King Of Souls (Book 2)

by Matthew Ballard

  Ronan’s shield collided with the dragon’s sending ripples of blue and white energy flaring in both shields. By Elan's grace alone, he clung to Rika’s saddle. They tumbled through the rain and wind riding the dragon’s spine toward its spiked tail.

  The dragon twisted its tail as if to swat Rika while she and Ronan tumbled free finding open sky and the approaching sea below.

  Ronan grabbed the saddle horn and clung by his fingertips as he and Rika spiraled downward in an out of control death roll.

  “Take a breath Ronan!” Rika screamed over the wind, rain, and the dragon’s deafening roar. She shifted into a giant walrus as she and Ronan smashed into the icy water. Ronan’s shield held strong as Rika surged through the water with speeds only capable by sea-born creatures.

  Overhead, the dragon roared. It swung its neck from side to side as its flight speed slowed searching for Ronan and Rika.

  Rika pushed faster towards the shore, closing within three hundred yards of the towering cliffs.

  Ronan held his breath and glanced upward.

  The dragon flew a foot over the water’s surface tracking Rika's movement. The sky lightened as the dragon’s shadowy blur streaked forward toward the shoreline.

  Ronan’s stomach fluttered. Had the dragon decided to give up?

  Ten yards ahead the dragon’s head broke the water’s surface. It turned glowing blue eyes on Rika lunging toward her with wide open jaws.

  With three quick kicks Rika shot upward and shifted into a fast moving hawk when she broke the water’s surface. She beat her wings and screeched as the sea cliffs loomed overhead.

  The dragon lifted off from the choppy surf still clutching the sea creature in its dripping wet talons. It roared and shot upward following Rika’s trail.

  Ronan prepared a second spirit attack doubling the power of his first and waited.

  Rika crested the cliff’s jagged edge and climbed higher following the steep rocky face of the nearest mountain.

  As the dragon crested the cliff’s edge, Ronan hurled a spirit orb at the dragon’s head.

  The spirit attack slammed against the dragon’s shield and flashed with brilliant blue and white light. The dragon wailed teetering on its flight path before retreating in a slow arc over the sea’s frigid coastal waters.

  “Yes!” Ronan pumped his fist skyward and spun in his saddle. “Rika, fly behind the mountain before it returns.”

  Rika curled around a snow-capped peak and climbed higher. She moved up a larger peak’s face with its summit disappearing inside the low hanging clouds. She shifted into a giant snow eagle’s form and spread her wings letting the updraft carry her hundreds of feet in seconds.

  Ronan peeked over his shoulder and watched the gold dragon searching the lower cliffs for signs of him and Rika.

  Rika flew faster as she raced through peaks and cornered rocky crevices and outcroppings.

  The cold rain had changed into a driving windless snow as Rika plunged ahead widening the gap.

  Ronan shot another quick glimpse over his shoulder.

  The gold dragon curled around a snow-capped peak a half mile behind still searching peaks and valleys. “Don’t stop. I see it behind us!”

  As Rika crested an icy ridge, a flash of red preceded a deep bellowing roar.

  Ronan’s heart lurched, and his eyes widened as he looked on a second dragon only yards ahead.

  Gleaming white, razor-sharp teeth flashed and the dragon roared.

  The reek of rotten bloody fish rolled from the dragon’s hot rancid breath, and a wave of thick nausea gutted Ronan’s stomach. He pushed energy into his body toughening his skin and bones while shutting off his sense of smell and taste.

  Rika screeched and veered off course twisting and tumbling toward a snow drenched valley fifty feet below. She spun upside down, careening toward looming snow drifts while Ronan clung to her saddle by his fingertips.

  Heavy wings beat the air as the red dragon took flight chasing Rika toward the valley floor. His wings beat faster slowing his rate of descent, and he stretched out his talons preparing to land.

  A blast of wind hammered Ronan as the dragon’s wings pushed air flows that sent Rika toppling.

  “Hang on Rika!” Ronan channeled spirit into Rika’s shield giving it ten times more strength. But, could their shields withstand its full force? Could it breathe fire? Would his shield withstand a dragon’s fire attack? He didn’t want to find out.

  The ground came fast, but soft as Rika drove into a loose snowdrift and Ronan piled in on her rear end.

  Ronan scrambled to his feet and reached for his blade, but found his sheath empty. He spun while the snow around him gusted in torrents.

  Overhead, a deep thundering bellow rattled the frozen limbs of a nearby grove of pine trees. The red dragon’s beating wings pushed a giant flurry of snow around his body like a great snow globe.

  Adrenaline surged through Ronan’s body. He channeled spirit magic, readied a blast, and hurled it toward the red dragon.

  The dragon’s shield crackled and dimmed under Ronan’s onslaught. It roared glaring at Ronan through smoldering black eyes. The dragon plunged its talons deep inside the snowdrift where Rika lay buried.

  “No!” Ronan lunged into the drift trying to reach Rika first.

  The dragon beat his wings in a furious torrent as it gripped Rika in its outstretched talons.

  Fear wrung every inch of Rika’s face as snow fell in clumps from her protective shield.

  Gusting wind pushed Ronan off his feet, sending him flying backward a half-dozen feet burying him in a snowdrift.

  His chest constricted and his legs went slack as he watched the beast climb higher still clutching Rika.

  Her shield crackled under the dragon’s grip, but the beast held tight rising high into the snowy afternoon sky.

  Ronan pushed himself free and found his blade twenty feet away half buried in a snowdrift.

  Rika stretched her hand toward Ronan and screamed. “Ronan! Help me!”

  Ronan readied a spirit orb, but held back. He couldn’t risk hitting Rika.

  The gold dragon circled far overhead, barely visible through the heavy falling snow. The red dragon joined it, climbing higher before disappearing into the clouds.

  Ronan sank to his knees, watching the clouds swirl too stunned to move.

  Moments later, the peaceful sound of falling snow remained Ronan’s only companion.

  In The Navy

  Heat flashed at the base of Danielle’s neck, and she glared at the sandy-haired shaman. “You call yourself a healer? How dare you leave a woman to die! Are you people barbarians?”

  Brees froze beneath the temple’s arched doorway, his back to Danielle and Fizzle.

  Fizzle’s eyes widened, and he looked ready to crawl under a rock. “Danielle, please.” He stood between Danielle and Brees holding up his hands as if to calm her. “You can’t talk to an Ajahn in such a… familiar way.”

  Brees turned and faced Danielle and Fizzle. “Fizzle, have you ever known a sorcerer to think of anyone but themselves? She can pay the price.”

  Fizzle turned pleading eyes on Brees. “Excuse me Ajahn, but I think there’s been a horrible misunderstanding.”

  An old woman appeared behind Karli and stepped forward, stopping beside Fizzle before bowing her head. Her eyes flickered touching on Brees’s face. “I’m sorry to interrupt Ajahn Brees, but I’ve received urgent news.”

  Brees’s expression softened, and his brow furrowed. “What is it Alona?”

  Alona shot a sideways glance at Danielle before settling her gaze on Brees. “It’s personal in nature.”

  A look of concern washed over Brees’s face, and he held his hand out for Alona.

  Alona took his offered palm, and Brees drew her a few feet inside the temple.

  The old woman glanced over her shoulder and turned her back to Danielle before whispering a few quiet words to Brees.

  Brees’s face turned pale, and he braced himself again
st the door frame. His mouth fell open, and he nodded to Alona. He muttered a short thanks, and the old woman bowed before leaving the temple.

  Alona kept her gaze locked on the dirt path while she moved past Danielle giving her a wide berth.

  Brees disappeared inside the temple before reappearing moments later. A burlap satchel hung from his shoulder. He left the temple and slipped past Danielle without uttering a word. He strode ahead moving toward the village entrance.

  “Hey, where are you going?” Danielle hurried to catch the shaman as he strode with measured purpose through the village’s center.

  “Leave me be sorceress,” Brees said. “My business is not your concern.”

  Danielle glanced over her shoulder and saw Fizzle leading Karli and Keely from the temple pacing a dozen yards behind.

  Brees walked faster while moving past the guard station and through Misho’s gaping jaw.

  The sun’s raw power had returned during Danielle’s time inside Misho, and she wavered at the village’s exit.

  Urtzi offered Danielle the barest of nods, and his stance eased.

  Karli snorted as Fizzle led her from the village at a trot leaning on his atter stick a few steps behind Danielle. Keely remained secure atop the paka’s saddle.

  Danielle grabbed Brees’s arm forcing him to pause.

  Brees jerked his arm away and turned on Danielle as anger flashed in his eyes. “Leave me alone!”

  Danielle’s chin quivered as she held the shaman’s intense glare. Her chest tightened as she fought back tears. “We’re all alone in your country. Please can’t you help my friend?”

  Brees’s expression softened, and he ran a hand through his sandy blond hair. “Why do you have to do that?”

  Danielle’s brow furrowed. “Do what?”

  Brees shook his head. “I bet you’re used to men just melting in your presence and doing whatever it is you want. Am I right?”

  Danielle shook her head. “I’m not sure —”

  Brees cut her off with a raised hand and stared at his shoes. “With a few weeks of rest, your friend will be fine. The strike isn’t severe. I have to head north on urgent business and have three hard days of travel ahead of me. I can’t stop now to help her.” Brees raised his head and met Danielle’s gaze. “I’m sorry.”

  Whatever these sorcerer’s had done to Brees, they hadn’t killed his compassion. Danielle could see it lurking in his eyes. “What if I told you I could have you there today?”

  Brees raised an eyebrow, and Danielle smiled.

  ***

  The Damocles churned through the ice ravaged sea hugging Meranthia’s northern coastline. The pitch-black night offered much needed camouflage for the ship and her crew. The recent stint of mild weather had offered the best sailing Tara had seen since her arrival six weeks ago. But, the temperature had dropped twenty degrees. Now, ice chunks battered the ship’s wooden bow every few feet.

  “General Demos, we can’t sail these waters another night or the ice will sink us,” Tara said.

  “Yes mistress. We’ve sailed away from the coast. Our scouts have spotted Meranthian warships nearer the coastline. It’s our intention to avoid confrontation until necessity dictates otherwise.” General Demos’s yellow eyes flickered downward before meeting Tara’s.

  Tara had known General Demos long enough to understand his quirks. He held something from her. “What aren’t you telling me General Demos?”

  General Demos’s forked tongue flickered. “It’s the sea ice mistress. I’m afraid it’s growing worse by the hour. Our scouts are reporting solid ice an hour ahead. If we don’t sail nearer the coast, we won’t last the night.”

  “Then take us closer,” Tara said. “You don’t need my counsel for that.”

  A low hiss escaped General Demos’s chest. “Yes Mistress, I would’ve done so already, but that brings the Damocles within range of a port city larger than suits our needs.”

  “We’ve the Porthleven villagers and your commandos below decks. Might this port city suit our needs after all? I’m stronger now Gregor. If we can control this port, we can move inland.”

  “Draco riders report a large shipyard in the harbor protected by a Meranthian naval base,” General Demos said. “We’ve come so far to risk everything on a needless gamble. Our draco scouts have reported a smaller village to the north that’s far more suitable.”

  General Demos had risen to the highest rank of the Baerinese military structure for a reason, and she trusted his advice. “It seems we don’t have a choice do we General Demos? Can we make it past the shipyard undetected?”

  “Perhaps. Much depends on the quality of the knights serving the young king. I believe they could detect us, if they’re watching.”

  The Meranthians couldn’t understand the nature of her magic, and she had a few tricks up her sleeve. “Sail toward the warmer water General Demos. We’ll take our chances with the Meranthian navy.”

  “Yes mistress.” General Demos bowed before disappearing toward the ship’s stern.

  The Damocles groaned as it swung portside slipping through water teeming with boulder-sized ice. Over the next quarter-hour, the sea ice gave way to warmer coastal waters. The frigate made good time as it traveled north hugging the rocky shore.

  Tara felt, rather than heard, a presence beside her in the freezing night air she loved so much, and she waited for General Demos to speak.

  “The Meranthian town of Ripool lies a few minutes north beyond this peninsula.” General Demos pointed to a dark rocky outline extending into the veiled coastline beyond.

  Overhead a low hiss split the silence followed by the sound of leathery wings beating against the frigid night air. A wrinkled brown draco came into view before settling atop the scout’s landing station amidships. The dark shadow of a Baerinese scout slid from the draco’s thin saddle and hurried down an ice covered ladder.

  General Demos signaled for the scout, and the lone figure hustled toward the ship’s bow.

  The purple scaled Baerinese scout appeared before Tara and knelt touching his knees and palms to the ice covered deck. His forked tongue slithered outward as if tasting the frozen sea air.

  “Rise and give us your report Stefan,” Tara said.

  The Baerinese scout stood towering three feet over Tara, but a head shorter than General Demos. “Two Navy ships approach our position my lady. They’re waiting just beyond the tip of this peninsula. But, the city of Ripool sleeps.”

  “Did you see any soul knights aboard either ship?”

  “I’m sorry my lady, the ship’s decks carried few lights, and I couldn’t determine the nature of the enemy raiding party.”

  Tara gave the scout a brief nod. “Thank you Stefan. You’ve done well. Continue your patrol and inform me of any changes.”

  “Yes, my lady.” The scout bowed low and hurried across the icy deck. He climbed aboard the draco’s saddle, and his thin lips parted, revealing jagged rows of sharp yellow teeth. A low rumbling hiss escaped the scout's mouth. The draco let loose a high-pitched squeal before flapping its long leathery wings and climbing into the night sky.

  “General Demos, ready your squadrons,” Tara said. “I’ll need them in position as we round the cape.”

  General Demos bowed. “Yes mistress. Should I tell the captain to alter our course?”

  Tara smiled. “No Gregor. Tell the captain to slow as we round the cape. Just have your teams ready.”

  General Demos bowed before descending narrow wooden stairs set near the ship's bow.

  Ahead, the peninsula’s rocky finger appeared. Thick layers of slushy ice coated a thin strip of black jagged rocks.

  As Tara ordered, the Damocles slowed. A half-dozen oil lamps hanging near the ship’s bow creaked on rusty hinges swaying with the change in speed and course.

  If Elan had made a different choice, they could’ve changed the world, but his path didn’t include Tara. He’d made that clear. Elan’s path saw him bond with the conniving Earth Mother.
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  Slow heat simmered in the pit of Tara’s stomach. How she wished she had the chance to taste Lora’s soul. She and Elan could’ve ruled life and death in a way the creators never intended. They could’ve forged a power the world had never seen. But, he couldn’t overcome his antiquated morals and ethics. Maybe she’d asked too much of him. Maybe she could persuade this Ronan Latimer instead.

  The frigate rounded the rocky tip and the hull’s wooden boards groaned. The port side oars paused above the choppy sea. The starboard oarsmen cut a trench through the water pivoting the frigate eastward.

  Tara embraced the source of magic rooted inside her body and tapped into a small vein. She would need her power during the coming hour and resisted an urge to fill herself. Without a fresh supply of souls, her power would fade and she’d grow weaker.

  She’d have time to gorge on the infinite feast of unprotected souls awaiting her in Freehold. With so much power, Elan, Lora, and Trace combined couldn’t stop her. But, right now, she would conserve her strength.

  The Damocles rounded the peninsula and set a slow eastward course toward Ripool.

  Tara could taste the souls awaiting her in the port city ahead. Would Ronan find her in Ripool? Had he planned some elaborate trap? Facing him now, before he came into his power, might provide a higher chance of success. Better now than later.

  She recalled the ancient notes that she and Elan had translated. Gabriel’s notes hinted at true power beyond any Elan and she had unlocked. Had this boy-king tapped into that vein? If he had, he might understand magic’s raw essence in a way she never could. If he had discovered Gabriel’s power, could he help her? Would he help her?

  Tara’s stomach fluttered. Chasing impossible dreams wouldn’t serve her. Not with so many Baerinese souls depending on her.

  Dozens of oil lamps littered the decks of the Meranthian war cutters waiting in the waters ahead. A beacon of white-hot soul light moved along the starboard side of the nearest vessel and stopped amidships.

  Tara shielded her eyes as the knight’s aura gleamed against the pitch-black sky.

  Thirty yards away, a knight aboard the Meranthian naval ship amplified her voice. “Stand down your oarsmen and prepare for boarding.”