Soul Forge Saga Box Set

by Richard Stephens

  Alhena claimed that any use of his magic would have alerted Helleden to his presence and brought the sorcerer’s demons swarming down on them.

  “You may not like me anymore but please do not hate me,” Alhena said softly, not taking his eyes off the bubbling slurry in the pot. “That I could not bear.”

  Alhena’s statement startled him. He didn’t know how he felt. Betrayed, for sure. It was hard to accept that Alhena hadn’t trusted him enough to confide in him before yesterday, but with regard to personal feelings, he wasn’t sure.

  Melody had explained a while back why Phazarus abducted her. Learning that the man who had travelled with him into hell had not once bothered to mention she still lived didn’t sit well with him.

  “You could have told me about her.”

  Alhena stiffened. He pulled the pot from the fire and placed it on the ground. Retrieving two wooden bowls from his old pack, he dipped them one at a time into the porridge and offered one to Silurian.

  Silurian grabbed the bowl without a word, careful not to burn himself on the gruel inside.

  Alhena tipped his bowl to his mouth and blew on the contents. “Had you known, the Soul would have known, and thus, Helleden.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. You said you didn’t know of the Soul’s existence before we went to the Under Realm.”

  “No. I did not know of the Soul, but my fear was not misplaced. If Helleden had ever gotten his hands on you, he would have discovered the truth about Melody. I could not afford to have him turn his attention on my acolyte.”

  “I thought you said she would be safe as long as she remained on Dragon’s Tooth.”

  “More or less, but if she ever passed through the wards leading into the Gap, he would have known of it and hunted her down.”

  “That makes no sense either. Why didn’t he have minions posted in the Gap? Someone as thorough as him, you’d think that to be an obvious deployment of his resources if it prevented any wizard from joining the fray.”

  Alhena shrugged. “Be thankful he missed the opportunity.”

  Silurian followed his gaze to his sister. She lay unmoving, staring at them. He smiled at her but she didn’t respond.

  “I only hope she is up to the task ahead. Rook’s death may prove more tragic than we first thought.”

  Silurian stared at him.

  “Is it true what Karvus told me last night? Helleden means to summon a dragon?”

  Silurian nodded. “According to Mel, it is. She claims Helleden heads for a place known as—”

  “The Summoner’s Stone,” Alhena finished for him, his face grim. “Aye, I know of it. Close to the small village of Fishmonger Bay.”

  “You’ve heard of it?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “Unfortunately?”

  Alhena sighed and placed his bowl aside. “If Helleden is successful, we are in for one hell of a fight. Even with her mind fully focused on the task at hand, Melody and I cannot go up against a dragon and survive. Without our magic, there is no way any of you will get close enough to Helleden to make a difference.” He got to his feet and glanced at the others who were obviously listening to their conversation. “We have to stop him before he performs the ritual.”

  Melody’s voice reached them from across the fire, her dark and dangerous voice gave Silurian the shivers, “Don’t you worry about me. I’m ready for that bastard.”

  On most days, Silurian would have laughed at her choice of words but today wasn’t one of them. He shivered at the underlying hatred emanating from her eyes. It wasn’t his sister glaring back at him. It was a mirror of himself.

  An eerie silence accompanied the eclectic group marching up the Storms End Route at a grueling pace. What normally took a horse three days at a steady pace, took them two and a half.

  A grim-faced Karvus waited for them at the bend, a greasy fire lapping at the unrecognizable bodies of dozens of Kraidic warriors. A pile of weapons lay to one side.

  “What happened?” Pollard asked, his great sword in hand.

  The scowl on Karvus’ face would have sent most enemies running for cover. “Helleden must have gotten wind of me accompanying you. I can only assume he feared my men would be loyal to me when the time came and executed them.”

  Olmar doffed his cap and put a comforting hand on the emperor’s shoulders. “A dark day, emperor sir. You’s amongst friends who’ll avenge their death’s or I’m a…” he swallowed, catching himself, “a person who doesn’t keep ‘is word.”

  Karvus nodded his thanks. “If anyone needs armour or weapons, grab what you can.”

  When no one said anything, Karvus spat on the ground and stormed up the trail.

  A somber mood settled over the typically jovial Sadyra and Olmar—everyone lost in their own thoughts, concentrating on keeping pace as they closed the distance between themselves and Helleden.

  Karvus had proven a godsend; the man’s fitness unmatched by anyone, including Sadyra and Pollard. The Kraidic emperor, weighed down by heavy furs, leather armour, and a great battle-axe only the giants could wield, scouted the terrain ahead for possible ambushes or traps—returning to report his findings more than once a day.

  Silurian’s contempt for the man had undergone an extreme about-face. He went from desiring to kill him to feeling sorry for the lost lives of his men. He grudgingly came to the realization that he could trust Karvus with their lives.

  He also appreciated Karvus assuming the role as their leader. The man was a natural choice, especially since Silurian’s zest for life had suffered a serious blow with the news of Rook’s death.

  Silurian fought to keep his thoughts from spiralling into the depths of a place he dared not go. An old, familiar darkness pulled at him. One that had held him in its clutches for many long years.

  If not for Melody, he would surely have lost all sense of his morality, and yet, even her presence threatened to carry him over the edge. She had shrivelled to a husk of the beautiful person she used to be. Granted, only a few days had elapsed since learning of her husband’s death, but the upbeat spirit that made her who she was, no longer guided her once insatiable zest for life.

  He hadn’t reacted quickly enough to rid the world of Helleden. As a result, her vacant stare weighed heavily on his soul.

  Alhena proved once again to be the boon that everyone claimed him to be. Silurian hadn’t been able to get Melody to talk much after that day at The Forke, but the old man not only broke through the mental barrier she erected, he had her talking, if only quietly.

  Walking close behind them, Silurian listened absently to their conversation. They were speaking of things he had no interest in. Spells and charms and different ways to enhance the power of their staffs, but something Alhena said piqued his interest.

  “When this is all over, I will accompany you back to Dragon’s Tooth one last time. I need to…” Alhena stopped in the middle of the path and grabbed her wrists. “What?”

  Silurian noted the pained look in her eyes. It wasn’t grief. Something Alhena said had opened a new door of hurt.

  She wouldn’t meet his gaze. “That won’t be necessary.”

  “What will not be necessary? Returning to Dragon’s Tooth? Of course it is. I must if I wish to do as the Aberrator suggests.”

  Melody’s eyes teared up. Silurian feared she was on the verge of a breakdown. He stepped forward to intervene, but the angry scowl she directed his way stopped him.

  She met Alhena’s gaze. “We can’t return to Dragon’s Tooth. It’s not there anymore.”

  “What is not there, child? The mountain? That is ludicr—”

  “The cave.”

  “The cave? What happened to the cave?”

  “I blew it up.”

  Alhena let go of her wrists and stared at her agog. “You did what?”

  “I blew it up.”

  “What would make you do that?”

  She swallowed her unease and wiped at the tears on her face. When she spoke, it wa
s as if she were a little girl being admonished by a parent. “I hadn’t planned on returning. I didn’t want the secrets to be found. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  Alhena’s eyes were wild. “All those books?”

  She lowered her head. “Gone.”

  Alhena leaned forward, blinking rapidly. “Do you know how much information was in those books?”

  “Are you kidding? You made me read them. Day after day, week after week, month after freaking month! I can write them out backward.” She crossed her arms and turned away from him. “Don’t worry. I plan on doing just that when this is over.”

  “And what if you are killed before you do?”

  She swallowed hard but continued to stare into the distance. Finally, she dropped her hands to her sides and let her shoulders slump. “I didn’t think of that.”

  Alhena stepped over to glare at her. “You did not think of that?” He raised his voice. “That is just swell. Countless centuries of lore and magic, perchance lost because you decided to leave the mountain when I expressly forbade it. Do you know what you have done?”

  She buried her face in her grimy hands. “I didn’t know what else to do. I thought I had to get Silurian back to Zephyr. You told me before you left me up there all by myself, that in order to defeat Helleden, it was imperative Silurian’s sword was imbued.”

  Alhena threw his arms up in the air. “And it was! At the river! That is why we risked everything in the Under Realm!”

  Silurian tried to interrupt but Melody spoke first, her teeth gnashed together in a futile effort to restrain the venom in her words. “No, it wasn’t, you old fool! He lost the enchantment fighting the Soul!” Her last words came out as a scream.

  Alhena looked as if he’d been slapped hard across the face. He turned to Silurian for confirmation.

  Silurian pursed his lips, raised his eyebrows and nodded ever so slightly.

  Alhena stared at him as her words sunk in. He turned back to Melody, his hands out, pleading. “I had no idea, my child. I am so sorry.”

  Melody crossed her arms again. “While you were off pretending to be someone you’re not, Silurian and I visited the Grimward.”

  Alhena appeared about to swoon.

  “We entered the Serpent’s Nest and harnessed the power of the earth blood fount.” She spun on Alhena, anger in her eyes. “Something you should have done instead of dragging him all the way to the Under Realm.”

  With that said, she stormed off.

  The Storms End Route wound its way higher into the mountains toward the setting sun, the temperature dropping quickly. Silurian hunched his shoulders to shield his face from the drifting snow.

  Alhena trudged along quietly. The old wizard hadn’t spoken a word since Melody had admonished him.

  The soft voices of Sadyra and Larina conversing quietly behind them were heard whenever the gusts died down.

  Pollard and Olmar clumped along a few steps ahead, doing their best to keep up with Melody—their bulk doing nothing to cut the biting wind for Alhena and Silurian.

  Of Karvus, the only sign of his passing was the occasional boot print in the patchy snow.

  Silurian brooded over Melody’s state of mind. He’d tried a couple of times during the day to speak with her but aside from the odd grunt of recognition, she wasn’t receptive.

  The darkening sky behind them matched his mood. As hard as they marched, Karvus’ latest report had been that Helleden had put distance between them—they were still at least two days behind.

  Providing he received no opposition, Pollard figured the sorcerer would reach Thunderhead late tomorrow.

  “How long will it take him to summon a dragon?” Silurian asked Alhena.

  Alhena didn’t acknowledge the question but after a while he said, “I have no way of knowing. No one has summoned a dragon in over five centuries that I know of.”

  Silurian mulled that over. “Even if he is able to summon it with a quick ritual, surely it’ll take a dragon a long time to arrive. It’s not like they live nearby.”

  “Tough to say. No one knows anything about the creatures anymore. There used to be colonies all over the land. The closest dragon I know of now, the only one, lives up by Lurker’s Lake in northern Kraidic.”

  “So, for it to fly to Fishmonger Bay, that would take how long? If you had to guess?”

  Alhena frowned at him and snapped, “How would I know that?”

  Silurian bit right back, “Because you’re a wizard!”

  Alhena didn’t respond any further. He clumped along quietly, his staff glowing softly.

  Silurian fumed. It wasn’t Alhena’s fault. The closer they got to Helleden the edgier everyone was becoming. Still, he couldn’t help but glare at the man he thought he had known.

  A cold gust snuck inside his cloak, making him shiver. He felt the semblance of warmth emitted by Alhena’s staff but he refused to ask to share it. The giants and the archers were doing without. So would he.

  He recalled the last time he’d travelled this way with Prince Malcolm to quell a peasant revolt at Storms End. His mind ground to a halt. What of the king?

  “What about King Malcolm? We were through the castle a while back but he isn’t there.”

  Alhena stiffened. The giants’ gait missed a step, and the archers’ conversation ceased.

  The reactions of everyone around him wasn’t lost on Silurian. They knew something he didn’t. Panic snuck into his tone. “What is it? Where’s Malcolm?”

  The group stopped as one and gathered around him.

  Melody glowered at them. Without a word she stood beside Silurian and placed a hand on his forearm.

  “I don’t know where to start,” Alhena said, his tone ominous.

  Silurian knew at once the king was dead, but he needed to hear it, as if that would negate the answer.

  Alhena related the story of the Chamber of the Wise debacle, sparing no detail of their imprisonment or Chambermaster Uzziah’s treachery. The mention of the Sentinel was profoundly troubling, but when Alhena confirmed the beast had killed the king, the last vestiges of Silurian’s sanity slipped away.

  Malcolm had epitomized everything good in the world. He had challenged the tenets that governed a supreme leader’s actions. Malcolm chose to rule with unfounded compassion toward every single one of his citizens. In his eyes, no peasant was too low, nor any beggar too insignificant to bend his ear. From the king’s champion to the hardworking serf, to the drunkard who had let life get the better of them, every man, woman and child deserved the kingdom’s aid, and more importantly in Malcolm’s eyes, their ruler’s utmost devotion. They were his people. The citizens of Zephyr owed their fealty not to Malcolm Alexander Svelte the king, but to Malcolm, the man—their friend and most devout servant.

  Silurian never heard anything else Alhena said. Rook was dead and Melody floundered. Hearing Alhena affirm the death of the one man capable of raising Zephyr from the ashes extinguished the last vestiges of life from his soul.

  He staggered away. The people gathered around him ceased to exist as far as he was concerned. Hands reached out to him, fingers brushing his arms and shoulders, but he shrugged them away.

  His entire psyche collapsed into the dark abyss of his tortured mind. He welcomed his old desires—their comforting pall. He had fought against their yearning for much too long. It felt good to give into despair. Twenty-four years of denial gone in the few heartbeats it took for him to realize his folly. It was time he entertained the only thing that mattered anymore. Vengeance.

  Aware of the voices chasing after him, their words jumbled together as senseless, meaningless drivel.

  His feet churned rhythmically beneath him. His arms pumped in unison to propel him up the pass toward the destiny he had denied himself for decades—Saint Carmichael’s Blade shone brightly, infusing him with abnormal strength as he charged toward his fate.

  At one point he became aware of a red-bearded brute throwing his arms out to intercept him. A well
-placed sword hilt eliminated the annoyance.

  The sun slipped behind the peaks ahead, covering the land in darkness.

  As he ran headlong through the mountain pass, he experienced a euphoria he’d kept tethered for many long years. Driven by his deepest desire, he ran into the madness.

  Inner Demon

  Sadyra knelt in a snow drift, cradling Karvus’ head under one arm while gently slapping his face. The Kraidic emperor sported a nasty bruise on his left temple. When she first found him, she feared him dead.

  She bit her lower lip, hoping the others would catch up soon. Everything had happened so fast. They were marching along as quickly as they dared without burning themselves out and then Silurian had pulled his sword over his back, its blade glowing brightly against the evening shadow. The next thing she knew, he charged ahead, leaving everyone behind.

  Alhena and Melody shouted after him but he never looked back. As a group, they bounded after his rapidly diminishing form but it wasn’t long before he outpaced them and was out of sight. Melody attributed his speed to the strength he drew from his sword.

  Sadyra didn’t know what to think, but even she couldn’t keep up. There weren’t many people, man or woman, who could run faster than her and she’d never come across anyone able to outdistance her—at least until she’d met Karvus.

  Her mind drifted to their destination. Fishmonger Bay. Her hometown. A place she had vowed to never return to. Just the thought of the place made her shiver. She tried to contain her whirling emotions. Now wasn’t the time. There were more important things to worry about. One of them lay unconscious before her.

  She examined the ground around where he lay, finding no evidence of a struggle. He hadn’t even drawn his weapons. She glanced up at the heights, their edges darker than the night sky. Perhaps a falling rock had struck him.

  She pulled off her archer’s cap and laid it under his head to keep him off the snow. She briefly thought of moving the large man, but there was no way. He had to be three times her weight.