“Freyd, I will require your assistance,” Aeld said after a long silence where the two Menskies stared at one another, no doubt continuing their argument using their odd method of communication. Bregg glared at me for a moment, and I expected him to argue, but instead he spun on one heel and almost stomped away, his entire body radiating his displeasure and unhappiness.

“He seems upset,” I noted.

“He is,” the shaman sighed heavily. “What I’m about to do, Freyd—it isn’t pleasant, to say the least. He dislikes the necessity of it.” The letharvis smiled briefly. “And my need for your help.”

“Why does that bother him?”

The shaman stayed silent for several seconds, then spoke slowly, his words almost ponderous. “What I’m about to tell you is truly a secret of the valskab, Freyd, but as you’re about to be part of this ritual, it’s only fair that you know.

“However, that will have to be done as we work,” he added, his voice stronger and more confident as he spoke. “The Ritual of Chaining is a long and complex one. It will take time, and I don’t know how much of that we have before another ship appears.”

“That’s why you need my help,” I concluded.

“Yes. Typically, the ritual is performed by at least three letharvisa. Doing it alone is possible, but it will take all night, and I’ll need light to perform it. That light might draw more attention, and while we won this battle, much of that was due to the element of surprise. If another ship appeared, forewarned of our presence, things might go very differently. That’s why Bregg rather reluctantly agreed that you should help me.”

“Okay. What do we do?”

“First, we’ll need a circle,” he said. “Not just any circle, though. It needs to be a perfect one—at least, as close to perfect as possible.” He pulled out what looked like two wooden stakes with metal loops attached to their tops and a knotted rope. “This will help with that. The circle must be exactly twelve knots across. Attach the end of the rope to the top of one stake, then count out six knots and tie the second stake there.”

I understood what he was intending, of course; it was a pretty simple but clever way to make a fairly perfect circle. I quickly looped the end to the rope around one metal eye and tied it off, then counted out six knots and tied the second stake, adjusting its positioning to account for the length lost to the knot itself. As I worked, Aeld began speaking, his voice heavy and tired-sounding.

The Menskallin people—our people—we weren’t always as we are today, Freyd,” he began. “Now, we’re united as one, a single clan. However, long ago, back before the Changing, we were savage and warlike. There were no valskabs, no rashi, only warring clans. We inhabited all of this land, not merely the Haelendi but the entire continent of Himaland, from Almella in the east to Mellung in the west. Each clan carved out its own territory, and they fought to protect it from beasts, marauding spirits—and other clans.

“It was a bloody time,” he admitted. “Clans battled over any slight insult, even a perceived one. They fought over who could draw water from rivers that provided plenty for all, over the ownership of hunting grounds overrun with game, and even over the vagaries of the spirits. One tale tells of a war that began when an air spirit ruffled the fur of the aething of one clan—something like a ruler or clan chief. The aething believed that the spirit had come from the lands of another clan and had been sent there as an insult, so he ordered his warriors to attack. That conflict lasted three generations and cost fifty lives.”

He paused in his story as I completed the pair of stakes. “Good. Now, come over here and drive it into the ground.” I obeyed his instructions and followed him to a wide, relatively level spot where the ground was gravel and sand rather than stone. I stuck the stake into the earth where he indicated, preparing to hammer it in with the hilt of my knife, but he waved me back. “I’ll ask the earth spirits below it to hold it in place, Freyd. It won’t move, trust me. Now, we begin the circle.”

I pulled the rope tight, and as he suggested, the stake stayed firmly in place. When I glanced at it with See Spirits active, I could clearly see the dull gray spirits wrapped around the end of the stake, binding it in place.

“He didn’t use a circle or offer them anything, did he?” I asked Sara silently.

“Not that I saw,” she replied musingly. “It’s more like he simply asked them to do as he wanted, and they did it.”

“Maybe he threatened them?”

“It’s possible, but that doesn’t seem like a good idea. If this ritual is as complex as he suggests, it wouldn’t take much for the spirits to disrupt it. If they did that at the wrong moment out of vengeance, the backlash could seriously hurt him.”

Before I could reply, Aeld began speaking once more. “Go ahead and trace the circle,” he instructed. “Do it the same way you made the circle around the ojain. I’ll follow behind you and prepare it.”

I began to walk, keeping the rope pulled tight and scratching a line in the gravelly sand while drawing power into myself, and as I did, Aeld kept explaining.

“I’m telling you this so that you understand, Freyd,” he said. “Those times were chaotic, and our people were very close to feral. Spirit possessions were far more common, and back then, those possessed by spirits were honored and treasured, not freed of the spirits’ grip. Letharvisa deliberately called close and elder spirits, offering themselves as vessels in return for power and what they believed what the spirits’ wisdom, and those who succeeded were given places above all others. It was—a dark time, and a part of our history that the rashi deeply regrets. Keep that line tight, and don’t lose focus, Freyd.”

As I drew the circle, he walked behind me, touching it with his staff and somehow filling the void I’d created with his own energy. With the circle completed, Freyd released the stake from the ground and had me draw a second one, this one a knot shorter than the first. As I worked, he continued to explain.

“Of course, the more the spirits infiltrated our people, the worse things became. We know now that most spirits have no great wisdom to offer, not really. Elder spirits sometimes recall things from their younger days, histories that they can share, and High Spirits have perfect knowledge of what happens to and within their domain, but for the most part, the minds and thoughts of spirits are far more elemental than ours. They lack the subtleties of a mortal mind, the mixed passions and sorrows that we experience. They’re more driven and focused, with emotions far more primal than ours, and those passions drove our people into greater acts of savagery. Clans captured warriors and females from one another, enslaving their spirits so they couldn’t easily escape. Attacks began to target younglings in an attempt to cut off an entire clan at the root, and as things escalated, it looked as if our entire species might be on the edge of extinction—at our own hands.”

As he spoke, I drew the second circle, then a third even smaller one a knot inside that one. He followed along behind me, charging each circle with power. He then had me measure and draw six spots along the circle, each a little farther than four knots apart.

“Faced with this harsh reality, a group of the oldest and wisest letharvisa went to the aethingir and begged them to step back from their self-destructive course. They saw clearly that the presence of the spirit-possessed in positions of high authority was the true cause of all the bloodshed, and they pleaded with the clan chiefs to let them exorcise those spirits. When pleading failed, one of them suggested ejecting those spirits manually—and so the Ritual of Chaining was born.”

I laid out the rope and connected the six points I’d drawn, using the connected stakes to keep the lines as close to straight as possible. The pattern we created was a complex one, made even more so when I stepped out and drew eight similar dots on the next circle out.

“The Ritual worked as intended,” the shaman continued. “The letharvisa infiltrated clans, promising their aid in the coming battles and to summon even greater spirits to possess their warriors. Instead, they cleaved the invading spirits from their victims, leaving the affected unable to be possessed ever again. They moved from clan to clan, driving out the spirits inhabiting their elders and freeing them from the grip of madness. The freed clans joined them willingly, and within a handful of years, they were triumphant, and the spirits no longer ruled the Menskallin.”

His voice took on a mournful note as he spoke. “And had it ended there, all would have been fine, Freyd. It didn’t, though. The letharvis who first created the ritual understood not only its utility but also its dangers—and how it could be used as a weapon. He used it on his fellow letharvisa, leaving them unable to touch the spirits and making himself the greatest letharvisa in all of Himaland. He gathered the clans together under the threat of chaining and forced them to follow his rule. He passed this knowledge down to his heir, who then ruled in a similar fashion, and so on, for five generations.

“Think of it, Freyd. Five generations of slavery, of all Menskallin living in fear of one. Everyone had seen the ritual’s aftereffects, after all. They all knew that those affected by it usually took their own lives rather than exist that way. The Haernunga, as the despots called themselves, had informants in every clan, and those who spoke against them vanished, only to return bereft of spirit, of passion, of joy. They feared that their own families and loved ones could be taken, so they said nothing and endured for five generations—until at last, they rose up against the last Haernung. The clans moved as one and deposed their cruel leader.

“And that is why the Ritual of Chaining is a secret, Freyd,” he sighed. “That’s why using it on another Menskallin without permission of the entire rashi is a crime punishable by death—and that’s why Bregg is so unhappy with you knowing any part of it. You aren’t part of the valskab, which means no one could know what you might do with this knowledge.”

I frowned. “Wait, why would being part of the valskab make a difference?”

He hesitated, then sighed again. “Those of the valskab aren’t just united by bonds of blood and kinship, Freyd. All of us, each one, are bound together far more deeply, our paths united as one. That grants us deep insight into one another’s thoughts and feelings. We understand one another without needing crude speech or clumsy words, and we can feel the truth of one another’s words. If I were to try to pervert this ritual into something harmful or dangerous, the others would sense it and could act to stop me.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

He gazed at me, his face serious. “We don’t know that with you, Freyd. We have to trust you, and trust among the Menskallin is in very short supply. If you were a fully trained letharvis with even a chance to reproduce this ritual, I wouldn’t allow you anywhere near it. In fact, even with your lack of training, I’m very nervous about this—and so is Bregg. That’s why he’s so unhappy. This single ritual was enough to issue five generations of darkness and tyranny once; who’s to say that it couldn’t do so again?”

We worked in silence after that, and I considered the shaman’s words. Honestly, I got why they were so skittish. I probably would be, too. Showing me this ritual was like explaining how guns were made and hoping I didn’t have the machining knowledge to make one myself. Of course, realistically, most people couldn’t just watch a gun being built and then go make their own, even if they had a machine shop they could use. The process was just too complicated, and many of the parts had to be made to very exacting specifications. However, not everyone had a perfect memory—and an AI guide to help them through the tough parts.

“Could we reproduce this, Sara?” I asked. Several hours had passed, hours of painstakingly etching and re-etching circles, drawing elaborate diagrams, then drawing new ones over the last. It honestly reminded me a bit of making runes in Puraschim, except that it wasn’t anywhere near as complicated.

“The only part you can’t do is channeling power the way Aeld does,” she replied. “And frankly, if you had to, I think you could do it. I’ve got a decent idea how it works after watching Aeld do it so much. So, yes, John, we could reproduce this without too much difficulty—at least, so far. We haven’t even really gotten to the spell yet, though. This is all just preparation.”

At last, Aeld stepped away from the series of circles with a sigh. “It’s done,” he said, gazing down at the glowing figure on the ground. “My thanks for your assistance, Freyd. This would have taken a lot longer without you.”

I felt certain that he was absolutely correct. The resulting diagram was hellishly complex. Lines crossed and crisscrossed it in what seemed like an irregular fashion, creating half-formed polygons and lopsided shapes. Only the center remained untouched, creating an area maybe six feet wide and roughly circular in shape. The lines glowed in my magical sight with a pale white radiance that felt cold for some reason. When I looked at it with See Spirits, I noticed that all the nearby spirits hovered closely but not too closely to it, and none remained within it. Apparently, we’d either driven them out with our preparations, or they’d fled the circle. I gave it even chances of either.

“Now, we need to bring the ojain here,” he told me solemnly. “Will you grab the creature and place it in the middle of the diagram, Freyd?”

Part of me wanted to fetch Bregg to help, but I understood why Aeld hadn’t just summoned the hunter for the task. The ritual probably wouldn’t be much of a secret if he brought the hunters over to watch. I glanced around and saw that none of them were in sight of us; apparently, they’d either agreed to stay back, or—more likely—Bregg had kept them from getting close enough to see anything.

The ojain drew back in fear as I entered the tent, then tensed as I began to untie her bindings. “Wh-what are you doing?” she asked, her voice high and fearful.

“Untying you,” I muttered in reply. “What does it look like?”

She gasped in shock. “You—you speak the High Tongue?” she asked in an almost desperately hopefully tone. “Are—are you one of the Pelastu?”

“That means something like ‘Redeemed Elders’, John,” Sara supplied.

I acknowledged the AI but didn’t bother to answer the ojain’s question. I’d screwed up by speaking Oikie already; I didn’t need Aeld—or worse, Bregg—hearing me speaking it and thinking I was a traitor or something. Instead, I undid the knots binding her hands and looped the strip of fabric around her neck even tighter. I gave it a tentative pull, feeling it constrict around her throat, and she gasped in fear.

“Just so you know, I can feel it when you use your magic,” I told her in a rough, flat voice, being careful to speak in Menskallin. “If you try, I’ll use this. Understand?”

“Wait! I—you spoke the High Tongue! Please, help me!” Her voice was high and panicked again as I dragged her to her feet. She was speaking Oikie, though, so I pretended I didn’t understand her. “I can make sure you rise even higher in the Elanjurr, I prom…” She fell silent as I yanked the strip once more, choking off her words.

“Come with me, and stay silent,” I instructed. There wasn’t much point to asking her what she meant or trying to talk to her. Even if I’d wanted to help her, there was nothing I could do. There was no way she was getting off this beach alive, a fact I think she suspected as she began weeping profusely. She probably assumed I was taking her to be executed; from what Bregg and Aeld said, that would be a kindness compared to what we actually intended.

I dragged her by her arm out of the tent, where she immediately began shivering and shaking. Her body lacked the thick layers of fur mine possessed, having only a thin coating of light brown fur covering her face, exposed arms, and legs, and the temperature had to be tens of degrees below freezing. She’d probably start getting hypothermia in minutes. Sadly, that was the least of her worries.

I hauled her toward Aeld, who gazed at her with an expression of obviously false determination. I could see the worry and uncertainty deeper in his eyes; he thought that he had to do this, but he obviously still wasn’t sure it was the right thing. Neither di I, but then, I wasn’t going to be the one doing it.

“Put it in the center of the diagram,” he instructed. “Then back away quickly.”

“Wait, what are you doing?” she asked in Oikie, her voice even more panicked. She began struggling, and I yanked hard on the strap as she tried to pull away. She choked and gagged but didn’t stop fighting to escape, and I pulled harder on the garrote, cutting off her wind. Her eyes bulged, and her face purpled as she struggled to breathe, but I kept up the pressure. She staggered and grabbed my hands, trying to pull them free, her eyes wide and terrified. I ignored her weak struggles; she had nowhere near my strength, and it honestly felt like a little kid pulling at my hands. I pushed that image firmly aside as her eyes fluttered, and her body collapsed.

Instead of slackening the pressure, I kept her airway cut off as I dragged her over to the circle. I was sure that I was damaging her trachea, or whatever she had that passed for one. She’d probably have little voice when she came to, and she might have trouble swallowing for a while, but really, I didn’t much care. If she couldn’t talk, we could take her with us until she could; without her magical abilities, giving her clothing back probably wasn’t all that dangerous.

I dumped her in the circle, then practically ran back out. She took a deep, raspy breath the moment I released her airway, but I guessed she’d still be out for a minute or so. Hopefully, that would be enough time for Ael to do whatever this ritual required.

“Stay back, and don’t touch any of the lines or circle,” he instructed gravely, lifting his hands and staff and holding them high. “This shouldn’t take long.”

“You might want to try watching this magically, John,” Sara suggested. “I might be able to learn a lot more about how magic works here if you do.”

I obligingly activated the ability and watched as power practically exploded from Aeld’s staff. A coruscation of colored light flowed over him, swirling around his body in complex patterns. On a whim, I tried activating See Spirits at the same time, and instantly, colored shapes appeared around the shaman, spinning and gyrating madly. The amorphous blobs either rode along with or guided the flows of power rippling around the man, sheathing the ribbons of energy in multihued hazes. The power rushed out of the man into the glowing diagram, which lit with a sickly gray light that seemed almost unbearably bright in the growing darkness. Power flowed through the diagram, slowly lighting up each line from the outer circle toward the center, flowing toward the unconscious ojain like a creeping plague.

“John, look at the ojain!” Sara instructed, her voice oddly urgent. “I think something’s wrong!”

I lifted my gaze from the lines toward the slumbering figure and frowned. An odd, brown haze curled and shifted inside her, a wispy shape that roughly matched her outline and figure. It writhed almost frantically inside her, and I swore that whatever it was cringed away from the encroaching light of the ritual.

“What is that, Sara?” I asked curiously. “Has she bonded a spirit after all?”

“I don’t think so, John. I think that…”

She broke off as the ritual’s glow finally surrounded the figure, enclosing the ojain completely. The wan light erupted into brilliance, and as it did, the Oikie’s eyes shot open, filled with terror and pain. She screamed, a wordless sound of pure agony, writhing and kicking madly. Her body shook and trembled, and her exposed skin began to squirm and wriggle as if thousands of insects crawled beneath it. I glanced at Aeld and saw revulsion and confusion on his face; whatever this was, it wasn’t what he was expecting to see.

The brownish haze in the woman shuddered and contracted as spears of gray light stabbed into it, tearing through it like knives. Her entire body convulsed, her spine growing taut as a bow, and her four feet pattered madly on the ground as her scream hit a new register. She bucked, once, then fell still as the coffee-colored mist flowed up out of her body, swirling madly within the confines of the diagram but unable to escape it. I felt the strength radiating from that mist, the depths of energy stored within it; that power poured out of the wounds the ritual had torn in it, though, dribbling like blood to be carried along the lines of the diagram into the air around us. A strand of that power swirled toward me, and I sucked it in without meaning to, drawing it in almost instinctively.

A predatory urge roared to life within me as I tasted a hint of the thing’s blood. It was wounded, dying—prey to be taken. Something inside me screamed with need to devour it, to make it part of me, and without thinking, I lashed out, grasping the strand of power touching me and yanking it toward me. The mist struck the diagram and froze, held in place by the power flowing through it, but in my sudden savagery, I yanked at it, dragging it toward me. More wounds opened in the mist as I ripped it free from the ritual’s grasp and gathered to myself almost hungrily. I could practically feel it on my tongue, taste its blood in my mouth, and I salivated at the thought of devouring it while it still struggled…

“What the actual fuck?”

That last thought, the realization that I was actually eager to rip this thing to pieces and devour it, jarred me out of the predatory haze fogging my mind. I pushed the storm of savagery away from my thoughts, hearing a silent snarl as it tried to cling to me and overwhelm me. I roared at it in return; my mind was my own, and I wasn’t about to let some fucking animal rule me! The voracious feeling fled, sinking into my depths in sudden submission, and I shivered at the lack of sensation.

The brown haze still writhed and trembled in my mental grip, though. I tried to release it, but it clung to me, holding onto me like strands of webbing.

“You’ve already started spiritual combat, John,” Sara said quietly. “I think you have to see it through.”

“See it through how?” I asked in confusion.

“Like you did with the hunt spirit. You have to overwhelm it. I don’t think there’s any other way.”

She sounded regretful, but I simply shrugged mentally. This thing was a pretty powerful spirit, by the feel of it, and it would no doubt give me a fair amount of power. Plus, wounded as it was, it wasn’t in any shape to put up a fight. I enfolded it mentally, reaching out and shrouding it with my thoughts and will, and drew it to myself. It struggled weakly, its writhing feeling like tadpoles wriggling against my will. I ignored it and pressed down on it, feeling it collapse beneath my will and flow into me. A sudden rush of power filled me along with twin spikes of fear and agony that made me wince.

“Wh-what happened to me?”

I sucked in a surprised breath at the sudden voice in my head. It was weak and wavering, its words barely heard in my thoughts, but it was clear enough—and it was speaking Oikithikiim.

“What the fuck?” I asked in silent shock. “Sara, is that…?”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you, John,” she sighed with what sounded like genuine regret. “That wasn’t a bound spirit; it was the ojain’s spirit. You bound her to you—and I have no idea how you did it.”