Soulstone (Eligium Series Book 4)

by Jake Allen Coleman

  Ignoring him, Martino pushed his way through the gate into the village. Draw now by the commotion, the villagers were coming out of their various buildings. Martino charged the blacksmith who was coming at them with a long metal bar. For all his size, the man was no match for Martino. He fell in seconds, and Martino turned towards the forming crowd of angry townsfolk. Sebastian rode up next two him, drawing his own sword. There was no going back now.

  Screaming a challenge, Martino kicked his horse forward to engage the crowd, with Sebastian right behind. The villagers roared in defiance and ran towards the two mounted warriors. Caught in a berserker rage, Martino laid about with his sword as he crashed into the small crowd. Sebastian followed. He had no wish to harm these folk, so he worked to disarm and stun, protecting Martino’s back as best he could.

  It was over in minutes. Martino sat astride his horse, blood dripping from his sword and his chest heaving. Surrounding them were the broken bodies of the villagers. A few moans emanated, telling Sebastian he had been successful in at least keeping it from becoming a complete massacre.

  A young lad of only seven years ran out from the blacksmith shop and threw himself on the still body of that first man. Weeping, he howled in grief and Martino threw his head around at the sound.

  Seeing the berserker rage still in his friend’s face, Sebastian pulled his horse between Martino and the boy. “Martino, do you know me?” he shouted. He could see the black threads clearly now. Reaching out with his mind, he willed them away from his friend. Pulsating, they resisted and then unwrapped, recoiling into the distant sky.

  Coming to himself, Martino blinked twice and took in the scene of devastation around him. The blood drained from his face as he realized what he had done, and what he had been about to do. He looked at Sebastian, “I…I don’t know what came over me. It was like something took over my whole body and I was in there watching, but I couldn’t stop it.” Sitting there in his saddle, he wept.

  “Martino, we have to go. The noise will bring the rest of the farmhands from the fields and they’ll kill us where we stand or we’ll be forced to kill more of them.” Not moving, Martino sobbed again. Recognizing that his friend was back, and beside himself with grief, Sebastian took hold of his reigns and led him out the gate on the north edge of town.

  Sebastian and Martino rode well into the night. Tired as they were, they recognized that they had to put distance between themselves and the village they had massacred. The sun had long set when the exhaustion caught up with them and they led their horses off the road to make camp. Hoping they were far enough from the road should any pursuit find them, both fell into a deep slumber.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Hours after the battle at Cuillen, two red-robed figures rode out of the night, approaching the barricade to the town. Stopping short, the two Brothers inhaled deeply as the fog swirled around their horse’s legs. “Brother Seppo, do you sense it?”

  Nodding, his companion pressed forward, maneuvering his way around the unguarded entrance to the village. “There was a battle here, my Brother,” he said, dismounting to search the ground. “Two swordsmen, unpracticed but effective against these townsfolk.”

  “Yes, but that would not have brought us. You felt the same thing as I.”

  “Indeed. One of the swordsmen had the use of a strange magic such as I’ve not sensed in a long time. I do not think he used it in the battle, but the residuals are here.”

  “Could it be him? The one who has been collecting the stones?”

  “Yes Brother Koen, I believe it must be. Nothing else could explain what I am sensing. Yet I thought he was still far to the south with Gabirel.”

  “If he has left their protection then an opportunity presents itself. We must pursue the Defier and bring him before the Brethren to answer for his crimes under the Ban.” Remounting his horse, the Krenon turned to the north. “He travels this way. I do not believe he can be far ahead.”

  Seppo raised his hand, “Patience my Brother. Do you not sense the other influence here?” Koen looked back, shaking his head. “Whatever happened here, I can feel the influence of the Soulstone. We must be cautious.”

  “The Soulstone?” said Koen. “Could the Defier be the one who stole the stone at Dazhberg?”

  Pursing his lips, Seppo considered the idea. “No, I don’t think so. The stone itself was not here, only its influence. I will contact the others, we may need assistance to bring him to account.” Closing his eyes, Seppo put himself into a light trance. Koen could see his lips quivering as he conversed with their Krenon Brothers at the encampment two days south. They had been on their way to the camp when the release of power at Cuillen had drawn their attention.

  At last, Seppo broke the connection, his eyes snapping open. “Well?” said Koen.

  “We are to find their trail, but pursue slowly. Two Brothers are coming to aid us, including Mihails Helmo.”

  Koen gasped. Helmo was reputed to be the most powerful Krenon since the Ban. He’d singlehandedly brought three dark wizards to account and faced down the Arch-mage Philon in a confrontation over a small group of self-taught magic users. Koen had not known Helmo had returned to Cynneweald. “If they are sending Helmo then they believe this Sebastian truly is a threat.”

  “A threat. But one that we have the opportunity to end. For now, I have no desire to spend another minute here. Let us leave this village and ride north a ways before we camp. We’ll pick up the trail and then wait for Helmo and his companion to join us.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  In the days that followed Cuillen, Sebastian and Martino made their way north towards the Dwarven enclave. As the road entered the mountains, and they gained altitude, the days grew chill, and the nights even colder. Neither of them could explain what had happened in the village. Even the memory of what he had done haunted their thoughts and by mutual agreement the two avoided contact with anyone else on their journey, bypassing the few other villages along their path by a wide margin.

  Passing above the tree-line, there was evidence of a recent winter storm. Snow accumulation remained tucked away in every shadow and Sebastian was glad they had not tried to navigate this trail during the storm. Winding between the mountains, the path led along the side of cliffs where one misstep would send them plummeting.

  Leading the way, Martino stopped at a wide crevice branching off from the main trail. “This has to be it.” Dismounting, the two led their horses down the narrow path. It wound around for several minutes before ending at a sheer cliff face. Martino looked toward Sebastian in confusion, “I don’t understand. The gate should be here.”

  “Indeed, it is.” The two spun around at the sound of the gravelly voice, finding a small contingent of armed dwarves. “The question is, who are you and how do you know about the gate? No one happens across this place by accident.”

  Gulping, Martino launched into the story the two had concocted to gain entrance. “My name is Martino Teodison. My father is Reinhard Teodison, known to you in Hallvard as an honorable trader. He has sent me and my guard to take counsel on matters of trade.”

  The dwarf looked them over. "Master Teodison I’ve heard of. Your words of his honor are true. It is also true he has three sons, the youngest named Martino. How do I know you are he? Have you letters of introduction or right to speak on his behalf?”

  “I had such letters as is proper. I must confess, however, that I lost them along the way. My father will have words to say about that I am sure. Perhaps my signet ring as the third son of House Teodison will gain us entry?” He extended his right hand to show the ring.

  The dwarf laughed, the rumbling coming deep from his belly. “If your father is the man I’ve heard him to be, he’ll have more than words for you about losing those letters. The ring may gain you and your man entry, but it will take more proof than that to gain you egress. Without those letters you may not enter Hallvard armed. Will you take those terms?” Martino nodded in acceptance. “Then be ye welcome. I am Aseg
eirr, the Door-warden. These will take your horses and your arms.”

  “HOLD!” the voice echoed in the narrow canyon. Turning to see where it came from, Sebastian took a step back. Four red-robed Krenon blocked the way. The one in front nudged his horse forward. “Dwarf, these two are wanted by the Krenon Brotherhood as Defiers. They are dangerous. Stand aside and we will take them back to account for their crimes.”

  Asegeirr laughed, a gravelly sound and took two steps forward, his hand caressing his axe. “Who are ye that you’d give orders to the Door-warden of Hallvard?”

  “I am Brother Mihails Helmo and I warn you Door-warden, do not cross me in this.”

  Sebastian stiffened at the name. During his time at the Dazhberg, he’d heard tales of the famous Krenon Brother. One of the most ruthless Krenon in the Brotherhood, no magic-user wanted to cross paths with the man. Many in Gabirel believed that they would not have recovered the fortress had Helmo been at the Dazhberg during the Krenon occupation. Breathing deeply, Sebastian connected to the magic within himself, looking for a way out of this.

  Poised to release a blast of power at the Krenon, he caught Asegeirr giving a signal to the other dwarves. In an instant, a squadron of dwarves had surrounded the four Brothers. “Ye have no writ coming here to our gates. If these two are as dangerous as ye say then rest assured the Gundarian Council will handle it. Or do you think you can challenge us on our own doorstep?”

  Helmo eyed the dwarven soldiers arrayed on all sides and then fixed Asegeirr with a stare that would have sent most men running. “You dwarves in your hidey holes think the troubles of Cynneweald can not touch you. Know that the day is coming when you will have to pick a side. For your sakes I do hope you chose differently than you have today. We’ll go…for now, but we will not forget your actions. I will not forget.” Whirling his horse about, he charged down the canyon, nearly trampling two of the dwarves. His three companions followed close on their heels. Sebastian breathed a sigh of relief.

  Shaking his head, Asegeirr turned back to Sebastian and Martino. “Damn Krenon. Hope you two are worth the trouble. Now, your weapons?”

  Reluctantly, Sebastian and Martino turned over their swords and other armaments to the dwarven guards. Turning back around they found that the sheer cliff face had opened to reveal a tunnel leading deep into the side of the mountain. A dwarf took each of them by the arm and led them into the tunnel. Behind them the door closed, leaving them to the mercy of the dwarves in the pitch dark of the entry tunnel.

  Before long, the dwarves pulled them into a side chamber. There were stone benches along one wall and green veins of glowing rock lit the room. “Wait here,” grunted Asegeirr, leaving the two men along with a pair of dwarven guards. There was no sign of their swords and horses. Martino had warned Sebastian that things would go this way, but he felt naked without his sword.

  They waited a full half an hour before another dwarf came into the chamber. “Hail. I am Wulfsige, Captain of the Gundarian Guard. The door-warden has told me your tale, but I would hear it again from your own mouth and how you lost the letters of introduction. It is not the agreement for House Teodison to send anyone, much less his son, to us here.”

  Once again, Martino spun his tale. There was enough truth in it to make sure it held up to scrutiny. Sebastian stared at the dwarf, not listening to the conversation. There was something off about Wulfsige. Closing his eyes, he relaxed and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, the scene had changed.

  He was reminded of the vision he’d had fighting Cenric at Cale Uriasz. He could see the world around him, but overlaid were lines of force and power. The life force of the dwarf glowed strong, but woven throughout were black cords leading off into the distance. He blinked and lost the vision.

  Martino’s conversation with Wulfsige ended and the dwarf left them standing there without another word. Sebastian leaned in to Martino and whispered, “There’s something wrong here.”

  “What do you mean? Everything seems to be going fine.”

  “There’s something controlling Wulfsige. I saw these black cords like puppet strings attached to him. It reminded me of the cords connecting Cenric to the Dragonstone.”

  “Magic then,” said Martino.

  “Magic.”

  “What do we do?”

  “I don’t know. Be on our guard I guess. There is more going on here than we understand.”

  Moments later Wulfsige returned to the chamber. “Well, Martino Teodison, it appears you have a reprieve for now. Every thing you have said rings true. You will be granted shelter and an audience with the trade council on the morrow. You will not leave your chambers without an escort. More for your safety than anything else. Wouldn’t want you to get lost wandering about.” He laughed that rumbling laugh again. “Now, is there anything else you need to tell me?”

  Sebastian’s vision blurred, and he saw the black cords around Wulfsige once again. Abruptly one cord rose into the air like a snake and struck across the chamber at Martino. Wrapping itself around him, Martino’s eyes blanked for a moment and then Sebastian lost the vision again. In a flash of recognition, Sebastian realized those were the same cords he had seen trapping his friend at Cuillen.

  Stepping away from him, Martino glared at Sebastian. “This man is not what he claims!” Martino shouted. “His name is Sebastian Pwyll of Gabirel and he’s come to free your hostage, Krystelle Mora.”

  Everything happened at once. Martino scrambled away from Sebastian, retreating behind Wolfsige. Sebastian dropped into a crouch, preparing to defend himself as the two dwarven guards bracketed him. Prepared to make a fight of it, he could feel the magic calling to him. He refused it. He did not understand what was happening here or what was causing those black cords and feared to unleash his magic into an already volatile situation. The butt of a dwarven short sword came down on his head and everything went dark.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Regaining consciousness, Sebastian took a moment before opening his eyes. He was laying on a hard stone surface and someone had placed a blanket over him. It was too much to hope he was still in the chamber where they had waited, but he was not sure yet if he wanted to find out. Some rescue this turned out to be.

  Opening his eyes, he found the room draped in darkness. Wondering if they were still closed, he blinked and tried again. No, they were open. Groaning, he pulled himself upright.

  “Sebastian?” the low voice came from the darkness to his right. He started, sitting up further and banging his head on the low ceiling. Stars filled his vision and he passed out again from the sharp pain.

  Waking up a few moments later, Sebastian took more care as he opened his eyes again. A wash of low green light peppered the room as his eyes adjusted. A dark figure leaned over him.

  “Are you ok?” she asked.

  He recognized that voice now, “Krystelle?”

  “It’s me. You had me worried for a while. You’ve been unconscious since they brought you.”

  He struggled to sit up on the pallet. “Where are we?”

  “Just lay back for now, you hit your head hard on the ceiling. To answer your questions, we’re in a dwarven dungeon. They must be short on cells to put us together. Here, take water.” Either Sebastian’s eyes were growing even more accustomed to the low light or there was more of it because he could see her more clearly now. She leaned over and dipped a metal cup into a pail sitting on the floor by the bench where Sebastian lay. Propping himself up, he sipped at the water, swirling it in his parched mouth before swallowing.

  “Mmmm…that’s good.”

  “Slowly now. You do not want to make yourself ill. They’ve been the perfect hosts. Other than locking me in this cell. Now, what are you doing here?”

  He squirmed before answering, “I came to rescue you.”

  Sebastian felt her irritation like a tangible force between them. “Rescue me! What? Did you think you would ride in here on a white horse and rescue the damsel in distress?”

 
“Well, no…not exactly.”

  “What then? I’m certain that Damianus would not send you here. This whole dwarvish matter requires diplomacy and will work itself out in time. Damianus would trust that.”

  “I don’t believe that it will. A herald arrived at the Dazhberg with a message from King Ercanbald and a Writ of Censure. He accused Gabirel of treason and summoned the council to meet him a Cinaeth. Withholding the Dragonstone from the dwarves was part of the writ.”

  “None of that tells me why you are here. We understood the Gundarian Council would not be pleased at Gabirel keeping the Dragonstone from them. So again, Sebastian. Why are you here?”

  “I knew you were in a cell and in danger. More danger than you realize, but I’ll come to that. I begged the council to send someone to Hallvard, but they refused. Krystelle, the council is not just taking an honor guard to Cineath. They are taking the whole army. Sterling Lex is there, he is the Arch-mage now.”

  “Answer my question.”

  “Fine. The truth is I came of my own accord. I could not bear to think of you languishing in a dwarven prison so I ran away from the camp.”

  “YOU DID WHAT?” Sebastian cringed at the coming onslaught. “You complete and utter dolt! I mean, how could you be so stupid? You came here with no plan or authority, got yourself caught and thrown into the same cell as me. The dwarves will never accept you came on your own. They will accuse Gabirel of sending a spy. All you accomplished is to make things much, much worse.”

  Sebastian sat there and took another sip of the water. There was nothing to say. She was right. He had botched this and he knew it. She broke the silence after a long moment. “Nothing to say for yourself? Perhaps you learned a little wisdom. How did they find you out? Did you walk up to the door and pound on it, demanding they bring me to you? I would not have put it past you the way this is going.”

  Sebastian shook his head, “No, I came here with a friend. Martino is his name. He is the son of a merchant family in Cale Donall and remembered the words to say to get us past the Door-warden. It all fell apart from there, and that’s the danger I mentioned.”