"We go afoot," he said.
Magadon looked out over the cemetery. The gate flashed again.
"That's a lot of ground to cover," the mindmage said.
"And a lot of wraiths," Riven added.
"It is," Cale answered to both of them. He intoned a prayer to Mask that would shield him and his companions from the soul-draining power of the undead creatures. He touched himself, Magadon, and Riven in turn.
"If they come, this will preserve our souls, but the cold of their touch will still steal your warmth. We stay together at all costs."
Riven, evidently resigned to their course, said, "We move fast and straight. Right for the gate."
They all shared a look, nodded.
Cale vaulted the wall and dropped into the cemetery's deeper darkness. The air closed in around him. It felt thick in his lungs, oily on his skin. His breathing sounded loud in his ears, while everything else sounded far away and muffled.
Small gravestones worn smooth by time dotted the grass at his feet. Ghostly structures-crypts and mausoleums-lurked at the edge of his sight.
Riven and Magadon dropped to the ground beside him.
"The darkness is different in here," Magadon said, and waved his hand in the air. "Like cobwebs."
"Damned air is like a vise," Riven said. He cleared his throat and spit. "Tastes foul."
Cale nodded. The darkweaver spun strands of shadows the way a spider did a web. Cale imagined the creature lurking at the center of its shadowy net, waiting, feeling the vibrations in the shadows caused by their approach.
Shadowlord's power flow through it and surround them.
Riven and Magadon closed ranks with him and they moved in lockstep in the direction of the gate. The wraiths closed on them, swirled around the edge of Cale's power, glared at them from outside the radius of Magadon's light. The creatures engulfed them like an unholy fog. Cale could not see where they were going.
"Mags?"
"Still this way, Cale," Magadon answered.
"Back to your rest!" Cale shouted at the wraiths, and pushed more power through his holy symbol. Divine energy flowed through him and into the air. It crashed into the wraiths, cutting a tunnel through the swarm. Moans chorused in Cale's ears.
Cale, Magadon, and Riven pushed through the opening. But there were so many. They pressed against Cale's power. The strain was draining him. Magadon's light was dimming. They would not be able to shield themselves for much longer, and when the barrier collapsed…
Dark hands reached up out of the cold earth and clutched at them. Riven and Cale saw them and jumped aside but Magadon was too slow. The mindmage gasped at the touch of the undead and his light dimmed further.
The wraiths took advantage and swarmed forward in a black tide. Cale braced himself and channeled divine power through Weaveshear and his mask.
"Away!"
But the wraiths did not slow. Moans sounded from all around. Black hands reached for them from all sides. Red eyes surged forward.
Cale shouted as the black tide broke on them. He took Weaveshear in two hands and tore through one, two, three wraiths. They moaned as parts of their forms boiled away in foul-smelling black smoke. Cale barely felt any resistance as he cut through the incorporeal creatures. Riven twirled, spun, ducked, his blades whirling and whistling through the wraiths' forms.
Magadon stabbed his mindblade downward into the earth at the creature that had attacked him. Oily dark smoke and a moan rose from the sod.
The wraiths were a black blizzard, their forms swarming around them, grasping, shrieking. Ghostly hands reached through Cale's clothing, armor, and body to clutch at his heart. The cold caused him to gasp, slowed him. Many of the wraiths simply flew through the companions, one after another, the unearthly chill of their forms taking its toll on flesh before they darted away.
Cale, Riven, and Magadon's blades slashed and cut but the tide of wraiths was unending. Magadon's mindblade slashed through the torso of a wraith, stabbed another through the torso, but two of the creatures penetrated his guard and reached into his chest. He screamed and fell to his knees as one, another, and another wraith flowed through him. His scream died; his mouth hung open, frozen. His mindblade fell from his hand and dissipated.
Cale drove back a handful of wraiths with a series of furious slashes, then bounded to Magadon's side. He sliced Weaveshear through a wraith as it emerged from Magadon's body and the creature dissolved into black fumes and a fading moan. He held the blade over his head and summoned as much divine power as he could. Shadows gushed from the blade and his voice boomed over the battle.
"Away, dead of Elgrin Fau! Our quarrel is not with you but with Kesson Rel! Away!"
Power veined the shadows leaking from the blade and the wraiths writhed, recoiled, and withdrew. They hovered at a distance, ringing Cale, Riven, and Magadon in a wall of black forms and burning eyes. Whispers replaced the wraiths' moans.
Riven helped Magadon to his feet and steadied him. The assassin drew darkness from the air with his fingertips, charged his hands with its power, and placed them on Magadon. Magadon's face regained its color and he visibly strengthened.
Riven thumped him on the shoulder and relaxed his grip on his companion.
"Cale?" Riven asked, eyeing the wraiths.
The creatures hovered motionless, regarding them, whispering.
Cale shook his head but held Weaveshear at the ready. He did not know what to make of their strange pause. He did not think he was holding them at bay; he did not feel them challenging his power. The wraiths' whispers sounded like falling rain.
"What are they saying?" Magadon asked.
Despite his facility with several languages, Cale did not understand the wraiths. Struck with an idea, he hurriedly intoned the words to a prayer that allowed him to understand and speak the tongue of any creature. As he uttered the final syllable, the cloud of wraiths fell silent and parted.
Through the gap flew four wraiths, each as large as three of the lesser wraiths. The fell creatures flew toward the companions. Dread and cold went before them.
"Big bastards," Riven said, and spun his blades.
Cale had never seen them before, but he knew their identity nevertheless. He remembered as if he had learned it in a dream: The Silver Lords of Elgrin Fau.
"Hold your ground," he said to Riven and Magadon, as if they had any other choice.
The wraiths floated forward until they hung in the air face-to-face with the companions. Their black misty forms towered over Cale. Their red eyes smoldered. They had the vague forms of men, but each was as large as an ogre.
"Lord," Cale said in their language.
Riven and Magadon looked at him sidelong.
One of the wraiths whispered, "You have spoken the name of the damned."
Another whispered, "You name him as enemy."
Cale knew they meant Kesson Rel. He nodded. "I am sworn to kill him and take from him what he stole from the Shadowlord."
The cloud of wraiths around them burst into urgent whispers. Cale caught only snippets: "Avnon Des," "the Chalice of Night," "the Conclave," "the Hall of Shadows."
The larger wraiths looked sharply upon the lesser and silence fell.
"You have walked this ground before," the wraith said. "Name yourselves."
Another of the large creatures reached out an insubstantial hand toward Riven. The assassin tensed and readied his blades.
"Hold," Cale said tightly.
"Him or me?" Riven asked, blades still ready.
Cale smiled despite the tension of the moment. "Both."
Riven held and the wraith stopped before touching him. Its ghostly fingers hovered near the holy symbol that hung on a chain about his neck, then withdrew.