside Oola. She was a deflated balloon, sagging and empty. Fear and anger and a sudden rush of hopelessness assaulted her. “We may not be strong enough, but we could link. We could become stronger together. Why don’t you trust anyone?”

  “It is not about trust!” Oola snapped, for the first time appearing as if She was losing Her temper. “It is about responsibility and Eero is mine.”

  “But his actions affect all of us. We can’t keep this quiet because it will happen again!”

  “And so we tell the country? The world? Incite fear and chaos? How will people prepare for spirits overtaking them when even the land’s most powerful Singers had a difficult time fending off three?” Her eyes shone and Her voice rose with each word. Jasminda fought not to shrink back away from the intensity and anger.

  Oola leaned forward. “His actions are because of me.” She pointed a finger at Her chest. “I will find him.”

  Jasminda swallowed. “And we will all deal with the consequences.”

  “Such is life.” Once again Oola was calm, poised. Staring out at the sea. “My brother has set his sights on this land and as you say, more trouble is coming. It is far easier to take over a broken, weak nation than a unified, strong one.”

  Jasminda leaned back, allowing the cold stone of the bench to seep into her clothes. “The unification is difficult. The people.…” She shook her head.

  “The people,” Oola repeated. “Yes. Well, I had hoped for more.”

  Jasminda couldn’t help but feel that the censure was personal, that she herself had failed. “I’m sorry, I’ve been trying. We’re all trying. The divisions are deep and being stoked by strong voices.” Zann Biddel and his editorial came to mind.

  “You cannot force harmony, people must choose it of their own free will.” Oola’s voice was weighted with hidden emotion. “A referendum must be set to allow the people to choose between unification and separation. All may vote as they see fit—both Elsiran and Lagrimari—and that will put an end to it.”

  Jasminda stared, shocked. A vote? “But the Council will never—”

  “The Council does not have to approve. The ruling monarch may call for a public referendum of any issue that she sees fit to at any time, Council be damned. That is the law.”

  “But I’m not certain—”

  Oola waved her off. “Then become certain. Eero will not stop until he is defeated. I sense this attack was a trial run and that he is still gathering his strength. There will be more once he has done so. If it is possible for us to unite, the time must be now. Call for the referendum. Hold the vote as quickly as possible. Do not give the people time to overthink it.”

  She stood suddenly and walked to the cliff’s edge, white gown billowing out behind Her. Jasminda considered Her words. “And what do we do the next time we’re attacked?”

  Oola rose into the air on a current and spun toward the ocean. “We fight.” Her voice was just an echo as She swiftly disappeared into the sky.

  CHAPTER SIX

  A wrong note can be replayed,

  an instrument brought into tune.

  Dissonance may echo

  but not

  forever.

  —THE HARMONY OF BEING

  You wake on a stone floor, colder than you have ever been in your life. The same dirt-encrusted trousers and tunic you’ve been clad in for weeks are stiff, nearly frozen to your skin. Every part of you aches from where it’s been in contact with the unforgiving, icy stone.

  Not long ago, you slept in a lush and lavish feather-filled bed fashioned by the finest artisans in all the land. A headboard inlaid with precious jewels, sheets of the finest silk, a warm body or two on either side. Now you are alone. You know it before you open your eyes.

  The constant presence of others nearby was always soothing, and you are decidedly not soothed.

  You peel your eyes open to survey the dark room. A barred metal door leads to a dim hallway. Your breath turns to steam, barely visible before you. It’s like your new prison is in the center of a block of ice.

  There are no windows, no way to tell the time of day or see where you are. Just an endless box made of stone, a pile of straw that might once have been some sort of mat, and a rusted bucket. The indignities have no end.

  But food has been left for you on a tray just inside the door. Simple fare. A thick slice of bread and some sort of stew. You haven’t eaten in so long—a weak protest against the audacity of your imprisonment—and yet you don’t feel hungry. Did they force you to eat at some point? Heal the worst indications of your starvation? They have magic, whoever the
y are, your new captors.

  You have your suspicions about their identities. Only so many have access to the type of magic that broke you out of your last prison—a day ago? Longer? You were not unaware of their existence, though they continually disrespected you by not asking permission before invading your land and killing your people with their experiments.

  Little went on in your land without your knowledge. But you turned a blind eye because they were powerful—and while you were also powerful, their power was different. Untainted, though in its own way just as insidious.

  But now you are weak. Not just of body but of mind. You’ve been stripped of everything, not only your robes and the accoutrements of power, but the power itself. The Songs. They’d been gained with such difficulty.

  You are reminded of the impotence of your youth when you lusted after so much. A woman who wanted nothing to do with you. A magic you were not born to handle. And when you could not have one you stole the other, biting into its sweetness, allowing it to drip from your lips like honey. Like an addiction.

  You recognized the monster in yourself even as you could not stop it. You counted the horrors wrought even as they seemed like they were happening outside of your body.

  What body you have left is skin and bones now. Emaciated and fragile and nearly useless.

  That thought makes you struggle to a seated position, pain flaring from every possible place. You are worthless. Powerless. Dragged from one prison to another like so much baggage. But those who brought you here must want something. They must want you for something.

  A purpose.

  One that will be made plain soon enough.

  The meal on the floor is cold. Impossible for it to match the standards you were once used to. But food will nourish this sad body. Give you strength for whatever they will ask of you.

  And so you crawl over to the tray and scoop at the cold stew with the gritty bread. A loose plan formulating in your mind.