Soulstone (Eligium Series Book 4)

by Jake Allen Coleman

  Sebastian avoided the topic as their squad dug out a latrine on the far side of the encampment, well away from the cooks and the water supply. Compared to the back-breaking labor reconstructing the walls at the Dazhberg, this was a welcome change and they made quick work of it.

  Returning to their campsite, Sebastian settled against his tack with a bowl of stew one of the cook’s assistants ladled out to him. One big slop of stew and a tear of bread. He was grateful for it and used his bread to soak down every bit of the broth. He would not be able to stock up on provisions before he rode out that night.

  Martino gave him a sly glance, “What are you planning Sebastian? You’re up to something.” Flustered, Sebastian sputtered a response before Martino cut him off, “Don’t lie. You’re no good at it.”

  Sebastian struggled with what to tell his friend. “It’s better if you don’t know. That way you won’t have to lie to Jarmo Dale when he comes asking.”

  “You are planning something then?” Sebastian nodded. “And it’s something you won’t be here to answer for.”

  “I beg of you, just leave it.”

  Martino set his empty bowl aside and leaned toward his friend. “I will, on one condition.”

  “Name it.”

  “Promise me you aren’t going after Cenric. I get he was your friend and all…”

  Sebastian held up a hand to stop him. “I’m not going after Cenric. I hardly recognize him anymore.”

  “Good,” he looked like he was ready to say more and thought better of it. Settling back into silence, they peered into their small campfire, each lost with his own thoughts. Around them, the camp slipped into a quiet stillness. Soldiers had a knack of taking rest when they could and falling to sleep was easy after a long day in the saddle. Even Martino dropped off and the only sounds were the occasional snort and stamping of restless horses and a symphony of snoring.

  Midway through the first watch, Sebastian made his move. He wanted to be far from the army before dawn broke and the squad missed his presence. Hoisting his saddle he slipped into the night, leaving the horse he had ridden that day behind and making his way to the remounts. He wanted to start out with a fresh horse.

  He was halfway to the herd when he felt a tickle on the back of his neck. Someone was following him. They had not called out a challenge and that worried Sebastian. Either they did not want to be seen for their own reasons or they were not friendly. Glancing around, he kept up his pace, passing between the tents set up for the cooks. Sliding around a corner he ducked into the shadows, hoping that his pursuer would miss him there.

  Sweat beaded on his forehead even in the cold night air as he waited, listening to the crunch of the approaching footsteps. Possibilities raced through his mind. Perhaps it was just a coincidence, a restless soul taking a midnight stroll through the camp to calm themselves. That was the best case. But what if it were something more? What if Jarmo Dale had seen him leave? No, Dale would not have let him get this far without challenging him. He tensed as the footsteps came even with the tent sheltering him.

  They stopped.

  On the verge of panic now, Sebastian considered making a break for it but that would awaken everyone in the surrounding tents. He decided to wait it out and hope they did not find him. Holding his breath, he willed himself to stillness.

  “Sebastian!” hissed a voice in a low whisper. “Where are you?”

  Closing his eyes in relief, Sebastian released his breath and crawled out from the shadows. “Martino! What are you doing here?”

  His friend looked at him in accusation, “You said you would not go after Cenric. You promised me.”

  Sebastian shook his head, “And I hold to that promise.”

  “Then where are you going in the dead of night? I did not take you for a deserter.”

  Sebastian looked around to be sure no one else was near and stepped closer to his friend, “North,” he said in a quiet voice, “to the dwarves. I’m going to free Krystelle Mora.”

  Martino folded his arms, “Alone? You could not even get out of camp without being discovered.” He paused, considering his friend. Shaking his head he rubbed his temples, “I know how stubborn you are, so I suppose there’s nothing for it but to go with you.”

  “Absolutely not!” Sebastian almost forgot to keep his voice low.

  “Look, you don’t have a choice here. Either I go with you or I start raising the alarm and you don’t go anywhere. You pick. Besides, I know how to find the entrance to Hallvard. You’ll never find it without me.”

  He could see in Martino’s eyes that he would do just as he had threatened. Reluctantly, he nodded his agreement. “What about your gear?”

  “Give me your word you won’t leave this spot and I’ll return presently. Your word.”

  Sebastian saw no way out if he wanted to help Krystelle. “My word.”

  Martino gave him one last meaningful glare and slipped into the darkness. Waiting there in the shadows, Sebastian chafed at the delay. Three times he almost stood up and continued on his way. Each time the memory of the look in Martino's eyes stopped him. If Martino returned to find Sebastian gone, Jarmo Dale would be on his heels in minutes and he’d spend the rest of this march under careful guard.

  On the verge of leaving for the fourth time, Sebastian could not take it any longer. What if Martino were turning him in anyway? He stood, hoisting his gear when Martino came around the corner. “Not leaving without me, are you?”

  Sebastian smiled weakly, “Wouldn’t dream of it. Now can we go?” Martino grinned in his victory.

  “Oh, this is too rich,” Martino and Sebastian froze at the sound of the voice coming from around the tent corner. The owner of that voice followed it around and stood in front of them, hands on hips. It was Loanan. Head still bandaged, he wore his nightclothes and his hair was tied back to keep it out of his face. He was the second to last person they wanted to see just then, with Jarmo Dale taking the lead position.

  “This has nothing to do with you,” snapped Martino.

  Loanan rubbed his hands together with glee, “I knew the two of you were no good and now here you are, deserting. I wonder what Dale will do when he finds out.”

  “Assuming you’re around to tell him,” said Martino, his voice dark.

  Sebastian grabbed Martino’s arm, shaking his head, “Not that way.”

  Gloating, Loanan made a small bow. “No, not that way Martino! Sebastian there knows when the game is up, coward that he is.”

  Ignoring Loanan, Martino turned to his friend, “Then what?”

  Sebastian held up a hand and closed his eyes, going deep within himself. He had not used his magic deliberately since Cale Uriasz. Truth be told he was still wary of what he had done and might do, so he had locked it away, pretending it did not exist. He heard Loanan talking, taunting him, and put it to the side, refusing to listen. In his mind’s eye he formed a vision of Loanan standing there beside the tent. Shaping the vision to his will the mental image of Loanan dropped to the ground and Sebastian pressed against reality with his will, commanding it to bend to his wishes.

  Thud!

  Opening his eyes, Sebastian found Loanan on the ground unconscious, and Martino staring at him. Squirming, he looked at his friend. “Don’t ask. Not now at least. For now, let’s just get moving”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Martino and Sebastian rode through the night, putting as much distance as possible between themselves and the army. At Martino’s suggestion, they started out heading east. Among it’s other advantages, that would put them into the hills of Cuillen, and out of sight, before the sun peaked over the horizon. Martino was sure there would be a road leading north towards Hallvard running through those hills.

  Starting off east might throw off any pursuit. Sebastian did not think Jarmo Dale would bother sending someone to fetch two squires, but Valeria might not be pleased to find him gone. Either way, they didn’t relish the thought of being discovered. Neither of them wanted to mention i
t, but they were now deserters. The punishment for desertion was severe enough and, worse, an argument could be made that they were not just deserters, but deserters during campaign.

  Deep inside, the thought that they might view his departure as a betrayal tore at his heart. Gabirel had given him a home when all he ever knew was torn from him. He had a new purpose greater and grander than tilling fields and harvesting crops. He’d recovered three of the legendary Eligus and thwarted Sterling Lex’s plans. He had done what the wizards and Gabirel could not through the magic he found inside himself. Now he would use that magic to do something for himself and save Krystelle. He had not worked out how, but he figured that had never stopped him before.

  Those thoughts stirred in his soul and kept Sebastian company as they rode in silence towards Cuillen. The bright moon illuminated their way and the going was easy. They maintained a steady pace so as not to risk one of their horses turning an ankle. A horse turning up lame was the last thing they needed.

  The wild grasses and shrubs of the valley turned to larger hedgerows and live oak as they passed into the hill country. With the brightening sky, Sebastian risked a glance back the way they had come. He was relieved to find that all he could see was the gentle undulation of the green hills along with the burgeoning forest. Turning back, he squinted at their path forward. The sun was just peaking over the horizon and shone in his eyes as they mounted the next hill. Lifting his hand to shade his eyes, Sebastian saw the road running perpendicular to their path.

  Martino broke the morning silence, “I told you there was a road here,” he said with a scowl. Without waiting for an answer, Martino spurred his horse down the side of that last hill.

  Sebastian blinked, something was off with Martino this morning. Urging his horse to follow suit, they reached the road and dismounted to stretch their legs. Martino pulled a meager breakfast of cheese and bread from his saddlebags, leaving Sebastian to fend for himself.

  Sebastian found a shady spot by the side of the road and settled to the ground to enjoy his meal. Tearing a piece of bread with his teeth, he turned to Martino, “From what you told me, there should be a village about twenty miles up this road. Cuillen, right? We should be there by nightfall if we can push through today. It is sure to have an inn and we can sleep tonight under a roof rather than on the ground.” He yawned, as if to punctuate his words.

  Martino pursed his lips, “I’m not sure about that. If they send someone after us, an inn be the first place they look?”

  Sebastian took a bite of cheese and considered what Martion had said. “If they’re going to find us, they’ll find us on the road as easy as in an inn.” He took a swig from his water bladder. “Either way, we don’t have to decide until we get there.”

  Martino finished breaking his fast and turned on Sebastian, challenge glinting in his eyes. “You wanna tell me what that was last night? What did you do to Loanan?”

  Sebastian looked at his friend, “Are you sure you want to know? You might not like what you hear.”

  “Sebastian, we all know there’s something different about you and there’s all kinds of wild ideas about what it might be. For once I want the truth from you.” Sebastian wondered what had come over his friend, he had never seen Martino like this. The silence stretched out between them and Martino took another long chug of water, staring at the friend he thought he knew out of the corner of his eye. “Come on Sebastian, what is it? If I didn’t know any better I would swear you are using magic!”

  Sebastian stared at his friend for a long moment, “Would it be the worst thing if I did?”

  Martino glared at him, “I dunno. I didn’t sign up to go riding through the countryside with a wizard.”

  “Well first, I’m no wizard. I don’t have to use spells when I do magic. It just happens.” Martino spluttered, choking on that sip of water. Started now, Sebastian looked at the ground and spilled it all. Recovering the three Eligium, killing his father, the encounters at the Ansetl-lea and Cale Uriasz. Even what little he knew of his elven heritage. When he wound down, Martino sat there staring. “Well? Say something!” said Sebastian.

  Standing, Martino climbed up into his saddle. “I won’t pretend to understand half of what you just told me. We’ve started down this path and I’m in it now. You should have told me all this before. It feels like you don’t trust me. Well maybe I don’t trust you either now! We need to get moving. Don’t go doing any magicking around me, ok?”

  Riding north along the road to Cuillen, Martino’s reaction to his revelation discouraged Sebastian. He knew the disgust he felt first meeting Cenric and finding out the boy was pursuing wizardry. In his most honest moments with himself, he struggled with the fact of his own magic. It went against everything he had been taught growing up and now he found himself a part of this whole other world where magic was not the horrible thing he thought he knew.

  He had to trust his friend’s knowledge of this road and the village of Cuillen ahead. Sebastian had never heard of the place, but Martino seemed certain. Growing up in a merchant family in Cale Conall, Martino knew much more than Sebastian about the kingdom with its various roadways, cities, villages, and Cales. To hear him tell it, though, he had not paid close attention. The youngest of three brothers, Martino had never put much stock in the family business growing large enough in his lifetime to support three brothers.

  Near mid-day, the two stopped under the shade of a stand of tall oaks just next to a brook to water their horses and eat their luncheon. Sebastian reclined against an old log, listening to the rush of the water over stones. It was hypnotic and almost covered the gentle singing of a sparrow chirping in the distance. His heart swelled, and he felt freer than he had since his first encounter with Krystelle so many months ago. For once, he was taking charge of his own destiny rather than allowing events to catch him up in their wake.

  A commotion behind him drew Sebastian from his reverie and he turned to find Martino climbing back into his saddle. “Are you coming? We need to get moving if we are going to reach Cuillen by nightfall.”

  “Sure,” said Sebastian as he rose to his feet. “But I thought we were making good time along this road. Can’t hurt to rest.”

  Martino scowled, “We’ll have plenty of time to rest when we get there.” Urging his horse forward, Martino started down the road without waiting for his friend.

  Sebastian stared after, for a moment his vision blurred and he caught a glimpse of thin black threads encircling Martino’s head and rising off into the distance. He blinked, and then they were gone. “What was that?” he wondered as he pulled himself onto his own horse, urging him forward to catch up with Martino.

  The rest of the afternoon proceeded in a series of uncomfortable interactions between the two as Sebastian tried to draw Martino out of his shell, and Martino became increasingly irritable. Sebastian saw no reason for it and, after several hours, gave up the cause, resigned to his friend’s sudden irritability. He kept looking, but never saw the black threads again. It was a relief when they came over a small rise to find Cuillen visible in the distance. He decided his friend needed a good night of sleep and all would be well in the morning.

  From their vantage on the hilltop, Cuillen reminded Sebastian of his own home in Taleros. The main road bisected the town down the middle, leading to the familiar village commons. He could make out the gritty smoke from a blacksmith alongside the livery and just down the street from a common-house that doubled as an inn. The one glaring difference was the makeshift wall surrounding the town.

  Cobbled together from debris and cast away farm equipment, the wall ran a full half-circle around the town, leaving only the eastern border exposed. A river ran along that side, providing protection and powering the millhouse at the same time. A path was forming along the western edge, leading around the town to the continuance of the road on the far side. A pair of farm hands turned guards stood at the gates, makeshift weapons at hand. Sebastian realized that not every traveler who came this wa
y was granted leave to enter the village.

  “I wonder why the wall and guards?” he said, not expecting an answer. Martino grunted in response, kneeing his horse into motion. There was nothing for Sebastian to do but follow and hope his friend did not keep them from getting past those guards.

  It was no good. Martino bore down on the guards without slowing. He pulled up at the last moment, his horse kicking up a cloud of dust. “Open the gates,” he demanded.

  The older of the two guards stepped back from the dancing horse, giving himself room to maneuver and glared at the two of them. “Who are you and what’s your business in Cuillen?”

  Sebastian went to answer and smooth the waters, but Martino got there first. “Who we are is our own business. We need rooms in your commons-house for the night and a hot meal.”

  “No rooms here for you. You’d best be on about your business,” he waved them toward the path leading around the town.

  Martino pushed his horse forward, “No rooms for us? Let us through and we’ll talk to the innkeeper about that.” Out of the corner of his eye, Sebastian glimpsed the dark threads thickening and wrapping around his friend, but before he saw more the vision faded.

  Sebastian tried again to get in front of things before it went sideways. He did not understand what had come over Martino. “Don’t mind my friend here. We’ve ridden a long way, and have…” With one swift motion, Martino drew his sword and struck down the first guard, turning his horse to trample the second. “What are you doing?” shouted Sebastian.