Ascending Mage 5 Changeling Uprising: A Modern Fantasy Thriller Read online

  Nancy’s empty sockets peered into the cave. “It’s shallow isn’t it? And pretty small.”

  “Right. Exactly as I was looking for.” Ember unzipped the backpack, producing a 100-foot length of climbing rope. Knots were tied into the rope every two feet. She tied one end to the base of the Russian olive. “I didn’t want anything big enough to let any pests from the underworld through.”

  “Pests,” the ghost repeated. “You mean a Sentry.”

  “Or its tentacles.” Ember chewed her lip as she looked down at the narrow cave. “Or at least, not more than one tentacle, I should think.”

  “Are you sure this is a good idea, boss?”

  “Definitely not.” The mage unzipped her coat and coveralls, laying both aside. She had to remove her gloves as she tied the other end of the rope around her waist. Despite wearing a layer of thermal underwear beneath her jeans and sweatshirt, she began shivering. “Brass monkeys, this is bitter!”

  “Put your coat back on, lady!” Nancy whined. “You’re making me cold just watching you.”

  “I’ll be coming outta there soaked in snot. I’ll be glad to have some dry clothes to throw on.” Ember squinted at the bright sunlight as she removed her sunglasses, tossing them on the pile of clothes with her gloves. A headlamp found its way around her head, along with two high-power LED flashlights. She checked that each were working, tucking the two flashlights into the front pockets of her jeans. Finally, she strapped a leather sheath to her right thigh.

  “Right. Now let me concentrate.” Ignoring involuntary shivers, the mage squatted before the narrow cave and closed her eyes. She recalled the last time she saw William Roth. He was in his office, crouched near an electrical outlet on the floor. He was pulling electricity from the grid, forging it into a lightning bolt. Right before she killed him.

  Ember shook her head, dismissing that part of the memory. Focus. Focus on what he looked like. He had a surprisingly youthful face for his age. Flinty grey eyes, unblemished, tanned skin. His hair was receding and salted with silver. He was wearing a double-breasted suit. His aura glowed strong to the point of blinding. She recalled his charming demeanor, the inflection of his voice when he schmoozed with her mother.

  She channeled her mana then, focusing it on that image of the deceased Viceroy. Ember blocked out the low howl of winter wind as it passed between the peaks of the two buttes. She ignored the rustling of the silver-grey tree she was roped to. She recalled the sensation of summoning Douglas Demorrett, though she kept the image and aura of the Viceroy in her mind.

  Her stomach churned without warning.

  Ember scrambled to pull the balaclava up, not a moment too soon. She bent over and heaved, sputtering clear fluid from her mouth. She opened her eyes and peered into darkness.

  The narrow maw of the cave was filled with a calm pool of ink. Bright sunlight painted the snow and clay an oversaturated hue, but the chasm itself seemed impervious to light.

  She knew what awaited within.

  A wave of hot terror expanded from her core, radiating through her chest. She trembled and a thin whimper escaped her throat.

  “Ember, are you alright?” Nancy’s whistling voice was soft, as though she were trying not to startle a frightened kitten. “You can still turn back. Nobody will know.”

  The mage blinked at the pool of black ink and shook her head. Her fingers found a handful of loose gravel, which she promptly tossed into the cave. The pebbles made no noise, as they found no bottom.

  She pulled the balaclava down and stood. “Right. I’m just trying to get my head in this. I’ll go in, find his soul egg, grab and go. No wasted time. In and out.”

  “What if…what if it finds you again?”

  Ember felt the leather sheath on her thigh. She pulled free a six-inch blade of sharpened, razor-sharp flint. Her fingers wrapped around the hilt of the handcrafted knife. “That’s why I’ve got this.”

  “I hope that’s enough.”

  “Me too, Nancy.”

  4

  She Has Bite

  She experienced it once before, but that didn’t make her any readier for it.

  Using the knotted rope as her lifeline, Ember had barely descended into the narrow cave when vertigo slapped her. Her feet left solid ground to float in a sea of viscous ink. Her innards twisted with confusion and her brain felt swollen.

  The subfreezing air from the physical world was replaced with melted gelatin and sticky, wet compost. Its temperature was neither warm nor cold—it was like temperature didn’t exist in the Spirit World, or if it did, she couldn’t detect it.

  She was sure her headlamp was defective. The mage held the rope with one hand while she toggled the switch on her forehead. The light was working, however faintly. Ember felt a lump in her front pocket and pulled out one of the backup flashlights. When she flicked it on, she saw a woman’s face staring back at her.

  “Bloody hell!” Ember gasped through the balaclava.

  A whistling voice said, “I didn’t expect it to be like this. It’s so…gooey.”

  “Nancy?”

  “Hi Ember!”

  “Nancy, what the bloody hell are you doing in here?”

  “I wouldn’t be much of a ghost sidekick if I didn’t watch your back in the Spirit World, would I?” Nancy fanned her fingers and passed them through the thick atmosphere. “It’s weird, I can…I can feel it.”

  “I don’t know if you should be in here,” Ember said. She winced as her brain pounded within her skull. She tilted her head, peering into the muted beam of light. “Turn toward my torch. Look at me.”

  The ghost obliged, blinking at the mage.

  “Nancy, you’re…you’ve got eyes.”

  The ghost frowned. “And you’re blue. I can see through you. Maybe neither of us should be in here.”

  “Right. I couldn’t agree more.” Ember gripped the rope with one hand as she pivoted. “Let’s get what we came for before we get snookered, yeah.”

  “Sure thing, boss,” Nancy said. “I’ll watch your back. Though…it’s really very dark in here.”

  Ember pulled the other flashlight from her pocket and handed it to the ghost. “See if you can use this.”

  When the ghost’s bony fingers wrapped around the object, they slid over the mage’s hand. Ember’s eyes widened, mirroring Nancy’s expression.

  “Okay, that’s freaky,” the ghost said. “I haven’t actually felt anything since…I guess since I was alive.”

  Ember swallowed. “You can let go of my hand now, Nancy.”

  “Sorry.” The ghost pressed the light’s switch and began drifting. “So this is the Spirit World. The Snot Sea. Imagine that, a trip to the sea. And all those…those footballs that are floating around. Those are soul eggs?”

  “Try not to stray too far,” Ember said. “If that Sentry shows up, we won’t have much time to climb out of here. Stay near the rope, please.”

  “Do you think…could it actually hurt me? I’m already dead.”

  Ember shrugged. “We’re in uncharted territory here, sidekick. You’re in some sort of semi-physical state here, yeah? I’d wager you’d be better off not tempting fate.”

  “I’m starting to regret following you down here.”

  “Let me focus. I need to find William Roth’s pod.” Ember closed her eyes, though it made little difference in what she was able to see. William Roth, where are you?

  Whispers faded in and out of her consciousness, a chorus of conflicting voices teasing at her. They were men, women, children. Old and young. Recently departed and those who passed long ago. Ember wondered what this place really was. A purgatory of sorts? Are all spirits trapped here? For how long? For what purpose?

  She listened to the voices of the dead, trying to single out any which might be familiar. Somewhere in here, there must be a Supreme Inquisitor. Someone who might be able to guide me, teach me. I could sure use all the help I can get in this fight.

  Ember’s mind floated with her body. Tantalizing thoughts filled her. With the knowledge of a trained Supreme Inquisitor, I might be able to bring the fight to the bad guys. Barnaby told me that a single Supreme Inquisitor held more power than the rest of the High Council combined. Instead of hiding and cowering, I could take Elton and his goons on. I could restore things to how they were. To how they’re supposed to be.

  She shook her head. No. Not right now. I need to find William Roth. Bloody hell, why is my mind wandering? William Roth! Show me where you are.

  Nothing.

  Panic began to crescendo. Her chest felt heavy, compressed like an empty soda can. Her breathing became rapid.

  “Are you alright?” Nancy asked.

  “I…” Ember’s voice trailed. “I can’t find him.”

  “What do we do? Should we leave?”

  Ember swallowed. Her throat tasted of mucous. Despite her face being covered by the balaclava, sticky ectoplasm condensed within her mouth. A wave of nausea joined the panic.

  What am I doing wrong? William Roth, show me where you are. William—

  An epiphany hit her. “No, not William Roth. That’s not right. I’m looking for Billy Colton.”

  The name left her lips, answered a moment later by a steadily pulsating green glow. It was hard to judge distance, but Billy Colton’s soul egg couldn’t have been more than twenty yards into the slimy ocean. She would have just enough rope to reach him without having to untie herself.

  “Right. I’ve found it. You stay there, and I’ll uncoil rope and make my way to it,” Ember said. She allowed herself a triumphant smile.

  She kicked off toward the light, letting the rope slip through her hand. The pulsating glow flickered out for two seconds before returning.

  She frowned at the glow. Why would it blip out
like that?

  “Ember!” Nancy’s voice hissed from above. “It’s the squid!”

  Terror crawled up the mage’s spine. She heard movement—something big swimming in the inky sea between her and Billy Colton’s soul egg. She glanced up the knotted rope at Nancy and the narrow chasm of bright winter sun they left behind. The light blinked out, replaced with the sleek silhouette of a fin and trunks jetting past.

  Bloody hell.

  “There’s two of them, Nancy!” Ember grabbed the rope, pulling herself up as she kicked her feet. “Get out! Get out now!”

  A muted beam of light panned wildly from above, revealing a curved line of stitches where the giant squid’s eye should have been. A long feeding tentacle darted toward the light’s source, its rows of suckers bulging hungrily. With a wet slap, the tentacle latched around an azure terrycloth robe.

  Nancy screamed.

  A hissing voice seeped from the Sentry. “It belongs here. It has returned. It will remain here.”

  Ember clenched her jaw and pulled out the knife. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

  The six-inch blade looked so impressive when Darwin Farsching presented it to her as a Christmas present. Its handle was braided over with paracord, the caramel brown stone reflecting light like a prism. The Elementalist crafted it himself from Knife River flint quarried from a deposit deep within the Little Badlands. The vein of dark stone became exposed during a landslip, he had explained, and he cut himself several times by accident when he napped it into blades.

  “She has bite to her, just like her new owner.” Darwin had been proud of his poetical observation. “Y’might say there’s literally blood and sweat put into this knife.”

  She had grinned at that. “What, no tears?”

  “I don’t cry,” Darwin had responded. “Careful with the edges though. You could shave with it if you wanted. I made this here for skinning big game,” Darwin had told her.

  “That’s exactly what I want it for,” she had replied. She treated the gift with a certain reverence, not only for the craftsmanship itself but for the intimidation factor. There was just something primal about a stone blade.

  Bringing it to bear against the giant squid, the knife suddenly looked a lot less intimidating.

  Nancy continued screaming. Terrycloth ripped as the ghost flailed and kicked against the Sentry’s merciless suckers.

  Ember slammed into the squid’s tentacle, blade first. She stabbed at slippery skin, punching through tough flesh, tearing into fibrous muscles.

  The Sentry’s beak clacked a hissing scream and released the ghost.

  The ghost’s bathrobe was torn but her gaunt, semitransparent body appeared otherwise uninjured. Her eyes were wide with disbelieving shock.

  “Swim, Nancy! Make for the light!” Ember held the knotted rope with her knife-hand. She gripped Nancy’s collar and hefted the surprisingly solid spirit in the direction of the cave entrance.

  The ghost didn’t need further encouragement. Her slipper-clad feet kicked furiously as she swam.

  Ember ducked to avoid getting hit. She glimpsed briefly at the length of rope tied to her waist. The braided fibers floated lazily as an uncoiled loop into the darkness below. In the distance, the pulsating beacon of Billy Colton’s soul egg glowed.

  So close.

  A swish of movement preceded the length of rope going taut. Ember felt a hard tug at her waist as the other Sentry grabbed hold of the lifeline and began dragging her toward it.

  There was no time to undo the knot at her hips. She slid the knife against the rope-belt and sawed. The blade’s edge was true, releasing her after just two strokes.

  The knife’s paracord lanyard around her wrist, Ember pulled herself hand over hand up the lifeline. The rope thrummed straight as the giant squid pulled itself up, too.

  The scent of decaying earthworms filled her lungs as she sucked in globs of slimy ectoplasm through the knitted balaclava. Her hands burned against the rope, the knots providing purchase for her desperate climb. The narrow slit of daylight above grew larger with each heft.

  And then the light blotted out.

  The rope slid away from the cave—from her only exit—and she with it.

  Confusion joined panic. There was no time to process either, so she just kept following the knotted rope up. Gravel rained onto her, followed by the groaning cracks of ancient, hard timber being forced through too small an opening.

  The old tree. It uprooted my anchor. It’s pulling the bloody thing down through the cave.

  A familiar hiss screamed too near to her feet. “It. Cannot. Leave!”

  “I’ve heard that before,” the mage growled.

  Ember released the rope and kicked away, just as the Sentry’s tentacle shot through the space she had been occupying. The Russian olive groaned and cracked above, thorny branches snapping as the generations-old tree splintered into pieces. Brittle thorns scratched at the mage’s slime-covered clothes as the collapsed tree rushed past.

  The jagged cave entrance filled again with bright sunlight.

  Her fingers found clumps of clay and rock. She dug into the cave’s walls, clawing her way out of the Spirit World into blinding light. Pebbles and dust clung to her as if she was made of glue. Subfreezing air hit her moistened, mucous-covered clothes, turning the ectoplasm into a crust of ice.

  Deep within the ink-filled cave, a pair of Sentries screamed. The ground beneath rumbled and shook, sending loose gravel fleeing down the steep butte.

  Nancy’s high whistling voice formed a scream of her own. “They’re trying to get through! Shut it! Shut the door!”

  “There’s no door!” Ember shouted.

  “Last time, you slammed a door shut!” The azure ghost held her head in both hands. “You’ve gotta shut the door!”

  The ground rose and dropped, as though the whole earth was panicking. Particles of white bentonite dust shook loose, creating a cloud of fine powder.

  Ember ignored the earthquake and her own surge of fear. She rolled onto her knees and faced the eroded cave entrance through the haze of clay dust. The door is symbolic. Bloody hell, I’ll create a damn door.

  The mage closed her eyes, willing mana into the flint knife in her hand. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel the dust floating around her. She gestured with the blade, drawing a wide circle in the air before her. Where she cut, the bentonite dust felt tangible and solid.

  She opened her eyes to find a flat cylinder standing on end, reminiscent of an oversized manhole cover. Ember touched her fingers to the smooth, white object and found it to be solid. She tipped the door over and it slammed onto the cave entrance.

  Instantly, the ground stopped shaking.

  Ember peeled the balaclava off her head, dropped to her hands, and promptly vomited a lungful of ectoplasm onto the frozen ground.

  “No luck getting the egg?” Nancy asked.

  The mage heaved and spit. She shook her head.

  The ghost looked down at the closed cave with eye sockets that were once again empty. Nancy’s terrycloth bathrobe bore shreds on the end. Somehow, she hadn’t lost her slippers. “Did you just…did you make a solid door out of dust?”

  Ember wiped slime from her lips. “It kind of looks that way, yeah.”

  5

  Stuff Some Sausages

  She rolled over in her cot, instinctively reaching across the thin mattress. When her hand found only a pillow, Ember’s eyes snapped open. She groaned, part disappointment that morning had arrived, part relief that he hadn’t left without saying goodbye.

  “Do you have to go?”

  Alarik was buttoning up a long-sleeved flannel shirt. He leaned down and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Someone’s gotta make the donuts.”

  “Mmmm, donuts.” Ember stretched, catlike, and roused herself up. “Next supply run to Dickinson, I’m stopping by the Donut Hole again. Roy told me about them last time and asked me to pick up four dozen. They were pure scrummy.”

  “And how many dozen made it back uneaten?”

  “I may have done my share of sampling,” she said, pulling up her tank top to pat her stomach.