Harvest 47, 855
The older boys didn’t comment when they saw Tuag trailing behind Buu as they arrived in the dormitory common room, though they didn’t look pleased. Without seeming to care if anyone spotted them, Tiy led the way from the building and into the darkening twilight.
“Where are we going?” Buu whispered to Kijah as they passed the library, crowded with invisible spirits.
“Tiy wanted a real challenge,” Kijah replied with a wicked smile. “We’re heading to Thistle Leaf Village.”
When Buu failed to look appropriately impressed, Kijah’s grin faltered, transforming into an outright frown when Buu shrugged.
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s only the most haunted place around. I heard so many people have died there that they stopped marking the graves. Anywhere you step, there could be a body under your feet waiting to reach up and GRAB YOU!” Kijah yelled the last words, grabbing Buu’s shoulders with a sudden shake.
Tiy turned on him, shushing him before standing stock still, listening intently to see if Kijah’s outburst had brought any unwanted attention. As the quiet evening failed to produce teachers or soldiers to scold them, the group resumed their journey with a quicker pace.
Buu considered Kijah’s revelation, a thin smile growing on his face as he imagined using his magic to make the older boy’s grasping nightmare come true. Despite the company, he found himself looking forward to testing his newfound strength on an adventure. Only a season ago, a hike had seemed like an inadvisable challenge. But as they approached the wall, forging a path through the thigh-high snow, Buu’s body didn’t flag, instead warming to the task, delightfully energized.
At the gate, Tiy handed a dark bottle of amber liquid to a guard who smiled and ruffled his hair affectionately. They exchanged jokes and the soldier took the hat from his head and placed it on Tiy’s, pulling it down over the boy’s eyes. When the soldier finally released them into the wider world, the sun had set and the forest waited ahead of them, its absolute darkness penetrated only by the rusty oil lantern Kijah pulled from his pack.
The farther they walked from the walls of the school, the more difficult it became to ignore the growing crowd of phantoms following them. Fewer of the ghosts pressed in at them from ahead, but those they left behind took an immediate interest in the little group, following as close as they dared. Tuag seemed to notice this too, his ear flicking in annoyance when he would look back towards the crowd.
The ruins of Thistle Leaf Village straddled a creek as it flowed into Pearl Lake, the moving water creating a snaking dip through the snow. Dark and empty, the houses loomed, some scorched from long-ago fires, others with doors left open as if the owner had only stepped out for a moment. A few looked locked and sleeping, but the lack of any trails in the snow told of long disuse.
Kijah’s lantern cast curving shadows across the snow, creating a flickering illusion of movement as they picked their way through the village. The older boys moved tentatively, slinking between the buildings with nervous glances into the darkness. Tiy took the lead, head held higher than his posture warranted, tugging occasionally at his hat and setting the Thaven Raven off centre.
Buu wandered a few strides behind them, enjoying the theatre of the older boys’ bravery. Fewer ghosts loitered here than at the school, though Buu could feel dozens of bodies buried in a heap nearby. Those that had followed them from the university snaked in a line between the houses, gliding into the empty spaces in a constant stream. Buu wondered how long it would take before the village held more ghosts than the school had. Not long, he decided.
“Where do you think we’ll find a ghost?” Buu asked, grinning.
Tiy jumped as Buu broke the stale quiet, whipping around to glare back at him. Buu couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped him as one of the spirits flooding the area passed within inches of a pale-faced Tiy.
“There’s bound to be one around here somewhere,” Tiy hissed back. His eyes narrowed. “Why don’t you check the other side of the village, and we’ll check this one?”
Buu raised an eyebrow, considering. “How do I know you won’t just leave me and head back?” Buu doubted the guard would let him back in without his more lucrative escort. He didn’t want to think about what the punishment might be for wondering alone in the wilderness after curfew.
“Pfft — and let you call me a coward for running? I don’t think so. We stay until—” Tiy stopped as Kijah grabbed his arm.
“There!” the boy pointed towards an empty doorway.
The dead had crowded thickly enough to become visible to the other boys. A Zadyan soldier, washed of colour and standing at attention, stared at them from the doorway, eerily still. The flaming sword of his cobbled together militia uniform still stood out on his proud chest.
They watched one another for a long moment before Tiy pulled himself taller. Sticking out his chest he sneered at Buu and pointed towards the soldier.
“See. I knew we’d find one here. So? How brave can you be, pipsqueak?”
Buu grinned, pouring every ounce of disdain that he could into the expression. Without saying a word, he strode calmly up to the ghost, standing beside it as he turned back to see Tiy’s horrified expression. The older boy had no way of knowing that Buu had walked through several more spirits to get to the spot, nor that doing so had become an almost mundane activity for him. Buu did take care not to disturb the form of the soldier-ghost, however, having found that once a specter became solid enough to be seen by others, they tended to take offense to intrusions, where others didn’t even notice them.
Tiy and Kijah’s faces drained of colour, mouths dropping open in shock. They glanced at one another before Tiy pulled himself together. He straightened, chewing his lip as his eyes darted from Kijah to the ghost and back. He stooped and collected up a piece of stacked firewood from the side of the adjacent house, weighing it in his hand and glaring at Buu. He came no closer to the ghost.
“You think that’s brave?” Tiy asked, voice shaking. “Check this out!”
Tiy lobbed the wood, arcing it end over end until it sailed through the ghost to thud against the stone floor behind. Buu felt a laugh bubble up at the older boy’s obvious bluster — all that talk, and he couldn’t bring himself to step any closer? A ghost wouldn’t care about an inanimate bit of wood.
The laugh died in his throat as all hell broke loose.
Tuag ranged at the village’s perimeter. The moonlight stung against him like nettles on flesh, his ex-mistress punishing him for his freedom, no doubt. Remaining under the cover of the trees gave some relief, and he smelled no life or danger in the village that the boy might need protection from.
Tuag still hesitated to leave Buu alone with the others. They stank of nerves and strutted false confidence. Even though he never saw them do anything harmful to his boy, Tuag suspected the adolescents had caused much of his recent unhappiness. Not that happiness meant much to Tuag, but if the older monkeys held any malice towards Buu, they could become a source of danger.
Spirits did not usually make any sound — even to Tuag’s honed senses — so when he heard the warbling, furious cry from the direction of the boys, it sent a chill down his spine. Tuag leaped towards the horrible fury, the pure emotion ringing louder than any sound could.
“Thaven dog! You will burn in Anaya’s light!”
Tuag rounded the corner to see a soldier’s ghost throttling one of the boys. Dread rolled over Tuag as he watched, imagining his only path home snuffed out. Just the thought brought on a bout of nausea.
But then he saw Buu, safe, if alarmed, watching from a nearby doorway. The tension left Tuag in a rush, replaced by amusement as he looked closer at the spirit’s victim. The eldest boy struggled to hold the spirit back, his fingers slipping through the ghost’s unwavering grip, unable to find any purchase as he turned a delightful purple. The ridiculous Thaven hat sat lopsided on his head, no doubt a beacon to the fallen militiaman. The third boy only added to the entertainment, flailing at the phantom with exquisite panic written across his features.
Just as Tuag lowered his haunches to sit, content to watch the idiot monkey get his due, he felt the wave of power. Buu ran at the ghost, his magic coalescing around him like shadows, the smell of peat overwhelming. Tuag lurched forward, hauled toward the boy without moving his legs as Buu threw panicked spells in the spirit’s general direction.
Tuag leaned into the movement, speeding his own jump and sailing forward. He landed within inches of the spirit as Buu’s hand touched the ghost’s shoulder. The space around the spirit seemed to offer a breathless gasp as Buu shoved, a graceless concentration of will and power pushing the spirit elsewhere, and for one glorious moment, Tuag saw home.
The ghost went, indelicately, beyond the boundary, a hole torn in the barrier for the briefest moment. Tuag glimpsed the open nothing, overflowing with loitering dead. It called to him like a lost child, needful and afraid. But just as violently as the hole had been made, it slammed shut, the only sign of its ever existing the powerful scent of death left in its wake.
Knowing he had missed the window did not stop Tuag from leaping to the now empty space. He paid no heed to the tearful idiot scrambling backward, coughing and spluttering for air. The night pressed in, too warm despite the snow, the air too thick in Tuag’s snarling throat.
He saw it. He saw it and smelled it right in front of him, but he could not go. Digging his claws into the snow and earth he pawed, desperate, at the ground. He snarled, howled, and whimpered, spinning, pacing, and snapping at the air in the place his home had so briefly been.
When his head cleared, Tuag stood panting, legs and flanks trembling. He didn’t see the older boys, their scents faded as if they had been gone a long time. But Buu sheltered from the wind nearby, watching Tuag with dark circles under his eyes.
Buu couldn’t account for the ghost’s reaction. The spirit had charged Tiy without mercy, mouth distorted in a silent rant as he closed his translucent hands around the soft skin of Tiy’s neck, passing through the meagre defense of his scarf without pause. In an impressive display of bravery, Kijah remained by his friend’s side, swinging the lantern ineffectually through the ghost until Tiy began to turn purple.
Buu tried to take deep breaths, to find his center and exert his will on the ghost the same way he would a body. But as he watched Tiy’s gloved fingers paw clumsily at the ghost’s grip, the older boy’s sheer breathless panic infected him. A heartbeat sounded loud in Buu’s mind, fast, but slowing, each beat marking a new moment that Buu did not act.
Unsure what else to do, Buu ran at the ghost, clutching at what power he could with his scattered concentration. Reaching out, he could feel the ghost with his mind, a barely-there presence, hot with rage. Buu had not attempted to use his powers on ghosts yet, his encounter with the girl in the workshop still making his mouth go dry when he thought about it.
Within their private forest, given the time and quiet to get it right, Buu would have taken stock of the spirit, and their surroundings. He could have tried small things here and there, just nearby the ghost before actually pressing any magic to it. He did not have that luxury.
Go! Get! LEAVE! The words echoed in the space between Buu and the soldier’s ghost, soundless and pregnant with intent. Feeling the weight of the thought, Buu pressed wave after wave of power after it, lending raw potency to the half-baked spell.
Buu heard a sound like fabric tearing as his magic hit the ghost. The spirit lurched sideways, as if smashed by a titanic blow… and disappeared. Cold radiated from the spot he had been like an ice wind, chilling pieces of Buu that a physical wind could never touch.
Released, Tiy coughed and spluttered, gasping to refill empty lungs. Kijah clung to his arm, half-supporting and half-dragging Tiy as they scrambled away. They had barely moved out of the way as Tuag pounced on the place they had just occupied.
Buu watched the older boys run, retracing their own tracks out of the village. They did not wait for Buu, and he did not follow them, too transfixed by the intensity of Tuag’s distress.
The grimm paced and pawed at the ground, growling and snapping at the air. He would release a bark, or a whimper, as he pulled up more snow with his long, deadly claws. As the grimm fussed, the spirits that had rushed close to Buu’s initial burst of magic scattered in every direction, eager to get away from the angry beast.
When it became clear that Tuag would not calm quickly, Buu retreated to the nearest doorway, sheltering from the wind that threatened to steal the delicious warmth his magic left him. Idly, he wondered if anyone would come looking for him, or if the other boys would keep quiet about what had happened, making his disappearance a mystery — if anyone noticed it at all.
Tuag always reacted when Buu used his powers, but this tantrum seemed extreme, even for him. Buu crouched, resting his legs as he pondered the grimm. Tuag looked like the dogs from Red Birch Village when they couldn’t get into the butcher’s yard. They had the same instinctive need behind their movements, though Tuag slavered a lot less. Finally, the grimm paused, panting, and looked around, spotting Buu and staring at him with pleading eyes.
“What are you trying to do?” Buu asked aloud, though he knew Tuag wouldn’t understand. “Are you trying to chase the ghost?”
In a very distant way, Buu knew that he had sent the ghost somewhere else. He didn’t know where, but he could feel in his bones that he did not destroy the spirit. Buu also knew that Tuag had been brought to Zadyan lands against his will, bound by magic to masters he did not choose.
Standing up, Buu reached out a tentative hand towards Tuag, gathering magic into his palm and holding it there, head tilted in a question. He tried to remember how he had pushed the ghost away, the panic of the moment clouding his memory.
The buzz of power forming between his fingers built as Buu did his best to focus it into a repelling force. Remembering how he’d wanted the ghost to leave, he narrowed his thoughts to Go away. Leave. Get back.
Tuag’s ears came forward as the spell coalesced haphazardly in Buu’s grasp. The grimm sniffed the air once before stepping forward. Gently, Tuag pressed his face into Buu’s hand and the waiting spell, closing his ember-bright eyes.
When Buu put the final surge of power into the spell, releasing it directly into the waiting grimm, the force knocked him off his feet. As he toppled backwards, he caught a glimpse of Tuag, flipping end over end as he flew bodily away, slamming into the house across the street and taking out what remained of one burned out wall. A clatter broke through the otherwise quiet night as a section of the building’s second story slumped down, a cascade of wood and abandoned furniture crashing down atop the grimm.
Buu sat up, staring at the wreckage, his mouth hanging slack. When the rubble moved, Buu climbed to his feet, hesitating, unsure whether to run towards Tuag, or away. Before he could make up his mind, the grimm appeared, phasing up through the debris as it settled to fill the newly vacant space he had been occupying. As Tuag regained solidity, he shook himself before calmly walking back to flat ground.
Buu watched, his shoulders relaxing as he saw something he never thought he would see: the grimm wagged his tail.