Soul Hosts

by Joseph Isaacs

  Chapter 29

  Death and Rebirth

  The mouse versus the Bone King. The fight is hardly fair. – Asgaroth

  --

  Verica’s fingers were numb from untying knots. The moon filled the breached eastern wall completely now. The mage’s she freed, seemed to be able to break free of the Dracon’s powers. His spell must have been weakening with him, as the Dracon looked barely conscious. There were still many to untie though. She ran up to untie the bonds of a several magi only to find them was already dead. Verica felt sick, but she forced herself to ignore the dead, and focus on the dying.

  Ec had explained to her about the Dracon’s plan to Soul-Steal the powers of all the magi, but hearing about it in the abstract and actually seeing it were two different things. In some ways, it was worse than the physical violation of flesh that blades performed. This was stealing someone’s very soul- the essence of who they truly were. A knife could only kill you, not leave you a soulless husk.

  A Flicker gestured at a wounded mage Verica had just freed. He whispered to a heavy set Flicker, "Did you see the bonds come off that one? And I think he moved. Look there he goes again. Something strange is going on."

  The heavy set Flickers looked at his companion, and responded, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “Something strange? Going on here? You don’t say!”

  Verica’s shadow form was fading. The tips of her fingers were clearly visible now.

  Asgaroth was battling half a dozen Flickers, chopping down one after another. Morz Lightningblade charged the Bone King. His blade reflected green moonlight. As special as the Kaldian forged sword was, it was nothing in comparison to a God Weapon. The dark blade sliced through Morz’s sword and armor. The Dragon Knight’s blood sprayed in a warm, sickly rain.

  "A Dragonknight can't stop Asgaroth, and Ec expects me to fight him?" Verica wondered.

  “Ec foretold you would fight Asgaroth,” Lukor said. “She said all the other junctures led to darkness.”

  "Fight and lose," Verica thought.

  "She didn't say you lost. She just said you didn't win."

  “The difference?”

  “Winning or losing are illusory states.”

  “It doesn’t look so illusory for Morz.”

  “I doubt Ec would have gone to all this trouble, if your fate was to be like that of Morz. She said to remember how you got your scar.”

  How could she forget? The chaos of the lab was seared into her memory. The table had moved, red metal, striking into black. Red into black…with a flash, Verica knew what to do.

  Quick as a shadow, and as dark as one, she swept through the maze of wounded and dead. The Flickers had stopped stabbing and focused on battling Asgaroth. She leapt over pools of blood, pale-faced wounded prisoners, and corpses with lifeless eyes. The Dracon was slumped over the dais, on his knees, drool dangling from his mouth, yet still he continued his slow, rhythmic chant.

  She waited, focused, and then lunged, seizing the sword from the Dracon's sheath. The instant she snatched the sword her arm became visible, and the rest of her body soon followed. The Dracon was so far gone, he didn’t even notice. Sir Oz Strongfist did though, and swung his blue blade at Verica, but the Red Sword guided her. The sword wasn’t like Lukor. She didn’t hear a voice. Instead, it guided her with a series of mental images.

  She ducked Strongfist's sword, which clanged against the edge of the dais. Asgaroth strode towards Strongfist from behind.

  “Look out behind you,” Verica shouted.

  Strongfist smiled. “You don’t think I’d fall for that-”

  Asgaroth’s dark sword decapitated Strongfist. The Dragonknight’s head slid from his shoulders and fell to the blood-drenched platform with a sickening thud.

  Blood gushed and splattered- a warm rain of death. Verica felt sick.

  “Stay calm,” Lukor said. He sent a cool wave of energy through her, helping her calm herself, for she was trembling from the revolting sight of Strongfist’s decapitated corpse.

  Asgaroth’s sword swung towards her own neck.

  “I’m going to die.” Verica thought, but the Sword of Luminescence guided her again, blocking the Black Sword. The whole room shook at the impact. Verica was a good fencer, but she’d never moved this nimbly. It was the sword guiding her.

  "How is the sword doing this?" Verica wondered, parrying a second blow. She remembered Night saying the Red Mist entered the blade. Could that have something to do with it?

  The shrill ring of metal against metal echoed through the crystalline chamber. She felt the eyes of the room watching her. She heard murmurs of disbelief. “A little girl blocking the Bone King...Impossible.”

  “Ah, it's Little Mouse. Isn’t that what Jazlyn called you?” Asgaroth laughed. “A lucky block, but you're not quite the Dragonking, are you? What will you do? Hit me with your mumbly-ball? The mouse versus the Bone King. The fight is hardly fair. I just took the head off of Strongfist. How do you intend to stand up to me?”

  The sword guided Verica and she landed a solid blow that cut through the sinews, sending the bones from his armor rattling against the floor.

  “Impressive,” Asgaroth said. "But my skin is stronger than my armor ever was. You cannot hurt an Immortal." Asgaroth took a step towards Verica and she took one back. They continued this dance until Verica felt the nipping of Guardian magic crackling at her heels.

  "I'm trapped," she thought.

  "It's been an honor knowing you," Lukor said.

  --

  Wayden, with Alaina behind him, rode the dragon towards the breached wall into Dark Fist. It was hard to believe that Gar Skymaster was dead. He’d dreamt of revenge so often and for so long, but he’d doubted it would ever truly come to pass. Now, it had become a reality. The man who had orchestrated the ruin of his life was dead.

  "Or is he? We never saw the body. Gar had a way of withstanding blows that always unnerved me. He claimed to have a trick up his sleeve," Kolram said. "Anyway, Gar is not our immediate problem. The Dracon and Dakarth and their armies are still in the Fist."

  Even before they passed into the breach, they could hear the chaos inside: screams, clangs, scrapes, grunts, chanting, rattling, and the beating sound of a heart. Torches cast long shadows that danced off the walls.

  They entered the heart of madness. Dozens of magi lay bleeding in the inner ring, soul mists barely hanging onto their pale-blue lips. The Dracon was slumped over his dais, his eyes bulging, yet, madly, he kept chanting. Wayden, still trying to decide what to do, watched with horror as the Dracon consumed a soul mist. Should he have Harth fire a blast at the Dracon? What about the wounded magi all around the Dracon- would they too be consumed by the flames?

  Flickers were pointing up at Wayden shouting, "A dragon! A white dragon! A dragon of light! It's the Dragonking! The King reborn! He’ll save us! He’ll beat Asgaroth!"

  Asgaroth. The name hit Wayden like a hammer. He had hoped to avert Asgaroth’s rising, but he’d come too late. Asgaroth was an Immortal. Even dragon fire could not stop him.

  "Asgaroth unchecked means the end of Helos,” Kolram said, “Tens of thousands will die and there is nothing we can do about it."

  "Not if I can help it."

  "An immortal is invulnerable."

  “There has to be a way. Centuron trapped them. Even if I can’t kill him, I can find a way to trap him perhaps.”

  “Centuron used the blood of every type of mage and a Three Moon’s…”

  “We have the blood of every type of mage. We have a Three Moon’s Night.”

  “But no Guardian to cast the spell. If only Solita was here.”

  Wayden spotted Asgaroth in the inner ring, battling Verica, of all people. The Healer’s daughter had got hold of the Blade of Luminesce, which glowed like fire in the dark. Asgaroth swung, and incredibly, the small girl parried the blow.

  "Verica saving the world,” Wayden thought. “I have to admit, I didn't see that one coming."

&n
bsp; A bolt from a Raslonian crossbow man bounced off Harth’s scaled wing, but a fireball from Harth sent the Raslonians running for cover behind the pillars on the outer ring. Alaina sent a whisper of fire chasing after them.

  Verica backed up to the edge of the ring. Asgaroth’s sword came down, and...Wayden cringed... Verica dodged! The girl rolled between Asgaroth’s legs and spun around, blade singing a swooping song, arcing towards the Immortal. The Bone King was unbelievably fast as well. He spun and parried. Wayden’s eyes could barely follow their movements, their blades and parries were so quick. But Asgaroth was winning. Verica was being forced backwards, blow after blow hammering down upon her. Flickers fired arrows, but they seemed not to faze the Immortal in the slightest. Fortunately, the Raslonian soldiers seemed to be respecting Asgaroth’s orders for them to stand down, for Verica would have been an easy target for them.

  Asgaroth's voice boomed out, even across all the chanting and groaning of wounded magi. “How are you doing this? It makes no sense…unless… the sword…”

  “Alaina, whisper flame at Asgaroth,” Wayden said.

  “It won't hurt him," Alaina answered.

  "Maybe not, but it might distract him and you can be more precise than Harth. Harth might hit Verica."

  Alaina let loose a tendril of flame from her lips that stretched towards Asgaroth, snaking around him, setting his cloak on fire. The Immortal laughed. "Fool. You are no Dragonking, for he would know that Flame cannot hurt me. Come down here and fight me like a man."

  Wayden was about to tell Alaina to blast the Dracon when he noticed Rif pulling mists from the Dracon, first one, then another, and another.

  "You aren't half the soul thief Arth is," Rif mocked, sneer on his face.

  What was Rif up to? Could he put the Dracon’s mists back into the corpses?

  "If only he could,” Kolram said. “A soul mist cannot re-enter its previous body once it has become a corpse."

  Rif pulled soul after soul from the Dracon and sucked them into his own mouth as if he was breathing in a fog. The Dracon was gasping, clutching his throat. Now, it was Rif, whose eyes bulged, who had spittle on his lips.

  "Enough!" Rif said, in a voice that sounded deeper and raspier than usual. He broke the connection and the remaining souls flowed back into the Dracon's body. The Tulkarian grabbed a fallen knife and the blade flashed across the Dracon's neck. Blood poured from the tyrant’s jugular, and he slumped to the ground, dead.

  The souls that the Dracon hadn’t finished sucking, that were still hovering on their owners lips: Laeko's, Night's, and several others, returned to their owners. Rif had saved a few of them at least. How many souls did Rif have inside of him now? Wayden had a hard enough time with just Kolram.

  “We need to find some way to aid Verica,” Kolram said. “The Bone King has her against the edge of the ring.”

  Asgaroth stood over Verica, his cloak smoldering. The Sword of Night rose like an executioner’s axe.

 

  --

  Verica felt the sword guiding her movements. She rolled away from Asgaroth's swing, dark energy cutting a slit in the stone floor. The Fire-whisper’s breath had set Asgaroth on fire, but the heat from his smoldering cape didn’t seem to hurt the Bone King.

  Verica parried the Sword of Night as she’d done a dozen times already, but something about the fire had changed things. As the two swords collided, the room vibrated from the impact. Crimson gushed forth from where the blades had connected. A horribly familiar high-pitched whine filled the chamber.

  Asgaroth stared at the shaking ground. “This has happened before.”

  It was familiar to Verica as well- the exact sound she’d heard in her father’s lab, before it had exploded. ‘Remember how you got your scar,’ Ec had said. Red and black, like the materials in the lab. And there had been the burner. She had accidentally knocked the burner onto the metal powders…Verica swallowed. I have to warn them.

  “Clear the inner ring! It’s going to explode!”

  The Sword of Luminescence vibrated, so much that holding onto the sword was like trying to hold on to a panicking cockerel. Her upper arms shook with the effort.

  “An explosion won’t wound me.” Asgaroth smiled. “Can you say the same, Little Mouse?”

  Verica's sword no longer seemed to be speaking to her and the metal felt heavy in her hands. The red mist billowed from the Red Blade like a cloud. The Lord of Bones towered over her, a cruel smile playing on his handsome features. He raised his sword. The shrill sound intensified and the ground beneath their feet jerked wildly tilting upwards. Verica found herself rolling on the ground.

  --

  Jazlyn, like Verica, recognized the whining sound- the same sound she heard the day she dared her friend to go into the lab.

  If Verica can be brave, then so can I, Jazlyn thought. She echoed Verica’s message, “Clear the inner ring, by the order of the Daughter Draconi! Flickers! Take the wounded magi to the outer ring! This is a direct command, clear the ring!”

  "The Dracon is dead,” the Draconess shouted, holding her wounded arm. “I'm now the Ruler Draconi. Heed my step-daughter. Untie and help the wounded magi to the outer ring on your heads be it!"

  Jazlyn, though still weak, rushed around with the Flickers untying mages from their bonds and helping them to the outer wall of the crystalline chamber. Jazlyn untied Fire-Whisperer Dade. Dade was groggy and weak, but conscious. He and a Flicker helped Jazlyn bring the unconscious Earth mage, Doblin, to the outer ring.

  "Hello, Princess," Rif said.

  Jazlyn turned to face the Tulkarian. Jazlyn had liked him well enough when she’d talked with him in the Plague Room. He was shy, but kind. Something was different now. The way he stared at her made her skin crawl.

  “Your hair is so pretty," Rif said. A tingle crept down Jazlyn’s spine. Rif gestured and chanted, “Pretty girl with hair of red, suck your soul and leave you dead.”

  Jazlyn felt her soul being sucked again, like a hand, thrust into her chest and pulling her insides out. It wasn't just the physical pain either, but the betrayal. She’d counted Rif as a friend. For a moment, her soul quivered on her lips. She thought perhaps she could resist. Then with a snap, her soul broke free. She was flying, her lifeless body slumped on the ground below. She hurtled in mist form towards Rif's open mouth.