Soul Hosts

by Joseph Isaacs

Chapter 31

  A Prisoner of the Shadows

  Save it for the trial. -Tundor

  --

  Wayden stared helplessly down at the Dark Field, willing it to open, but the Source was deaf and the Dragonking a prisoner of the shadows.

  "Dragonking!" Flickers gestured at the darkness. “No! Come back! Don’t leave us!”

  The Draconess shouted, "Get him out! Break that shield!"

  The old woman from the slave camps, Laeko, stepped forward. "They can't. The Shadow Queen used a field like this to keep the Immortals from invading the Weaver's World. Cast on a Three Moons Night- it would be indestructible."

  Dakarth stared into the abyss. “All our plans for naught.”

  Crow stepped towards him. “Patience, brother.”

  “Brother? Crow what...” the Draconess asked. “Oh….so… that’s...oh..."

  Crow removed his mask. Karsgoth was almost as similar to Dakarth, as Mavik to Wayden.

  The Flickers looked nervously at the Draconess. A notch ago, they had cut her arm. Now surely they were worried about losing their heads. Wayden couldn’t say they wouldn’t deserve it.

  "Enough!" cried the Draconess. "Sheath your weapons.” She turned to face Dakarth who was staring open mouthed at the dark field separating his father from him. The Draconess stepped towards him, head held as high as when she’d been ensconced in scarlet silks rather than a blood stained rag. “Dakarth- as much as this pains me, it is in our mutual interest that declare a truce. We need to work together to free our Immortal Lords from this new unholy prison.”

  Dakarth walked over to the canopy of black energy that now sealed the Well of Tears. Soldiers hammered on it with cudgels and maces. Black sparks flew from the shield, but no discernible damage or hole was made on its face. Alaina let out a blast of fire that roared futilely against the shield. Others were searching for a secret door, or stairway, digging into every stone crevice to no avail.

  Dakarth sighed. “So be it. Let us just hope it doesn’t take us another two millennium to do so."

  A Flicker took off his helm. Wayden recognized the sandy-hair and tattooed face of Healer Conrick, though he was dressed in armor, instead of his yellow robes. “Your Majesty. Allow me to tend your wounds.”

  The Draconess pulled up the torn sleeve of her robe while Conrick withdrew a container of balm from his satchel.

  “Brother," Dakarth said, turning to Karsgoth, who was still holding his crow mask in his hands. "Have you seen anything about this in the water?”

  Karsgoth shook his head. “I don’t understand. I peered at this juncture a thousand times. How could this have happened? The Source-”

  Laeko let out a loud laugh. All eyes fell on her. “Don't you see?" Laeko asked, her silver eyes shining. "The Shadow Queen manipulated the Source to show you what she wanted you to see. She was trapped in the Heart Stone… a Source Generator."

  "How did she get free then?" Dakarth asked.

  Fire-Whisperer Dade, whose own injuries were also being attended, said, “Perhaps the explosion freed her.”

  “Whatever caused it, she is free now, and we must assume the Dragonking and Asgaroth are her prisoners,” Karsgoth said. “Once we penetrate that barrier we must prepare for war.”

  A cold wind blew through the breached eastern wall.

  "Who knows what evil has been unleashed this day," the Draconess said. "This is your doing Dakarth. And yours Crow." The Draconess winced. Turning to Conrick she barked, “Will you be gentle for the love of fire?”

  "I'm sorry, Your Majesty," Conrick said.

  "First you fools cut me, and now you kill me again with tourniquets. Give me one good reason I shouldn't feed the lot of you to Volkanus?" Draconess asked.

  Dade cleared his throat. “Your Majesty, these men were merely following your lord husband’s commands.”

  “And so are excused for mindlessly cutting their liege?”

  "That is a discussion for another day” Dade whispered.

  The Draconess grumbled. "Fine, Dade...but when this is over-"

  "It's not over yet, Your Majesty," Dade said, though he looked ready for it to be. His face was pale and he wobbled as if ready to collapse. Still, there was a hint of fierce determination about the Fire-Whisperer that Wayden couldn't help but admire.

  Dakarth asked the Draconess, "How do you propose we go about this rescue?"

  The Draconess regarded him coldly for a moment, before responding. "An earth mage could dig us a tunnel. We have Doblin, the Digger mage, but he is grievously wounded."

  "He might live. He and others need immediate care," Healer Conrick said. "I need more supplies to treat his wounds. We should make for the nearest hospice."

  "Take the third squadron with you. Post haste," the Draconess said.

  Conrick saluted and then began organizing the transport of the wounded. They were to be placed on horse drawn sleds instead of winged wolves, to avoid aggravating their wounds.

  The Draconess fussed with her bandaged arm. “The underground Lair of the Weaver stretches deep. There are other ways hidden beneath the ground. What about our Red Guardian? A Guardian mage might be able to open Centuron's gateway, if we can find it."

  “Dead,” Dade said.

  "We could utilize the children magi- Solita's host or Sigel’s," Dakarth suggested.

  Karsgoth shook his head. "We haven't found Grandmaster Sigel’s host in the last fifteen years; I don't think it likely we will find him now. As for Solita’s host, I am fairly sure that she was underground, casting that Guardian Shield, though it is a mystery how she came to be there."

  "Doblin may be our only hope," the Draconess said.

  "There are always shovels and pick axes," Dade suggested. “But it would take thousands of men.”

  “A joint operation employing men from both our nations.” The Draconess screwed up her lips, but there was a glimmer in her eyes.

  "Flickers are not welcome on Raslonian soil whether armed with shovel or spear," Dakarth said.

  "We're here now, with swords and shields" the Draconess replied. "And may I remind you, this was your doing, not mine. Still, however trying the circumstances, the Land of Light will not rest until the Dragon King is restored to us."

  "She may have the right of it," Karsgoth said. "Such a digging operation would require many men and a long time. Is it not worth some cooperation, to help get our beloved father back?"

  Dakarth nodded. "Very well. We can work out an agreement, I'm sure."

  “Are there no other Earth magi left but Doblin?” Wayden asked Kolram.

  “There are several lesser earth mages,” Kolram responded, “but a true Digger mage who can tunnel with his mind is as rare as a Glimpser.”

  “Digging them out will take months at least,” Dade said.

  “Then the sooner we get started, the sooner our Gods can be saved,” the Draconess said.

  “What type of Gods need to be saved?” Wayden wondered.

  “The ones who aren’t Gods at all.” Kolram answered.

  "And once we dig them out, what then? Will they continue fighting endlessly?"

  "An excellent question."

  "If it will take months to dig them out, then Mavik and Solita's host might be dead by then. There can't be much food underground."

  "The Woven Ones and the Guardians live down there. There must be sources of food and water. We must-"

  "We also don't know what the Shadow Queen will try next,” Dakarth’s voice broke through Kolram’s thoughts. “She might unleash an invasion upon us."

  "All the more reason for us to put aside our warring and join forces," the Draconess said. "Dade, begin the preparations for our return journey. Assign a squadron to remain here to bury the bodies. Make sure they give them a proper burial. And then they can help with the digging operation." The Draconess turned to Wayden. "Burnt Darius: I have many questions for you, but for now let me just say the nation owes you a deep debt of gratitude, as do I personally. You save
d my life."

  Wayden felt a myriad of emotions stir simultaneously: elation at surviving, vindication for playing a role in the downfall of Gar and the Dracon, annoyance at being called Burnt Darius, but overshadowing them all was a sense of loss. Rif had been a friend, and he was as much one of Belok’s victims as Jazlyn had been. Jazlyn, his first crush had been murdered. Verica, who had so bravely sacrificed herself to free them, had fallen into the abyss. Mavik, so close, yet so far, had been sealed underground with dark magic. It was too much to bear. His insides felt sore and raw.

  “What if the Shadow Queen has Mavik as a prisoner?” Wayden asked. “Or what if she killed them?”

  "You feel the Pull still,” Kolram said, “They are not dead. Do not give up hope. Solita is still down there. I sense her. We will save her, Verica, Mavik, and many others. Perhaps even Rif, if he is not beyond redemption.”

  Wayden did feel the Connection still. Hope rekindled like a coal upon a breath.

  "Could you use a Magic-finder to locate an Earth mage?" Wayden asked.

  "We don't have one. Doesn't the Skymaster have a Magic-finder?" The Draconess asked, "As much as I would hate to do business with him, perhaps for a price we could get use of his man, Goat."

  Wayden cleared her throat. "Both the Skymaster and Goat are dead. Skymistress Yveka is now in charge."

  The Draconess raised an eyebrow at this. "You have much to tell me. Perhaps you will do me the honor of informing of what has transpired, on the flight home? I've always wanted to fly upon a dragon."

  "I'd be honored. When are we leaving?" Wayden asked.

  "Within the notch,” Dade said, “We shall start getting organized immediately."

  Alaina tugged at Wayden's arm. “Can you and Harth fly me to get Red Paw?”

  An intense weariness settled over Wayden as he clambered back onto Harth. He was quiet for a moment, feeling for Mavik’s pull. It was still there, as were the ones from Mavik, Rif, Solita’s host, and perhaps another. Wayden wanted to tear open the earth with his bare hands and pull Mavik out.

  And what about Rif? Was his friend completely consumed by Belok? Or did a hint of his old friend remain buried deep within the killer? And Verica. The brave girl had saved Wayden’s life and many other’s lives, battling not only Asgaroth, but Rif as well. She was the true hero, much more so then he himself was, and she deserved to be freed.

  Alaina clambered on behind him and said, "You really know how to show a girl a good time, don't you?"

  Wayden didn’t answer. Didn’t she understand how he felt? The whole world was boiling inside him, his insides felt like a volcano ready to erupt, but he bit his lip. Alaina couldn’t know how he felt. She didn’t know about Mavik, or the others.

  Alaina touched his shoulder. “Is something the matter?”

  Wayden at that moment felt incapable of explaining the emotions that swirled inside him, as fresh as bleeding wounds. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

  The dragon and the wolf flew, and the cold air felt good against his cheeks. They flew into a landscape of snow, the green moon high in the sky. As they flew Wayden managed to explain what he’d seen in the pit. It helped to do it while flying, so Alaina wouldn’t see the moistness in his eyes.

  Alaina squeezed Wayden's shoulder. "Don't worry. We'll bring them back somehow."

  After a notch of flying, Harth landed near the dragon pit.

  “Cursed place,” the dragon thought.

  Red Paw was still tethered, and she looked upset.

  Alaina walked across the snow towards Red Paw. Being raised in an all-boy orphanage meant Wayden hadn’t known many girls. He knew Alaina had only kissed him because of the threat of imminent death, but he hoped that the kiss was the seed of something more. Daughter of the Skymaster or not, Nadra's host or not, she was amazing and unique.

  Wayden saw something move from the corner of his eye. A shadow moving? His skin prickled.

  Wayden turned to see a figure barreling fast towards him. He just managed to grab Gar’s wrist, holding his wrist inches from his jugular. Gar was the stronger of the two and his blue blade drew closer and closer to its target, sharp tip glittering in the moonlight.

  --

  The army of woven creatures followed behind the Shadow Queen and the Weaver into a secret door in the rock wall.

  "The boy released the soul mists,” Verica thought. “Jazlyn-"

  "He must be a practitioner of Soul-stealing," Lukor said.

  “And he sucked Jazlyn's soul inside of himself and just released it into one of those strange sculptures,” Verica thought. “But which one? Which one is Jazlyn? And why would the sculptures be following the Weaver? Why would Jazlyn follow the Weaver?"

  "The Weaver has some hold on them,” Lukor said, “She seems able to control her sculptures."

  "So Jazlyn is alive, but a puppet of the Weaver?"

  "It would appear so."

  "We have to rescue her. Why can't the other wraiths see me?"

  "You'll appear to be a just shadow to them unless you let them be aware of your presence."

  "You wraiths must sneak up on each other a lot."

  "Sneaking is strongly discouraged in wraith culture."

  "Pardon my manners then. I’ve got some sneaking to do."

 

  --

  Mavik finally felt he could breathe, as he watched the last of the army of darkness disappear behind the secret doorway. The walls echoed, as they slid shut behind the last Woven One.

  “Kura, Opel, you alright?” Emerelda asked. She dropped the Guardian shield and turned to their two wounded friends.

  The two old witches from the slave camps were groaning and pale, but alive, thanks to Emerelda’s quick thinking. Mavik examined the strips of filthy linen they had used to bandage the magi’s wounds. They needed to find cleaner ones- but how? Emerelda and he had no way of caring for the two magi. They couldn’t move them without aggravating their wounds and they had no supplies. They couldn’t stay here, they had to find a way out of this prison.

  A stone wall opposite to the one the Weaver went through groaned and slid open. Emerelda cast another shield around them, though this one seemed to have large gaps in it. Her Source energy was nearly depleted.

  The approaching sound of clinking armor and heavy footfalls rushed through the gap of open darkness. The light from Emerelda’s hands illuminated a knight wearing golden armor. Soldiers wearing golden surcoats followed, holding scagazi on leashes. The knight gestured at Emerelda’s shield and said, “By the order of the Guardians, make this shield yield.” Her amber shield dissipated. “Seize them.”

  The scagazi leapt at Mavik and Emerelda, seizing them. The creatures didn’t bite however. They simply held them tight.

  “What you be grabbin’ us fer?” Emerelda asked. “We ain’t with the Weaver. I be a Guardian like you.”

  “You are nothing like us,” the golden knight said, sliding open his visor. Blond sweaty hair was matted and pressed to a handsome face. “Freeing the Shadow Queen is punishable by death.”

  “Is that what we be lookin’ like we be doing?” Emerelda asked. “I be thinkin’ we just trying not to get killed.”

  “Silence!” the blond haired Guardian said. “You shall have your trial.”

  "The Order of the Guardian," Mavik thought. “Centuron controls the scagazi?”

  “It makes sense,” Kolram mused. “Centuron is a powerful Beast Tongue. While Darius was stronger with dragons, Centuron was stronger with insects. Scagazi are more insect than mammal.”

  Opel whispered. "Please. Help me, I’m wounded."

  "She looks pretty bad, Tundor. So does this one," a woman soldier gestured at Kura. "We need to get them to Healer."

  The golden armored Tundor nodded. The Guardian Soldiers flanked Mavik and the others and brought them through the opening in the wall.

  "What be you doin’ with us?" Emerelda asked.

  "No harm will be done to you until after the Judgment," Tundor said.
"If you are innocent you have nothing to fear. If you are guilty you will be thrown in the Pit."

  “We only be freein’ the Shadowqueen because you sent your scagazi to kill us!” Emerelda said. “It be our only hope.”

  “We sent the scagazi to stop the prophecy from coming true,” Tundor said. We foresaw you freeing her.”

  “Then you caused it!”

  “You dare blame us? I ought to strike you down right now.”

  “Sir, Centuron’s orders were clear.”

  “I know my duty, Tessa. Enough talk. Let us proceed.”

  He felt something squirming in his robe. A white head popped out. He’d almost forgotten his father’s pet rodent. He cleared his throat and addressed Tundor, "Take me. Leave the rest of them. They’re innocent. I'm the one who freed the Shadow Queen. If anyone deserves to be punished it’s me."

  “Are you a Guardian?” Tundor asked.

  “No.”

  "You couldn't have freed her without the help of a Guardian mage.” Tundor prodded the wounded mage who had confessed to being a Guardian.

  “It weren’t him,” Emerelda said. “It be me. I did it.”

  “So many confessions. I'm not the one you'll need to convince," Tundor said. “I’ll be sure to relay your confessions to Centuron though. And then I wish you luck once Centuron casts you into the Pit.”