Ishkinil walked around the stone slabs, her steps slow and deliberate, doing little else but look at them from what Anubarak could see. Her shadowed cloak had deepened around her, and she held her torch aloft and Dirgesinger at the ready, the white-blue flames of the sword casting its pallid glow.
After her announcement, Anubarak had expected for her to do something, anything, and yet she simply walked, saying nothing. No plans for how to destroy the bodes she mentioned, and nor did she show any indications that she was going to try either. Simply she walked.
After she had made her circuit around four times, Anubarak broke the silence that hung over the cavern. “What is the plan?”
Ishkinil simply held up a hand, motioning for quiet, continuing her slow walk. It took a few more minutes, and a number more circuits, before she came to a halt and spoke.
“I have certain advantages, you could call them over most. I can see what they can not, of death, and of the weft and weave of sorcery that remains unseen. To break the bonds here, I needed to ascertain how they were laid out, how they were woven about the bodies, to seek out the weak point, where it all binds together. If we can break that, then the all of it shall unravel and the bodies shall be left vulnerable once more.”
“What part do I play in this then?” Anubarak asked. “I can not see this sorcery, nor touch it, and nor do I wish to dabble in such black arts.”
“And that is for the best,” Ishkinil replied, “For sorcery is not just corrupting, but seductive. Once you start down that path it is hard to get off it again. That you wish not to bring pain and suffering on others for your own power does credit to you. Yt for this task we require not sorcery, but instead a stout heart and courage. We must step beyond this world, to where we can see and touch it, but that in itself comes with great danger. It may be that you shall not return from such a venture, but journey on into Enkurgil's embrace. Are you still willing to do so?”
Anubrak swallowed hard, face paling, but he nodded still. “Yes.”
“Brave one. Then ready yourself,” she instructed, passing him the flaming torch. Taking hold of the hilt of Dirgesinger in both hands, she raised the blade level with her face, tip pointed towards the roof of the chamber. Her pale eyes closed and she rested her brow against the blade of the sword, unaffected by the white-blue flames that ran along it.
It seemed, at first, that nothing was happening, but then Anubarak noticed that the shadows of her cloak were growing thicker, with ribbons of them snaking off, twisting through the air to surround them and the three slabs of stone with their ancient Shahadi bodies. The shadows curled around them, enveloping them, weaving through each other, a cocoon of darkness in which seemed to dance pale figures, ghostly apparitions that appeared at the edge of sight and then were gone, until they were alone within it, lit only by the flames of the sword and the torch.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Ishkinil's eyes snapped open, and they were awash with a light that reflected the glow of Dirgesinger.
Anubarak looked all around them nervously, at the swirl of shadows that enveloped them through which nothing could be seen. “Where are we?”
“In a place of shadows,” spoke Ishkinil, her voice sounding as if it came from far off places, echoes within it. “In a place between life and death. It is where the art of the sorceries touch, where they get their power. It is where the dead start their journey.”
“We are not dead?” Anubarak ask fervently.
“No, we are but touching the edge of it, visitors upon the shores. Yet it remains not without risks. Linger here too long, suffer wounds here, and we may slip from the lands of the living into the Halls of Enkurgil. We must make haste. Look, now.”
As Anubarak watched, he could see rising from the three bodies of the Shahadi ghostly apparitions, straining against the tethers that bound them to their bodies, straining to get free yet unable to do so. The ethereal tethers were cast across the bodies, binding them to the stone slabs, all tied off in one central point.
“I shall cut it,” Ishkinil told Anubarak. “Beware, for their reactions may be unexpected.” Thus saying, she took Dirgesinger and struck at the know binding the ghostly ropes. It parted beneath the stroke and the ropes snapped back, fraying and falling apart, releasing the apparitions. They rose free, becoming more like the Shahadi of old, less insubstantial, though still spectral in nature. Higher still they rose, to drift above the pair, and their expressions were those of confusion, and rage. Endless, eternal rage.
One of them turned about and fastened his eyes on Anubarak. With a hiss it came towards the young man, drifting through the air, long arms reaching out towards him. Almost instinctively he brought up his sword, only to notice it was no long made of steel. Instead a blade of light was before him, of a rich golden colour, bar for a few darker threads that wound through it.
The spirit of the Shahadi hissed at the sight of the golden blade and backed away, towards the cage of shadows that trapped them all together. As it brushed against the shadows, it recoiled and a hiss of pain escaped it.
“You must defeat them,” Ishkinil told him in her far-off voice.
“Me?”
“Yes, for I can not do so. Too much of my strength is bound up in keeping them trapped within, of allowing us in this place. If my will wavers, they might escape, to become a plague upon the lands.”
“But they are spirits of the ancients, powerful and deadly,” Anubarak replied, keeping a watchful eye on the apparitions. The three of them hovered out of reach, seeking to keep their distance from the golden blade he wielded.
“You can do it,” Ishkinil said, and as she did, Anubarak felt a surge of confidence at her words, for she sounded as if she truly meant it. A look of determination suffused his features as a wellspring of courage he knew not that he had arose within him. With the sword of golden light in hand, he advanced upon the three ghostly apparitions of the Shadadi, ready to do battle.