Spirits End Page 3

  Monpress smiled. “Assuming, for the moment, that you’re right, you can hardly expect the greatest thief in the world to be trapped by a boy at his door. What will you do when I give you the slip?”

  “Find you again,” the boy said with a shrug. “As many times as I need to. ”

  “I see,” Monpress said. “Why are you so determined, if I may ask?”

  The boy looked insulted. “I told you,” he said. “I’m going to be the greatest thief in the world. You don’t get to the top by apprenticing yourself to amateurs. ”

  “So you’re serious about just sitting there?” Monpress said.

  “Absolutely,” the boy said, and then, to prove his point, he sat down on the icy step, propping his legs up in Monpress’s door. The position only helped to highlight how pathetically thin he was, and Monpress felt a tiny twinge of pity. Fortunately, it was easily quashed.

  “Well,” he said, stepping back, “then I hope you have a lovely night. ”

  He held just long enough to see the boy’s smile begin to crumble before he shut the door in his face.

  Nodding at a job well done, Monpress slipped his dagger into his belt and returned to the table. As he sat down in his chair, he braced himself for a racket as the boy began to demand to be let in, but none came. Except for the howl of the wind outside, the cabin was silent. If Monpress hadn’t just shut a door in his face, he’d have never known the boy was outside.

  He glanced sideways at the shutters, rattling in their grooves as the storm blew back up, and then he looked back down at his rapidly cooling dinner. He’d just raised his knife and fork to carve the duck when the wind gave a low, mournful howl. Giuseppe rolled his eyes and set his silverware down with a sigh. He stood up and marched over to the door. Sure enough, the boy was sitting on the doorstep just as Monpress had left him, only his black hair was now full of snow.

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  “Change your mind?” the boy said, looking up.

  “Not as such,” Monpress said. “Happy as I would be to let you sit out there until you starved, it seems that my conscience is heavy enough without a boy’s life weighing on it. I’m not agreeing to anything, mind you, but since it’s clear you’re the suicidally stubborn type, you might as well come in and eat. ”

  The boy grinned from ear to ear and rushed inside so fast Monpress was nearly knocked off his feet. The boy sat down in Monpress’s chair and began devouring the duck like he’d never tasted food in his life. The thief sighed and walked over to rescue his wine before it, too, disappeared into the boy’s maw.

  “What’s your name?” he said as he spirited his drink to safety.

  “Eli,” the boy gasped between bites.

  Giuseppe frowned. “Eli what?”

  The boy shrugged and kept eating. Monpress sat down with a sigh, sipping his wine as he watched the boy reduce his fine roast duck to bones. The child was cracking them to suck the marrow when he caught Giuseppe looking.

  “What?” he said, shoving a leg bone into his mouth.

  “Nothing,” Monpress said. “Just trying to shake the feeling that I’ve let my doom in by the front door. ”

  “I wouldn’t fret about it too much,” Eli said. “I was planning to come down the chimney once you’d banked the fire anyway. ” He flashed Monpress a smile before spitting out the bone in his mouth and reaching for another. “When do we start training?”

  Monpress drained his glass and poured himself another. He briefly thought about continuing his denials, but he was rapidly running out of energy to fight the boy’s seemingly endless optimism. “Tomorrow morning,” he said, taking a long drink.

  Eli’s eyes widened, and his face broke into an enormous grin. “What am I doing?”

  “Fetching a cask of whiskey from my stash up the mountain. ”

  Eli’s face fell dramatically. “Whiskey? Why?”

  “Because, if you’re going to be staying here, I’m going to need it,” Monpress said. “Finish your supper. I think a speck of duck still exists. ”

  Eli gave him a skeptical look before turning back to the far more important task of making sure no bit of duck flesh escaped his attack.

  Outside the little cabin, far from the cheery light of the little fire, the white shape of a woman vanished into the deep, drifting snow.

  CHAPTER

  1

  Eleven Years Later

  The vast desert that stretched across the Immortal Empire’s southwestern tip was still and quiet in the moonlight. At its edges, the coast was calm, the ocean lapping tiredly against the beaches. The great storm that had raged for weeks up and down the continent’s seaboard had died as suddenly as it began, the clouds dissipating in a handful of seconds to leave the night sky clear and blank as though there had never been a storm at all. Only the wreckage of the sea towns and the wall the Empress had raised to protect them remained, an improvised barrier standing awkwardly at the edge of the placid sea.

  Suddenly and without warning, a light cut through the stillness. All across the dark desert, white lines appeared. They sliced high in the air, forming long needles of light that dangled several dozen feet above the sand. One after another they appeared until the sky was full of them, their white light filling the desert until it was bright as noon, and then the quiet shattered as the Immortal Empress’s invasion fleet fell through the white lines and crashed into the dunes below.

  The palace ships slammed into the sand, their great keels cracking against solid ground. Without the water to keep them upright, the boats toppled immediately, rolling onto their sides like falling horses. The night was full of cracking wood as hulls splintered and masts snapped like twigs, and then, as the white lines faded and the ships settled into their deathbeds, the cries of men rose to drown out the groaning of the boats as the Empress’s army, the largest army ever raised, began to pick itself up.

  At the head of the now grounded fleet, a large crowd was gathering around a boat that had lost its prow. Even in the chaos, word spread quickly, and the soldiers surged like ants from their toppled ships to gather around the palace ship with the broken hull at the very front of the fleet where, rumor had it, the Empress herself was buried under the wreckage. Up on the deck, the ship’s captain was already at work, shouting orders to a crew of fifty strong men as they hauled the top half of the broken mast off the deck where the Empress had fallen.

  They found her lying in a crater of broken wood. Her golden armor was shattered and the cloth beneath was stained bright red with blood. When they saw her, the soldiers fell silent, struck dumb at the possibility that the Immortal Empress, the undying, unquestioned divine ruler of the world, could possibly be dead.

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  But then, with a groan, the Empress opened her eyes. The men flinched back. Some fell to their knees, others simply stood, shocked. The Empress paid them no mind. She just pushed herself up, throwing off the remains of her golden armor to free her arms.

  “Empress?” her captain whispered.

  The Empress didn’t answer. She didn’t even look at her men. Her attention was entirely focused on getting to her feet. When she was standing at last, she reached out and tapped the air in front of her. No sooner had her finger moved than a new, thinner white line flashed in the dark, dropping through the air to just above her feet. The moment the line stopped growing, the Empress stepped through it, leaving the dark desert full of broken ships and moving into a world of pure white light. When she was through, the line shimmered and faded, leaving her soldiers staring in vain at the empty place where their Empress had been.

  Opening a door through the veil to Benehime’s private world without the Shepherdess’s permission was forbidden even to stars. Nara didn’t care. She stomped through the portal, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the blinding white. But even before she could see, the Empress knew exactly who was waiting.

  Benehime lounged in the air, her
white hair falling over her body like a cloak. Behind her, the Lord of Storms hovered like a glowering black shadow. A small, distant part of Nara’s brain noted that the Shepherdess must have pulled him back together not long ago. Bits of him were still shifting between flesh and cloud, giving him that wild look he always got when he was fresh from his true form.

  His expression, however, was solid as sharpened steel and locked on her with a look of pure disgust as Nara stumbled forward. But even as she registered his presence, Nara put the Lord of Storms out of her mind. He was beneath her notice. All that mattered was the Lady and the creature she held in her arms.

  The thief sat in Benehime’s lap like a dog. The travel-stained clothes he’d worn on the beach were gone, replaced by a pure white fitted jacket and trousers tucked into tall white boots. The Shepherdess held him close, one hand around his waist, the other brushing over his thigh like she was petting him. The thief had the good sense to keep his eyes down as Nara approached, but the Shepherdess looked straight at her, absently stroking the boy as she regarded her former favorite through narrowed, white eyes.

  I do not recall summoning you here, Empress.

  For the first time in her life, Nara’s rage was so great that even the sound of the Shepherdess’s voice couldn’t shock her out of it. She stopped right in front of the Lady, breathing the cold, white air in great gasps until, at last, she managed a single, coherent word.

  “Why?”

  Benehime tilted her head, laying her ear against the thief’s chest. He is my favorite, she said simply. I thought I’d made that clear.

  “I’m your favorite!” Nara screamed. “I’ve always been your favorite! For the last eight hundred years I’ve given you my utter devotion. I gave you half the world as a peaceful, prosperous Empire! I raised you an army and sailed across the Unseen Sea. I destroyed an island, sacrificed my men, all for you! Everything I’ve ever done has been for you! So why? Why am I so summarily replaced by this disobedient, arrogant, faithless—”

  The words froze in her throat as the air around her solidified. Suddenly, Nara couldn’t move. She couldn’t even breathe. In front of her, Benehime’s white mouth curled in a disgusted sneer.

  You will not speak so of my favorite.

  Completely frozen, Nara could only stare in response.

  The Lady reached down and took Eli’s wrist. He flinched when she touched him, but didn’t say a word as the Shepherdess lifted his hand and held it out to Nara.

  I am the Shepherdess, the Lady said, turning the thief’s hand palm down and pushing it forward until his fingers were half an inch from Nara’s frozen lips. A Power of Creation, given dominion over all spirits by the Creator himself. There is no opinion in the world that matters save mine, no will save my will. Now, do you love me, Nara?

  The frozen air thawed just enough for Nara to take a breath. “Yes,” she whispered, tears running down her face. “But—”

  And do you wish to stay by my side forever?

  “I do. ” The words burned in Nara’s throat.

  The Lady smiled a cruel, beautiful smile. Then know your place. She pushed Eli’s fingers closer to Nara’s lips. Kiss my favorite and apologize for hurting his lava spirit and putting his friends in danger.

  Nara stared at the Lady, her battered body perfectly still though the frozen air had already released her.

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  Benehime’s smile faded. Do it, she snapped. Prove you love me. Honor my favorite and take your place at the bottom of my stars.

  Nara glanced at the thief’s fingers, now barely a quarter of an inch from her lips. On the Shepherdess’s lap, Eli’s face was a calm, bored mask, his gaze fixed on some unseen spot on the ground. But as much as he tried to hide it, Nara saw the truth. The thief’s eyes were full of pity. He pitied her, and in that moment, Nara hated him more than she knew she could hate. But even so, even though it boiled her blood to do it, she leaned forward until her lips touched the thief’s outstretched hand.

  “Hail the favorite,” she whispered.

  Eli flinched as though the kiss were an arrow in his chest, but the Shepherdess looked pleased. She dropped Eli’s hand and reached out to lay her fingers gently on Nara’s head.

  Poor Nara, the Shepherdess said, stroking her hair. You probably think I’ve played you unfairly these last few days.

  The Empress resisted the urge to lean into the Lady’s touch. “You used me,” she said, glaring daggers at Eli. “To get to him. ”

  That I did, the Shepherdess said. But it was you who said you would do anything for me. What could be a greater honor than being a tool in the pursuit of my happiness?

  Nara clenched her teeth and said nothing.

  Unfortunately, the Shepherdess went on, all tools outlive their usefulness eventually.

  Nara blinked. “What?”

  Times are changing, Nara, the Shepherdess went on, stroking the Empress’s dark hair absently, like she was petting a cat. There’s no room anymore for the disobedient.

  “What?” Nara said again, louder this time.

  The Shepherdess’s fingers suddenly curled, tangling in Nara’s hair, and the Empress cried in pain as Benehime wrenched her head up.

  You shouldn’t have thrown that water on my favorite’s lava spirit, she whispered, her white eyes boring into Nara’s. You shouldn’t have come here uninvited, and you should have kissed my Eliton’s hand the first time I told you to. One disobedience I could overlook; three is simply insulting.

  Nara’s eyes watered at the pain of Benehime’s grip on her hair. This was all wrong. This was not how it was supposed to be. The Shepherdess was her beloved, her everything.

  “No,” she whispered, reaching up to grab Benehime’s hand. She clutched the Lady’s white wrist, arching her neck painfully as she tried to kiss it. “I love you. If I was ever disobedient, it was from love of you. Tell me what to do, tell me how to change to make you love me again. ” Her voice rose to a frantic shriek. “Tell me how to love you and I’ll do it!”

  The pain in her head faded as Benehime’s fingers released their grasp. The White Lady snatched her hand away and looked down with a disgust so intense Nara barely recognized her.

  Why would I need you? she said, her voice cold as a glacier’s heart as she pulled the thief closer. I already have someone to love me. Good-bye, Empress.

  Nara doubled over as something inside her, something deeper than she’d ever known her soul could go, twisted and broke. All at once, she could no longer feel her body. She tried to breathe, but her lungs wouldn’t obey. Looking down at her shaking hands, Nara saw her skin turn gray, then white, then vanish altogether. Her bones shrank before her eyes, growing smaller and brittler until they snapped under their own weight. Her chest ached, and she looked down to see that it was caving in.

  She would have screamed then, but there was no longer breath in her crumbling throat. As her vision went dark, her last thought was a memory. She was kneeling in the swamp again, and Benehime was reaching out, her lovely fingers curved in an inviting gesture, her light lighting up the world. Before Nara could rise and go to her, the moment was gone, and she fell to dust with Benehime’s name on the last remnants of her lips.

  Well, Benehime said, shaking her hand as though she could shake the last feel of Nara from her skin, that’s that.

  On her lap, Eli was staring at the pile of dust that, seconds ago, had been the most powerful ruler in the world. “What did you do?” he whispered.

  She was no longer worthy of being my star, Benehime said. So I removed my blessing and allowed age to catch up with her at last. Eight hundred years is a lot to handle all at once. I guess she couldn’t take it.

  Eli’s voice was shaking so badly he could barely get the words out. “But she loved you. ”

  Everything loves me, the Shepherdess said with a shrug. Even you. Isn’t that right, darling?

  Eli said nothing,
and the Shepherdess tightened her grip, her sharp fingers biting into his ribs.

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  None of that, she whispered. I won. You’re mine, remember? Now, don’t you love me, darling?

  Eli turned to her with a slow smile. “Of course I do. ”

  Benehime smiled back and gave him a kiss on the nose. Then she motioned for him to get off her lap. Eli moved to sit where she motioned, leaving the Shepherdess some space as she turned to talk to the Lord of Storms.

  Their conversation was low and tense. It sounded like an old argument, and though Eli tried to listen, his attention kept drifting to the Lady’s floating sphere, which was hanging in the air by his elbow. Particularly, his eyes kept going to one small island off the coast of the western continent where the fires were still burning in a destroyed city as dawn broke over the eastern sea.

  Josef Liechten, King of Osera, was spending the twentieth hour of his reign in the still-smoking shell of Osera’s throne room, listening to old men argue.

  He sat on the steps of the throne beside the one remaining iron lion. The other lay toppled on the floor, its head melted to slag by the foot of the war spirit whose cold corpse lay collapsed in the rubble of what had been the throne room’s western wall. The throne was crushed as well, the carved stone bench and backboard pounded into gravel. That was probably for the best. Sitting on the stairs listening to his mother’s advisers bicker over Osera’s future was bad enough. If Josef had been forced to sit in her chair for it, he probably would have walked out.

  He was close enough to walking as it was. The advisers weren’t even talking to him, just yelling at each other over his head about what must be done. Apparently, there were a lot of musts. Disgusted, Josef turned and looked out the crushed wall of the throne room. Through the large hole the war spirit had left, he could see the whole of the royal city, or what was left of it.

  The stylish stone buildings and narrow lanes that had once covered the western slope of Osera were now little more than blackened piles of rubble. Entire blocks had shattered when the war spirits fired from the Empress’s palace ships had landed, leaving craters of blasted, burned dirt where houses and shops had once stood. The Spiritualists had managed to get most of the fires under control, but a few stray lines of smoke were still rising from the docks, and, of course, there were the war spirits themselves. Their corpses were everywhere. After Eli had done… whatever it was he’d done and the Empress’s fleet had vanished, the war spirits had toppled over and gone cold. They hadn’t moved since, but the damage was done. Everywhere Josef looked, Osera was destroyed, and try as he might to remember that his island had rebuilt before, it was hard to feel any kind of hope.