Dropping to the floor with a cry of pain, Sammy covered her forehead with one hand as she scrambled to her feet again. The strange mist and glowing eyes that was definitely a ghost, Sammy was absolutely certain of it, moved closer to her. The scraping sound of a thousand fingernails on slate sent horrible high-pitched energy shooting up and down her spine.
“I really, really, really, really, really don’t taste good at all,” Sammy whimpered under her breath, tears of pain mixing freely with tears of terror. Spots still making her sight dance and the world tilt, a glowing glyph she recognized attracted her attention. Strangely, it was not on the wall, but submerged in it almost a full inch. Without hesitation, the desperate girl punched the concealment glyph. With all her mind and body, she willed her way through the space it had to be hiding.
An abrupt pull to the side of where the glyph glowed yanked her through the wall. Sammy stumbled and screamed as she passed through the physical barrier as if it was not there. “No! Don’t steal my soul. It’s totally made of yucky stuff. Not yummy!” But her soul passed through the wall anyway.
The terrified girl wailed her terror and lost her balance as she flailed, falling hard to her knees before flopping face first into the floor. This of course stunned her, literally and figuratively. After several long moments of laying there, the dread of losing her soul numbing her ability to act and think both, she finally shifted to sit up. Tears streamed down her face and bloody snot ran over her lips, tasting salty. Her hair frizzed in every direction, like she had been in a hurricane.
Not far from her, really only a few yards, the feral eyes in the mist still hovered in the air glowing amber. The glowing eyes moved this way and that, facing her and then seeming to look elsewhere several times. It floated to the right and to the left. It dipped and floated in circles, but it never moved toward her with any purpose for some reason.
Sammy scootched on her butt further away from the thing, but it did notice her at all. Sammy ripped her eyes off the ghost-thing and desperately glanced around, hoping with all her heart for an obvious escape route.
She blinked and then rubbed her eyes to clear them. She appeared to still be in the same room, but it had tripled in size. A ripple in the air showed where the wall had been a moment ago, that wall just passed through. But now the room was naturally just bigger, like that was how it was supposed to be from the beginning.
But more importantly, the ominous pressure from that scary ghost was no more. She was hardly scared at all anymore. Sammy found this very suspicious. Especially with the dreadful mist with its glowing eyes still right over there, fully visible.
As Sammy stared at the now meandering ghost, suddenly its eyes changed from amber to a pulsating red, and its misty boundary began to swirl. The mist changed to a sickly pale yellow.
Sammy found it hard to breath as she watched the transformation. That really was a ghost, or something worse. She scootched backwards further away, ready to scramble to her feet at any provocation at all.
The mist morphed into the form of a man, his face contorted in rage and ugly hatred. He appeared to be screaming something, but no sound reached Sammy. He began thrashing about, but his blows passed through objects to no affect, other than making him more and more angry. Finally, he strode from the room, passing through a door’s solid frame.
“My, he appears to be quite worked up tonight,” a young voice said from behind Sammy.
Sammy, let out a curse word and scrambled away from the sound as she shot a glance over her shoulder. Sliding around on the room’s smooth tile, she stopped a good distance from the young girl. She would have run from the room at the moment she fully registered the girl, but the thought of the angry ghost solidly overrode that inclination.
Instead, Sammy blurted out, “You’re floating, and, um, I can see through you.”
“Because I’m a ghost,” the girl said, smiling a warm smile at Sammy.
Sammy mind glitched and she froze in utter confusion. Every other time she had encountered ghosts, whether real or imagined, they scared a thousand years from her life. But this girl ghost did not seem all that bad. Sammy’s eyes narrowed, suspecting strongly this ghost was probably the most dangerous one she had ever met.
“You’re not like that one,” Sammy finally managed to say, jabbing a thumb toward where the monster had gone.
“Nope, but we’re safe in here. Daddy put a barrier around this area to keep Fleming out.”
Sammy relaxed her stance, though stapha energy still ran high throughout her body and mind. “My name’s Sammy.”
The ghost girl smiled happily. “My name is Timera. I have not had a friend to play with for a long, long time. Will you play with me?”
Sammy crouched a little, ready to run. She could think of a lot of ghostly games she would not like to play at all. “W, what kind of play?”
Timera pursed her lips, almost pouting, but then her face brightened. “Charades, I think. Or forfeit, but I don’t know what I could forfeit. Marbles? Tennis? Soccer? Or maybe follow the leader?”
Sammy relaxed a bit more. After a moment, she said, “I suppose I could play those. I’ve never really played soccer, but I’m game. Do you have a soccer ball?”
Timera shook her head. “Nope.”
“Marbles?”
Timera shook her head. “Na uh.”
Sammy blinked, a bit surprised. “A tennis ball? Rackets?”
“I’m sorry,” Timera said, shaking her head and looking as if she would start crying.
Sammy hesitated, but then said, “Well, um, then I suppose we could play charades?”
The ghost’s eyes widened, and then she whispered, “Really? You’ll play with me, even though I’m a ghost?”
Sammy ran a hand through her hair, finding her fingers snagging on the snarls. She thought it would be a horrible thing if she refused. “Yeah, I suppose.”
“Oh, I’m so glad,” Timera said, slumping her shoulders a little. “I don’t know if I could have played with a ghost before I died. I think ghosts are super scary.” Her eyes became huge pools of rippling water. “They always tried to get me when it got dark out. And they hid under my bed and in closets and down in the basement and everywhere.”
Sammy nodded and cried out her agreement, “They’re always doing that to me too. It’s the truth. They for sure converge on my front door back home too, the old Foghorn Bridge.”
Timera moved closer to Sammy, her hands clasped in front of her. “Your front door is a place called old Foghorn Bridge? That sounds really scary, in a cool kind of way.”
Sammy nodded and said in a matter-of-fact voice. “It keeps the riffraff out.” She smiled warm at the lonely little ghost, thinking ghosts might just have a bad rap. “Okay, I’ll go first.” She thought for a moment and then stood with her hands held high, fingers splayed. She then hopped to the side and faced where she had been. She began swinging her hands at the spot just vacated like a man with an ax. She then sprang back to her original position, arms high with fingers splayed. She tilted and fell to the ground hard.
“A Tree!” Timera cried out.
Sammy shook her head. She stood up and then squatted tight where she had started.
“The Stump!”
Sammy stood up and grinned at Timera. “Exactly right.”
Timera clapped her hands together. “It’s my turn.”
“A ghost!”
Timera looked at Sammy narrowly. “I haven’t started yet.”
“Oh.”
They both laughed.
After a few rounds, Sammy said, “Timera, you’re not as scary as most ghosts. I like you.”
Timera looked surprised and then pleased, nodding. “I’m not scary at all. I’m really nice, I promise. My daddy is a little protective of me though.” Timera sighed. “I suppose I should take you to meet him. He always wants to meet anyone who gets through the barrier.”
Sammy swallowed nervously. “Have there been a lot of them?”
“One, a long time ago. But he left and never came back.”
“What happened to him?”
Timera crossed her petite arms. “I told you he left and never came back. How am I supposed to know what happened to him?”
Sammy nodded. “I suppose that was a silly question then.”
“Yes, it was,” Timera nodded in full agreement. “Anyway, Daddy’s really nice, unless you’re bad.” Her voice got low and conspiratorial. “He spanks really hard.”
Sammy gulped with the appropriate level of scared reaction. “I’ll try to be really good then.”
“That is the best way,” Timera agreed. “Oops, I think he’s coming looking for me.” She looked over at an open stairwell going up. A transparent man descended the stairs and entered the room. He glowed with a silvery light, but wore normal clothing, pants and shirt and shoes. Well, the style was a bit rich, but in a normal rich look kind of way. They were still glowing though.
His eyes glowed a soft blue, which were a bit brighter than the silvery light from his body. He gazed at Sammy with unwavering attention as he approached. After crossing the short distance to the two girls, he stopped several yards away. His gaze shifted to Timera and then back to Sammy.
“It seems we have a guest,” he said, his voice soft and pleasant. Even so it sent little chills through Sammy.
“Yes Father. This is Sammy.” Timera turned to Sammy, “Sammy, this is my father, Lord Count Iona.” Timera turned back to her father. “Father, Sammy stumbled through the barrier just after the sun set. Fleming was just waking up and almost got her. I thought she was a goner when she ran into one of the center pillars, but then she found a way through the barrier glyphs.” And then she said, her eyes going wide with the declaration, “She punched it, and brute forced it. I was astonished.”
The man ghost turned his gaze unerringly at Sammy. “Is that so?” He thought for a moment and then glanced at his daughter again. “Timera, did not the sun set over an hour ago?”
“We were playing charades,” Timera affirmed with a grin, adding proudly, “I’m better at guessing than she is.”
Sammy bristled a little and snapped, “Hey! I’m just better at acting.”
“Yeahhhh, riiiight.” Timera sang, rolling her eyes.
The count chuckled, the sound rolling through the room like rumbling thunder. “It seems you have made a friend then.”
“She is very nice,” Timera said primly. “She played with me even though I’m a ghost. I think she’s a little scared of ghosts too, just like I used to be.”
Count Iona allowed a small smile to touch his lips. “Used to be? You’re still a little scared of yourself, if I remember last night correctly.”
The glow around the little ghost shaded pink. “That’s not fair Father. Mirrors are scary.”
Sammy snerked and was awarded a startled look from Timera. “Don’t laugh at me. That’s mean,” the ghost girl complained.
Sammy nodded and looked toward the high ceiling. “I was just thinking how similar we are. I scare myself in mirrors sometimes too.”
“Really.”
Sammy shrugged. “Yes, really. I like to play jokes on certain people. I looked quite scary.”
Timera giggled. “See Father? She’s nice. I like her.”
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Count Iona smiled at his daughter and then pierced Sammy with a thoughtful gaze.
“W, what?” Sammy said, taking a step backwards. “You look like you’re planning stupid noble-ish shenanigans. I have enough problem dealing with Prince Dista, so just keep those stupid-noble ideas to yourself.”
The noble ghost quirked an eyebrow, his smile spreading larger. “Who is Prince Dista?”
Sammy hesitated. If this was really a count, he should know who the prince was, right? “He’s King Morstan Ista’s third child, the fourth in line to the throne.”
“Ah, I have been dead for a long time, so I have not been able to follow the royal line.” The ghost inclined his head with a sardonic smile for Sammy’s suspicious gaze. “But if I recall, King Veona Ista only had two children, Chanda and Hastian.”
“I think Hastian was the oldest,” Sammy said, dredging up her research on nobles from the past few years. “His oldest three children died. Tang Chanda’s oldest died as well. I think it was related to a coup attempt by some stupid noble, a chancellor I think. There were supposed to be connections to other stupid nobles from Dovent. King Morstan is Tang Chanda’s second born, so he assumed the throne. That all happened a long time ago.” She shifted a little and squinted at the noble ghost. “King Veona died seventy years ago or so, if I remember right.”
“Oh, you seem to understand something about the ins and outs of the royal family.”
“Just learned it incidentally while studying stupid nobles. Know thy enemy, right?”
The count blinked, surprised. “You consider the royal family an enemy? I thought you knew this Princeling Dista, the fourth in line to the throne.”
Sammy glowered down at the ground. “That stupid jerk. He brought me here and that crazy ghost guy out there tried to eat me, I just know it.” She redirected the glare at the count. “He did it on purpose, too.”
“Oh, he was trying to kill you then, though Fleming would have done worse to you than killing you.”
Sammy hesitated now, speaking in an uncertain voice. “Well, I don’t think he was out to kill me or anything.” She then switched on her indignation again full force, “But he was o planning to do something stupid, because he’s a stupid noble, even if he is a royal noble. All nobles are afflicted with the stupid curse.” She paused and then added, “though it might be a disease. I’m not sure.”
“All nobles are not stupid,” Timera said, popping up in front of Sammy.
Sammy took a step back, but then held her ground and crossed her arms. “I have never seen any evidence for that.”
“My daddy is not stupid,” Timera said, angry. She stomped her foot for emphasis, which Sammy thought was incredibly cute since she did not have a foot to stamp.
Sammy shot a look at the smugly amused ghost count, but then back at his daughter. The little ghost’s hair was billowing with her emotions. She decided to hedge a little bit, “I don’t know about your father. Maybe he found a way to mitigate the curse somehow. I think King Morstan found a way to do so, because he hasn’t done anything overtly nobly stupid. I would have to check the history books to find out if where your father fell.”
“Timera,” Count Iona said, placing a gentling hand on his daughter’s head, “Enough.”
Timera subsided but crossed her arms defensively.
“Sammy, why do you call all nobles stupid?”
With the question, Sammy began an exposition on her theory of noble stupidity and its full justification. Well over an hour later, Sammy wrapped up her lecture, “And I’m sure Prince Dista is planning something stupid.”
Timera floated up from her father’s lap, where she had settled when it became apparent Sammy’s explanation was not going to finish anytime soon. “I’m sorry they killed your parents, Sammy.”
Sammy shrugged. “That was a long time ago. If I still dwelled on it, I would disappoint them to the core. Their deaths should affect me, but not control me. I want them to be pleased with me, so I try to live the best, most honorable life I can in their memory. Still, it got me thinking about the stupid noble disease and or curse. The rest of the theory is based on factual observations and reproducibly stupid things nobles have done.”
Timera inclined her slightly transparent head, “I will agree that it was pretty shameful, what those nobles did, but my Daddy never did anything like that.”
The count let out a sigh and ruffled Timera’s hair. “Nothing as profoundly foolish as what happened to Sammy’s family, but I did do my share of foolish things, stupid things as young Sammy would define them.”
Timera looked at her father, shocked.
“Ironically, I find it difficult to argue with some of her points. There are many who lose touch with those they rule over and forget how seemingly wise decisions from their point of view have devastating effects on others.” The count inclined his head to Sammy. “You have a well thought out idea there, young Sammy, but do keep in mind that some decisions will devastate one person or another no matter what you decide. You need to incorporate that into your views. And that the greater a decision’s sphere of influence, the greater the number of people that will be affected for both good and ill. A decision made by a housewife might affect her children, her husband, perhaps some neighbors. That same decision made by a queen could conceivably affect the entire country, perhaps neighboring countries or even the entire world. The two decisions may be equally foolish or wise, but the consequences of them are anything but equal. Any leader worth the title will be aware of the weight of her decisions. Unfortunately, sometimes that very weight causes what you call noble stupidity.”
Sammy nodded, her eyes sparkling. This was good fodder for her pet theory. “That makes sense. Thank you, Count Iona. So noble stupidity is probably related to the position itself. In that case, it is probably more related to a curse than a disease.”
The count laughed. “So, it would seem. Sammy, I am interested in why you think Prince Dista brought you to my castle.”
Sammy shrugged. “He said it was because of all the glyphs here. He knows I’m fascinated by them, so he was trying to get me interested in this place by showing them to me. Why he wanted me interested in this place, I don’t know.”
“You like glyph magic?” Timera asked floating over Sammy upside down.
Sammy looked up at her. “That looks kind of fun, floating like that.”
“I would rather be alive.”
“Oh.”
The count reiterated his daughter’s question, “So you like glyph magic? Did the prince teach you how to do it then?”
Sammy shook her head. “My mother and father taught me some before they died. I took that and some things the camp showed me and just sort of figured out how to do a little bit. Prince Dista has taught me some since I met him though.” Sammy grinned and puffed herself up with a bit of smugness. “He taught me how to finger write four different glyphs, in fact, so I can finger draw eight now. I had only figured out how to do four before he doubled down.”
“Can I see?” Timera asked, though she was looking more at her father than at Sammy.
“I would be most interested in seeing what glyph you figured out on your own, Sammy,” the count said, winking at his daughter.
Timera looked at Sammy with sparkling eyes. “Will you show us?”
Sammy grinned. “Sure, but the stupid prince said it was a matrix. It contains four glyphs. Those are the ones he taught me to draw separately, though he did teach me the control mark for Yghph.”
“He taught you Yghph?” The count asked, somewhat surprised.
“Well, I did draw it in a notebook once back when I was experimenting. It almost killed me.”
The count’s ghost pursed his lips, “As one intimate with death, I must say I am surprised that it did not.”
Sammy crossed her arms defensively. “I took precautions.”
“Is Yghph that dangerous?” Timera asked her father.
The count hummed, his voice deep and rumbling. “It is indeed. In any case, I must say I am quite curious about this matrix you managed to draw on your own.”
Sammy nodded and promptly drew the light matrix. She used the improvements in her method to keep the light dim even when first created, avoiding the blinding light of yore.
The count moved closer to the light and then withdrew. “Very nicely done. May I assume the good prince showed you a few things that you implemented here?”
Sammy blushed and nodded. She quickly wiped the matrix out and redrew it using the method she had figured out on her own. “This is how I did it before he showed me several tricks.” The glyph flared brightly and then dimmed once she cupped it in her hand.
The count clapped his hands in appreciation. “Ah, that is quite magnificent. I can see why the prince is so interested in you.”
Sammy shivered a little to herself, not sure she liked the sound of that.
“Sammy, would you be willing to help us?” The count waved his hand, drawing his daughter to him.
Sammy blinked, caught off guard by the count’s unexpected request. What could she do for a couple of ghosts? She swallowed. They were not planning to make her become some kind of sacrifice, were they? “Um, I would have to hear what you need first.”
“Hmm.” The count floated silent for a long moment. “Very well, I will tell you straight out, despite the risk that you will refuse. It would be unbecoming of me to trick you into it.”
Sammy fidgeted nervously. That sounded a great deal like a set up for an intricate trap. In fact, she contemplated just making a run for it, except she did not have anywhere to run. She felt safer facing the portended intricate trap than taking on the evil ghost Fleming.
The Count continued, “I would like you to free my family and servants from this trap my former general, Sir Fleming, set for me.”
“You mean . . .” Sammy glanced across the wavering boundary to where the mist had been. “That was your general?”
“Yes, unfortunately. He hid his evil malice quite well until he thought it too late for me to do anything about it. His sole goal had become to destroy my bloodline and everything I hold dear.”
Sammy folded her legs and sat cross-legged on the tile floor. “Why? There’s usually two sides to everything.”
Count Iona quirked an eyebrow, “Even a war caused by cheese?”
Sammy frowned. “Even that. I tracked down why those two nobles fought over that issue. I think their reasoning was super flawed, but at the same time, their solution within that flawed reasoning was ok.” Sammy grimaced. “At least they limited it to a fight between a few of the daring instead of declaring all-out war.”
The Count nodded, smiling slightly for a moment, but then the smile left even his eyes. “Well, as you say, General Fleming did have a reason for his actions. I mentioned that some decisions will devastate someone no matter how carefully you make them. The general’s revenge was sourced in one such that I was forced to make. I will not go into it, but even now having borne the general’s revenge and my entire bloodline murdered, I believe I made the correct decision then. I knew of the general’s overall connection and what it cost him, but even knowing it I never even suspected the level of his malice.”
Sammy shifted where she sat and then stood up. “So, what can I do for you?”
“I want you to purge the general from my castle, along with the evil spirits he loosed on my people. After General Fleming revealed that he had killed all of my blood relatives, and had poisoned my family and all in the castle, I had enough time to conceal this part of the castle from him. I even prepared the matrix that would purge the poison from my family, though I succumbed to the poison before I could activate it.” He paused for a moment, “Rather, I should say they all died while I worked. When I realized it, there was no longer any reason to activate it nor to pursue my own life. I certainly had no intention of purging the poison from the general if he still lived in the castle somewhere.”
Sammy began to pace. Why was he avoiding her question? “So, what can I do?
The Count moved to the stairwell he had come from earlier. “Please walk with me as I explain further.” Sammy moved to follow, Timera floating next to her. “The poison the General used was quite deadly, and it may be that what I created would not have even worked, but I had to try. I did not want my family to die. If nothing else, I wanted Timera and her brother and sisters to have a chance to live.” The ghost stopped in the stairwell and turned to face Sammy and his daughter. “Since that hope is long dead, I wish for you to change the rhapsody I created into a requiem so that it will purge out the evil trapping us here. Please free my family from this place and let us move on to the courts of heaven.”
Sammy put her hands on her hips. “How am I supposed to do something like that? I know a few glyphs and a matrix or two, but that sounds a bit more than even a matrix, right? That would surely require a lot more than I know.”
Count Iona locked gazes with the living girl. “I will teach you.”
Sammy blinked. “Oh.” Her eyes widened, and then narrowed. She blushed as a smile blossom on her face. “You’re going to teach about writing advanced glyph constructs?”
Nodding, the ghost expanded, “How to interconnect glyphs into matrices, and matrices into compositions, and the different types of compositions. Rhapsody and requiem are but two of many.”
“Really?” Sammy’s voice squeaked a bit as her excitement spiked. “What exactly is a rhapsody, or requiem? No, no, if I think about it, I guess I can figure it out? Maybe?”
Count Iona chuckled, his voice deep and rich as always, “ Calmly child. A number of glyphs written together with control runes and such make a matrix. From there we start to use musical terms, all of which are identified as compositions. A rhapsody evoke emotion and was what I tried to use to purge the malice of Fleming. A requiem is a composition dedicated to those who have passed from this life.”
Sammy pounced, somewhat missing the details in her excitement. “And compositions are a bunch of matrices. That is so cool. Ah, why didn’t Dista explain any of this to me? Blast that stupid noble-royal-wanna-be-something-or-another.”
The Count laughed for real now. “Wonderful, young Sammy. But come, we must hurry. I imagine the good prince will retrieve you in the morning and take you far from here. This opportunity will be lost to me and my children.”
“Huh?” Sammy said, tilting her head in confusion. “Why would that jerk do something like that? He is a jerk, but he’s not a jerk in that kind of way.”
The Count regarded Sammy. “I would hazard the guess that your Prince Dista likes you very much. He will want to protect you like a sapling not yet ready to face the full gale.”
Sammy frowned. “He can’t like me. He has Jenna.”
“Who is Jenna?” Timera asked. “Is that the prince’s lover?”
Sammy’s checks flushed just a little bit. “She’s his guardian, but that too. I think they make a neat couple.”
“He would not be the first to take his guardian to wife.” The count did not seem to consider this an issue at all.
“I know that,” Sammy said with a firm nod. “I think the rule of common sevens is one of the most sensible things the nobility does.”
“Oh really,” the fatherly ghost said, a quirk of a smile on his pale glowing lips. “I suppose you would.”
Sammy nodded, thinking back to her stay at the baron’s manse. “I think stupid nobles propagating is disturbing no matter what, but at least the seven seats of inheritance have a fresh supply of untainted blood being injected every generation.”
The Count laughed, the sound pervading the stairwell. “I find you quite amusing, young Sammy. Perhaps because I am dead and my perception of these things is bit different now.” He turned and continued up the stairs. They entered a long hallway, but Sammy could see the barrier distortion just past the third doorway to the left. The Count led the way to the second door on the right and passed through the wood.
Sammy opened the door into a room full of bookshelves stacked tight with books. A desk was set next to a window and two large tables sat next to each other. Dust lay on all surfaces, but there was no clutter at all. Everything was where it belonged.
“Sammy, I need to teach you quickly. Please sit at the desk. I created the compositions embedded in it and the desk to help me study. I will use it to teach you as much as I can. Hopefully it will be enough for you to make the necessary changes.”
As she approached the desk and chair, Sammy felt the palms of her hands begin to itch worse than ever before. She stopped a foot from the desk, opposite the chair. She crouched and peered at the desk’s surface closely. Reaching out, she tapped a glyph she could see carved into its surface.
The glyph lines brightened, and then all of the glyphs and matrices connected with that one brightened, the light racing in every direction. Soon the whole desk blazed in ornate pattern. The light even spread to the chair and then to the floor, the walls, the ceiling, until the glowing lines covered the entire room.
Sammy spun around looking at it all. “Whoa,” she said in awe. “This looks a little more extensive than just the desk and chair.”
The Count nodded. “The whole room is a grand symphony, but the portion that I intended to use was just within the confines of the chair and desk. That was my original intention, in any case, but since you have activated the whole symphony, I shall show you how to use them.”
Sammy nodded, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Going around the desk, she tentatively sat in the high-backed chair. She felt the power of the contained magic wash over and through her. An acrid smell filled her nostrils like moist earth and the decay of autumn leaves. The surface of the desk hazed over for a moment, but then grew sharp, each line crisp in surreal high contrast.
Count Iona moved behind her, and then passed through the back of the chair and entered Sammy. Timera floated at the entrance to the room looking at Sammy sadly for a moment, finally floating out of the doorway and disappearing from sight.