Dark Calling

grouped together, Bec at the center, the rest huddled round her, lit dimly by flickering balls of light which she has generated. They all look scared, especially Kirilli. Even the werewolves are subdued, whining silently and glancing around uneasily.

Once I’m in physical contact with the group, Bec speaks. “We haven’t much time. Death isn’t aware of us yet but it will discover us soon. You have to find Beranabus and Bill-E as quickly as possible.”

I realize she’s talking to me. “How can I find them?” I protest. “I opened the window and brought us here. What more can I do?”

“You’re the eyes of the Kah-Gash,” she snaps. “You see more than any of us. To me there’s no difference in the shadows. They all look the same. But I’m sure you can see more.”

“Well, I can’t,” I snarl, hating the way she’s heaping the pressure onto me.

A wave of energy floods through me, opening doors within my brain, clearing passageways. Suddenly I find myself absorbing and converting the magic of Death. I fill with power and breathe out easily, smiling at the buzz of it.

“How did you do that?” I ask, relaxed and cool.

“I used my gift,” Bec says. “Now use yours and look.”

Still smiling, I cast my gaze around and see that Bec was right. Now that I’ve tapped into the magic, the shadows have taken on a new consistency. There are thousands of individual shards and shapes whirling around us, no two alike. I can’t believe I didn’t see them before. Each has its own shade, form, and way of moving. They’re all a grey-black color, but there are more variants of grey and black than I would have dreamed possible.

My first thought is, “So this is what souls look like.” But that’s not right. This is only what they look like here. Death has taken these unfortunates and molded them into what it wanted them to be.

As I study the souls, I extend my thoughts, focusing on individuals, trying to communicate. Nothing happens for a while. Then, all of a sudden, I’m struck by a burst of voices, screams and yowls, tormented cries for help and release. Wincing, I shut out the noises. After a brief pause, I open myself to the voices again but put filters in place, blocking out the worst of the background noise.

“Who are you?” I ask a nearby shadow as it floats past.

“Free me!” it screams.

“Who are you?” I shout again, but it only repeats its plea. Others that I focus on are the same, impossible to question, wailing for freedom.

I turn to tell the others but I don’t need to. Bec has been in touch with me the whole time and has broadcast the short snippets to the rest. They look distraught. The suffering of these souls is awful. In life, no matter how bad things get, at least you have the release of death to look forward to, the belief that no matter what lies beyond, nothing can be as bad as this.

But these people have shuffled off their mortal coils, only to find themselves ensnared by the force they were relying on to set them free. Every soul here knows it wasn’t meant for this hellish realm. Having escaped the confines of natural life, they’ve found themselves caught in an unnatural web and it’s driven them insane.

“We have to get out of here!” Kirilli shrieks. “We can’t help them!”

“Bran won’t have given in to madness,” Bec insists. “Find him, Kernel. He won’t have surrendered. Not Bran.”

I don’t have her faith in the ancient magician but I search anyway. Using the magic of Death, I send a radar-like cry out in all directions, calling for Beranabus, trying to locate his position. Once I’ve sent the signal, I wait for it to echo back. If he’s still conscious, he’ll respond. But if he’s like the others… if he’s lost his senses and forgotten his name… become just a swirling shadow with no idea of self…

“Bill-E,” Grubbs snarls as we wait. “Look for Bill-E too.”

“I will,” I tell him, “but give me time. Beranabus first. If we—”

I stop, jaw dropping. Because an answering burst of energy has echoed back to me from a point far away.

“Was that Bran?” Bec hisses.

“I think so,” I say hesitantly. “But it was very weak. I guess there’s only one way to find out.” I look around to make sure everyone’s ready, then start forward, wading through the sluggish swirls of shadows, repeating the signal, zoning in on the area where the soul of Beranabus seems to be signaling back.

We reach the place where the response came from. I don’t see anything different at first. It looks like any other part of this wretched no man’s land. The souls cluster and swirl around us. I call Beranabus’s name but there’s no reply. I study the river of souls but it’s impossible to say who they might have belonged to in life. Maybe the reply was a fluke, or I only heard—

“That was always your problem,” a voice snaps inside my head. “You take too many things into consideration.”

“Bran!” Bec cries, head whipping from side to side, searching the gloom for her childhood friend.

“I’m here,” Beranabus says, and I trace the voice to a shadow circling overhead, no more remarkable than any other.

“Where is he?” Bec shouts. “I can’t see him.”

“Relax, Little One,” Beranabus hushes her. “Kernel’s the only one who can see me. You’ll have to be content with my voice. Not that it’s a bad voice. I’ve roared down demon masters in my time.”

I burst out laughing. This is the most incredible thing ever. I never thought I’d be in direct contact with my old mentor again. But before I can tell him how sorry I am that he was killed, Grubbs shouts at the dead magician.

“Is Bill-E here?” he cries.

“Aye,” Beranabus rumbles.

“Where? Let me talk with him. Bill-E!” Grubbs swivels wildly, shouting his dead brother’s name.

“Were you always this stupid or is it a result of your recent metamorphosis?” Beranabus snaps. “I was thousands of years old when I died, more powerful than any human in history. Yet it took everything I had to hold my thoughts together and not become one of the wailing cretins this place is stuffed with. Do you really think your young brother fought off the madness that all the others succumbed to?”

Grubbs draws to a stop and turns to face me, his eyes cold with hatred. “Show me where that vile old buzzard is. I’ll kill him again.”

Beranabus laughs cruelly. “Control yourself. I never put things politely when I was alive, so I’m hardly going to start now that I’m dead! Your brother’s here, he’s lost his mind and is suffering, and unless you free us all, he’ll remain trapped indefinitely.”

“Then we can free you?” Bec shouts hopefully.

“I think so,” Beranabus mutters. “That’s not why I told you to ask Kernel to find me, but it will certainly be a bonus. I can’t hold my mind together much longer. The effort…” In those few words I get the sense of how close Beranabus is to snapping. Despite his brave front, he’s terrified.

“Before we try that,” Beranabus says more brightly, “I want to know everything that’s happened since I died. Bec—open your thoughts to me.”

The shadow of Beranabus’s soul darts closer to Bec and hovers over the girl’s head. A tendril gently touches her forehead. She closes her eyes and smiles. I get the impression of memories being transferred, like data being uploaded from one computer to another. Then Beranabus sighs.

“I’d gathered some of that already—you can learn a lot here if you keep your eyes and ears open, metaphorically speaking—but there’s much more to consider now. I don’t think…”

He falls silent. Bec’s eyes half open, then close again. She nods softly and I realize he’s speaking privately to her.

Grubbs steps up beside me. “Can you find Bill-E?” he asks.

“Even if I could, would you want to speak to him like this?” I answer quietly. “Wouldn’t it be better to just free him?”

“But I never said a proper goodbye. There are so many things—”

“Kernel’s right,” Dervish says, laying a trembling hand on Grubbs’s shoulder. “Better to remember Billy as he was. If we can set his soul loose, that will be enough.”