The Jack of Souls (Multi-award winner!)

Chapter 1b - The Dead

The fog rose quickly around the cemetery island, drawing spirits from the grave cairns that crowded its stony shores. The strongest of the spirits drifted to the edge of the water. Like the rest, he was a transient citizen of the Unseen; once living, he was still bound to his bones so he might serve his kin until the next should die and take his place. Also like the rest, he hadn't seen his kin for a single night since he died, for his people feared the attentions of the dead, and placed their graves on river islands where moving water confined them.

It is here, he said of the fog. As she promised. Soon we can cross.

The others stood well back and watched. They were fainter souls, weak but hungry.

They gazed in hope at the fog, which had already begun to calm the violent essence of the river as a blanket stills a fire. They gazed in fear at the sky, which, like the river, had been terribly transformed from the one they knew in life. In the world of the living, the Bright Mother and the Mad Moon had dominated the heavens, while the Unseen Moon — black as the space between stars — lurked in corners, unregarded. In the unseen world of spirits, this was inverted. Here the black moon dominated the sky like the hole at the center of a whirlpool, and the sky itself — which in life displayed a mantle of stars — now bore the black moon's web of souls.

Shuddering, they tore their gaze from the moon that would one day draw them skyward in its tides.

The spirit at the river's edge knew better than to stare at the Web of Fate. His eyes lay on the water as he wrapped himself in fog and tested the air above the river with an outstretched hand.

Yes, he said. The fog grows thick. It is safe to cross.

To Gallows Ferry! a withered spirit cried. To feed!

To see my kin, said another.

No, said the strong one, now their leader. He glided above the sleeping waters toward the shore. We must find Him first. That is the bargain we made with the Lady who brought the freedom of the fog.

Across the surface of the water they sped blindly for the shore, drawn by warm blood and the breath of the living.

Tell the Lady I care not for her bargains, said another, pushing forward among them. He was nearly as strong as the leader, a butcher in life used to eating his fill. Now that I'm free, I shall feed as I please.

You may tell her yourself, said the leader, for she is here.

The Lady, as they called her, stood above the beach like a sad queen upon a platform, surveying her troops before a battle. In contrast to the starved shapes of the grave-spirits, she radiated power and light. And while their soul-strands trailed miserably behind them to their graves, hers rose into the web like the flames of a signal fire. And where the spirits covered their nakedness with loops of their ragged strands, she wore hers as a gown of light. Her gaze burned. She peered from the flames of her being like a witch at the stake, mocking the fire.

What is she? one whispered in awe. Is she not one of us? A mortal soul upon this land?

She is, said the leader. But she is more. She has the Sight. She knows the web. She knows its ways.

They huddled before her on the beach, avoiding her gaze. Even the butcher faltered, but then he swelled and pushed forward beside the leader.

The leader bowed. Lady, we have come.

Her voice rose pure and sad. You know what you must do.

We do.

Then go. She gestured in the direction of Gallows Ferry, though her sorrowful eyes rested on the butcher, as if she knew that he would speak.

We must feed first. He lashed his strands angrily. Look at us. We are weak and shriveled like corpses. There are settlers on the road, let their strands fill us first, then on to your business.

I did not free you to feed on peasants.

I say you did not free us at all, he replied. It was the fog that freed us, and maybe it would have come on this night without you, only you somehow saw that it would come, and pretend you caused it.

The other spirits shuffled nervously. Some moved away from him, but he stood his ground.

Perhaps it is as you say. She stood aside and gestured to the road on the bank above. Go then. Let us see whether you need me or no.

He hesitated, but then puffed himself and proceeded up the bank beyond her. When she did nothing to oppose him, he raced up the road, free as air.

Several others moved to follow, but the leader pointed to the lowest strands of the web above the trees. Look. Something moved there. Dark shapes like crows at a gallows.

Servants of the Unseen Moon! a grave spirit hissed.

As the figures descended the web, their forms seemed to coalesce, then bleed like ink in water before coalescing again into forms varied but difficult to discern. Half shadow, half soul, they seemed to both generate and swallow the spirit light around them.

They dropped from the web onto the butcher like crows on spilled corn. The butcher's cry was brief and shrill, the struggle over quickly. The moon sprites huddled around him, heads low. When they rose to perch in the web, the butcher's empty husk drifted back to his grave on its strands, formless, and fainter now than the shadow of smoke in moonlight.

Are there others who doubt I freed you? The Lady's sad gaze had never left the beach. None of the grave spirits moved. Very well. Go before me and fulfill your half of the bargain. When it is done, you may do as you like.

The leader followed the path the butcher had taken, and this time the moon sprites above them only watched.

Another grave spirit ventured after the leader and clung to his side. She is truly mighty. The moon spirits do not move! They fear her too! She has made bargains of her own, said the leader. One can only wonder what sacrifice she made to gain such power.

It matters not to me what she gave, as long as I feed.

The rest of the grave spirits made themselves small and scurried beneath the watchers like rats beneath an eagle's nest. Then the Lady was behind them, bright and terrible. Fly now, or there will be no time! Strands of spirit lashed from her hands like whips, scoring the air above the stragglers. The spirits sped before her, and she pursued on wings like fire.

The leader of the grave sprites saw that she wept.

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* WHERE'S THE REST?  In 2014, I published this entire novel on Wattpad, and got great feedback from readers; that really helped me refine and clarify the story. Since then, I published it on Amazon, and because of my contract with Kindle Select, I am only allowed to leave the first 3 chapters up on Wattpad. If I stop doing Kindle Select, however, the whole thing will be back up here in a flash! : )  

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