the ability to see ghosts exactly as they are - in full-colour, as if they were living breathing people - is extremely rare. artemio, who can also see ghosts, can’t discern their features nearly as well as corin can (but that doesn’t hinder artemio’s trade with the village of the dead - since everyone wears masks there, there’s no need to read ghosts’ expressions or whatever). laete, a necromancer, couldn’t see ghosts at all aside from being able to tell their approximate location. this is the most common type of sight
so corin has this super rare ‘true sight’ and it’s why he keeps mistaking ghosts for living people. because to him, there’s almost no difference. this has led him gain a reputation for being something of an absent-minded daydreamer who occasionally asks nonsense questions. nobody really cares about this, though his tutors are a little worried that his strange behaviour might impact on his ability to be king, when the time comes
looks like somebody’s charge is in danger. laete gets dragged along on a road trip to clan fuil darach territory
(set slightly in the past)
~
“Laete, wake up.”
She groaned and turned over, flicking her tail round so that the plume hid her face from sight and blocked out the sunlight.
The nagging voice persisted. “Úna Laete, wake up!”
She couldn’t ignore that. Taking a deep breath, she pulled back her tail and opened her eyes. Squinting through her left, she could just about make out the misty shape hovering beside her. She was used to a rather more insubstantial Theo, but now he radiated urgency, the strong emotion focussing him into a more draconic shape. Bipedal, a curious lack horns in silhouette.
“What?” she groaned, shaking out her wings. With a rustle of feathers, she sat up.
“We have to go,” Theo said.
“What?” she repeated, her feather crest flattening in disbelief. “Go where? You have a lot of nerve, trying to order me around.”
“I can’t - I can’t explain, but we have to go-” Theo said, mounting panic in his voice. Ghosts couldn’t fake emotions like that. Laete leant forward, putting herself at eye level with him.
“Explain it,” she said.
There was a long pause. Theo’s form flickered again.
“I was a guardian,” he said. “My charge still lives. And I believe they are in danger.”
Oh, gods. This was the worst thing to run up against as a necromancer; ghost guardians. She tipped her head on one side, thoughtful.
“The body in the ice box,” she said. “He was a guardian too, you knew exactly where to find him.”
“Yes, it was my body,” Theo said, without hesitation. “I was watching over it. Not that I ever consented to have a disgusting shade monster put into it...”
Laete was not surprised. Ghosts always had an ulterior motive when helping someone. She hadn’t believed for a moment that Theo would be so concerned about some random corpse. He’d been pleasant enough company over the past few days, but he liked mentioning the body in cold storage with suspicious frequency.
“Believe me, I know. You’re not very subtle about it,” she said.
“Forgive me if I don’t particularly care; no one’s ever accused me of subtlety before.” Theo grew silent for a few moments, then rounded on her again. “Will you take me to my charge?”
She considered flat-out refusing, unimpressed at Theo’s apparently new taste for sarcasm. It figured that the nervous, soft-spoken ghost she’d met a few days before had been little more than a front. But he hadn’t yet disobeyed her, and he was in genuine distress...
“Oh, fine. They’d better be close. I’m not flying more than a couple of hours, and you’re lucky I like getting away from this place.”
“They’re close. To the east of here, by those mountains.” The ghost pointed with blurry arm. “Don’t you dare take any longer than is absolutely necessary, skydancer-”
She laughed, rolling her eyes. “Shut it, Theo. Who died and made you king?”
Theo was speechless. Pleased, Laete rose to her feet and collected her equipment pack from her pile of belongings.
“How dare you,” he said in a subdued voice, his whole form trembling.
“Look, I’m sorry,” she said, strapping her staff and clothing backpack to her wrist, “but you’ve gotta accept the death jokes.”
She spread her wings, glancing from left to right to ensure that her take-off was unimpeded. The mages’ camp was all but empty. The mountains that Theo had indicated were well within an hour’s fast flight - for a skydancer, anyway. A ghost would take forever to get there alone, with nothing or no one to focus on.
“I’ll accept nothing,” Theo fumed, “but the safety of my charge.”
“How noble. Well, hop on. You’ll owe me for this, I hope you realise.”
Theo was non-corporeal and couldn’t exactly hop on. Instead, he reached out and anchored himself to her mind, so what when she took off he was dragged along with her.
He remained silent for the duration of the flight, which she was grateful for. Once they got back, she’d have to have a long discussion with him about what else he had been hiding from her. For now, though, she was content to take any excuse to leave the army, to be alone in the sky for once.
She climbed over thermals and updrafts and passed the foothills of the mountains. Trees grew on the slopes, growing thicker up near the top. On the other side of the mountain was the biggest plain in Dragonhome, a flat, featureless wasteland that stretched on further than Laete could see. She saw a trailing structure, a caravan maybe. And in the distance, mid-way along the mountain range that ringed the southern edge of the plain, she saw a single black mountain that, unlike the others, emitted a plume of smoke. But it wasn’t a volcano. She narrowed her eyes, letting her raptor-like vision draw the mountain into full focus. Set into its sides were dragonmade columns eerily like exposed ribs. Red and gold banners fluttered in the wind.
“That’s my home,” Theo said. “I can’t believe what she’s done to it.”
“Your home? Ent that Court Dorchadas?” Laete said, squinting. Her eyesight was phenomenal, but even she couldn’t make out the designs on the enormous banners. “I didn’t know we’d gotten so close already.” Frowning, she spun on a wing, wheeling back round to face the black mass of the army camped on the western horizon. Sure enough, the distance between the army and the court’s fortress, its destination, was surprisingly narrow. But getting the cannons over the foothills would take another few weeks.
“The red is ghastly,” Theo muttered.
“Right,” Laete said, banking again to point east, “your charge?”
“It was a premonition. They should be here soon. By the plains.”
Laete wheeled over the mountain, which was so large that she’d never have been able to survive the thin air at the peak. Flying over it was impossible, so she had to circle its flanks instead.
“There!” Theo said suddenly. “There - do you see?”
She did see. A tiny party of dragons flew low at the edge of the plains, heading up towards the thicker forested sides of the mountain. They were far below her, birdlike in scale, though any one of them would have dwarfed her. The first was a black and gold ridgeback, the second an enormous brown and blue guardian, and the last - clearly struggling to maintain lift - was a small blue guardian with dark wings, spattered sky-blue all over.
“Which one?” she said.
“The blue one.” Theo seemed distracted, his focus fixed on the guardian. “Something’s about to happen...”
Sure enough, no sooner had the blue guardian reached the trees than they faltered. Their wings folded and they fell.
Laete tucked her wings in and dived, dropping towards the canopy. The guardian was gone - transformed - and the trees did not betray where they had landed. Her great height became a liability, and by the time she reached the trees she didn’t know where to land.
She dropped through them anyway and touched down on the forest floor. SHe needn’t have worried about finding the downed guardian; seconds after she landed a sickly greenish glow lit up the undergrowth to the left. She picked her way over, following the light and Theo’s mental signature, and found them.
It had been a bad fall, and it almost looked like the guardian had been impaled on something on the way down. Or... several somethings. She took a quick step back, her crest flattening as she realised that the wooden spikes were growing out of the dragon’s body, leaves unfurling right before her eyes.
What sort of magic was this? She didn’t want to look. The unconscious dragon’s blood sprayed into the air as a wooden spike came through their chest. Theo was nearby, radiating absolute horror, and Laete was inclined to agree.
“Should I... should I help them?” she said. She didn’t want to. She didn’t even want to touch them.
“Yes!” Theo’s voice was frantic. “Don’t just stand there! Do something, you worthless bitch!”
She grabbed the end of her staff and swept its tip through Theo’s body. He vanished instantly, banished for the time being. He’d re-form eventually, but for now he’d just have to be content in time-out. Setting the staff aside, she peered down at the guardian again.
Wood still grew out of their body at an alarming rate. She hesitated, then sat back on her haunches and raised the staff again.
She didn’t know what kind of magic the dragon had somehow gotten themself into, so she couldn’t perform any truly effective spells. Her strongest anti-magic charm would have to do. She drew the runes in the air over the dragon’s back, imprinting the sigil between their shoulders. The runes glowed briefly, then faded until they were little more than pale, spindly scars in the guardian’s stained skin. The wooden spikes stopped growing.
A roar made the trees shake. She leapt back, holstering her staff, and leapt up into the safe branches of a nearby tree.
The other guardian crashed through the canopy, and she saw at once that she’d underestimated his size earlier. He could have snapped her in half with a careless gesture. She shrank back, trusting her dim feathers to camouflage her against the bark.
The brown guardian landed. Distressed, he called for his other companion. Unwilling to be caught between a distraught guardian and a ridgeback, Laete took flight again. She’d done her bit, though the thought of actually helping Theo now left a bad taste in her mouth.
although she’s from the sky spire clan, she left relatively early in her life and feels no ties to the clan. in general, she doesn’t really form attachments to places. she joined the army after wandering sornieth for most of her life
talking to ghosts is a natural ability of hers, but she wasn’t able to do it clearly and at will until she learned the correct rituals for necromancy from her teacher in the army. the more she practices, however, the more the ghosts are attracted to her
she’s probably the most sarcastic dragon on sornieth she never ever lets slide an opportunity to break out the sarcasm. it’s one way of combating annoying ghosts - they don’t really know how to respond to outright mockery/facetiousness, while they do prey on those who act too serious or give away too much about themselves. so for laete, it’s a defense mechanism
i couldn’t leave her bio empty while i take forever to design her outfit, so i did a little portrait of laete! she is True Futch and she wears skulls because the dead love that fuckin aesthetic
her eye glows? i guess. and she had her antennae removed because listening in to ghost emotions can get exhausting
laete sets up zeiya’s telepathy relay, allowing the shade imp to speak, and learns from bree (and a ghost) that there may be another undead dragon that needs her help
~
“Try now.”
The mangy imperial corpse drew itself up, its neck seemingly too desiccated to hold up its own head. Her mottled, discoloured scales clung to the bone beneath, and the heavy brown mane around the bared plates of her skull seemed stiff, stuck together in spikes. Zeiya couldn’t speak; her head was bare of skin and flesh, and her mandible hung useless.
Seeing her move at all was jarring, a contradiction, and one that struck Laete in some base, instinctual corner of her mind. Dead imperials that moved were not safe to be around, she knew, in the deepest part of her being.
Zeiya made a hollow rattling noise, a wheeze of air issuing from the holes that pierced her leather-like hide. Floating shade eyes blinked into life around her antlers, peering down at Laete with a powerful curiosity.
This is talk, yes? Zeiya said, telepathically.
On the imp’s other side was Fionnán, the enormous golden guardian that Aiteal had brought with her. His charge was Zeiya. Or, more accurately, the shade parasite named Zeiya living inside an unrelated imperial corpse. He pressed closer to her, apparently sharing none of Laete’s instinctual fear, and raised a huge paw to brush her overgrown mane off her face.
“That’s good!” Laete said, nervously twisting her staff between her hands. Even in her dragon form, she was dwarfed by Zeiya and Fionnán. “Say something else.”
I talk, Zeiya said. There was a pause, then she went on in some strange, foreign language.
“What does that mean?” Laete said.
“That’s Midean,” Fionnán rumbled. “The language her first host spoke.” He was so tall that seeing even his eyes was impossible, but there was no kindness or happiness in his voice. “She must remember them.”
Rúth yes? Zeiya said, the clattering of bone on bone sounding as she shook. Her shade eyes blinked all at once, in apparent excitement.
Laete nodded and began packing her equipment. Her job here was over; the dead imp could speak, it was sentient. The Commander would be pleased. She clicked her beak to herself and tried not to feel too bitter about Zeiya and Rezann, but it was difficult. If not for the shade parasite, Laete would be dead. Sacrificed. And, probably, in a better place.
She piled up her scrolls and bone wands, casting Zeiya the occasional fearful glance. With her right eye Laete could see, very clearly, the parasite squatting in the imp’s body. It was a black, smoky creature. Spiral-shaped but long enough to occupy the tunnel of bone where the body’s spinal cord had once been. It controlled the dead body like a puppeteer, wispy strings of smoke connecting it to the skeletal limbs.
“Let me know if there are any problems with the relay,” Laete said, clipping the scroll case to her flight harness. “I’m in the mage squad. Just ask for Laete.”
“Problems? Is that likely?” Fionnán said.
“I should hope not.” Laete pushed off the bare earth, rising with a few swift wingbeats until she was finally at Fionnán’s eye level. He leant away from her, the ruff of fins around his head standing up.
“Bye, Zeiya,” Laete called, tipping a wing to bring her flight path back towards the main body of the army. To avoid panic, she and Fionnán had taken Zeiya out to the distant foothills, far from the marching soldiers and rolling cannons.
Goodbye, Zeiya said. Her telepathic voice didn’t fade with distance. Thank you for the speak, she said. I will learn my best.
“You’re welcome,” Laete muttered. Maybe her fear of Zeiya had been entirely unfounded. In her experience, niceness was a rare trait among the dead, but she didn’t really know anything about shade parasites.
The neat ranks of soldiers passed by below. Pink and purple banners marked the mage squadron, her destination. As she drifted into a downwards spiral, a pale shape flashed past her head. She didn’t react. The ghosts loved to bother her while she was flying; they missed the sensation and tried to tag along with her to recapture it.
Úna, what’s it like? a voice whispered in her head.
She flared her wings and slid out of her dive, rapidly losing altitude until she touched down in the bare strip of ground just outside the main line of carts. The ghost followed her, its whispers increasingly insistent.
Tell me, Úna, it said. I want to know. I want to know.
“Let’s not,” she said in a low tone. Telling the ghosts her full name had been a mistake, because now they could find her whenever they liked.
A couple of nearby mages cast her mocking, amused looks. She lowered her gaze and slunk away to her end of the convoy. No need to endure the other mages’ pointed remarks today. Her work on Zeiya’s telepathy relay had been exhausting enough.
She retreated to the rearward cart, hoping to catch a ride (and a rare moment of peace), but there was someone already waiting for her. The healer, swathed in white, could not have looked more out of place among the dark-robed mages. They called out to Laete, waving eagerly.
“What now, Bree?” she said.
They sat on the end of the cart in their bipedal form, polishing their fist-sized pearl on the sleeve of their silken robe. “Well, hi, Laete. What’s wrong?”
“I was just going to get some sleep,” she said, pointedly. “It’s been a long day.”
“I need your help,” Bree said, dropping the pearl back into the holster at their waist. “Sorry. But I can’t do this on my own, I’ve already done all I can...”
“Fine,” Laete said, with a sigh. “But only because you owe me. What’s the matter?” She fell in behind the cart. Its pace was so slow that simply walking along beside it was a decent rest.
Bree hesitated a moment, one hand still on their pearl. “Are you still working with that shade parasite?”
“Yes, Bree, I promise,” she said. “Get to the point.”
“Well. I have also been working with a shade parasite,” Bree said. “For several weeks, actually. It’s kind of a classified mission, not like your imp creature. And, um, he’s gone missing, and I don’t know what to do any more...”
“Oh yes?” Laete said. “Have you tried looking for him?”
“Ha ha, Laete,” Bree said. “I was his handler until I got dismissed, which, fine, whatever. But he hasn’t been round to the healer’s tent at all and he needs a healer with him at all times or he’ll fall apart. None of the other healers have seen him. I know he’s probably fine, but I’m worried, and I was wondering, um... if any of your ghosts might be up for helping me?”
“Oh, come on, Bree,” she snapped. “Do you really think it works like that?”
“I know it doesn’t,” they said. “But if one of them has seen him, don’t you think they’d let me know?”
“If there’s a helpful ghost floating around, maybe,” Laete said grudgingly. “But there’s no guarantee.”
“But we can try,” Bree insisted.
“Yes, okay,” Laete sighed. “Fine. And when we fail, you can go back to the infirmary and let me rest.”
Although Laete could speak to the dead now as easily as she could the living, Bree’s request called for special preparations. That night, when the army settled in for the night, Laete unpacked her gear. The shallow dish that became a perfect mirror when filled with water. The speaking staff, a spear tipped with an umbra wolf’s mandible. Black hangings to cut out the firelight outside, to enable Bree to see the ghosts more clearly. Black salt mixed with bone powder; it attracted spirits like nectar.
Bree knelt in the middle of the tent, glancing around with wide, nervous eyes as though they expected to see the place fill up with spirits. There was a single ghost present, badgering Laete about flight again, but she was used to ignoring it.
“This is creepy,” Bree said, poking at the tip of Laete’s staff. She pulled it back out of their reach.
“Ghosts love that whole aesthetic,” she said with a shrug. “Dead things, bones, etcetera. Here, take this.” She passed the waterskin over to Bree. They held it, eyebrows raised, while she scattered the salt and bone mixture at the bottom of her scrying dish. Taking back the waterskin, she filled the dish until the water level rose above the rim, held by surface tension.
Laete blew out the single candle. Darkness filled the tent.
“So this is like a seance, or something,” Bree said. “Can they hurt us?”
“No,” Laete said. She closed her left eye and peered into the scrying dish with her right. “There are rules, though, but the most important one - for you anyway - is that you must not tell them your name. If they know your identity then they’ll be able to follow you around whenever they like.”
“Oh,” Bree said. There was a pause. “Is that what you did?” they said.
“Yes, that’s what I did,” Laete sighed. “And it sucks. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Something flickered over the surface of the dish. Laete waved for Bree to shut up.
“Okay, here goes,” she said. “Hey. Spirit. We’re looking for someone. I’m led to believe that he is a small orange and black guardian.... corpse.... creature, and he should be somewhere in this camp. Help us find him.”
What will you do for me in return? the spirit said. Its voice was empty of emotion - probably a dragon that had been dead a long, long time. The newly-deceased tended to be a lot more emotional, less to-the-point. They remembered what it was like to be alive better than the ancient ghosts.
“Right, what are you going to give it?” Laete said. “They don’t work for free.”
“What?” Bree said, aghast. “I don’t have anything to give!”
“Your blood?” Laete said. “They like that. Put a drop into the bowl.”
Bree bit their lip. Then, slowly, they raised a thumb to their mouth. They slit the skin on their teeth and held their hand over the scrying dish until a deep blue drop of blood scattered ripples over the water.
The spirit’s presence withdrew briefly, then returned, stronger than ever.
This is acceptable, it said.
“Great,” Laete said. “Now can you help us?”
I will attempt.
There was a long pause. Laete sat back and examined her nails, while Bree scribbled a healing spell onto a spare scrap of parchment. After roughly twenty minutes of this, the spirit returned.
Nothing, it said, and that was that. Laete relayed this to Bree.
“Is that it?” they said. “We could try with another ghost.”
“Sure,” Laete said. “And if there was a ghost who wanted to help it would have shown up by now, drawn by the blood. So we’re out of luck.”
“Okay,” Bree said, their shoulders slumping. “Thanks, Laete, you’ve really done me a favour here.”
“Now we’re even,” Laete said, with a sharp smile. She snagged the black hangings and pulled them down, brightening the tent again.
Bree rose to their feet, carefully securing the spell tag around their thumb. Then with a final nod, and a dejected sigh, they left.
Laete cleansed the tent with scattering of white salt, then packed away her gear again and unrolled her sleeping bag.
She had almost fallen asleep when she felt a presence. This wasn’t unusual; most ghosts didn’t really have any concept of when it was appropriate to drop in on someone.
Úna, a voice said. I can help you.
She turned over, drawing the sleeping bag up around her ears.
It’s dangerous, the ghost said, a faint ache entering its voice, quite different to the ancient spirit from earlier. I know where the undead guardian is, but I couldn’t contact you earlier. The more powerful spirits shut me out.
She would rather have done anything else, but she still felt she’d let down Bree earlier. So she sat up and faced the spirit; a misty, amorphous shape crouched on the floor beside her.
“Spit it out,” she said. “Where is he?”
I’ll show you, the ghost said. I was there earlier today, he hasn’t gone anywhere since then.
“And what do you want in return?” she said, narrowing her eyes.
What? No, it’s a favour, the ghost said. It’s - well, I thought I could do this for you, and then you’d help protect me from the other spirits. I’m small, I have no powers - I was never any good at magic when I was alive. The afterlife hasn’t been kind to me.
She reached out and took the handle of her staff. With a jab she could banish the spirit for a few hours. But she owed Bree, and it really wasn’t normal for a ghost to straight-out tell her it was weak. Most of the time they went for the intimidation route, even when it was patently obvious that they were small and powerless. She could see that this one beside her was fairly weak, probably unable to possess so much as a songbird.
Curiosity drove her on. “Oh yes? You clearly don’t know how things usually go around here.”
How do things usually go? the ghost said, a note of confusion in its voice.
“I get extorted and threatened with possession,” she said, “and then I get to banishing. Hey, if more ghosts were like you I might even enjoy my job.”
I’ll take it as a compliment, the ghost said. And, I’ll be honest, I’ve seen you do the banishing before. That’s why I think you can help me, you’re very good at it. The other mediums in this camp struggle where you don’t.
“Well, thanks,” she said, taking the staff. She rose to her feet, stretching. “I’ll follow you, but if you take me outside the camp I’m coming right back here. Got it? We’ll see about making an arrangement once you show me this undead guy.”
It’s near here, the ghost said, don’t worry. I know exactly where he is. I won’t disappoint you.
The prospect of having an obedient spirit servant was, honestly, a rather attractive one. Laete dressed quickly, then left the tent. Through her right eye she saw the ghost drift away, pausing at the edge of the mages’ encampment for her to catch up.
“So what’s your name?” she said, falling into step beside it. A night guard watched her pass, one hand rising to his Arcanist pendant as if praying for protection.
The ghost gave a spectral laugh. Oh, I’m not falling for that one! Not until we have a deal. Then I’ll tell you one of my names, so you know I’m serious.
“Fair enough. I’ll know if you’re lying,” she said. “I can always tell.”
I’m aware. I’ve seen spirits lie to you before, you always call them out - it’s amazing. How do you know?
“I’m not going to tell you the exact method,” she said, “but ghosts are mental creatures. That’s all you are. I can see your thought processes as easily as I can see you.” She stuck out a hand as she passed the spirit, trailing her fingers through its insubstantial body. It flickered then reappeared a few paces ahead.
It’s around here, the ghost said. They put him into the ice box on the back of the cannon tracks. As if he was just some dead animal to them.
Sure enough, at the end of the cannon rails was a low grey metal box, condensation dripping off its sides. It was sealed, and a paper note attached to the door stated that the box was full and anyone wishing to use the cold storage should try with the second ice box, which was about twenty metres down the track. A heavy lock hung on the door of the first box.
“Great,” she said, picking up the lock. It was code-operated, with three wheels of runes that could be spun to form the unlocking phrase. Anti-magic sigils had been welded to the metal.
I saw them unlock it, the ghost said. A skydancer came here earlier today to check on him. Try spinning the first wheel three clicks up, the second two down, the third six down.
She did so, half-expecting the ice box to be some hideous trap. But when the lock disengaged and she hauled the sealed door open, nothing bad happened. Some black smoke drifted out. Her knuckles white on her staff, she peered inside.
Since she worked with spirits and the likes of Zeiya, Laete liked to think she had a handle on death as a concept. But this corpse threw her off a bit, made her take a step back. Zeiya’s skull mask of a face was easier to look at than the torn and freezer-burnt face of Bree’s shade friend. The corpse was encased in ice, a metal spell tag clamped over one eye socket. Its single eye was open behind a thin layer of ice, an unsettling blank white.
“That’s him?” she said.
The ghost drifted into the ice box, its misty form obscuring the dead body for a moment. Yes, this is him.
Laete swung the ice box door shut again, clicking the lock back into place. The ghost followed her back to the camp, as she headed straight for the medical corps headquarters. The good news, she supposed, was that Bree’s friend didn’t need medical help. The bad news was that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop Bree from attempting to break him out on their own.
“One step at a time,” she said, tapping her staff rapidly on the ground. “Right. Your name?”
So you want to work with me? the ghost said excitedly.
“Yeah, why not,” she said. “You’re useful. But the moment you stop being useful to me, you know what’s going to happen.”
Of course. The ghost paused right next to her and stretched out a pale limb. She stuck out her hand. If the thing wanted to seal the deal with a handshake, then fine. It only tipped the balance more in her favour, showing her that this ghost still clung onto its old living ways, how young and inexperienced it was.
“You already know my name,” she said. “I’m Úna Laete.”
You can call me Theo, the ghost said. She watched it carefully, waiting for the flicker of untruth, but there was nothing. She murmured the name under her breath and the ghost reacted as if it had been summoned, moving closer to her again.
“Sorry, just checking,” she said. “Right. You’re with me, I guess. Let’s go and break the news to Bree.”
