CORRUPTED SOUL (SOCIETY'S SOUL Book 2)

by Amanda Twigg

  A drop indeed. Not enough power to save us all. Landra wondered how many of Gramp’s Templers had worked to fill the well to the top. Too many. She wasn’t certain that Vellion understood what he’d done or how useless his efforts were.

  “This power is our leverage and our destiny,” Vellion said. “Warrior persecutors can’t survive without our strength. The peace treaty is a deflection, giving us time to build our attack. Who is with me on the path to eliminate Hux rule, subdue our oppressors, and take control of our world?”

  Landra couldn’t pretend to join the cheering. Shelk. This is war, and it will end us all.

  “Swear after me,” Vellion said. “I offer my life for Templer rule.”

  Bolts of pink light emanated from his staff, emphasizing his rally call.

  “For Templer rule,” everyone repeated.

  Jex shouted as loud as anyone. Landra gaped, too stunned to mouth the oath. Cheers rang through the forest, and Vellion glowed with pleasure, his aura expanding until his crimson swirls swallowed his dashes of blue. The frenzy held everyone’s attention, so they didn’t notice her silence.

  Mouthing a voiceless cheer, she faked a besotted expression and pretended to join, hoping to cover the truth. Landra was different, all Hux, and right now, her Soul mourned.

  Chapter 39

  Landra was where Thisk had said she should be. She had warmth and a temple pin that allowed some freedom, food, and a chance at survival. It couldn’t satisfy her Warrior Soul or still her fears, so her waking moments focused on escape. Her dreams too.

  If only it was that easy.

  She sat in a classroom directly below the swamper testing area. The familiarity made her belch with the nerves of a swamper candidate who expected failure.

  Don’t be stupid. There are instruction posters on the walls and an open door at the back. They don’t want to dump me back in the underlevel from here.

  She pictured the small temple exit she’d used with Thisk. Planning a route toward it wasn’t difficult, thanks to the base designer’s habit of duplicating layouts.

  I’ll make for the temple concourse, report to the first soldier I see, and request an audience with Chief Hux. Or Thisk. Or… Details can come later. Got to find a way out first without being stopped.

  The classroom entrance burst open, and Jex charged in. His eyes sparkled and his aura jumbled with more shades than he’d displayed before. “Look what I did.”

  Landra hadn’t heard such a jubilant tone since Dannet completed his first model pod car. She expected her friend to present a similar prize, but he filled the doorway and held up his elba plant. Its bushy leaves draped over his fist, and its dangling roots dropped soil onto the floor.

  “Look,” he said again. “I liberated my staff.”

  “Killed it, more like,” she said.

  He tapped soil off the roots and stroked the foliage, his face beaming with ridiculous pride. “Are you saying my elba won’t survive? Let’s take a look at yours and decide which has the best chance of growing.”

  “At least mine’s in soil.”

  “My staff doesn’t need soil. Magic flows through the stem, and nothing can harm it now.”

  Hardly invulnerable, but I can see it glowing.

  A Templer nudged Jex into the classroom, and a group of apprentices surged through the gap. “What’s going on?” he asked. All eyes fell on Jex.

  “Nice growth,” an apprentice said, her eyes settling on the elba.

  “Ain’t nothing,” another replied. “Look at this.” The boy who’d spoken thrust a staff forward that displayed a waist-high stem, withered roots, and bushy leaves. Pink shades swirled around his hand and down the staff.

  Jex’s face crumpled, but the Templer smiled at him.

  “Show me,” he said.

  The engineer held his plant forward with more pride than a soldier handling Chief Hux’s sword. Instead of the rebuke Landra expected, the Templer’s round face split into a wide grin.

  “That’s going to be a fine staff when it’s fully grown, young man. Make sure you cover the roots with a bag until they harden.”

  Jex’s cheeks plumped into another wide smile.

  “This is a good start to our new class. Let me introduce myself. I’m Templer Harperon, your tutor in magic Engagement. Everyone calls me Harp.”

  With the exception of Pearly, Landra hadn’t found a temple tutor who didn’t set her nerves on edge, but she immediately warmed to the portly, old man who stood before her. She couldn’t respect his appearance, with robe material stretched over his expanding belly, a hemline reaching his knees, and baggy trousers that should have hugged his calves. His two-bar soldier insignia was angled above his left ear to fit in the small patch of hair he had left, and his Templer specialization tattoo was inked in the wrong place. Yet his aura puffed up into red clouds over a blue base, giving her an impression of overwhelming kindness.

  “Now, where to begin?” Harp said, rubbing his bald head as if undecided.

  A question, not an order. As disorganized as Thisk.

  He took out a scroll and attached it to a nail on the wall.

  Growing Soul, splitting Soul, imbuing objects, generating power, manipulating power, directing power, focusing energy through a staff, roaming Soul, usurping Soul, operating machinery and weapon activation were listed on the unfurled sheet.

  The students released a collective gasp.

  “Too much?” Harp said. “Yes, of course it is. That’s a lifetime’s work on Engagement right there.” He took the scroll down and rolled it up again.

  “Let’s start with developing your staffs, seeing as we’ve already had some success in that area. Display them on your desks, so I can take a look.”

  A glance around showed Landra that everyone had grown shoots, and some had fully developed staffs.

  Temple children? She spotted Toby, and even his seedling showed some good growth. Shelk. I’m the odd one out. Just as well I’m not staying.

  Jex shot her a worried glance, so she sighed and placed her capped pot on the desk. Harp spotted her offering at once. “What’s the matter, dear?” He bumbled across to take a look.

  Sword-like stiffness clamped Landra’s spine. “I… Gardener Ossek said my elba is dead.”

  “Ossek? You’re from the underlevel?”

  Share it with everyone, why don’t you? Differentiating between robed apprentices was impossible, but now Harp had singled her out. Not malice, but you don’t understand. She licked her lips before managing a nod.

  “Well, take no notice of the gardener. He’s just plain mean. Show me what you’ve got.”

  She eased the cap aside from her pot and held her breath in expectation of judgment.

  Oh. A small shoot peeped through the soil, surprising her more than she could explain. Tilting the pot, she checked for a mark on the side to be sure it was hers.

  “Hmm, not dead,” Harp said, snatching it away. “But not healthy either.”

  A flutter of irritation unsettled Landra’s aura. It’s growing. What more do you want? She nipped her lips tight to stem her argument, but Harp’s softly rolling aura touched her boundaries and soothed her mood. More caring than I’ve felt since…Dannet.

  “Why is it grey?” Harp asked.

  You’re the expert. “I don’t know, Templer Harperon.”

  “Harp, please. You’re going to need friends here, and I can be your greatest ally. You need to trust me.”

  “Gardener Ossek was certain it had died.”

  The Templer screwed his face into an unmistakeable show of pity. “Oh, my dear! Don’t believe everything he says. Our glorious gardener doesn’t believe…” He pointed a thumb to the ceiling, indicating the swamper candidate level. “Ossek doesn’t want anyone to come through there, let alone have access to his precious elbas, but I can help you with this.”

  Tears ambushed Landra. His kindness wrapped around her in an unexpected reminder of times she couldn’t reclaim. If all Templers were like you, I w
ouldn’t need to escape or report back to Father. I’m sorry, Harp. Warrior retribution won’t discriminate good from bad.

  She closed off her emotions and grabbed her plant. “Thank you, Templer Haperon, but I’ll manage.”

  His chubby face dimpled into a sad frown. “See me after class if change your mind.”

  “I will,” she said, knowing her future had no place for private magic tuition. Harp patted her shoulder, his soothing shades slowing her aura movements. She shrugged away from the touch.

  Can’t be comfortable here. Can’t like these people or make friends. This is war. I must leave soon.

  Chapter 40

  Success at magic eluded Landra, but she hadn’t truly engaged with the process, so what could she expect? If an escape route didn’t appear soon, she’d have to learn some tricks or risk expulsion. And where would that leave her? Not the soldier base, so that left the underlevel. Just as her hopes of finding a way out were fading, Harp appeared in the food hall with a solution.

  “Any volunteers for cleaning the world clock?”

  The request conflicted with Landra’s expectations. In her world, orders were issued, soldiers deployed, and jobs completed to order. Here, heads bowed and groans rumbled through the apprentice group.

  How do you ever get things done?

  She remembered the world clock hanging over the platform in the main temple. It was near the exit to home. “Me, I’ll do it.” She waved her arm.

  Jex stopped mid-chew, juice dribbling down his chin. “You? Really?”

  “Yes, me. I thought you’d volunteer too. Tinkering with machinery’s your thing.”

  “It is, but you jumped in so fast... I’m shocked, that’s all.” He waved his interest to Harp, confusion still disrupting his aura’s lines.

  “Wonderful,” Harp said. “Templer Second Dillit will be thrilled. This job’s been needed for years. Just so you know, it’s hot, physical work and runs over my first lecture.

  Even better.

  “Still want to go?” Harp asked.

  Jex pursed his lips. “What’s the class?”

  “Projecting Soul power. It hasn’t many uses, unless you want to blast someone out of existence. Is that on your list of jobs for the day?”

  “Hardly,” Landra said, producing her sweetest smile. But I’m wondering why you teach us to kill. Bet that’s not written in the treaty.

  She and Jex returned to their shared room and organized for the task ahead. The engineer stripped to working skins and tied his staff to his belt. Landra cinched her robe.

  “Surely, you’re not thinking of climbing ladders in that,” Jex said.

  She pressed her robe fabric flat. “I was going to.” She couldn’t share that she needed to hide stowed tools. Better to appear stupid.

  “You’ll trip on the rungs.” His narrowed gaze and pulsing aura demanded she change, so she stripped to her white work skins.

  “That’s better,” he said.

  For who?

  The material wrapped tight enough around her torso and limbs for anything beneath to form an outline. Jex’s admiring gaze posed a problem, but she had other worries, like where to hide her knife. No point stealing it from the kitchens if I don’t take it now. Turning away, she removed the blade and a picklock from beneath her mattress, and she slid them down her boot. A pre-written note went up her sleeve, and the words tumbled in her thoughts.

  Fourth, I’m in the temple and would like to meet. L

  It sounded vague enough if it fell into the wrong hands but carried enough meaning to catch Thisk’s attention.

  Who am I kidding? If it comes to using the note, I’m done. The only way out of this place is through one small, guarded door. If I can’t leave unchallenged, I’ll have to fight.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Jex asked, angling his eyebrows.

  Knife, lockpick, note, courage… She opened her hands.

  “Your elba.”

  Oh, that.

  “Here,” he said, attaching the pot to her belt with string. “The leaves won’t grow straight if you neglect it.”

  The pot rested on her hip, and a bubble formed in her aura to accommodate the plant’s magic. The grey shoot had too many leaves for the lid to fit now, but its foliage spread in black twists, as if reflecting her dark Soul. She’d meant to leave it behind for Ossek to claim. Now, she’d have to find a time to dump it later. A wave of nausea rocked her sideways and erupted in a belch. She covered her mouth and made for the door. “Let’s go.”

  They joined the cleaning crew on the temple platform. Full Templers in red robes filled the remaining volunteer spots. Ladders, polish, tools, and cloths littered the area, and Gallanto’s plaque boasted a dangling bucket hung on one corner.

  Oh, Gramps. You wouldn’t appreciate that, but the clock’s going to shine again, like when… She nipped her lips tight. Oakham’s Soul memory couldn’t come now. It couldn’t. She glanced to the spot where his chair had rested. No portal guards now. You were the last sentry, and you died in my arms.

  “Lanya,” Dillit said. “I’ve no use for daydreamers. Are you the best Harp could send?”

  “Sorry,” she said, giving her body a shake. “I’ll work hard. Promise. Where d’you want me?”

  “Been up a ladder?”

  “I’ll manage.”

  “Good. Everyone, listen. We’ll finish before opening time. Templers hanging from branches are enough to ruin any pilgrimage. What doesn’t get done today, we complete tomorrow.”

  This was where Landra wanted to be, in the main temple looking down the ramp and with the exit in view, but she couldn’t leave while the temple was so quiet. There’d be a commotion and too great a risk of spilling blood. So, she focused on her duties, hoping to find some excuse to be here at opening time. Pilgrims could form a distraction.

  “Clean display casings and oil moving parts,” Dillit said. “Don’t disrupt the mechanism. Recalibrating the clock to Jethran time is shelking hard.”

  Jex ascended a ladder carrying an oil can, so Landra hitched a bucket of cleaning materials onto a shoulder and put her foot on the ladder at his side. The wobbling structure made it a nervy climb, but the view from the top hitched her breath.

  Bright magic outlined the door etchings—more vivid than she remembered—and shimmers spiralled up from the power well to brighten the tree trunks. The scene had changed to look more like Oakham’s vision than when she’d run out with Thisk. She wrapped her arms tight to still a sudden wobble. It came from her body rather than the ladder. Not a change in the temple. A change in me. The magic grew through her like a spreading virus, as if trying to possess her Soul. The revelation decided her path. She would leave today, no matter what.

  Before I’m lost.

  She pulled on a chain and hauled a metal ball to her chest. The sphere’s warped reflection offered no comfort. The privations of her journey showed clear on her face. No wonder these people haven’t a clue who I am. Reclaiming her soldier life had never felt so far away.

  “You look wobbly,” Jex said through the canopy. “Hold tight.”

  “I will.” I’ll hold onto caution, fear, regret, duty, and a soldier past that I can’t have back. Shelk. I’m whinier than Winton. She set to work rubbing the tarnish away with as much effort as if the trainer had ordered her to stop slacking.

  By the time Dillit shouted to finish, her shoulders ached. If she did nothing more in the temple, at least she’d made her mark.

  “Everyone, down. The temple’s opening to visitors,” Dillit said.

  A tickle of nerves touched Landra’s throat. She reached out as far as she could manage without tipping the ladder and dropped her cleaning cloth. Her gaze tracked its descent to where it settled on the main ramp.

  She clambered down, and her foot touched the platform just as the city siren blared. Templer voices raised in gentle song, and more guards came to bolster the numbers at the exit. The day shift.

  “Everyone, take the equipment to th
e perimeter chambers,” Dillit said.

  A cleaning detail appeared to remove the ladders. Landra carried her bucket a short way before nudging Jex. “Here, take this, will you? I dropped a cloth on the ramp. It shouldn’t stay there for pilgrims to find.”

  “I’ll get it,” he said, his aura swirling.

  “No, I know where it landed. Templer Dillit, I have to retrieve a cloth from the ramp.”

  The grumpy Templer scowled. “Go then, but walk with grace so you don’t disturb pilgrims on their way up.”

  “Yes, Templer.”

  She nodded to Jex, her heart thumping. “See you later.” The words were easier to say than goodbye, but the tickle from her throat reached down to her belly and caused a commotion in her guts. She always left people behind. Or did they leave her? Sometimes it was hard to tell. She turned aside before more emotion could strike.

  Her journey down the ramp didn’t compare with her flight with Thisk. The ranger had enough rank and fighting muscles to barge his way through. She needed to look calm and behave like she belonged. Her path crossed with that of two cadets as she neared the cloth. She pulled tall, feigned unconcern, and kicked her rag over the edge. The soldiers passed by with the same indifference she’d once offered to Templers.

  More pilgrims had converged on the ramp when she reached the bottom. She slotted between them, glad for the additional cover.

  This is good. No one takes notice of me here. Best get through the door before Jex reports me missing. Gods of the mist. What will they say to him? What will they do to him?

  She spotted a row of brown-robed guards lining the perimeter path, and any thoughts of her friend dispelled. Their broad frames bulged with strength, and their powerful staffs buzzed with magic. They looked more alert than the guards had during her last escape through here. She plunged into the heart of a pilgrim group who were heading in the opposite direction and forced her way through. “Excuse me. Sorry. I just need to…”