CORRUPTED SOUL (SOCIETY'S SOUL Book 2)

by Amanda Twigg

  Her weary strides brought her to the spiral staircase landing, with the temple and underlevel below. Templers scurried beneath her like ants in a nest, so there was no escape down there. A glance up took in the deserted top floor.

  Holy shelk. I’m going to do this.

  Tears rolled down her cheeks, for having succumbed to magic and for what she must face next. She ascended the stairs that she’d once travelled with Gertha, heading for the candidate level, her past, and a route to the underlevel. There was no other choice. Shelk.

  Chapter 43

  Taking the spiral steps two at a time, Landra twisted around until she reached the top. The corridor was clear, and the testing room door loomed on her right. She knew what lay beyond the panel, but this wasn’t the time for memories or reliving old dreads. She sped by and only slowed at a wall that separated the temple from the underlevel exit.

  Expending more power had sapped her magical reserves again and reduced her physical strength. There was nothing for it. She needed a plentiful supply of Soul energy for the next phase of her plan, so she sought more emotional pain.

  If she’d feared her well of grief had emptied, she knew differently now. Anger lurked beneath her surface thoughts, raging unlimited and surging her power to life. Templers had assaulted her and expected her to kill. With their treason and war, they were no better than Preston. Then there was Mendog, and Father, and…

  A swell of blue aura magic burst inside her boundaries, tinged with pink edges. She pared a sliver free to form a bolt and unleashed it toward the wooden wall. The barrier disintegrated in a cloud of splinters and blue smoke, releasing a blast of air to meet her cheeks in an ice-cold caress. “Shelk!” How did Templers do this? Swinging between power and depletion was exhausting, but she had no idea how to strike a balance. Regardless of her weariness, she climbed through the sharp-edged gap. Even in tight skins, her fabric caught, and when she yanked free, there were threads left behind on a spike.

  This short corridor was new territory for Landra, but the cold let her know where it led. She was at the top of the temple, so the underlevel had to be two floors down. Fear of the destination didn’t slow her steps. It couldn’t, and less than a dozen strides along, she came to a descending flight of stairs. She started down, her heart longing for warm robes and safety, but no comfort loomed in her future. The last time she’d headed for the swamp, she’d had thick ranger clothes, a weapon, and food. No such luck now.

  Blood stains and bleached bones littered her route, but shouts from above left no time for mourning. She emerged at the bottom to find a failed candidate’s body sprawled across the exit. Clenching her jaw, she clambered over the decomposing corpse and plunged into the mud. Icy dribbles found their way inside her short temple boots. “Ugh, cold.”

  She raced toward a shaft light, hoping to find shelter before her pursuers spotted her white Templer skins in the gloom. For a mercy, no underdwellers hid beneath her chosen ladder, so she twisted under the frame and hunkered down. Rolling in the mud reminded her of how much it stung, but she nipped her lips tight to stem her cries.

  Red robes shifted in the distance, so she didn’t dare move or make a noise, not even when a glider settled to roost on the ladder above her head. It was hard to fathom that her pursuers didn’t hear the thundering of her heart, but they never looked her way or strayed from the temple staircase.

  Wings fluttered above her position, followed by a ripping noise and the disgusting sound of splatting shelk. She clenched when gunk slapped onto her head, dribbled down her hair, and found its way into her ears. Glider shelk. Holy mist. At least it’s warm.

  Landra wondered who she was kidding. There was no bright side to stem her deepening misery or still her shivering body. Was this really the best scenario she could come up with?

  Long after the cries of searching Templers had quietened, she huddled in the mud and clung to the ladder frame. Familiar wails unsettled her, and she shuddered with cold too deep to bear, soreness too painful to endure, and exhaustion like she’d never known. That was normal for this place, even expected, she told herself.

  This was the underlevel, where Jethrans came to die.

  Chapter 44

  Waking to underlevel mud felt like emerging from one nightmare and plunging straight into the next. Landra hadn’t meant to sleep, and now her limbs refused to move. Her ears, nose, fingers, and toes stung enough to make her hiss. She’d suffered before, but she’d gained more from her cavern experience than resentment. She could wallow in self-pity or…

  Resilience flared in her Soul like never before. Even as her bottom rested on dead swamper bones, her thoughts turned to the future. She eased from her tight ball and gripped the ladder frame. Ice cold metal made her snatch her hand back.

  Stupid. So, what now?

  She had no hat, cloak, or gloves. No food and no weapon. Shelk. What have I got? The elba tied to her belt made its presence known. Its bubble of power sat inside her aura, refusing to be denied. She tugged the pot up by its string and stared at her stunted staff. It would still be in the temple if Jex hadn’t fastened it to her belt. Roots twisted out of the pot’s base, and six leaves grew from the thickening, grey stem. They spiralled in on themselves as if bugs cocooned inside, and white frost lines shimmered around them in spirals.

  Use you, eat you, or ditch you? So rare to have a choice. She pursed her lips, the prospect of employing magic again cramping her stomach. Or was that hunger? She worked the knot holding her pot in place, intending to throw away the elba. Now she was away from the temple, what use could it bring? She had a plan, and it didn’t include magic. A wafting berry smell stilled her fingers. Oakham. The platform. Can’t remember that now. Shudders rippled through her body, and when her thoughts moved on, the plant still hung from her belt.

  She eased from her spot, one tiny movement at a time due to underlevel stiffness partnered with her aching shoulder and stinging back. Breath whistled through her teeth when she twisted to investigate. She slipped her fingers beneath the clothes on her back and found bubbled flesh that didn’t feel right. The unusual sensation made her snatch her hand away. Best not think about that. Best not… A flash of swirling robes in the distance diverted her attention.

  She hid beneath the bars again, potential confrontation churning her belly. Her aura looked too pale to produce power, and the thought of reliving past hurts to strengthen her Soul didn’t sit well. As determined as she was to survive, her body sagged against the frame, too weak to join a physical fight. Better to hide. She curled into a small ball and replayed the temple stairs scene in her head. There’d been one set of robes, and they were white.

  An apprentice? A candidate? She sneaked another look.

  Sure enough, junior Templer robes swayed in the distance. The moving form had Jex’s large shape and lumbering gait. She blinked several times, as if each new look would change the scene. Her friend’s organized blue aura left no doubt as to his identity. Temple training had shaded pink into his borders, but she would have known his Soul anywhere.

  The sight of him filled her with a mixture of delight and unreasonable anger she couldn’t explain. After waiting to make sure he was alone, she set off toward him. Jex spotted her, hitched his robe hem out of the mud, and closed the distance between them.

  “What are doing, Leeman Jextan?” she blurted out, bringing him to a halt a few strides away. “Have you been sent to take me back?”

  The sharp greeting crumpled the engineer’s grin. “How can you think that, Lanya? Aren’t we friends?”

  I can’t afford friends. Jex was an honest soldier so she took him at his word, but friendship couldn’t explain how he was here. He looked more misplaced in the underlevel than pastry in shelk. “What happened? Did you escape too?”

  “Sort of,” Jex answered, but he bit his lip, hinting at more to the story.

  Stupid. Reckless. How gloriously wonderful yet utterly impossible. This was something she’d feared—her connection to Jex would le
ad him to follow her dangerous path. Landra trawled her memories, searching for ways she might have encouraged him to leave, but nothing came to mind. She’d made a passable show of towing the temple line when he was nearby, and her plotting had been done in secret.

  “I don’t understand,” she said. “You chose the temple, and you made it. Look at you, wearing robes like you were born in them. You have a new life, Jex. Why on Jethra would you abandon all that to come back here?”

  “Magic doesn’t destroy a soldier’s honor, Lan. When you didn’t come back after clock cleaning, I thought you might need help. Of course, I expected it to turn out like this.”

  I bet you didn’t. “Do the Templers know you’ve gone? Can you go back?”

  Jex glanced at the stairs. “Nah, the door’s locked, and they won’t want me now.”

  Even as Landra wondered why, she noticed swelling on his cheek and a blossoming bruise. “Oh, Jex, what did you do?”

  “Argued with Chanda.”

  “Over me?”

  “Maybe.” He smiled and rubbed his face. “I asked Harp why you didn’t come back, and Chanda butted in. He was in a complete snit and told us you quit. I knew something was wrong. You wouldn’t have gone without saying goodbye.”

  But I did. Murderer, remember? Not really a friend.

  Jex’s long jaw slipped off-center. “I never said a word before, when Gertha took you in the middle of the night, and I couldn’t let it happen again. I figured apprentices were safe, so I threatened to go over Chanda’s head for news.

  A chill ran through Landra. She knew the risk her friend had taken with the Temple Lord. Chanda couldn’t afford questions about his traitorous actions, and Jex had walked into the danger oblivious.

  “His pasty face went purple, and it turned nasty after that,” Jex said. “Words were exchanged, fists flew, he called for help, and I was invited to leave. Lan, they took my staff.”

  From his disconsolate expression, Landra knew he mourned the elba more than his temple life. “Stupid,” she said under her breath.

  His offended glare showed that he’d heard. “If it’s so stupid to end up here, why did you?”

  There was so much Landra hadn’t told the engineer, and now ignorance might cost him his life. Warmth flushed her cheeks. “I was asked to leave too. Sort of. Words were exchanged, magic bolts thrown, and I blasted a hole in the wall to escape. I can’t go back after that.”

  “Mother of the mist. That was you? Shelk, Lan, there’s scorched wood everywhere. I thought seven kinds of demons had attacked the temple.

  Not seven. Just one.

  “No wonder Chanda was mad. He flew around worse than an overlevel storm, hollering and throwing out orders like there was no tomorrow.”

  Clacking teeth stopped her from saying more, so Jex unhooked his robe and swung it around her shoulders. After fastening the tie, he stumbled away and spluttered. “Shelk!”

  “What now?” she asked.

  “Your head. That’s glider shelk, isn’t it?” He covered his nose with one hand and pointed with the other.

  Landra lifted her fingers to the sticky deposit. The stench permeated her awareness, and she balled a fist to her mouth, holding back vomit. How could she have not noticed that before? “It really does stink bad. Sorry. My hiding spot wasn’t the best. Nothing I can do about that now.”

  She wanted to snuggle into the robe. Instead, she unhooked the tie. “You should have this back. Take my staff too. The stem’s short, but you’re good with these things. It’s safer with you than me.”

  Jex gripped her hands in place. “You really need more magic lessons, Lan. Don’t you know that elbas are Soul extensions? This one is yours, and it can’t be passed along. My elba is…” His mouth stopped moving, and his face went slack with grief.

  Landra returned the hand clasp.

  “Shelk, you have to keep the robe too,” he said. “Your skin is like ice.”

  Such kindness. You’re as good a brother as Dannet ever was, but with less than a parade guard’s sense. She looked at his sagging jaw, twitching eyes, and bobbing lump in his throat. Her brother had never looked this lost.

  “So, what now?” he asked.

  What now, indeed? Landra had prepared a list of emergency actions. It wasn’t a good list, and it suffered when adjusted for two people. She liked Jex. Loved him, even, in a brotherly way, but she hadn’t a clue what to do with him. She couldn’t allow him to jeopardize her plan, not when so many lives depended on her report to Thisk.

  Every parting tore more of her Soul loose, so she had to make this quick. “You need to go back to the temple, and I have a job to do.” Giving herself no chance to balk, she extricated her hands and put her back to the temple stairs. It was an abrupt dismissal, but she couldn’t help that. Lifting the oversized robe out of the mire, she set out toward the perimeter wall.

  “Where are you going?” Jex called.

  Can’t say anything else. This is safer. The temple will take him back.

  “Lanya? Lanya?” His voice faded.

  I should have left him the robe.

  Chapter 45

  Sloshing mud sounds accompanied Jex’s pursuit. He fell into step, breath rasping, and orange streaks patterning his skins.

  Why did he have to make this hard? The engineer was a decent soldier, but he struggled to keep up with Landra’s pace. She’d sneaked opportunities to exercise in the temple, stretching before breakfast, running to classes, and using her wooden bed as a weight. She’d even done Thisk’s kicks in the showers.

  Her planning had accounted for a dangerous future, but Jex had expected a comfortable temple life. Tight skins showed his lack of muscle definition and an overindulgence in temple cuisine. It was a common trait amongst surviving swampers. She didn’t slow her pace. If Jex wanted to be here, he had to keep up.

  “You know it gets colder the farther we walk from the center,” he said through gritted teeth.

  Landra knew the terrain well. She’d circled the outer perimeter wall before, trudged through the mud expanse that stretched beneath the entire midlevel, and passed a host of support stilts and ladder shafts. She knew this place now and had a good idea of where she was going. If she kept away from the pillars where dying Souls sprawled, she could avoid mud slugs and make her destination without trouble.

  Her glance took in ice crystals that decorated Jex’s cheeks, but she closed her heart and clamped her aura, unable to spare any sympathy. It wasn’t that she didn’t care. Quite the opposite. If compassion intruded, her mission to save everyone might fail.

  “And water drips from the roof near the temple,” he went on. “It’s good for drinking. The larger tree roots generate magic heat, which…”

  Landra halted, her exasperated glare stemming his explanation. The going was tough enough, and she didn’t need his constant chatter. Soft temple boots offered no protection from the jagged terrain beneath the mud, and each step elicited pain.

  “I suppose we die sooner this way,” Jex said. “Best to get it over quick.”

  “That’s it? That’s your help? You think I came here to die?”

  His aura paled and his face turned white, highlighting blue edging to his lips. “Well, didn’t you? I watched you struggle in the temple. There were secret frowns and nightmare rants, so I thought you’d had enough and come to end it all.”

  She threw up her hands. “If you believed that, why in the demon’s mist did you follow?”

  “I told you, Lan. I went to check up on you, and events followed from there.”

  Landra’s stare matched her Father’s best rebuke. Jex was baggage, a liability, and so full of shelking honor it made her unworthiness grate. She intended to speak, but what would she say? She wasn’t worth a sacrifice. She wasn’t worth anything. But Jex was old enough to choose his own path, even if it was blatantly unwise.

  Not my problem. No responsibility of mine. See? Unworthy. Shelk, Bexter wouldn’t follow me around like this. He’d knock me flat for
idiocy and tell me to come back when I had sense. She gritted her teeth and set off again.

  Jex struggled along at her side. “If you didn’t come to die, where are we going?”

  Me, the ranger hut. You… Wait, that might be a good place. Thisk will know what to do with you.

  She stared at him in his eyes. “There’s a hole under the fence. The place I came in.”

  “We’re going out?”

  Most soldiers had been raised in the midlevel and couldn’t imagine surviving outdoors. Landra saw Jex struggling to breathe and his aura paling. At this rate, he wouldn’t make it to the hut. “It’s better than here,” she said. “There’s a fully supplied ranger outpost not far from the perimeter. Once we get there, we can fire up the stove and get warm.” She thought it might settle him, but a blue flurry of dread suddenly swam in his weak aura.

  “A ranger hut would be good,” he said, “but we won’t reach it this way. Your exit will be gone.”

  “If you insist on travelling with me, Jex, do you have to see problems at every turn? I came in this way, and I have no reason to doubt the exit won’t be there.”

  “I do. My engineering duties included maintenance trips down here. Soldiers came with us to perform perimeter checks and seal gaps. Something about not letting wild animals in. I’d stake my life on the boundary being solid.”

  You may be doing just that. Reaching the ranger hut was Landra’s only good option, so she wasn’t prepared to give up on finding the exit without checking first. She carried on walking without offering an argument. The journey to the perimeter should have been quick—fifteen minutes on a world clock, even accounting for short diversions. It didn’t take a timepiece to know that they were taking much longer. By the time they reached the outer wall, shuddering cold had gripped them both.