Soul Shelter (Soulship Book 2)

by Nathan Thompson

  But she is not responsible for her deaths! I argued, not willing to concede my senior’s point. Vessa, for all her aggravations, for all her irritation over my care for her, was beautiful, wise, and good. She had repaid every act of kindness I had ever done for her a dozen times over, given me food, clothing, a bed, a roof. The very body I now moved about in was brought to its state by another piece of her. I could not bear the idea of her harming herself by doubting her own worth.

  I would not bear it, I decided.

  Tell me what I need to do, Senior, I begged angrily. Tell me how I can fix this. What does she need from me? How can I slay this lie in her heart?

  There is no easy answer, young rider, Elder Mara said sadly. And in truth, it is a fear to watch for even in the best of times, when we are healthy, and happy, and surrounded by many who care for us. All I know is that you will likely have to be just as patient with her as my old fool of a husband was with me, and bear with her when she acts out of her own pain. You must also keep affirming the good you see in her.

  Will that be enough? I asked, turning a quick glance to that blasted, distant door. Still no sign of danger, damn it. What else do I need to do for her? I asked, focusing again on the dragon’s words.

  You must remember that this is a battle you can only help her win, not win for her, Elder Mara replied. I rejoice to hear you care so much for her, and pity you for the battles you will face on her behalf. But you must understand this, based on the path you have chosen to walk with her: sometimes you will rescue her from foes, other times the strong parts of her will rescue you, and other times you will help her rescue herself. But it can be done, young rider. Men like yourself are both scarce and desperately needed, no matter what lies the night sky tells itself about your place under it. Continue protecting and cherishing her, young rider. Let your new knowledge of her struggles temper and direct the concern you feel for her. I will do my best to help you where I can.

  Understood, I said, finally able to accept her words. I can do that much for her. I will see that she understands her worth.

  Good, the old dragon said next. And one day, when you are ready, I will do my best to show you that your own wounds are not as incurable as you think. But I will wait for your own heart... grandson.

  The title she gave me twisted my insides. It had been the reason I had kept her alive. My conscious mind knew that the rest of me desperately needed someone to claim me as family. But I had not expected her to come around so quickly. I expected her to take decades, maybe longer, maybe even forever, to get used to the idea of claiming me as family.

  But she had done so today, and my insides were not ready to hear the word ‘grandson’ yet.

  But, just maybe, I could try ‘Grandmother’ in the privacy of my own mind.

  I looked back to the door, figuring I must have missed some noise while I was distracted. Surely I had missed a precaution. Surely something would have come by now, and at least chosen to wait by the door until I was distracted. It should begin banging any minute, throwing its power against Vessa’s, testing her at the very least.

  But no.

  No pounding, violent noises.

  No chittering from beyond the walls, as something tried to fit its way through cracks far too small for it.

  Not even simple, ominous whispering.

  And that was ridiculous.

  Something is wrong, I told my Senior—or rather, my grandmother. There should have been a noise by now. Our battle was far from quiet, and things had already been banging about in the dark all day, or at least they did so yesterday. I didn’t remember exactly when at the moment, but that was irrelevant. Something should be lurking nearby.

  That may very well be, young rider, Grandmother Mara said with a sigh. But it cannot take advantage of opportunities that are not there. Listen, maybe now is a good time to teach you...

  Her voice trailed off. I waited for her to stop being so distracted.

  Young rider? she asked, sounding uncharacteristically anxious.

  I am here, I told her, gripping my weapon more tightly. Tell me what has happened.

  Young rider? Grandmother Mara repeated, growing more concerned. Can you hear me?

  Of course I can hear you, I said, exasperated. It’s not as if you are beyond speaking distance. You are literally inside my soul.

  Young rider, answer me! the old dragon demanded. This is no time for games! I am inside your soul! There is no reason you should be unable to hear me! Now stop scaring an old woman and—

  Her voice trailed off, and realization dawned on me.

  The voices.

  They had arrived. Whether I could hear them or not.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Nestor, I sent to the little mouse currently in Vessa’s hands. We may be in danger. Can you hear me?

  My little mouse did not answer. I looked inside Vessa’s capsule, but the only thing I could see was a dim outline of the ship-woman herself.

  Vessa, I tried writing in my mind. Please find a way to read this.

  Again, no answer.

  Somehow, I was cut off from every person within reach, even the one hiding inside my soul.

  I wanted to bang against the glass capsule lid. But it occurred to me that the voices may just be nearby, and not know where we are. Making a loud noise would possibly be the worst decision I could make right now.

  So I waited, weapon drawn, trying not to breathe too loudly.

  Still nothing happened to the distant door. I began to suspect it was never there to begin with. Just something painted over the wall, that I had imagined working on with my own two hands.

  But there were no other openings something could come from. The room leading back to the emergency drive room was sealed. Our enemies had never been able to penetrate it. There were no vents in this room, no secret passages, no hidden entrances in the two rooms connected to this one. Nova and I had checked as thoroughly as possible, and Nestor had checked as well. There was not even a crack large enough for him to squeeze his body through. There was nothing.

  I looked about anyway, feeling myself a fool for not checking before. But still, I saw nothing but shadows.

  So I looked again. Still only shadows.

  Then I asked myself why I was seeing so many large shadows, in a trio of rooms almost completely bare of any objects, and looked about again.

  The bulge atop the largest shadow moved, as if to look back.

  I reached for my brain to catch it, and keep it from leaping out of my skull as it yammered about. I clamped my mouth shut, screaming in my soul for Vessa, Nestor, and Grandmother Mara, but none of them answered me.

  The shadow tilted its head further, and snake-like shapes flicked out of its front side. Beyond that, it did nothing else, as if it was content to sit there and wait.

  I pointed my weapon at it, vented more atmosphere out of my Soulscape, begging my mind to come up with an explanation for why none of the people I was near could currently talk to me. As quickly as I dared, I shot a glance to the other doorways, and thought I saw other shadows shift ever so slightly, but confirming their presence would be taking my eyes off a known threat for far too long.

  I cycled my techniques and charms and spells instead, knowing it would do no good, knowing that I was a weak thing still, and would die the moment something stronger decided that I had already lived for far too long.

  The shadow didn’t react to my aggressive stance, except to continue flicking the snake-lines out over the wall, as if in my direction. Then a long, skinny shadow with a single joint lifted itself over the head and landed on the wall in front of it, pulling the entire body of the shadow forward slightly. The tentacle head lifted up and down, as if nodding at me.

  “FOUnd YOu,” a voice warbled from it, “lITtLe THIef.”

  The creature’s pitch was grating, ranging from high to low to high again. Its acknowledgment of me put ice water into every blood vessel my body possessed.

  “FOUND HIM?” the shadows on the op
posite wall shouted, flailing about as if they were a body full of muscular arms. Smaller, pebble-sized shadows fell as if they were little drops flung from a body. “IS IT HIM? THE ONE WHO NEEDS TO PAY!”

  I am going to die, the non-screaming portion of my brain said, before a third voice spoke up.

  “Hussssh...” a whisper from the distant doorway said. “Both of youuuuu... You’lll sssscaare himm...”

  “NO!” the angry armed shadow shouted, just before it began speaking faster. “I-WILL-NOT-SCARE-HIM-I-WILL-KILL-HIM-I-WILL-RIP-AND-TEAR-AND-MAKE-HIM-BLEED!”

  “NoNOnO!” the first shadow chitter-warbled. “MAKe thE THIef OUr LItTLe FRIEnd! CoMe PLay WiTH US yOU LIttle THIef! We WOn’t hURT yoU!”

  “I sssaid don’t ssscare him!” the last voice hissed, “We need himmm!”

  I wanted to run away. But they came from every direction.

  And running would have left Nova and Vessa.

  “Lissten,” the final voice hissed. “Little thief. We know you’re there. We know you hid herrrrr...”

  The hiss turned into a moan at the last word, but then the voice sucked in a breath, as if it was swallowing saliva.

  “YOU-SHOULD-NOT-HAVE-HID-HER!” the angry voice shouted, almost too quickly for me to understand it. “DO-YOU-WANT-US-TO-HURT-YOU-DO-YOU-WANT-US-TO-KILL-YOU-DO-YOU-WANT—”

  “StOP ShOUtinG,” the first voice warbled. “We WANt hIM tOO!”

  They kept talking, and I wanted to crumple up into a ball and hide.

  But it was too late to hide.

  “Both of you! Hussssh!” the last voice said. “Little thief. Lisssten. Thisss iss a missstake. You do not want to keep her from ussss. You are too sssmall.”

  “GIVE-HER-GIVE-HER-GIVE-HER—” the angry voice began shouting.

  “I ssssaid husssh!” the last voice said. “Lisssten. Sssmall thing. Weak thing. You came here by acccident. They all do. We undersssstand.”

  “We fORgIVe yOU,” the first voice warbled. “We aRe KInD!”

  “Yesss,” the third voice hissed. “We are kind. But we are hungry. The little meal hassss locked usss inssside hersssself. And ssshe will not let us have the good part of her.”

  “BUT-YOU-HAVE-IT!” the second voice shouted. “YOU-ARE-HIDING-HER-BUT-SHE-BELONGS-TO-US-SHE-BELONGS-TO-ME-GIVE-HER-RIGHT-NOW!”

  “He can’t give her right now!” the third voice hissed. “He issss trapped here! Trapped here with usssss! But we can fixxx that, little thief,” the last voice tried to soothe. “If we can jusssst have our little meal, we can all have the power to esscape. You won’t sssee usss anymore. We would let you live. We could even give you thingsss. Treasuressss, even. Like what your kind ssearchesss for. All we want is our little meal. Tell ussss where sssshe isss, and we will let you live, and give you sssshiny pretty thingssss.”

  “YOU CAn TrUSt uS!” the first voice warbled. “We LOve yoU!”

  “Do you want a part of her, yoursssself?” the sinister hissing voice asked. “We underssstand. Your kind getss hungry too. We will let you have a piece. Jusst tell her where she iss, firssst. Then you can take an eye from her, and go.”

  “NOT-THE-EYES-I-GET-THE-EYES-YOU-PROMISED-I-COULD-EAT-HER-EYES-”

  “Hussssh!” the third voice snapped. “Now look what you’ve done! He’sssss crying!”

  And it was true.

  Tears were streaming down my face as I begged every mythological deity to come save me. But I had nowhere to run.

  “We’ve ssscared you,” the third voice continued. “We’re ssssorry. But it’sss time to realize that you can’t keep her. You have to give her to ussss.”

  “GiVE,” the first voice warbled.

  “GIVE!” the second one roared.

  “We’re not asssking too much of you,” the third voice continued. “Jusst sstop trying to hide her, and everything will be fine. That’ss all you have to do.”

  What have I done? I thought to myself, as my eyes continued to bleed fear and grief. These things were powerful enough to reach right through Vessa’s own wards. Maybe their physical bodies couldn’t reach here, but that had to only be a matter of time.

  I was not strong enough to protect her.

  I had failed.

  I was always going to fail.

  Why had I even bothered?

  I knew I wasn’t strong.

  I knew it didn’t matter if I did the right thing.

  Why was I trying to protect a woman that was always going to be stronger than me?

  She’s not always stronger than me, son, my father’s voice echoed from the grave.

  Another memory from the past. Back when my world was smaller, and wrapped in a snug blanket of false safety.

  What do you mean, Dad? my childish voice had asked. Mom knows more about fighting than anyone. Why would she need you to protect her?

  It had been a harsh question, one made all the harsher by my foolish innocence. But my father had only laughed.

  It’s because she knows so much about fighting that she wants me to protect her, son. Every fighter, and every person for that matter, has good days and bad. If she has a bad day, it’s not going to matter how strong she is normally, because even the strongest person alive still has their weak moments. That’s true for me, it’s true for her, and it’s true for you. And it’s going to be true for everyone you choose to care about.

  But I’m little, I had pointed out. I can’t protect anyone right now.

  That’s not true either, son, my father had chided gently. No matter how small or weak you might be right now, there’s always going to be someone smaller or weaker, even if that person is usually very strong. Do you remember when I was too sick to cook last week, and your mother cooked instead, even though she hates cooking, and doesn’t think she’s very good at it?

  She was mad, I had said, even though I had remembered her asking me to keep that a secret. She said her food was going to taste terrible, and that she should have just ordered delivery from one of those ‘white people’ restaurants you grew up eating at. But it tasted fine, though.

  My father laughed at that. He always found the cultural differences between him and my mother humorous, instead of irritating, like she did.

  It did, he agreed. Her food tasted fine. That’s the thing about weakness, son. Sometimes it’s just the thing we need to perfect our real power.

  What’s my real power, Dad? I asked, wanting to know.

  I wanted to be strong, too.

  I don’t know, he had admitted, but everyone will find out on the day we need you to be a little stronger than the rest of us.

  And that was the end of the conversation, according to the recently lit room in my mind. I had never remembered it until now.

  All around me, the shadows still thrashed and raged and gibbered and begged for me to let them kill and eat the sleeping women in the capsules. They were nightmares my conscious mind could not even comprehend, much less oppose.

  Wait, a voice in my mind said, the part that wouldn’t let me crumple onto the floor yet. Is that really true?

  Of course it was, the coward in me replied. Just listen to them.

  I did, my conscience replied. They are asking you for permission. Why would they need our permission, if they are so unbeatable?

  I had no answer to that.

  Damn you, I finally said to my conscience, weeping even harder now. Because both it and my father were right.

  I was exactly where I was needed, though I was neither strong nor brave right now.

  “I may never be strong enough to fight them,” I whispered to myself. “But right now, I don’t need to be. I just need to be brave enough to stop them.”

  The planet in me stirred.

  Acknowledged, the world inside my soul said, and I finally heard a voice that wasn’t menacing. Subject has enacted generational vow necessary for further Anchor Knight transformation. Activating Apocalypse Denied Protocol, specifically protocol 101: Gain through Loss, Lose One’s Life to Save It. Subject is advised to prepar
e for intense transition.

  With that, my Soulscape began to spin, and all the nearby Source streamed toward my direction.

  The shadows around me went silent for a moment.

  “What wasss that?” the third shadow behind me asked, the one I still had not looked at. “Did he ssspeak? Isss he ready to give usss what we want?”

  “STOP-CRYING-AND-LET-US-EAT!” the ape shadow shouted, reminded me that I was in fact, still crying.

  “WaiT!” the warbling shadow said. “He iS CHaNgIng!”

  More silence entered the room, as all three nightmares realized that I had begun to Draw.

  Power streamed into me, far faster than it usually did when I performed this practice.

  And, for some reason, it was far, far more painful. My tears intensified as my body began to tremble with pain.

  “What?” the third whisper spat in disbelief. “Why? He isss too ssssmall! Why would he even bother?”

  “YOU-STUPID-STUPID-FOOL!” the second voice roared, as I continued to tremble and weep. “YOU-WILL-BLEED-AND-THEN-YOU-WILL-FAIL-AND-THEN-YOU-WILL-BLEED-AND-THEN-YOU-WILL-DIE-DIE-DIE!”

  “LiTTle THINg!” the first one screeched. “StUPid TIny LITtle thING!”

  “They are right,” the last voice hissed. “You cannot grow right now, fool. You are too weak. Too broken. And it will not matter. You could Advance ten timesss, and ssstill be too weak to deny usss what we want to eat!”

  “That means,” I said between sobs so painful they seared my throat. “That the eleventh time will be enough to stop you. If I get that far,” I heaved, my body searing and leaking at the same time, “I can protect her.”

  Acknowledged, my Soulscape said. Subject’s current goal is to reach the twelfth stage of Advancement in every art, preferably in the current Drawing attempt. Verifying subject has appropriate motives... confirmed. Attempting eleven-stage Advancement now. Subject is advised to brace for guaranteed pain and likely death.

  It was too late to stop the process. My Soulscape was conforming to what I wanted, instead of what I was aware I wanted. My inner world spun faster, and essence, mana, and qi all sucked into me faster than I had ever dared to absorb them.