Soulstone (Eligium Series Book 4)

by Jake Allen Coleman

  “Go on,” she said.

  “Remember after Uriasz I told you I saw a cord connecting Cenric to the dragon through the Dragonstone?” She nodded. “I saw something similar around the captain of the guard here. Whatever it was, it…attacked is the word I guess. Yes, it attacked Martino. He betrayed me and gave me over to the guards. Something is controlling the dwarves and I suspect it’s affecting other people. I saw it at a village on our way here. It’s as if the whole country is being infected with suspicion and violence. Do you think it has something to do with Sterling Lex assuming the mantle of Arch-mage?”

  “No, something else is at work here. Darden or one of the others would know for sure, but I believe they would have said something if that was the case. I wish I understood what was causing it. We must get out of here and tell the council. They need to know before they face Lex at Cinaeth. How much does Martino know about you and your abilities?”

  “Some, there was no way to keep it from him. Why?”

  “Your magic may be our one advantage here. From what I was taught, dwarven magic is limited to working with rock and stone. They should have no way to stop you from getting us out. We have to come up with a plan.” A grating sound from the door drew their attention. Someone was coming for them. Planning would have to come later.

  When the door to their cell opened, the glow of the green rocks intensified. In the back of his mind, Sebastian surmised that the glow resulted from that dwarvish magic. For the first time since awakening he saw Krystelle clearly. Overall she looked healthy, but the circles beneath her eyes spoke volumes about her state of exhaustion and worry. She had tied back her hair with a leather cord and wisps escaped the edges to frame a dirt-smudged face. He noticed an oily, grimy sheen to her hair and face that always came when she went days without washing, which she seldom did. He was glad to see she had weathered captivity well.

  A quartet of dwarvish guards entered the cell, along with Captain Wulfsige. The dwarf wore a chain mail jerkin like it was a second skin and Sebastian wondered idly if he even took it off to sleep. His long beard was split in half, beads dangling from the ties holding each segment together. A wicked axe hung from the belt at his waist. Sebastian would not want to confront him in these tunnels. That axe would have a definite advantage over a sword in close quarters.

  Wulfsige looked over the two of them. “Good. Yer both awake. You’ve been summoned a’fore the council to answer for yourselves.” He jerked his head for the two prisoners to follow as he walked back out of the cell. The four guards watched them closely and took up position just behind as they made their way to the council chamber.

  Entering the chamber, a wave of emotion washed over Sebastian. This was an ancient place, formed of an ancient magic. It called out to him in kinship, and in that kinship pleaded for his aid. There was something wrong and, to Sebastian, the stones themselves seemed ready to weep at the state of affairs. He had not expected this, and he struggled to keep himself from weeping along with it. He resolved himself to stillness and in his heart he promised the soul of this place to do everything in his power to free it of the corruption permeating this ancient place.

  A dais stood at the far side of the room with three stone benches. The guards marched Krystelle and Sebastian to the center of the room and Wulfsige dismissed them back to the corridor. Still at their side, the dwarven warrior addressed the two prisoners, “Krystelle Mora, as envoy you know the rules in petitioning before the Gundarian Council. I urge you to remember those lessons well.” He stared at Sebastian for a moment, brows furrowed, then moved to the edge of the dais.

  Three hooded figures made their way through the chamber and onto the benches atop the dais and Krystelle bowed her head. Sebastian, taking her lead, followed suit. The figure in the center spoke and he realized it was a female voice. He realized he had never heard of a female dwarf.

  “I am Finnguala, Highest of the Gundarian Council. This council has summoned you to answer for charges of trespass and conspiracy. Sebastian Pwyll, Squire of Gabirel. It is known to us that you gained entrance under false pretenses. Pretending to be what you are not to breech our walls. Your own companion, Martino Teodison, admits as much. Envoy Mora, we have brought you before us once again to answer for this action. Was it not enough that Gabriel withholds the Eligius Muliach from us? Must it use deceit and treachery? Before you speak, consider that we know King Ercanbald has issued a Writ of Censure and summoned the Gabirelian Council to Cinaeth. What have you to say for Gabirel?”

  Krystelle took a deep breath and wove a tale. Sebastian barely heard what she was saying. He withdrew deep inside himself and allowed his vision to expand, willing himself to see the Truth. He saw deep earth power running through the council chamber. Instilled with every strike of the pick-axe as the chamber had been excavated and reinforced through centuries of use, the place vibrated with energy. Each bench on the dais emanated with a nexus of power and authority.

  The council members themselves glowed as representatives and stewards of that earth magic. The crystalline beauty of their auras belied the gruff, rocky exterior he associated with dwarves.

  Then he saw it. Trailing in from a long distance, thin black cords wrapped around the heads of each of the council members. As Krystelle spoke, the cords pulsed in opposition to her words and he wondered if they were even hearing what she was saying.

  The dwarven earth magic was powerless to fight this invasion on its own and it called to him again, begging his aid. He remembered the promise he had made upon first entering this place and his resolve doubled. He would free these dwarves.

  Mentally, he focused on the cords attached to Finnguala. He tried to visualize them releasing their hold on the dwarven woman and breaking away. Beads of sweat materialized on his forehead, even in the cool air of the chamber. He gasped, his effort failing. A burst of power came down the cords, thickening them. Whatever their source, it was alerted to his presence and fighting back.

  Sebastian redoubled his efforts, fighting to align reality with a vision of the dwarves free of this influence. One of the black cords bifurcated, sending a strand his way. It struck at him like a viper and a sharp pain pierced through his right eye, sending a burst of agony along his spine. He lost his concentration and the vision.

  Pushing away the pain, he looked around the room. Seconds had passed in what seemed an eternity. Krystelle had barely finished her preamble and Wulfsige had not moved from his position. It was clear to him no one in the chamber knew of the battle taking place.

  Taking a deep breath, Sebastian reengaged the vision. It came easier now. He was getting better at this. The black cord that attacked him hovered in the air a few feet from his head, prepared to strike again should he prove to be a threat. He considered it along with his options. Nothing he had done had any effect.

  He took a different approach. Grounding himself, he stretched out to the latent earth magic filling the council chamber. It welcomed him as one might a long-lost cousin. Celebratory, but wary after a long absence. He felt its plea for aid, but also a trepidation he might fall prey to the same corruption.

  Digging deep he made himself one with the earth. In the back of his mind he noticed the beat of far way horses galloping across a grassy plain, the crashing of waves upon a shoreline, the gentle massage of a rainstorm, even the sweet agony of miners excavating for gold. The whole world was there, and a warning flowed through from the earth magic that it would overwhelm him. It promised to shield him and shelter him as a child of the earth.

  Fortified he turned his attention back to the matter at hand. That black cord swayed in his direction, but he ignored it and focused again on Finnguala. Connecting with her, he allowed the earth magic to flow through him to her as a foil to the influence of the black cords. Sensing the danger, the swaying cord struck again. This time the earth magic absorbed and muted the attack. Again and again it struck, each time the attack flowed through him and dissipated into the earth, leaving him unaffected.

 
; Pressing in hard, Sebastian once again willed Finnguala free of the black cords. He watched as they frayed and snapped away, freeing her mind. As they did, the cords attached to the other two council members faded away as well. The last cord frayed and broke, receding into the distance and taking the one attacking Sebastian with it. There was no boom of thunder or release of light to mark his victory, it was just done. The dwarves were free.

  Relief flooded into Sebastian from the earth magic. The gratitude more overwhelming than the despair had been. Releasing his grip on the earth, it drained out of him and flowed back into the ground. It was almost gone when he realized his mistake. The pain of each strike of that black cord pounded into his head, splitting it apart in agony. Unable to bear it, Sebastian crumpled to the ground.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Sebastian’s eyes popped open to see a canvas cover a few feet above his head. He was lying on a pallet atop a wooden platform that swayed and bumped. For a moment he lay confused. The last thing he remembered was standing in the dwarven council chamber reveling in victory. Then came the pain. It was a memory now, but his head ached at the thought of that splitting agony. It had felt like a wedge of fire had pierced his skull right in the center of his forehead. He did not understand where he was now or how he had gotten there.

  Refusing to sit up, he looked around his little world. Short wood walls connected to the canvas roof an arm’s length from him on each side. It was tied shut at his feet, but when he looked at the other end, he saw a bench at the front of the platform with a dwarf holding a set of reigns. He was in a wagon.

  Looking back, the dwarf locked eyes with him. “Ho there boy! I sees yer awake. That’s good. Your friends will be right glad to know it. You can call me Eberlou.” The dwarf turned back to his driving and let out a shrill whistle, waving to someone out in front of the wagon and hauling back on the reigns to stop the wagon.

  Not two minutes later, the ties on the back of the cover came undone, and the sides parted. It was Krystelle, looking much less haunted. Still tired, and more than a little worried, but without the depth of concern he’d seen in the cell. “Welcome back! You seem to make quite a habit of getting knocked unconscious.”

  He pulled himself up to a half-seated position as she scrambled into the bed of the wagon beside him. As soon as she was settled, Eberlou flicked the reigns to get the team pulling again. He ran a hand through his hair, “I guess it worked?”

  She smiled, “It worked. I do not know what you did, but right after you collapsed Finnguala transformed. She described it as a fog lifting from in front of her eyes and she could see clearly for the first time in months. The same for Wulfsige and the other two council members. Sebastian, that was six days ago. So much has happened since then.”

  “Tell me everything. But first, what of Martino? Is he ok?”

  Pursing her lips, Krystelle shook her head. “I’m afraid not. Whatever you did in the chamber did not carry over to your friend. It left him half crazed, prone to violence and incoherent raving. We left him at Hallvard in chains and under heavy guard.”

  Sebastian wished he could do something to help his friend, but knew Martino was beyond his ability to aid. “You need to catch me up on the last six days.”

  Krystelle nodded, “Once the spell on the council lifted, Finnguala and the others called a council of war. I related what you had told me about the black cords and we realized you must have broken that connection. Their heads clear, the dwarves concluded that Sterling Lex was at the root of it all. The dwarves retracted their demand for the Dragonstone's return and invoked article five of the Treaty of Ha'vehl'on. The dwarves go to war on behalf of Gabirel. The next day after we came before the council the entire dwarven army marched for Cinaeth to join with Gabirel and stand against Sterling Lex. It is amazing to see the dwarves at march. They do not ride at all, except for a few supply wagons. They can set a forced march at the same pace as a mounted army and travel half again as far in a day since they don’t have to rest the stock.”

  “Krystelle, I don't know what article five is, but whatever it is, I’m glad for it if it has the dwarves on our side. I’m not sure they will make a difference though.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Sebastian shifted around to make himself more comfortable in the bouncing wagon as he arranged his thoughts. “I don’t understand everything that happened at Hallvard yet and I wish Darden or Valeria were here to talk this through, but whatever weapon Sterling Lex is using to influence people, I don’t believe we can defeat it.”

  “Of course we can, you showed that in Hallvard when you freed Finnguala of its influence.”

  “No, we can’t. You don’t understand. I couldn’t beat it. I thought I could, but I couldn’t. I don’t have the words to describe it, but I tapped into some kind of dwarvish magic there in the council chambers. It protected me while I fought the corruption. If it hadn’t, Sterling Lex’s counter would have defeated me. As it was, the effects hit me after the fact and that’s what knocked me out. I could not have done it on my own.”

  “Sebastian, I do not claim to understand magic and its forms. What I know is this; every time we have come up against Sterling Lex, we have won. And we will again. We have to.”

  “In spite of everything that’s happened I know that you’re right. We’ve all but lost Cenric. Sterling Lex claimed the power of the Arch-mage. Uriasz is destroyed and now the King has gone over to him. In spite of all that, I know we can defeat him. I WILL find a way.”

  “You are taking a lot on yourself are you not?” He looked at her in surprise. “You are not alone in this fight. Gabirel is with you. The entire dwarven army is with you. The wizards Darden and Valeria are with you. I am with you too, Sebastian. We have to believe and to hold on to hope. I believe in you Sebastian, but I need you to remember you are not alone in this fight.”

  “I will try.”

  “Dammit Sebastian! I need you to do more than try. You no longer get the luxury of being that farm boy I met by the side of a river in Taleros, wide-eyed at the world and naive about the workings of the world. You are something more, even if you do not always see it. You found the Moonstone in Ha’vehl’on and you recovered the Dragonstone in Uriasz even though it meant doing harm to someone you called friend. You are the one who freed the entire dwarven people from slavery under Sterling Lex’s thumb. You did all that.”

  “You put it like that…it’s a lot. I have to believe that in somehow the good outweighs the bad. My aunt and uncle…and Beatrice, poor little Bea. Quiren Adelwolf. Killed because I got involved. Even the people in Cuillen that are dead because I wasn’t strong enough or quick enough to fight the right way. I have to be better, stronger, faster. I must get control of these powers.”

  “I do not know what to tell you Sebastian. We all have our demons. We all have a choice to make. And it IS a choice. Are you going to stand up, put your finger in the dike and hold back the flood or are you going to let your doubts wash over you and carry you away? Only you can answer that. You need to rest and prepare for what is coming. We will reach the army outside Cinaeth in seven days time. I have no doubt you will be ready.”

  She scrambled out of the wagon, dropped to the ground and disappeared from sight; leaving Sebastian alone with his thoughts.

  The days that followed crept past as the dwarven army made its way south to the muster with Gabirel. His doctors instructed him to rest in the wagon and gather his strength, that he was weaker than he realized. On the second day after awakening, he insisted upon riding. That lasted less than an hour before he was back in the wagon, exhausted with a headache that felt like someone took a blacksmith’s hammer to his forehead. His only escape from the wagon came at the evening encampment where he got to know the men that had accompanied Krystelle to Hallvard. Krystelle herself was nowhere in sight.

  Five days later he tried riding again. His legs wobbled for a moment as he mounted his horse and he feared tumbling to the ground. Resolved to stay out of the
wagon, he steadied himself. Joining Zefran and Bartok in the line of march, he let the sunlight warm his face despite the chill morning air.

  They road in silence for the better part of the morning and his thoughts drifted back to Krystelle. Before the sun was halfway to its midpoint, wondering about her absence grew to intolerable levels. He was bursting to ask where she was. It became too much to bear. “Zefran…where is Krystelle? Why does she never join us in the evening or on the march?” he blurted out at last.

  The bearded warrior grinned at Sebastian, “Been wondering how long it would take you to ask that. You’ve got your sights set high there boy.”

  Flustered, Sebastian shook his head, “I don’t know what you mean. It just seemed strange she hasn’t stopped by to see me…all of us.”

  Zefran grinned even wider if that were possible. “As you say, Sebastian, as you say. She’ll not be stopping by our fire any time soon. She’s gone three days now.”

  Sebastian blinked at the news, “Gone! Where did she go?”

  “Well as soon as the decision was made to march, the dwarven general, Uisdean, sent out messengers. Sent them to find Gabirel and let ‘em know we was coming. He’s a cunning one that Uisdean I tell you. Anyways, he sent them messengers and darned if they didn’t come back the day you woke. As might be expected, Lord Commander Teoma was more than a bit suspicious that the dwarves were back on his side so he demanded to hear it from Krystelle her own self.”

  “So she rode ahead to meet up with the army?”

  “Aye lad, that she did. Tried to get her to take us with her, but she wanted to ride fast. Said we’d just slow her. Probably right.”

  “She went off alone without an escort! What if she’s attacked or robbed on the road?”