Soul Survivor (Spirit Shield Saga Book 0)

by Susan Faw

  Artio pulled the cork on her potion and drank it down in one and Genii copied her, tossing the empty vial away. He reached across to capture Artio’s hands in his.

  “Do not let go, no matter what happens, Genii,” Artio instructed. “You should start to feel numb and may even doze off, but do not let go.” Genii nodded, and Artio could already see his face slacken. “I will be here with you the entire time. Do not be afraid, my love.” Genii’s eyes drooped, but he did not slump. Rather, he seemed frozen, his knees and back locked in place, rigid.

  Artio dropped her eyes to the moonstones and chanted an incantation of her own devising. The moonstone’s pulsing quickened and so did Artio’s heartbeats, excitement and the potion racing through her veins. Her eyes blurred and she entered a trance, continuing to spell the moon, pulling it to her, commanding it to obey her will. Her soul lifted from her body and entered the moonstone, her body locking just as rigidly as Genii’s. The clearing, the ring of rune-rock, the moon circle all faded from conscious thought. There was nothing but the moon.

  Chapter 20

  Captains Collide

  Captain Enyeto dipped his head and pushed his way into the tent of Captain Brennan, followed closely by his Kingsmen guards, who looked appalled at the Primordial captain’s boldness. They knew he was of Alfreda’s clan, but even so, all Primordial looked the same to them.

  Captain Brennan stood as Enyeto entered then waved his guards away. They bowed and exited the tent.

  “Captain.” Brennan nodded his head toward a makeshift bench placed on one side of a low table, inviting him to sit across from him.

  As Enyeto lowered himself onto the bench, Brennan growled “Alfreda is missing too, I take it?”

  “Yes, she left about four hours ago and has not returned. Night is falling. I fear they will not return this evening. I fear for their safety.”

  Brennan strode back and forth in the small confines of the tent, worrying the familiar groove in the carpet, a result of prior campaign pacing. “I am planning a night attack on the Primordial barring our way. Are your clansmen willing to go up against kin? I would prefer to negotiate, but such offerings have met deaf ears in the past and I see no reason for this to be any different. Nevertheless, I intend to send out a scout under a white truce flag to parley.”

  “My clansmen are as anxious as the Kingsmen to recover their queen. You would have to fight them also, to keep them from accompanying you. When will the truce flag be sent out?”

  “He should be there now. Come let’s see what kind of a reception he receives.”

  Brennan strode out of the tent, Enyeto on his heels. They strode past the infirmary tents where the wounded were being tended to. The moans of men in pain followed them as they passed by. “How many were injured?” Enyeto asked.

  “About ten percent of my force. Twenty dead. It could have been worse.”

  Enyeto grimaced at the numbers.

  A few minutes’ brisk walk brought them to the closest lookout point. Grabbing a pair of looking glasses from the closest scouts, he climbed the rise, handing one to Enyeto.

  The distant rider sprang close as they put the glass to eye, his flag whipping over his head from a pole set in a pocket by his stirrup. He was about one hundred paces from the lead row of Primordial clansmen when a hail of arrows arched out. Multiple arrows pierced his chest, and he fell sideways, dead before he hit the ground. His foot twisted in its stirrup and did not dislodge. His panicked mount snorted and wheeled around, racing back toward them, but a second hail made the horse stumble as arrows pierced its legs, and a final arrow in the neck severed the jugular and it collapsed in a skidding heap. When the dust settled neither rider nor horse moved a muscle.

  Brennan swore loudly. “Well, that would be your answer, bloody Primordial heathens!”

  Enyeto raised an angry fist and put it down on his thigh. “You will have to race me to the bastards, Captain. We will have first blood!” he snapped and wheeling around marched away toward his waiting escort. Five Primordial horsemen peeled away to race back to the spirit clan warriors. “Meet me on the field of battle in ten minutes.”

  “To horse!” roared Brennan and the scouts took off running to spread the word. His face darkened and all who saw him coming knew it was time. They would cross the River Erinn at Damion Ford or die trying.

  Men spilled out of tents and doused cook fires, grabbing armour and belting it over tunics, stamping feet into boots. Within minutes, they were mounted and formed into their units, which peeled off to join up with similar stirrings of the spirit clan forces. They raced toward each other, then both armies curved to ride side by side, Kingsmen’s horses matching the horses and great battering mammoth’s pace for pace, stride for stride. The battering mammoths sensed the coming battle and bellowed a piercing blast so loud the riders to clap hands over their ears. The ground shook from the combined pounding of thousands of hooves, creating their own mini-earthquake, flattening the grass and churning the soil.

  The flesh clans fanned out to face the oncoming rush screaming insults and waving fists clenching blades and wickedly curved scythes on long poles. Their leader rode down the long line in front of them, screaming wildly and carrying a pole from which dangled the head of a man, dripping blood as he passed by. The head swayed side to side and as he turned once again, the face flashed to the oncoming Kingsmen. The head of the scout who had fallen in the field not ten minutes ago. The flesh clans screamed in blood lust, eyes crazed behind devilish masks and as one, they surged out to meet the oncoming rush.

  The gap closed swiftly and the battle commenced.

  Overhead, a vulture circled lazily. It was quickly joined by others.

  Chapter 21

  Godlings

  Caerwyn’s eyes fluttered slowly as he attempted to crawl out from under the fog of pain. His head thrummed as though stone masons were chipping away at his skull, the throb as sharp as a chisel. He clawed himself awake. As his eyes opened, his first sight was a ceiling of hand-hewn stone. The chamber danced with firelight. He turned his head and a wave of dizziness made the firelight jiggle, in a nauseating way.

  He closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, he found himself face to face with a robed figure, eyes glowing within a deep hood and skeletal hands folded inside its sleeves. It floated above the surface of the floor.

  Caerwyn made to sit up but found his hands were tied behind his back and a chain rattled on the ground. No matter. There was not a rope in the kingdom or in the world that could hold him. He tensed his muscles, straining to shred the bonds, but all that happened was a rattling of the chain as his muscles flexed. Surprised, he bent his head to look at what held him, but this brought another wave of dizziness on so intense that he barely resisted the urge to vomit.

  The Charun hissed at him, “Be still. The mistress says you are to lay still.”

  Caerwyn rested his head back on the cold stone floor to cool his fevered brow. “Who is your mistress?” he asked, but he thought he knew. Only one person would choose to live here and only one could devise a way to restrain him. That knowledge was restricted to those with similar powers.

  “She comes. She comes.” The creature floated back, and from a doorway Caerwyn could not see before stepped Helga.

  She paused in the doorway, silhouetted by a back lighting of her own making. “Hello, dear brother. So nice of you to drop in, but I must admit, you have slept far too long and unfortunately have overstayed your welcome.” She descended the last step and strode over to stand in front of him, crossing her arms under her breasts.

  “But now that you are here, what to do with you? You see, you really should ask permission before dropping in on me. I could be...busy.”

  “Helga, untie me, enough of this foolishness!”

  “I am afraid I can’t do that, not yet. I have plans for this evening. Until I am ready to leave, you will stay right here.” She laughed as Caerwyn struggled with his bonds. “Don’t worry. I will invite you to the party
. Oh yes, I wouldn’t want my sibling to miss the fun! Where is our lovely sister, Alfreda? She must be with you. You would think you two were twins, the way you copy each other. Never mind. I am sure she will make an appearance shortly. Either way, she does not have long to live. She seems to have run afoul of poison.”

  “Helga! Are you mad? Untie me!” She continued to ignore Caerwyn’s struggles and he ceased trying to free himself, as the blackened ropes tightened painfully. Instead he demanded, “What is this all about? Are you behind the eruptions?”

  Helga smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. “Alas, an unfortunate side effect, but I have made adjustments for it.”

  “Adjustments? To what?” He stared at her and a chill washed over him. “Helga, you haven’t been drilling into the core of the earth, have you?”

  Helga’s smile widened, and she chuckled at the shock and fear that flashed through Caerwyn’s eyes.

  “Just a tiny experiment, Caerwyn. You would not understand. This is my realm.” Her gaze hardened. “The time has come. I will not be sent the dribbles of humanity to rule. I will have my piece of the world...with or without you.” She smiled at his expression. “Don’t worry. You will get a front row seat, I promise!”

  She spun on her heel and headed deeper into the cave. Caerwyn’s eyes followed Helga, and it was then that he saw they were not alone. Hundreds of Charun crowded the cave. What he had originally taken for firelight was revealed to be a river of lava that split the cavern in two. About a dozen of the creatures milled around a tall something, carting containers of lava up a sloping ramp to the top and dumping it over the side. When the last of the Charun descended, the scaffolding collapsed to the ground with an ear-splitting clatter. A two-story tall idol was revealed, the casing glowing with the heat of the lava, but that was not what drew Caerwyn’s gaze. The eyes glowed blue with intelligence. The idol had a living soul trapped within it, perhaps more than one. Where did Helga find living souls? These souls are mine to care for. They should have returned to me!

  With a grunt, he was roughly rolled over and a canvas sack was pulled over his head. Hands pulled the rough chain from the loops on the floor, and he was dragged by his arms upright, his shoulders screaming in protest. Shoved from behind to get his feet going the desired direction, he stumbled on the rough surface. The same slimy hands lifted him to his feet, bony fingers wrapping around each bicep and Caerwyn felt the presence of death in their grasp.

  The death of a godling was never contemplated, the thought foreign to him, but suddenly he knew it to be a real possibility.

  Surely Helga would not go so far? Caerwyn thought, but he was unsure of anything anymore. The Charun did not let go of him, but held him tightly between them, his feet dangling in space as they floated him up the passageway.

  By the change in temperature, Caerwyn knew they had risen above the level of the lava and into the natural coolness of a cave. Then, a freshening breeze announced the exit to the outside world. A waterfall met Caerwyn’s ears and flora slapped against his feet as he floated along between the Charun. They did not speak but carried him silently along, to where he did not know.

  Eventually they halted, lowering him to the ground. A pole bumped his back and the chain was dragged through another ring with a rattle, binding him to the pole. The canvas hood was not removed. Silence descended, unbroken by cricket or frog. Caerwyn attempted to scrub the hood off of his head, rubbing it up and down on the pole and it inched up a bit at a time until the sack was over his ears at the back. His head flopped forward and the sack fell off into his lap.

  He raised his head and his mouth dropped open at the sight before him. He was tied to a pole at the base of a mammoth stone pillar, over two stories high. A circle of stone created a ring from which a fiery light flickered. In the center of the circle around a flat disk sat his sister, Artio and a man, both frozen in a trance, moonlight circling their still forms in ribbons of streaking light. Directly across the circle from him was Alfreda tied in a similar fashion to one the grey pillars of rock.

  The Charun who had carried him to the stones melted away back up the path, and they were left completely alone. Silence fell, complete except for a faint hum at the center of the circle.

  Weakly, Alfreda stared at Caerwyn across the expanse and their gazes locked. She was similarly bound, slumped against the pole. She shifted her position, and pain shot up her arm as she straightened. It was as if a poison raced through her veins. She could not feel the connection to her world anymore. Her talents were fading. I’m sorry, whispered Alfreda to Caerwyn’s mind. I failed to rescue you.

  It’s not your fault. I was knocked out of the sky and hit my head. It knocked me unconscious. Helga captured me that way. What is this place? What is wrong? You look horrible! he messaged.

  It is a medicine wheel. I recognized it as soon as we landed in the clearing. I think it is Artio’s construct, although I do not understand all of that, she nodded to the circle of light, or what she is up to. What could she possibly intend to heal?

  Well, when that moon has fully risen, it will dump enough energy into this circle kill everyone within it, including you and me. Look at the runes, Alfreda. This is not good. What are we going to do?

  Hud and Mordecai are with me. They fled when Helga attacked, and we were separated. They are still out there, somewhere. Mordecai is a smart boy. He will come up with something to save us.

  Suddenly, a distant voice echoed in Caerwyn’s ears, advice he had recently received and only now understood.

  The answer is within you, she whispered softly, and you must find it. Calleigh can see nothing more than what she has told you. Calleigh gives you these words of her own free will, at no cost. They are Calleigh’s gift in the hope that you will recognize the way when it is placed before you.

  Caerwyn searched with his mind and found the boy huddled with his father in the shrubbery at the edge of the clearing. He pulled their consciences into the web of thought with his sister and spoke to the pair of them.

  Mordecai, what is your plan? Do you have the balance box with you?

  Chapter 22

  Mordecai

  The brush parted as Mordecai and Hud squeezed their hands between the branches, creating a small hole through which they could peer at the clearing before them.

  The Charun slid past them, sweeping up the path at a much faster pace than they had gone down it, with Caerwyn suspended between them. Helga’s summons of the Charun was paramount. Her command they instantly obeyed, and they left the clearing with no more regard for the prisoners than cattle in a feed lot.

  Mordecai was glad for the Charun departing. They made his skin crawl. The magic needed to create them was highly sensitive and volatile, and their presence made his skin itch as though he had fallen in stinging nettle.

  Suddenly, Mordecai felt the brush of a mind against his, a familiar touch. It was as if he prayed, his mind opening to the presence of God. His father gasped beside him as he felt a similar sensation, and then a voice filled their minds.

  Mordecai, with the curiosity of a child and the knowledge of a wizard, easily replicated the form of contact, solidifying the connection.

  I have my balance box right here beside me, sire. Mordecai’s hand twitched to the box.

  I know you have been working on its secrets, and I believe you have figured out how it works.

  I have, sire. The box told me.

  Caerwyn looked over at Alfreda and grimaced. “Time is short. Either you must free us immediately, and we take our chances on stopping whatever is going on here with no idea of what is about to happen, or we sit here and try to ride out the coming storm and attempt to fight from within. I believe either path spells disaster for the world. Calleigh’s warning rings strongly in my ears.”

  “There is no time to come up with a third plan. Not by me, anyways, but I believe you have the third answer, that you have held it all along.”

  Caerwyn’s head swivelled until he was looking directly at where t
he small boy hid. “Come to me, Mordecai,” he commanded, and Mordecai and his father slid out from the brush and came down into the clearing. They approached the king, both kneeling before him on the grass, heads bowed. Once they were standing before him, Caerwyn spoke.

  “Tell us why you have brought the balance box?”

  Mordecai stared at his toes poking out of his dusty sandals. The silence stretched.

  “Mordecai?” Alfreda’s voice drifted across the space. “Do not be afraid. We will not be angry. Tell us what you know.”

  A fat tear slid down his cheek and it was soon followed by others. Hud hugged him close. “You both must die,” he croaked. “It is the only way to stop them.”

  Silence greeted his words.

  “Mordecai, come here, and you too, Hud,” commanded Caerwyn.

  “I cannot undo these bonds. They are magically forged. But I need to touch you. Help me to stand.”

  Hud put a hand under Caerwyn’s elbow and helped him to his feet, sliding up the pole.

  “Now, I want both of you to kneel behind me, under my hands.”

  They did as they were bidden. Caerwyn placed his hands on either side of Hud’s head.

  He closed his eyes and drew on his godling spirit and a blue flame sprang to light and enveloped Hud’s head in its glow.

  “From this day forward, you will be branded with the oak leaf, the royal seal of Cathair. You and your descendants, going forward, will be the royal house of Cathair. You are my heir and my chosen successor. From this day forward, you will be king.” The cool blue flame pulsed and a tattoo of an oak leaf appeared briefly on Hud’s cheeks and a permanent tattoo appeared on the inside of his right arm.

  Caerwyn shifted his hands to Mordecai’s small head and the blue flame flickered around him, brightening as it mixed with his wizard’s magic. “Mordecai, you are hereby charged with the care of our souls, should the fate of the world demand the sacrifice. You shall hold our souls in your care for all eternity. You are commanded to guard the souls of all humanity and provide for their care in our absence. We place our very existence in your hands. You will be responsible for maintaining the balance of the world, and you will be the counterstroke to Helga’s evil for all eternity. So I have commanded, so it shall be done!” Caerwyn shouted.