King Of Souls (Book 2)

by Matthew Ballard

  The dead guard stood and grabbed the sword he’d discarded moments earlier while still alive. Black mist blossomed from his skin’s pores and thickened twisting around his body in a vapor-like mist. With speed and ferocity unreachable during his life, the former guard flashed his blade downward. It sank into the second guard’s spine who cowered on the ground nearby.

  A shriek of pain came an instant later, and the guard’s body sagged, his soul slipping free of his flesh.

  Tara collected the untethered soul and added it to her growing power base. She ordered him to rise granting him a dark soldier’s power.

  Around the courtyard, fighting raged, but its result no longer remained in doubt. Tara’s dark soldiers hacked and cleaved the living harvesting fresh souls in their wake.

  As flickering gray light appeared in the dark soldier’s mist, Tara converted each soul to a dark soldier or a souleater.

  Along Bawold's ramparts, dead archers, reborn as souleaters, rose and waited Tara’s command.

  Already armed with longbows, Tara’s new pets could deal quick death from three-hundred yards. With a thought, she entered a souleater’s body who stood near the shield knight still arguing with Captain Redford.

  “Order those boats to turn about captain, or I will,” Devery said.

  Captain Redford’s face flashed red with fury. “You don’t have the authority, and I won’t order my warships to open fire on our own soldiers!”

  “Our men are dead captain,” Devery gestured toward the ramparts. “Those abominations have replaced them!”

  Captain Redford stiffened and tugged the bottom of his uniform jacket. “I refuse to believe we’re dealing with anything more than a few rogue villagers who played dead.”

  “You’re an idiot.” Devery whirled his stallion about. He charged along a row of shielded soldiers crouched a hundred yards from Bawold’s gates. “I want any soldier equipped with a bow to arm themselves with fire shot.” He raised his hand glimmering with blue energy and pointed toward the ramparts. “Target those archers.”

  Tara’s mind flashed with panic. Her power had grown, but fire would drop her pets where they stood. She held control of Bawold by the thinnest of margins. What if the soul knight ordered the stronghold burned?

  An acne-faced marine no older than eighteen turned a nervous expression on the soul knight. “Sir, with all due respect, my friends are lining those walls. You expect me to kill them?”

  “They’re no longer your friend’s private,” Devery said. “Every man standing above those gates is dead. You’ll be doing them a favor.”

  Tara ordered her souleaters manning the ramparts to open fire on the soldiers under the soul knight’s command.

  Down the line, Tara’s archers pulled free arrows from their quivers. Each souleater flattened his hand and black ooze bubbled upward pooling in his palm. They smeared steel arrowheads through the sticky black acid and the metal tips sizzled and smoked in protest.

  The archer nearest Tara raised his longbow, aimed, and loosed an arrow followed by every souleater down the line.

  Arrows rained from the walls streaking trails of inky black smoke toward Devery Tyrell and his infernal shield. A half-dozen arrows sailed long while three others found their mark. The arrows lodged in Devery’s spirit shield, and dark acid chewed holes through its outer shell. Three gaping holes formed, and the wooden shafts burned away clattering to a stop near Devery’s feet.

  The knight’s blue soul thread flared as he channeled Elan’s cursed magic repairing the damage.

  Five more arrows struck the knight’s shield ripping open fist-sized holes. Black acrid smoke curled skyward.

  The acne-faced private nearest the soul knight leaped in front of Devery. A souleater’s arrow struck the soldier’s spirit shield opening a wide hole. Three more arrows followed close behind. Each passed through the hole before slamming into the soldier’s chest, shoulder, stomach.

  Black acid sizzled burning through his armor before finding his flesh beneath. The soldier screamed staring wide-eyed at a six-inch hole forming a gaping pit in his stomach.

  Tara’s heart leaped with triumph. Not even a white soul knight’s magic could heal damage inflicted from three soul eaters. She ordered her pets to reload and fire.

  “Fall back!” Devery motioned toward Ripool’s dock ordering a full retreat.

  The next seven arrows fell short of the soul knight’s shield striking instead the cobbled path. Black acid ate holes through stone and mortar. Thick oily smoke curled from a dozen spots beneath the ramparts where death acid burned filling the air with inky black clouds.

  The Meranthian soldiers scrambled to their feet while Devery kept his gaze trained on Tara’s archers. His palm flashed with blue energy, and the shields surrounding the retreating soldiers blazed. The soul knight’s black stallion spun, snorting and bucking until the last soldier fell back.

  Two more acid laced arrows connected with the rear of the soul knight’s shield opening smoking six-inch holes.

  Tara’s stomach heaved. She couldn’t let him escape. With a thought, she occupied the largest souleater’s body and took control of his actions. In a blur of motion, she pulled free a fresh arrow from the souleater’s quiver and smothered its tip in a coating of sizzling black acid. Tara readied her shot, drew the bowstring taut, and loosed the arrow.

  A greasy smoke trail raced from Bawold’s walls and streaked toward Devery Tyrell. The souleater’s arrow found the hole in Devery’s shield, and with a sickening thud, the arrow struck home.

  The soul knight jerked atop his mount. He screamed reaching for his left leg while the death acid ate through the chain mail protecting his calf. Devery's black stallion never wavered. The beast galloped ahead carrying Devery clear of the souleater’s bow range.

  Tara’s head buzzed as she tracked the struggling knight toward the dock. Did the arrow cripple him? Left untreated the wound would kill him. She hadn’t noticed any soul knight’s bearing white magic. Had she won?

  Captain Redford strode along the wharf shouting orders to the warships pulling free of the docks a dozen yards away. He boarded the squadron’s flagship docked off the pier’s end, and two sailors pulled the gangway clear behind him.

  At the harbor entrance, Devery leaped from his saddle and crumbled to the ground writhing in agony. The souleater’s acid opened a wide hole dissolving flesh, muscle, and bone. Devery yanked the arrow from his calf and tossed it aside. A flash of concentrated blue spirit energy rode his fingertips, and he reached for his leg.

  Tara’s brow furrowed and she stared at the floundering soul knight. He couldn’t remove the souleater’s acid. Nothing could. What did he hope to do?

  Blue light flashed, and Devery’s fingertips hovered over the smoking wound in his calf. As his hand moved away, a knot of blue spirit energy glowed in the hole while trails of gray smoke curled from the wound’s edges.

  Tara’s mouth hung open stunned at the knight’s feat. He’d crafted a bandage using his spirit magic, but how?

  A fresh shield appeared around the soul knight and he stood favoring his good leg and limped toward the harbor waving his arms.

  Three marines near the soul knight offered him aid, and a young naval officer saluted his approach.

  Devery gestured toward the warships slipping further into the harbor. He turned and pointed toward Tara standing atop Bawold’s central seaside tower.

  The naval officer nodded pointing at Bawold before offering Devery a hurried salute. He sprinted along the harbor’s pier shouting orders at the three warships still within earshot.

  Tara’s stomach twisted as she tracked the young officer’s movements. With Ripool in her grasp, she needed to save General Demos and the Damocles. If the Meranthians destroyed the Damocles, she’d couldn’t escape Ripool by sea.

  Three of the four warships reversed course and spun turning their starboard sides toward Bawold. Sailors scrambled aboard their decks aimed heavy iron catapults toward the stronghold’s towe
ring walls.

  Tara ordered two dozen dark soldiers into Bawold’s towers spreading them among the ballista.

  Dark soldiers scrambled across the courtyard toward doors leading to Bawold’s three seaside towers.

  Tara ordered the souleaters to turn their longbows on the living still fighting inside the courtyard.

  In Ripool’s harbor, smoke curled from a sailor’s torch aboard a Meranthian warship. He scuttled across the ship's deck and laid the torch against a black sticky resin ball resting in the catapult’s bucket. It ignited sending orange flames and greasy black smoke skyward.

  A hive of sailors scrambled aboard the warships’ decks. They repositioned heavy catapults aiming them toward Bawold Stronghold. All nine catapults carried loads of burning pitch.

  Inside the courtyard, Tara’s pets slaughtered soldiers rushing from the barracks and armory.

  Many souls still lived inside the stronghold’s bowels, but Tara would have them all given time. Hundreds of souls, maybe a thousand, would create a formidable army.

  Tara’s gaze flickered toward the fourth ship racing toward the harbor’s exit. Blood rushed to her head, and she fought rising panic. The fat captain meant to attack the Damocles.

  She shifted her gaze to the catapults lining the warship’s decks.

  The soul knight appeared ready to take every life inside the stronghold including its women and children. Tara ordered dark soldiers to aim and fire ballista on the Meranthian flagship. She ordered the remaining ballista to open fire on the three warships moored in the harbor.

  The nearest Meranthian warship released a salvo of burning pitch skyward. A smoldering ball of orange and red flame smeared a greasy arc of black smoke across the gray morning sky. It rose high above Ripool’s shipyard and dock set on a collision course for Bawold.

  One by one, eight more catapults’ launched fresh payloads of burning tar toward the stronghold.

  The first flaming ball appeared above the stronghold’s outer walls and Tara's skin crawled.

  The bitter stench of burning tar curdled her nostrils and Tara braced for impact.

  Bawold’s heavy ballista fired on the Meranthian warships. With inhuman speed and quickness, Tara’s dark soldiers reloaded each ballista.

  A sickening whistling sliced the air over Bawold’s courtyard. Burning tar exploded against the courtyard’s cobblestones. Sticky burning chunks of tar sprayed in every direction igniting the mess hall and barracks. Hot resin ripped through the Porthleven villagers standing near the stronghold’s rear wall. Their clothing and flesh erupted in flame yet they continued to fight.

  Burning tar splattered the backs of two dark soldiers and a souleater lighting them up like dry kindling in a wildfire. Glowing pitch spread like hot wax melting away dead muscle and sinew.

  A second tar ball whistled overhead and exploded against a nearby barracks rooftop. Hot tar pocked the wooden shingles igniting flames over a thirty foot area.

  Three more balls of burning pitch slammed against the outer wall. Hot death splattered in a wide arc torching the archers lining the ramparts.

  Tara ordered her minions to grab any container that might hold water and begin dousing the spreading flames.

  Dark soldiers fired a dozen ballista flinging iron shot across Ripool’s harbor.

  Burning pitch hammered the central tower just beneath Tara. A fountain of red-hot resin poured over the parapet’s lip igniting the ballista and dark soldiers manning them.

  Tara screamed leaping backward. She covered her face as globules of tar screeched overhead igniting the tower’s wooden roof.

  Flames engulfed the ballista and consumed the dark soldiers tending them. Their flesh and muscle melted while they stood motionless awaiting Tara’s next command.

  Tara scrambled toward the ladder descending from the burning tower. She ripped open the trapdoor and scrambled downward taking the ladder two rungs at a time.

  Hot tar skittered over the tower’s wooden floor, and a shower of sparks followed Tara down the ladder. A smoldering ember caught and tangled in Tara’s long auburn hair as she continued scrambling downward.

  The stench of burning hair sent a rush of panic through Tara’s mind as her feet touched the tower’s second floor. She twisted in circles swatting at the flame spreading through her hair.

  The ember faded to a smoking black chunk as it flew from Tara’s hair leaving behind a singed patch of black ends.

  Tara flung open the tower door and ran across the ramparts above Bawold’s outer gates. Before her, dark soldiers moved in a blur of motion reloading three ballista spaced ten-feet apart.

  Two glowing red orbs streaked across the wall and exploding against the ballista six-feet in front of Tara.

  Tara leaped backward and ducked inside the tower cowering behind its thick stone wall. A few seconds later silence fell, and she stumbled through the door and gasped.

  Three ballista lay in smoldering ruins. Nothing stirred along the empty thirty foot wall.

  In the courtyard, liquefied pools of greasy tar burned unhindered. Souleaters and dark soldiers fought the spreading flames. They carried water from the stronghold’s well in a useless effort to contain the disaster.

  Tara’s mind went numb as she stumbled across Bawold’s walls. The stronghold stood in ruins, and her pet’s mangled bodies lay in ashen heaps. How many pets had she lost? She dropped to her knees and glanced toward the harbor.

  Blue spirit flashed from Devery Tyrell where he stood near the docks. But his face had turned from Bawold, and he, instead, gazed across the harbor.

  Tara’s heart soared with triumph as she followed the knight’s gaze.

  All three Meranthian warships stood in flames as they sunk beneath Ripool’s harbor. Gaping holes poured smoke from the ships’ hulls. The pitch aboard their decks had overturned igniting the ships in orange flame. Sailors leaped from the burning ships into the harbor’s frozen waters.

  Near the harbor’s mouth, the Meranthian flagship sailed onward untouched by the ballista attack.

  Tara gasped, pulled herself up, and leaned against the blackened parapet. Her dark soldiers’ ballista attacks had fallen short.

  Aboard the flagship's deck, sailors turned ballista away from Bawold’s crippled defenses. They aimed their weapons further out across the harbor. Their weapons fired, sending streaks of orange flame racing across the harbor.

  A sickening nausea twisted Tara’s gut, and she locked her gaze on the Damocles’s smoldering carcass. Against Tara’s orders, General Demos had brought the ship into Ripool’s harbor. He’d come to save her. Hot tears streaked Tara’s cheeks as she watched powerless to intervene.

  Aboard the sinking Damocles, Baerinese sailors retaliated. They fired a blistering salvo of fire shot from their own ballista. The attack landed a scoring hit on the Meranthian flagship's broadside.

  The decks aboard Captain Redford’s ship erupted in flame. Both ships burned unfettered sinking into Ripool’s half-frozen harbor.

  Tara watched horror-struck unable to turn her gaze away as the battle’s final move played out.

  Overhead, a great bird of prey streaked past before landing beside Devery. The bird shape-shifted into a human before exchanging a few quiet words with the soul knight.

  Devery spoke with a young naval officer near the shipyard. He gestured toward Ripool’s city gates that led through the mountains deeper into Meranthia.

  The officer gathered the small handful of Bawold’s survivors and formed ranks. The soldiers marched along Ripool's empty streets. They passed Bawold's burning husk, and left the city through the open gate.

  Tara remained hidden too sickened to oppose the soul knight’s retreat. She still controlled many dark soldiers and souleaters, but she needed time to think and regroup. She didn’t know how to capture Meranthia without General Demos.

  As the Damocles sank, Lora’s child shape-shifted into a pitch-black bird of prey. The soul knight limped toward the bird with agony etched on his face. He climbed
atop the bird, flicked his wrist, and surrounded them both with a shimmering blue sphere. The bird lifted off, leaving Ripool empty and alone.

  Tara collapsed and leaned against the stone wall. She buried her face in her hands and wept while the blue knight’s shield faded into the gray morning sky.

  A Grim Discovery

  Danielle ducked beneath a thick root hiding amid the hallway’s murky shadows. A few minutes earlier, she’d almost fallen down a shadow-strewn stairway. She’d never considered herself graceful, but something felt off.

  In the past two days, the natural glow illuminating the heartwood’s root system had dimmed. Dark shadows tripped over winding stairs and sloping tunnels.

  Danielle loosened the straps on her leather pack, flipped open its soft cover, and peered inside. She pushed aside a dark wool blanket and gazed on Lora’s Sphere. They'd almost made it to Elan's Gap. In a couple of more hours and they would enter Meranthia.

  Green and red light flickered against the root walls chasing away the shadows.

  Danielle pulled the blanket over Lora’s Sphere. She tied closed the leather pack’s cover leaving the group shrouded in a veil of shadows.

  “Why do you insist on looking at that ball every ten minutes?” Keely said. “We’ll get it to Elan’s Gap in one piece. Stop worrying so much.”

  “It’s not that Keely. It’s the heartwood trees that have me worried,” Danielle said.

  “What’s wrong with the trees Your Highness?” Jeremy said. “This section of the forest hasn’t yet come under attack.”

  Danielle nodded. “That’s what’s bothering me. And please Jeremy, just call me Danielle. I think you’ve earned the right. We’re friends aren’t we?”

  Jeremy blushed dropping his gaze. “Of course. It’s just…well…you’re a royal princess, and I’m just a knight.”

  “When we’re alone, just pretend I’m Ayralen the same as Keely. Okay?”

  Keely barked out a short laugh. “I don’t think Jeremy’s ever looked at you like just another Ayralen Danielle.” A lopsided grin twisted her lips.