Splinter (Trapped Souls Book 1)

by Ricki Delaine

“I know that. We don’t exactly have time for me to learn.”

  Mako had been listening in silence, watching this exchange. He spoke up. “I’ll stay with the horses. I can do complicated.” He grinned at Ria. She looked back at the man, and Theron would swear the temperature dropped a few degrees. It didn’t seem to bother Mako, though. He looked at Theron, his expression melting from amusement to something between respectful and cool. “Do you want Ria to wait with me, Mamoru, or go with you?” There was a subtle meaning behind that question and that expression, but Theron did not have the time nor inclination to sort it out. It didn’t take long to decide.

  If a forest animal (or something else) were to attack while he followed the boy, Ria would either be an asset or a liability. If the latter, could Mako handle the burden of protecting her and the horses as well? The better question: was it fair for Theron to expect him to. Particularly since he still wasn’t sure of the man’s motivation for being there?

  “She’ll come with me.” Mako nodded without protest and Theron handed over Ash’s reins with only a moment’s hesitation. He could hardly not trust him, after these past few days.

  The guard moved to the right of the path, into a gap large enough for the horses. He fastened their leads to the nearest branch and leaned back against the trunk. He turned his attention away from Theron to Ria. His look at the village girl said, “Well, I’m doing my part.”

  Rolling her eyes, Ria turned. She stalked over to the bush with broken branches and paused. When Theron reached her, she would have continued, but he stopped her with a hand on her forearm. Nodding at her, he stepped past, moving ahead, along the trail the boy had left.

  ˜ ˜ ˜

  They found once they stepped through, that the undergrowth opened up, the sunless area eliminating a lot of the smaller plants they’d had to dodge up to this point. Soon they were following a path paved with fallen leaves and hard packed dirt. And it wasn’t long before the two of them spotted the flash of white hair in the distance and picked up their pace.

  When they reached him, it was only to stop and stare in shock at the ancient tree that stood in front of them. So unlike the trees that surrounded it, it was obviously from a different era.

  It stood tall as any of them, but where the other trees in the Mistwood were spindly and twisted, gray-lined bark that was nearly black, this tree was thick-limbed, a rich brown and weathered with age. One side of the tree held a hideous scar, the burn of a lightning strike. Knots along the trunk formed whorls in the bark, like a stream with eddies, holding the secrets of the bed below it. Theron and Ria stood in silence, expectant, but the boy took them no further.

  Theron realized with a shock that this was their destination.

  They were in the middle of Mistwood, in the middle of nowhere. Either the promise of the witch meant nothing, or the idea that she’d sent the boy was wrong. Knowing already that the child had no voice, but angry enough to demand an answer anyway, he was about to speak when the groaning creak of wood stopped him. The sound was loud enough to make him blink and pull back from the tree. Was it going to topple? “Watch it,” he said, throwing a shielding arm in front of Ria. The sound repeated, a jagged noise that set the Protector’s teeth on edge. That noise had a purpose. Cautiously, he said, “Kitsune sent us. We’ve come for guidance.”

  Again, the sound. It was the tree. He looked at the boy who had led them all here, only to find the child looking back at him expectantly. He frowned. What information could he possibly gain here? The tree was silent now, but a weight had entered the air around them. Theron could feel the pressure of it against his skin, like the subtle anticipation he would sense in his old mentor Kino, when he was expected to master a new skill. Only, there was no one here but the forest, this tree and his two companions.

  He turned to their guide. “Why are we here?” He asked the question not really expecting an answer. Blue eyes looked from him to the tree and back again. Theron sighed, his gaze following the boy’s.

  It was a tree.

  Old, obviously. Ancient. Its trunk was huge, the branches gnarled but strong, the leaves that graced each branch a deeper and more lively green than any of those surrounding them. He decided to pay closer attention on the way out. Was this tree healthier than the others, even at such an advanced age? A breeze whispered through the leaves as he made his observations. There was that feeling again, like he was missing something. Missing something and making someone impatient, while they waited for him to figure it out. The tree in front of him moved in that breeze …

  But this tree was too large, too set into the earth to shift with such a gentle wind. When the movement didn’t stop, he found himself stepping back. A long step back. He watched, dumbfounded as the bark changed, slipping and reforming in a not-so-subtle movement until a blooming shelf of mushroom, growing across the trunk’s face, fluttered back to reveal blue-green phosphorescent eyes. The round hollow where a mouth would be was topped with an uneven growth of yellow lichen, like a crazed mustache drawn on by a child. That same lichen ran under that lipless mouth, a beard to match its mustache. A name popped into his head and his heart kicked up, because it didn’t feel like he’d thought it up himself: Koke no Hi-ge.

  Moss Beard.

  That grumbling creak came again, with an odd stutter that gave the Protector the impression that the tree was laughing at him.

  This was who he was supposed to see? The tree-spirit, for that is all he could think to name it, went silent, watching them with a strange-eyed stare interrupted by the odd blink. Mottled mushrooms scattered across the trunk gave the creature a wizened, warted appearance, helped along by deep crags of bark, darkened with age. In this light, he was not sure if the bark moved itself or if there was a spirit that spoke through it, giving it the illusion of movement. In the end, it didn’t matter, for it moved.

  Theron wondered briefly how it came to be. He had seen many old trees (though none as old as this). Was this a trapped spirit, or had this tree gained its own spirit, once it became truly ancient? After everything he’d seen in these last few days, he wouldn’t doubt it.

  It was “speaking” again, in what must be its language, but he had to shake his head. He didn’t understand it. There was no way he could. This entire venture had been useless and this detour would likely cost him another half-a-day’s travel to correct their path in returning to the palace. “This was pointless. We’re leaving.”

  That wooden groan again, slightly different this time. Oddly, he could almost get the meaning. “Wait,” again, with that hint of impatience.

  “This is insanity.” He had no idea if the being understood him or not, but he couldn’t lose any more time. “We came here for guidance, Honored Ancient, but I cannot understand you. Please do not take it as a disrespect when I say we must go.”

  Those eerie eyes blinked and the Protector heard a gasp from beside him. His eyes went to the hand that suddenly gripped his sleeve. “Ria?” The village girl had a grip on his arm, her eyes held by the bright blue gaze of their child-like guide.

  “Wait, Mamor–, Theron.” One side of her mouth pulled back into a half-grimace and she winced, frowning. “I can, I mean, he,” she said, with a nod to the boy in front of them, “can understand it.”

  “Moss Beard,” he supplied without thinking. Ria blinked, but didn’t comment, nodding. Theron wanted to know not only how the boy could understand it, but why Ria knew it. “I thought you said the boy couldn’t speak?”

  “He doesn’t. I think.” Once again, Ria knew she sounded insane and she was on shaky ground with this man already. But what else could she do? “I – I just know. The boy understands it. I mean, he understands Koke no Hi-ge,” and she took a deep breath, “I can tell you what he’s saying.”

  Theron tilted his head and looked at her, his gaze sharp and searching. Finally, he nodded. Biting her bottom lip, Ria turned to the child next to her. Before Theron had nearly stormed off, a vivid flash of colors and images had swayed her. Without kn
owing how, she knew the boy was the cause of it, but it was that same dizzying feeling. He was definitely connecting with her somehow and it didn’t feel good.

  She tried not to let her hesitation show. She had a suspicion she wasn’t going to enjoy this. They needed something to go on, though. Or rather, Theron did. She could see it in his every movement, hear it in his every word. Unpleasant or not, she was going to do this. “Okay. I’m ready.”

  Looking at those blue eyes again, she closed her eyes so she could concentrate, not knowing if it would inhibit whatever it was the child was doing. Vaguely she noted when the creak of wood filled the air again. Apparently, eyes closed or open didn’t matter. Pictures began to flash across her mind’s eye, bright and alien and too quickly to make any sense. There were too many. It hurt. “Wait, wait … please,” she gasped. She opened her eyes, blinking and breathing fast. “You’re going too fast.”

  Without knowing it, she had backed up. She realized it only when she felt the press of the Protector’s hand against her back. His breath stirred her hair. “Are you sure about this?” She could hear concern there.

  She gave a nod. “I’m okay.” There wasn’t much else to say. If she didn’t keep going, they were at a dead end and they might as well leave. She caught the child’s gaze with hers and nodded. The boy’s mouth twisted and a tiny frown creased the child’s brow. It seemed to Ria the boy realized he’d pushed too hard.

  Taking a breath, she exhaled slowly, bracing herself. The pictures started again. They were slower this time, and they took up less space in her head. If that made any sense at all. It didn’t, but that’s what it felt like. It was more like looking at a series of drawings, instead of living in some-thing else’s head. Experiencing wholly unfamiliar thoughts and feelings.

  The first vision was unbelievable. She heard her own shocked inhale, over the creaking sound of wood. It felt as though she were flying. She saw where they stood at the base of the ancient tree and then she was taking off, pulling back, out into the sky, far enough to see forest for days. She saw towns they had passed on the way here as they followed their guide, with no idea they were so close. And still she continued, her intangible form drawn all the way back to the tiny village she lived in, with the Imperial Palace a just few hours ride away and still visible in the distance from this strange sky-view. “I see the palace. The town.”

  Her eyes widened as Theron watched her, her gaze sweeping around them, viewing sights only she could see. “The palace looks different.” Her hand lifted up to point over to the right. “That building isn’t there now. And,” her head tilted as she viewed something directly in front of them. “The colors on the palace are wrong. There is a second level. Is this not the Emperor’s palace?”

  Theron felt antsy, watching her, wishing he could see what she was seeing. He asked, “Can you see anything about the Emerald Lady?”

  “No, I–I … wait. There she is. She’s walking with you. No,” she shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  Ria was having trouble catching everything around her. It was familiar, but still so different, at the same time. She could sense that her child-guide was with her, though she somehow knew the images were somehow being provided through him only. These pictures actually belonged to Moss Beard. She turned, looking for the boy. And yes, there he was next to her, a wavering outline in the vision he was sharing with her. As she watched, the shimmering shape flickered out of sight and was overlaid by another form. A fox? A white fox. That made her heart beat faster. It looked just like the fox she had seen outside Kino’s farm.

  She could hear the Protector’s voice, raised in question. Focusing again on what was around her, she tried to decipher what it was exactly she was seeing. She focused on the woman’s form, the Emerald Lady? Willing her form without substance forward, there was a sensation of movement, and suddenly she was too close and cringing back. But the two people on the wooden walkway didn’t notice her, continuing on their way. She couldn’t hear their discussion, didn’t even attempt to hear what they were saying, because she was reeling in shock.

  The woman was beautiful, wearing the traditional formal hairstyle and colors of the Imperial family, but she was clearly not the Emerald Lady that Ria had seen. Was this some past or future Emerald Lady, or someone else entirely? Her eyes were green, yes, and glossy black hair fell nearly to her ankles. Here the similarity ended. This woman was smaller, almost fragile looking. And her gaze held an almost desperate determination.

  The Protector with her was not Theron, but he wore a belt bearing the same symbol, a sword at his hip with a familiar emblem on the hilt.

  She was walking with the Mamoru. A Mamoru. It just wasn’t Theron.

  Ria didn’t understand how any of this was possible, but she remembered one of the village elders describing a building like the one she had pointed out as not on the palace grounds today. The thing was, the village elder who had told her about the building. Well, his grandfather had described it to him. That building had burned to the ground. Many, many years ago.

  The scene shifted, abruptly and dizzying. Though nothing else changed on the grounds, they were swept to another area of the palace and suddenly, it was night. Ria heard a man’s voice, raised in anger, distorted and ringing with an unnatural chord. Another voice. A woman’s, raised in concern, edged with terror.

  A flickering light teased at the edge of her night-vision, bringing with it an oddly flowing shadow with a screech of stretched out sound. It was wrong, that shadow. “What is happening?” She had no idea her face was telegraphing the nightmare playing out in front of her, she only knew she had to tell the Protector what she saw. Describing it in a flood of stammering words, still caught up as she was in the vision, she didn’t see the growing concern in her companion’s face.

  The focus shifted from the horror moving toward the palace, to the sheltered courtyard at its center. “It’s the Emperor.” And it was, looking exactly as he had, the one time she had seen the divine ruler.

  That unknown Protector and lady were with him now. Their voices rose, sharp with anger. And all the while that shadow flowed, ominous and creeping across the grounds, the slope and valley of the rooftop. Finally, reaching the edge of the inner courtyard.

  “Oh gods, no.” That darkness didn’t stop at the edge of the courtyard. It flowed down into it, across the green, cherry-blossom filled trees. The blooms withered, falling as it passed. Ria knew the answer they were looking for lay here, at the palace, with these three people. She hoped when the horrible scene played out, she would understand.

  Inevitable as death, the shade finally reached them. The three didn’t react at first, but realization slowly dawned in that other Protector and lady’s expression. As Ria waited, tense and expectant, the vision grayed, grew hazy and indistinct. She desperately tried to see beyond it. There was an impression of movement and a woman’s scream, filled with such despair she ached to hear it.

  “What is it? What are you seeing?” Theron knew his voice was too loud, but couldn’t stop himself. Ria had stopped talking, her face gone pale. He could feel her trembling, where his hand rested on her back. “Ria? Talk to me.” This was dangerous, visions and spirits and why couldn’t it be him doing this instead of her? It had felt wrong from the beginning.

  Suddenly, she gasped and her eyes opened. The look she gave him was filled with pain. The color of her eyes might be different, but this was a pain he knew. He lifted a hand to his head at a sudden aching pressure, and then – he was no longer in Mistwood.

  He was on the palace grounds. His gaze swept around. Flames licked at the elegant lines of many the wooden buildings. Smoke billowed everywhere in choking clouds. His eyes moved, swept down over his chest and legs. Armored plate, boots, a sword that was not his, all of it in a style he wasn’t familiar with.

  The woman standing next to him wasn’t Ria.

  Her hair was long, twined in a complicated pattern and held up by a comb. The formal red and white kimono she wore f
lowed in the fetid breeze. It was torn in places, though she seemed unharmed. With eyes as green as emeralds, the look she cast on him was desperate and worried.

  “We have to go.” His voice was ragged with exhaustion. He held the sword in one hand, the blade black and glistening, in the flickering light.

  There was a sound. Like the boom of distant thunder. The ground shook. Screams. “Now, my Lady.”

  The woman opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the thundering rumble once again. He turned in that direction, seeing a familiar shadow fall slowly across the palace. Helpless anger threatened to overwhelm him. He looked up in the sky to see embers floating towards them, curling as they burned, the smell of ash and sulfur sweeping across the courtyard. Dread rose, paralyzing.

  A roar, deep and filled with rage, echoed across the mountains.

  “Mamoru? … Theron!”

  Blinking, he staggered back and away from Ria, dropped from the horrific sight into the dank, earthy smell of green. He looked up at the ancient tree spirit, who remained silent, with knowing old eyes. “Did you send that? Did you put those images into my mind?” He couldn’t keep his voice from shaking.

  Sensing the worry and questions of the young woman next to him, he put a quieting hand on her arm. “This … this was of no help at all,” he growled. “I can’t wait any longer. I’m going back.” Pivoting on his heel, he strode back the way they came.

  “Mamoru, wait.” Ria moved to follow him, but a small hand gripped hers, stopping her. “What is it? I have to stop him. We have to figure this out.” The little nose wrinkled, brow creasing. She saw a flash of teeth when the boy pulled his lips back in a grimace, shaking his head. Were those fangs? “I need something to call you. I can’t keep calling you boy.” She remembered that flickering image of the fox in the vision. “Okay. Kit, what are you trying to tell me?”

  At the question, the boy shifted his grip, grasping her hand more firmly. He tipped his head back so he could look into her eyes. He smiled. Ria felt the pull in that gaze and she was swept once again by that odd disorientation, snapshots from the vision she’d witnessed earlier sweeping across her mind’s eye at an alarming rate. The tree spirit remained silent, but the invasion didn’t feel quite as alien as before. Looking at the boy’s eyes, focused so tightly on her, she realized this was a replay of what she’d seen before, but from Kit’s perspective.