Sianim 02 - Wolfsbane

attention to the shadow-creature.
    “Baneshade,” said Halven, looking at the creature. “Interesting.”
    “What’s a baneshade?” asked Aralorn.
    Wolf stepped to the edge of the binding and examined the thing himself, saying, “I hadn’t thought of that. They used to be quite common, I understand. The wizards before the Wizard Wars used them. They were nasty little creatures who lived in dark places, usually where magic had been performed—deserted temples and the like. On their own, they’re said to be harmless enough, but they can work like a sigil—keeping a human spell going for an indefinite length of time.” He paused. “Or they can store power. They were supposed to have the ability to alter some spells a little, too. I had assumed they were long gone.” He was pleased that his voice came out as controlled as it usually was.
    “It didn’t act like something that was harmless,” said Aralorn.
    “I saw another one once,” commented Halven. “When I was younger, I sometimes wandered from place to place. There was a deserted building—not much larger than a hut, really. I was told it was haunted by the ghost of one of the great wizards from the time of the Wizard Wars. The building didn’t feel that old to me, but it did have a baneshade. It took me a while to find a name for the thing.” He turned his attention to Wolf. “Why didn’t you try capturing it that way before?”
    “I didn’t even think of it.” It was black magic, and he tried not to use it. He didn’t have to use blood to call enough power to build the spell, but most other human mages would have.
    Halven raised his eyebrows but didn’t comment. Instead, he turned to the bier. “Now that that’s taken care of, I suppose I should look at this spell.”
    He laid his hand on the Lyon’s head and began humming in a rich baritone. After a moment he pulled back and looked at Wolf. “I think it’s human magic. But there is something else as well. Perhaps you ought to look.”
    Wolf looked at the shadow his magic held. “Hold a moment. I need to fix the spell so I can work other magic.”
    He drew a sign on the stone floor with his finger, then touched the glowing circlet. The symbol he’d drawn flared orange before disappearing. “That should hold it.”
    He released the spell, knowing that the rune would maintain the spell for the time he needed. Stepping past it, he approached the bier. Like Halven, Wolf laid his palm on the Lyon’s forehead. With his free hand, he gestured in a controlled motion as he closed his eyes.
    “Black magic,” he said finally, pulling away. “I still can’t tell if it is human or not, but I’ll take your assessment. I don’t recognize the patterning, but it’s been muddled enough it could be anyone—maybe the baneshade’s work. It almost has the feel of a collective effort, but it is hard to tell. There is a second spell as well, but it doesn’t seem to have been activated. Hopefully, Lord Kisrah can unravel it.”
    Halven nodded in satisfaction. “I thought it felt as if there was more than one hand involved.”
    “Can you break the spell that holds him?” asked Aralorn.
    “Not this one,” said Halven.
    Wolf shook his head. “Lady, I could try. I would rather wait until I find out just what the spell is, though. I’ve never seen its like. It will be far less dangerous to your father if I know what I’m working with.”
    Halven tapped his finger idly on the stone bier. “Why didn’t anyone else notice he wasn’t dead? Surely someone should have noticed his body didn’t behave properly?”
    “He’s not breathing, has no pulse, and is as cold as stone,” answered Aralorn. “What was there to notice?”
    Halven’s brows rose. “His body didn’t stiffen as a corpse would.”
    “Well,” said Aralorn, looking for an explanation, “Kurmun rode here with Father from the croft—that would not have been long enough for a corpse to rigor. It is traditional to leave a body in the cellar for a full day before dressing it out—to give the spirit time to depart. There was no reason for anyone to notice.”
    “A useful tradition,” observed Wolf. “It is so much easier to work with a pliable corpse.”
    Halven smiled grimly. “So if you had not come, he would have been buried?”
    Aralorn nodded, but Wolf said, “There’s no way to tell, is there? I think perhaps someone would have conveniently discovered it at the last moment—and would have seen to it that word