Last Life

THE PRISONER WAS FLUENT in witching tongue. Honestly though, she stressed the last syllable in a few words, which was unusual to me, but I had no trouble understanding her. As a matter of fact, Mongwo was much worse at the ancient tongue and had a different accent. The native language of the tribe of Meemeeteh was apparently different from the one this woman’s kind spoke.

“He?” I asked.

“The man who put me in this cage two years ago,” the prisoner answered.

“What do you mean he got what he wanted?” I asked, watching her reaction closely.

“As far as I remember, you are the seventh person he fed to the Great Bound,” she replied. “When the other six died, he was very displeased. You survived, so he must have gotten what he wanted.”

Her eyes passed over the flask on my belt. She unwittingly licked her dry lips.

I unclipped the flask and handed it to the prisoner. She, trying to make no sudden moves and provoke me, her hands shaking, grabbed the flask and sucked at it greedily, her eyes closed tightly in pleasure.

“What made him want to feed people to the Great Bound?”

“The man who put me in the cage never shared his thoughts or plans with me,” the prisoner shrugged and handed me back the empty flask.

“Where are you from?” I decided to try a different angle.

“My clan’s lands are far to the north of the Great Bound.”

“Why did you cross to our side?”

The look in the prisoner’s eyes immediately flared, but she got herself together. She spotted my simple trick. Tilting her head to one side, she came right up to the bars of the cage and said calmly:

“The man who put me in this cage also asked that. He threatened to put my body in a great deal of pain if I did not talk. But he quickly realized that I could make my body die before I felt any pain from the torture.”

I snorted.

“That won’t work on me. If I want to make you feel pain, you will not be able to kill yourself. You could of course try, but I will see it coming.”

I saw fear in her eyes for the first time. She jumped back from the bars and froze, afraid to move.

“A seer...” she whispered, dumbfounded.

I heard vague footsteps, then a cautious coughing outside. My companions also wanted a glimpse of the legendary Ghost. And they had every right. We had taken the camp together.

I turned around and walked away. Outside, my companions were waiting.

“Ahem...” von Holtz cleared his throat and looked curiously behind me. “He say anything useful?”

“No,” I answered and added: “And she’s a woman.”

The barons looked even more intrigued.

“Chevalier,” von Holtz said to me. “Do you have any ideas for what to do with her? Could she be of use to us?”

“I say we take her to the fort,” von Brunon piped up. “I’m sure we’ll be handsomely rewarded. She is a Ghost after all!”

“Leo, that is a very bad idea,” von Holtz shook his head. “Because she is a Ghost... The very second we reach the fort, the secret chancery will whisk us away. You know how crafty the people who serve there can be... They’ll use torture to extract everything we know, then quietly strangle us. They don’t care about origins. But they can’t abide witnesses.”

Von Brunon grunted thoughtfully, then nodded to admit his friend had a point.

“So you suggest we kill her?” he asked.

“I didn’t say that,” von Holtz replied and looked at me. Von Brunon also looked over at me. Somehow, I had gotten the final say in all discussions for the last day, and almost every time the two of them agreed.

“I agree with Baron von Holtz,” I came, stroking my chin. “I do not want to go to the trouble of dragging the ghost to the fort, then spend the rest of my short life in a torture chamber. They’re going to have enough questions for us as it is.”

The barons traded looks and nodded almost at the exact same time.

“Then what do you suggest?” von Holtz asked.

I turned and looked thoughtfully at the cage.

“She’s not exactly a friend... But not an enemy, either. Her magic is so famished she wouldn’t stand a chance against me. She’s also in no mood to share secrets. As a mage, she knows dozens of ways to kill herself. So torture would be pointless. And to be honest, I wouldn’t want to...”

“Are you suggesting we let her go?” von Brunon frowned.

“She said her clan’s lands are far to the north of the Barrier,” I came. “Believe me, what you saw by the lake is but a taste of what it’s like in the Shadow. The world beyond the Barrier is dozens of times more dangerous than ours. Even if we let her go, I don’t much believe she’ll survive. But I am also not opposed to giving her a chance...”

“Me neither,” von Holtz nodded.

“Ha...” von Brunon scratched his beard with his broad hand. “No one would ever believe I personally freed a real Ghost...”

We released the prisoner at dawn. I didn’t know what she was thinking when I took her out of the cage, but her self-control was impressive. Before, she seemed to be on death’s door.

When it came to the runic artifact feeding mana to the chain, shackles, and collar, I kept it simple — I absorbed the rune’s lilac-brown energy and broke the spell.

The prisoner didn’t realize what happened at first. Only when the shackles and chain fell off and her reservoir greedily started drawing energy from outside did she look dumbfounded at me.

“You are free to go,” I said, nodding at the Shadow. “I hope you are able to make it home.”

She didn’t let slip a single word, watching my every move tensely.

“Here,” I placed a small satchel on the ground. “We packed you a bit of food, water, and supplies. And another thing...”

I took a dagger and small hatchet off my belt and set them on the backpack.

“I hope this will increase your survival chances. It’s all the weaponry we can spare. We have a long road ahead of us through hostile territory. And you can be in your world in about a day. Also, the Great Bound will destroy these items anyhow. And another thing... The man that was keeping you in a cage is dead. Along with his entire squad...”

I could have told her where I stashed the boat and other things on the other side of the Barrier, but I decided she did not need to know about the Lao. Who could say...?

“What is your name, seer?” she asked softly.

“Max Renard,” I replied.

The now former prisoner laid her right hand on her chest and touched mine cautiously with her left. Her eyes were open wide.

“Venona of Clan Frostwind will never forget your name...”

With those words, she took her hand away. Then quickly snatched the satchel and weapon and, quite nimbly given her state, ran off toward the Shadow.

* * *

“Finally...” Baron von Brunon sighed wearily and smiled, looking toward the dark walls of Westerly Fort. “We made it...”

It took us just under a month to reach the fort even though we thought it would take about two weeks. And for the whole first week, we stuck to the plan with almost no deviations all while keeping the horses and wagon safe.

At first, it was all coming together quite well. My treatments brought Chevalier Vidal back to consciousness on day two and had him on his feet again by day five. I also patched up the barons. Their wounds healed before my very eyes. It wasn’t all down to the crimson mana, either — the emerald also played its part. In my experiments, I went a bit further and learned to share the energy of the forest with my companions. Honestly though, they couldn’t tell I was doing it. I was trying to hide the fact I had bruts beyond the ones we took from the wolf.

My experiments with emerald mana showed that even a small mass the size of a pea would provide a jolt of vigor to a strong adult man for approximately one hour as well as accelerate the healing process. Because I did it all as part of treatment, my “patients” came to the reasonable conclusion that it was all the refreshing effect of crimson mana.

But everything changed at night on the seventh day. Our temporary campsite was attacked by a large pack of steppe hyenas. I had first smelled them on day five. They were busy scavenging the huge body of either a bison or a bull, so we were able to pass them by. But not for long. The pack mother selected us for their next prey. That night, we somehow managed to fight them off, but had to abandon our poor horses. And together with them the wagon and a lot of other loot we’d taken from the Duke’s camp.

The whole rest of the way we had to go on foot. Our horses earned us less than two days though. The pack caught up to us again. In the next battle, we almost lost von Brunon and Vidal. What saved us was a lucky spear throw from me that left the mother badly injured. A few of her daughters immediately seized on the opportunity and attacked their injured mother, then after her death turned on one another. They forgot about us for a while, and the new young mother only tracked us down three days later. But we no longer cared. There was a river between us, which we had crossed the night before.

For the next several days, we pressed confidently onward until we reached Westerly Fort just as the rainy season was beginning.

“Gentlemen,” I came, looking at the exhausted, bearded faces of my companions and now true comrades in arms. “Let me remind you one last time to answer all questions as agreed.”

They all nodded. All of their faces looked dirty and tired but satisfied. There they were — the towers of Westerly Fort... They were but a stone’s throw away. And from there, it wasn’t far to the city where we could have hot food, ale, and warm bedsheets.

“Rest up, get yourselves together, and the day after tomorrow I expect to see you at my manor for dinner. Then we can decide how to split up our loot,” I came and added with a smile: “It will make the perfect occasion for a couple bottles of Atalian brandy I’ve been saving.”

In response, I saw three happy smiles. Alright, done. We made it...