Soul Fire

by Legacy, Aprille

  “But they never came back, did they?” I asked. He shook his head. “And now you’re plagued by a creature that howls in the night and terrifies all that hear it.”

  He nodded.

  “If you claim that you can kill the beast, then please, do so. My name is Hugh. I am Lord of this estate.”

  We took our cue and bowed as we’d been taught. He waved the motion away, though we were well within our rights. He was a Lord of the state; we were untrained mages. In a few years, when we finished our schooling, our status would rank with his.

  Lord Hugh took us to another room, one which had been covered with maps of every kind. Books were open on the long table which took up most of the room. I peered at one as we filed around the table; they were books on the native animals of Gannameade, the Du’rangor in particular.

  “We are trying to figure out how the cursed beast got here,” Lord Hugh said when he saw me looking at the books. “Its presence is not normal, nor is the circumstance in which we find ourselves.”

  We gathered around the map of Abdoor. Yasmin and Petre were still missing from our number. I suddenly realised that Petre had been dealing with this on his own, for a week. My insides writhed with guilt, but I knew that no matter how bad I felt, it couldn’t be anything compared to what Yasmin was feeling. As his soul mate, she could practically read his mind. He must’ve buried this matter deep for her not to know.

  “The first time we started noticing livestock getting attacked and going missing was here,” Lord Hugh tapped a small patch of land on the map. We examined it closely; there didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary with it. “And then the deaths began to move closer to the township, to the estate. We didn’t notice anything at first; we thought it was just wolves or carrier birds. But then we began to notice the prints.”

  “Paw prints?”

  “Yes. Larger than any carnivore we have around here. And when it took Sammy, we knew that wolves would not be brazen enough to enter the estate grounds. We knew we were dealing with something much more worrying.”

  The weather had grown steadily worse since we had begun to talk. The few scattered clouds that had escorted us into the state had worked themselves up in

  thunderclouds. They rolled through the sky, threatening rain at any second. Outside, the trees lining the drive were thrashing about, as though trying to tear themselves free of the earth.

  “One of the local boys, himself from Gannameade, recognized the prints and told us what they belonged to. We scoffed at him, of course; how could a creature only found in Gannameade be here in Lotheria? But after a few more days of losing livestock and hearing the howls for ourselves, we had to concede that he’d been right after all.”

  “Where do you think it has been hiding?” Theresa asked, pouring over the map.

  Lord Hugh pointed out what appeared to be a small swamp on the map.

  “Here, in the marshlands. It is where we’ve heard the howls every night; it is where the tracks lead back to.”

  Marshlands. No tall trees grew in the marshland. I wouldn’t be able to out climb the Du’rangor if it began to overpower me. I would have to face it, on level ground.

  There was some consolation; instead of a small dagger, I had two full length swords that I could enchant, as well as a series of charms that I’d be able to set off if the danger became too much.

  Too much. The stakes were already too high. The Du’rangor I’d fought and killed on Paw Island had been the most dangerous creature I’d ever met. When I was little, my mother would take me to the zoo and show me the large cats. I’d press my hands and face against the glass as every other kid did and watch them, but never did I think that I’d be fighting and killing some distant relation of theirs.

  And the large cats in the zoo seemed quite content to laze about all day; I remember them draped over warm rocks, soaking up the sun, occasionally flicking an ear to keep the humans entertained. But nothing could have prepared me for the ferocity of their attack, the way they moved like molten metal, an unstoppable force, a veritable whirlwind of claws and fangs.

  Also, Du’rangors could kill simply by howling. One nick of a claw or a tooth and we would be paralysed as our blood boiled in our veins.

  At least, I thought morbidly, we can’t be eaten if that happens.

  We spoke with Lord Hugh for another hour before night began to fall and our stomachs began to rumble. He rang for his servants and told them to begin dinner. I couldn’t help but notice the look of relief on their faces, and I realised that maybe our visit, even if we didn’t succeed in killing the Du’rangor, would boost the Lord’s spirits. From the look of relief on the kitchen staff’s faces, I guessed that he hadn’t been eating of late, and they were worried they were going to find themselves out of a job.

  “There is a lot we could do here,” I murmured to Dena as we headed back to our rooms to clean up for dinner. “The entire state seems miserable. I want to help.”

  She nodded.

  “I was thinking much the same,” she admitted, and then her shoulders slumped. “Poor Petre.”

  A pit grew in my stomach with every step as I remembered the way Petre had broken down in the office.

  I’d never had siblings. I didn’t even have little cousins. It had always just been me and Mum, so I’d never been around kids really, except for when I was one. But nevertheless I felt Petre’s pain, definitely not to the same degree, but at the same time I was filled with a newfound desire to ram a sword into the eyes of this child-killing beast.

  ~Chapter Twelve~

  The thunderstorm was in full swing by the time I’d washed off the travel grime and changed into one of my tunic dresses and leggings. We ate in a large dining hall that should’ve been majestic, but instead felt unused and way too large for the eight of us.

  “I’m sorry there isn’t much,” Lord Hugh apologized. “I haven’t been eating much as of late.”

  He still wasn’t, I noticed. Petre half-heartedly pulled a chicken leg onto his plate and then stared at it blankly. Rain finally caved and began slicing off small pieces for him to chew slowly. I ate my own dinner pensively, thinking quickly. I had too many questions to pay attention to my food.

  “Lord Hugh,” I said, breaking the silence of the meal. “The Du’rangor isn’t the only trouble you have around here, is it?”

  He sighed, picking at some roasted vegetables as thunder rumbled above us like a restless giant.

  “No. Because we’ve had so many people missing, work goes undone. We’ve been cut off from our sister city, Nurmin; the bridge collapsed a month ago, and we don’t have any other way of getting across the river. Not to mention the dam upriver. The Orthandrellians have laid claim to the water by damming it. Now we have almost no water and no supplies.”

  “Why haven’t you sent for help?” I asked. “The Masters could help.”

  Lord Hugh met my gaze with haggard eyes.

  “We have sent for help, many times. Each time, there has been no response.”

  I clutched my fork tighter, and stabbed a piece of chicken, imagining it was Iain or Netalia. I’d almost guessed that they were only concerned with their own state. Stanthor was in perfect condition, everyone in the villages was happy, the pastures were green, and the river flowed plentiful and without hindrance. But when another state called for assistance, they turned a blind eye.

  Why? I wondered, chewing thoughtfully. Were they really so self-centred? I bet they wouldn’t be pleased when they found out Jett had let us come here. Now we will return with tales of a state in poverty and leaders who will not help their people.

  Something stuck in my mind; something Jett had said about them banishing people. I frowned. It was difficult to access that memory, but I knew what he had said. I didn’t doubt for a second that students who returned with news of how poorly the other states were doing and the lack of help being offered by those in charge would rocket them to the top of the ‘To-Banish’ list.

  I paled at the tho
ught of leaving this place. Despite my attempts to get home, I knew that I didn’t really want to go back to Ar Cena, to doing half school and half work. I didn’t want to return to the normal nine-to-five melee.

  I glanced sideways at Dena who was eating in silence. Maybe it would be better for everyone if we helped Abdoor back to their feet.

  First things first though, we had a Du’rangor to kill.

  After the meal, Petre and Lord Hugh retired to a parlour somewhere to grieve in solitude. The rest of us climbed the stairs to our bedrooms with heavy hearts. Instead of going to my own room, I followed Dena to hers.

  “I couldn’t bear to be alone right now,” I told her. “This whole place is so miserable.”

  Yasmin, Rain and Theresa obviously agreed with me. They knocked on the door five minutes later and asked to be let in.

  We chatted amiably, trying to distract ourselves from the hideous task at hand.

  “So Dustin didn’t want to come with us?” Rain asked after a little while.

  My heart plummeted.

  “Oh no,” I whispered. “I forgot to tell him!”

  The others stared at each other and then me.

  “What do you mean?” Dena asked.

  “I forgot to tell him that I was going to be away. I didn’t even mention it.” How had I forgotten? I chewed my lip anxiously.

  “Sky, is everything alright between you two?” Yasmin asked finally.

  “How so?” I said just a little too sharply.

  “Do you still... like him?”

  “Of course I do!”

  But I was lying. When I lay in my bed at night now, I wished for another’s company, someone with muscles like rocks and scarred hands that had carefully supported me. One whose heart beat with a steady rhythm of concern as he looked at me.

  I shoved those thoughts away angrily. It was the first time I’d allowed myself to consciously admit it. I didn’t want to think about the way his hands had felt in mine during the soul ceremony. I certainly didn’t want to entertain the memory of swimming with him at the waterhole, for every time I did, I remembered Dustin had been there too.

  Only Dena, watching me closely, noticed my silence and my hands fidgeting in my lap.

  I slept fitfully, tossing and turning in the unfamiliar bed. The eyes in my dreams turned from loving yellow to concerned orange to Du’rangor red. When that happened, I sat bolt upright, my chest heaving and my unsheathed dagger in my hand. Moonlight streamed through my window like cold water, bathing me in its icy grip – the storm had finally broken. I hugged my knees to my chest, not caring that the blankets slid off and bared my legs to the night air. Tears ran down my cheeks as I gasped for air.

  I was terrified of the Du’rangor, but I was more worried about my friends. They’d seen it dead on the ground. They’d seen me kill it with only a small knife. They hadn’t seen the look of determination in its hellish red eyes, they hadn’t heard it snarling as it reached for me in my tree, ready to pluck me from its branches like a ripe orange. I was so worried that they were going to underestimate this beast, or that Petre or Yasmin would let themselves give in to their emotions and forget all of their training and any words of advice I managed to drum up.

  By the time morning broke, I’d half convinced myself to go after the Du’rangor all by my lonesome.

  I waited for the others to wake, or venture out of their rooms, as I suspected I wasn’t the only one who’d spent the night awake. While I waited, I cleaned and polished my swords, and then enchanted them with the magical equivalent of lighter fluid. I’d had a few ideas about killing the beast, and I’d settled on this one.

  When I heard the others moving about in their rooms, I changed into my breeches and a baggy shirt that allowed me to move freely. I pulled my boots on and then rolled my hair up in a bun, poking a charm needle through it. I hoped no one asked about the origins of this particular charm; I’d found it on my bed the night before we’d set off. Attached to a long hair pin, the silver charm dangled from a short chain. When I’d probed it, curious about this mysterious gift, it had flickered with orange light. I’d left it alone after that.

  However, the charm was shaped for protection, and after my investigation, I knew what it could do. So I threaded it through the bun, hoping the others would just think it was a fashion accessory and not question its origins.

  I joined the others in the dining room for steam buns and tea. We ate quickly in silence, our stomachs churning. When Lord Hugh entered and asked if we’d like to head off, we were almost relieved to be doing something.

  We went to the stables to tack up our horses. Echo inspected the charm pin in my hair, pulling back her curious nose quickly when it flared up at her. I patted her on the nose and advised her to leave it alone. I got the impression that she agreed.

  We rode out to the marshlands that Lord Hugh had pointed out to us the night before. My apprehension grew as we neared the marshland, the clouds roiling above us again. For all the lightning and thunder of the previous night, almost no rain had fallen onto the stricken land.

  The marshland was marked by a post with a faded sign, warning us not to take our horses any further. The ground, despite the lack of rain, had somehow remained a marshland, the putrid mud sucking at our horses’ hooves. We pulled them up to a halt, peering into the low brush that covered the marshlands. It would be a harrowing journey, and certainly not one that I was looking forward to.

  “We can hitch the horses here,” Lord Hugh was saying as he dismounted.

  I was just looping Echo’s reins around the post when Yasmin spotted someone in the distance.

  “Lord Hugh!” It was a messenger from the estate. “Sir, it’s urgent. The townspeople are on the verge of rioting, sir, something about no bread-”

  “I’ll take care of it,” he said, sighing heavily. “Sorry, but it looks like I leave you here. You can continue if you wish-”

  “Yes,” Petre said immediately, his eyes on the dark marsh in front of us. “We do wish.”

  Lord Hugh nodded to us as though wishing us luck, and then departed with the messenger. Petre finished hitching his horse and began to stomp into the muck. We followed carefully.

  The mud was disgusting. When it got too deep we had to be careful that our boots weren’t sucked from our feet, and the little water that the marshes managed to hang on to was stagnant and vile. There were small islands of solid ground, marked by cattails, and whenever we reached one, it was a welcome relief.

  The mud also made tracking the Du’rangor very easy. About an hour into our search and the marshes, Yasmin came across a paw print that was almost exactly like the one we found on Paw Island. I ran my finger around the edge of it with mixed feelings; terror, because it was indeed a Du’rangor, and we were well within its hunting territory, and adrenaline fuelled anticipation.

  Petre came back to us as we stood around the print and handed us all two little earplugs.

  “These will seal when the sound level reaches a certain pitch. They’ll protect us from its howl.”

  We put them in our ears. They were a good idea, I had to admit. Now the Du’rangor had lost one weapon in its considerable arsenal.

  We searched the marsh for hours, staying together. Overhead, the thunderstorm finally broke, and thunder growled around us as lightning flickered through the sky. It was only when it began to rain, softly at first but then heavier, that I decided it was too dangerous and told the others we should leave.

  I saw Petre’s shoulders slump, and I squelched my way over to him, squinting through the falling rain.

  “We can’t see anything in this downpour,” I said loudly over the noise. “This is to the Du’rangor’s advantage, not ours.”

  He nodded almost imperceptibly and began to follow me. Our horses were soaked, and the ride back was miserable. I was glad to see the manor house lit up – Lord Hugh must’ve quelled the townsfolk.

  We filed inside after looking after the horses, and the others made for their rooms.
I stood next to Petre, dripping on the embroidered carpets.

  “We’ll find it,” I said, trying to reassure him. “We won’t leave until we’ve killed it.”

  “It’s not the Du’rangor I’m worried about,” he said, his voice hoarse. “It’s Sammy.”

  And then right there in front of me, he cried. Great heaving sobs that shook his shoulders. I hugged him, still wearing our swords, our clothes plastered to our bodies with freezing rainwater.

  I’d never known grief as Petre did then. I didn’t know how it felt to lose someone, let alone a younger sibling. I felt useless and utterly horrid. I wished desperately that I could do something more.

  “Is there anything else we can do?” I asked quietly when he calmed down.

  “No. You’ve done enough. I just,” he rubbed his eyes furiously. “I just want to find him so we can put him to rest. I can’t bear...” he broke off as his voice left him. He cleared his throat. “I can’t bear to think about him out there in the rain.”

  I didn’t think it was possible, but as I crawled into bed that night I felt even worse than I had before.

  ~Chapter Thirteen~

  The next morning it was still drizzling, though the thunder and lightning had subsided somewhere around midnight. Again we met for breakfast, though Petre was absent. In fact, we were almost ready to leave when he finally staggered down the stairs.

  “Sorry,” he muttered when he drew closer. No one was going to vilify him. If he’d slept, then we were glad. Yasmin swooped on him with two hot steam buns wrapped in a handkerchief, and though he took them with a forced smile, he ate very little of them on the ride there.

  “Father apologizes for not accompanying us today,” he said as we hitched our horses again. “He has matters of the city to deal with.”

  We had already gathered that Lord Hugh was an important man in the eyes of the city. I’d almost rather be out here hunting Du’rangors than dealing with paper work and angry townsfolk.