24. Declan

Chapter 24

Declan

ó rla landed on the ground beside where I sat. I hadn’t moved or spoken for a long while. The small boy that lay before me, no more than four, stared blindly at the sky. In one hand, he clutched a wooden toy, a carved Ranger. Its bow was raised above its head in triumph.

There would be no triumph this day.

“Declan, we can’t stay here.”

Silence.

“Declan.”

“I know.” My hollow eyes lifted to meet her gaze. “We need to go, but I don’t know where we should go. Where can we go?”

I ran fingers through my disheveled hair. “We came here to get orders from Captain Whitman, but he’s gone. I’d say we should go after whoever did all this, but I wouldn’t even know where to start. Any tracks they left were buried by the snow days ago. They could’ve faded back into the trees or headed on to their next objective. Besides, the vision showed us the attack itself, but only flashes. We don’t really know what happened.”

“You could find out,” she said.

“Find out? Everyone here has been dead for days.”

“Have you forgotten your Gifts already?”

I stared at the snow, at nothing.

“We never made that Gift work before, but I guess it’s worth a try.”

I scanned the bodies, searching for one who might offer the most insight.

“Wish I could talk to Captain Whitman.” My shoulders slumped at the thought.

Whitman had become something of a mentor. The idea of the bold man, so full of life, reduced to ashes beneath the rubble of the headquarters made my stomach churn.

“I am sorry, Declan. I know he was important to you.”

I grunted, not trusting the strength of my own voice.

Moments later, I stood in front of the bell tower, where Fin lay broken at my feet. The boy had fallen forward. I had to turn his stiffened corpse so I could see his face. Another pair of lifeless eyes to haunt my dreams.

Had any of my cadets survived?

I found a piece of splintered wood from the tower nearby and kneeled to draw a summoning circle on a clear spot of dirt. It had been nearly a year in mainland time since I learned the pattern, and it took a moment to recall its image in my mind: a small circle and two perpendicular lines from one edge to the other, a square around the circle, its sides touching the circle’s outer edge, another circle so each corner of the square touched the inside edge of the outer ring.

“Remember to double-check for breaks in the rings. The last thing we need is a spirit roaming around adding to the havoc we’re already dealing with.” órla’s words sparked a memory, but focusing on it was like trying to grasp smoke. I knew I’d heard that warning before but couldn’t wrap my mind around who taught me that lesson.

I shook myself free of the jarring déjà vu and inspected the symbol. Satisfied it was intact, I sat with crossed legs, closed my eyes, and focused on grasping the Light within. It welcomed my touch, entwining itself in my consciousness and sending warmth throughout my body.

I formed an image of Fin in my mind, mentally restoring life to his frozen features. I could feel his competitive nature, see his eyes focus as he concentrated on complex problems. The boy was the brightest among my team, the one who would surely solve the world’s riddles. A wry smirk teased his lips, and I could almost hear his dry wit in some sharp retort.

The temperature around the circle plummeted, and frost formed across my cloak as an effervescent light bubbled up from the center of the circle. The mist resolved into a translucent likeness of the fallen man. He looked around frantically. His eyes were wide. As he surveyed the destruction and death, his expression shifted from shock to horror, then to fear and pain.

Confusion found its way into his eyes as he pressed his hands against the invisible barrier formed by the circle on the ground. After a few failed attempts to penetrate the magical shell, his arms fell, and I met the spirit’s gaze.

“Declan? Why? How?” The apparition’s voice sounded distant and faint, like the call of someone from across a field. “Why did you bring me back into this nightmare?”

“I’m sorry, Fin. I need your help.” Frigid mist plumed with each word.

“Release me. Let me rest. There is no help for this world.”

“Command him. Use your Light,” órla whispered.

Fin’s head snapped toward órla. Anger flared in his eyes, and his voice turned to gravel. “You cannot command the dead, little bird. Take your boy and leave me in peace.”

My own fury soared at the spirit’s mocking tone.

“Look at me!” I commanded, my voice booming with magic’s resonance. “ I summoned you, not her. Answer me, or you will not rest!”

Brilliant light flared from my chest, illuminating the darkness in a dazzling wave. The spirit cowered and fell to his knees, shielding his eyes from my ire with the back of a hand. He glared defiantly one last time, then bowed his head in submission.

“Forgive me, Declan,” he whimpered. “What do you want?”

“What happened here. Who did this? How long ago?”

It took a moment for the spirit to compose himself as my presence pressed against him. He was helpless before such raw power, so he spoke.

My visions came to life again in the retelling.

The arrows from the woods.

The swordsmen’s charge.

Men and women dragged from their homes, slaughtered.

The children.

The spirit’s reticence crumbled, and he wept at the loss of so many friends and brothers.

He recalled hiding behind the inn, waiting for a lull in the hailstorm of arrows, then sprinting toward the tower to raise the alarm.

He didn’t make it.

“How were the fires lit?” My tone softened as I watched the ghost grieve.

“Fires? I never saw any fires.” He looked up, confused.

“The Mages must’ve come after he was killed,” órla whispered.

I kneeled and retrieved an arrow stuck into the ground. My fingers traced the shaft and fletching as my mind spun. “Who were they? Were they wearing uniforms? Did they have markings or wear pins? Did they carry banners? Anything you can recall will help.”

“They wore heavy fur cloaks that hung to the ground. I didn’t see any pins or markings on their furs, and they didn’t carry banners. I don’t think they wanted to be recognized.” The man paused. “When the archers raised to shoot, I saw dark green underneath—and silver buttons. They had shiny, silver buttons. They were too far away to catch more than that.”

“Go back to when this started. How did it start? Was there any warning?”

The spirit shook his head. “One minute, I was sitting at a table in the inn, the next, men were shouting and running in every direction, manning the walls and gates with weapons drawn. I never heard the bell or anything.”

I stared into the spirit’s eyes for a long moment.

I saw sadness, pain, and grief, but I didn’t see deception.

“Fin, I am so sorry. You . . . I will remember you,” was all I could say before my voice choked off.

I lowered my head and released my Light. Fin’s image dissolved into tiny glowing flakes and scattered into the air, like sparks carried by the smoke of a campfire.

I stared into the summoning circle for a long moment before scuffing its lines with a boot and looking up at órla. “I wish Keelan was here. Or Atikus. They’d know what to do.”

Or Ayden.

órla flapped to land on my shoulder and nuzzled her icy beak against my neck. Despite the shiver than ran down my spine from the cold, I reached up and pressed her tight against me. At the vibration of the owl’s tiny coo-purr, my soul warmed for the first time in hours.