King Of Souls (Book 2)

by Matthew Ballard

  “I know —”

  “You know nothing!” Trace glared down his nose while contempt oozed from his face. “I unlocked Gabriel’s puzzle,” He flattened his palm against his chest. “I showed Elan and Lora how to structure soul energy. I showed them how to harness the human soul giving the spheres life. Now I’m the only one willing and able to combine the power of all three spheres.”

  “To what end?” Ronan said. “Clearly we’re no match for you. You don’t need the power.”

  Bellows of mocking laughter rolled from Trace’s throat, and he shook his head. “How I long for your naivete, but I can’t go back in time. I can’t erase what I know, and I don’t have the time nor inclination to give you a proper explanation.”

  “Time for what?” Ronan said.

  “As if you could understand, but I’ve lost my patience.” Trace thrust both palms forward, and a river of fire raced forward hurtling toward Ronan and Rika.

  Fire swept over Ronan and Rika’s shields eviscerating the thin spirit shield without mercy. Flames sprang to life torching Ronan’s tunic while Rika screeched her wings set ablaze.

  Rika peeled away from the emperor avoiding a flurry of lightning attacks from sorcerers overhead. Thick smoke curled skyward, and she fell unable to preserve flight.

  Ronan clung to Rika’s back and pulled on the last drops of power he had left to give. He channeled a mixture of shield and healing magic over their bodies.

  The flames died morphing into a greasy trail of black smoke marking their free fall toward Freehold burning below.

  Ronan fought against blackness creeping across his field of vision. He clutched the edge of Rika's collar with his fingertips and held tight.

  Weakened by fire, the straps securing the leather pack to Ronan’s shoulder snapped. Elan’s Sphere fell free and disappeared into a billowing smoke cloud over the Laborer’s District.

  Confusion numbed Ronan’s mind. He held Rika’s collar? Traced had knocked her from her eagle form. Had she died? As they plummeted, Rika’s body felt like dead weight beneath his grip. Ronan’s stomach dropped overwhelmed by the sickening sensation of falling.

  “No!” Ronan’s face went numb, and his adrenaline surged. Using his last shred of stored enhancement energy, he pulled Rika into his arms. He cradled her body while they plummeted toward the smoldering palace district below. Ronan channeled spirit drawing from an inner well that had run dry, but he had no choice.

  A thin shield sputtered to life surrounding them both in its protective cocoon.

  Flecks of blackness spotted Ronan’s vision, and he fought back nausea and encroaching darkness.

  An odd blanket of green leafy ground cover and deep snowdrifts flashed by and fifty feet below, the palace came into view. Ronan and Rika crossed over the citadel’s burning hulk belching fountains of black smoke skyward.

  Ronan crossed a dozen feet over the citadel’s roofline and twisted so his rear end might take the brunt of impact. He squeezed Rika’s limp body tight giving her all the protection he could muster.

  Ronan clenched his jaw and pressed his eyes shut as his body slammed into the ground.

  The dragons’ distant roars came muted beneath towering walls of snow circling Ronan. The spirit shield surrounding his and Rika’s bodies had disappeared, shattered by the raw impact.

  Ronan blinked afraid to move. Had he died? An odd sensation of warmth surrounded his body. He dared to glance downward and found a billow of raven dark hair spread across his chest. He’d managed to hold onto Rika, but she hadn’t yet stirred.

  He moved his right arm and pain rippled from his elbow through his back and along his right leg. Ronan drew on his energy reserves, but found only stark emptiness.

  Despite the pain throbbing in his arm, Ronan pushed himself up. He groaned as agony rolled over him like a pitch-black summer storm. His breaths came sharp and quick leaving behind shallow plumes of steam, but he kept one arm locked around Rika afraid to let her go.

  Trace’s fire attack had reduced Rika’s clothing to tatters. Bright red blisters covered the skin along her arms and legs. Deep cuts ran along her stomach, and her right eye had swollen shut.

  Ronan bent forward and placed his ear above Rika’s bloody swollen lips.

  Rika’s labored breathing came in short shallow pulls. In another few minutes, even Elan’s magic couldn’t save her.

  With a shaking hand, Ronan eased away a thick lock of hair splayed across her cheek. He clipped it behind her ear the way she’d done a million times. “That’s better isn’t it?” He said, his voice trembling.

  Rika didn’t respond.

  Ronan reached for Elan’s magic and felt his power stir but lacked the fuel to drive it. He’d give his soul to save hers, but he didn’t know how. Maybe Sir Alcott had seen him fall from the sky. His magic could save her. “Hang on just a little longer Rika, and I’ll find us help.” Ronan looked around him searching for any sign of life.

  Behind the citadel, a small cemetery reserved for the Order’s fallen commanders sat nestled in a grove of oak, alder, and elm. Ronan had landed inside a deep snowdrift resting against a polished headstone.

  He recognized the oversized gravestone standing beside his right hand. Ronan ran his shredded leather glove over the epitaph carved into the headstone’s granite face. He didn’t need to read the words, he’d written it himself.

  The words read, ‘One great man who changed the world.’ Beneath the epitaph, the name ‘Patron Tyrell’ stood etched in granite. Ronan had chosen granite for his master’s headstone. Granite embodied strength under pressure just like Patron Tyrell.

  “Thanks for breaking my fall Master Tyrell,” Ronan said. “You’ve always been there for me. Even now.”

  No sound broke the silence except for the whistling wind. It carried hints of smoke drifting from the citadel’s burning wreckage.

  “Why can’t I do the same for the people I love?” Ronan pulled free his glove and ran his thumb over Rika’s nearly frozen skin. “Master Tyrell, do you remember when I told you I loved her?”

  Ronan bent and pressed his lips against Rika’s forehead. “Well, I haven’t told a soul, but I had a ring made for Rika. And before you ask, I went to Master Goodie’s shop. Don’t worry.” A dull ache throbbed inside Ronan’s chest as he gazed into Rika’s face. “I planned to ask her hand in marriage the night of the season’s first big snow.”

  He pressed his lips together fighting off a rising wave of grief. “She’s never mentioned marriage, but I know how she feels about family. We had such plans.” His voice cracked over the final few words.

  Ronan pulled Rika into his chest and wrapped his arms around her body. He slipped free the tattered remains of his heavy wool cloak and covered Rika’s body. Using a light touch, he pressed his cheek against the crown of her head and held her close. Ronan closed his eyes and exhaled releasing a slow pain filled breath. “Rest, my love. Rest.”

  The wind stirred again. The fragrant aroma of orange blossoms replaced the expected stench of burning wood and plaster. Air, warm and welcoming, drifted over Ronan’s face. A moment later, it flitted away replaced by winter’s cold grip and the bitter smell of charred wood.

  Ronan snapped his eyes open and lifted his head peering around the empty cemetery.

  Nothing stirred. Even the shifting wind had faded leaving behind a welcome calm, but something undefinable had shifted. Reality had changed.

  Ronan’s head buzzed as he tried to pinpoint the alien sensation, but it lay just out of reach. He turned his gaze toward Rika and froze.

  A dark green aura of pure energy wrapped Rika’s body like a shimmering glove.

  Ronan’s heart pounded, and his head swam. In his limited time using magic, he’d never experienced anything like this. Recalling Moira’s words, he opened his mind to Rika. A twisting cord emerged from the dark green energy and attached itself to Ronan’s thoughts.

  The cord thickened twisting and dancing in the morning sunshine.

  Ro
nan eased his hand forward, and his palm hovered just above the writhing energy mass.

  Energy, pure and sweet, radiated from its surface leaving Ronan’s hand buzzing.

  Goose bumps rose on Ronan’s flesh, and he stretched his mind along the cord until he found Rika’s pure aura. Raw, unfiltered energy poured through his mind. It felt like Elan’s power but concentrated by a thousand fold. Ronan tapped a minuscule amount afraid using it would leave Rika unable to recover, but he had no choice. She’d die without his help.

  White flows of healing magic poured from Ronan’s palms. The energy flowed in waves across Rika’s body and in through her nose, eyes, and mouth. Twisting wisps of white seeped into her skin closing scrapes and cuts crisscrossing her body.

  Ronan turned the healing power on his own body weaving white flows across his back and breathing it through his nose. The pain in his body eased and disappeared.

  Rika’s eyes flickered, and she sat bolt upright gasping for air. With wild untamed eyes she jerked her head in every direction.

  Ronan disconnected his mind from the energy flows and slipped his hands over Rika’s shoulders. “Rika, it’s me. You’re okay.”

  Rika clutched Ronan’s hands and squeezed as if her life depended on it. “What happened?” She looked around the empty graveyard. “Where are we?”

  “We’re behind the citadel. Near Master Tyrell’s grave. A snowdrift cushioned our fall.” Had he damaged her using whatever strange power he’d channeled? “How are you feeling?”

  Her eyebrows furrowed, and she glared. “Feeling? I’m scared to death. How do you think I’m feeling?”

  Relief washed over Ronan. Whatever he’d done, she appeared her normal self. He reached for his power but found himself drained. Somehow he’d imagined the power would’ve restored his internal reserves.

  Rika stood, faced the citadel, and gasped as she took in the wreckage. She whirled facing Ronan. “We have to get back up there. We can’t let Trace get away with this.”

  Ronan shook his head. He wouldn’t use her soul energy again. What if he killed her? “I’m tapped out of energy Rika. If I channel another drop, I’ll collapse.”

  Her head pitched sideways, and her eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand. Look at you.” She ran her hands along her body. “Look at me. You’ve healed us both. Stop this nonsense.” She walked a dozen feet away and picked up Ronan’s sheba blade planted in a snowdrift beside a white marble headstone.

  Ronan didn’t know what to tell her. He didn’t know how he’d managed the feat let alone explain it to Rika. “I used what I think is your life force to heal us both.” His shoulders sagged. “I’ve no idea how I did it, but it just happened. I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry?” A broad smile spread across her face. “It’s like Moira said. You’ve unlocked something inside you Ronan. It’s wonderful!” She grabbed his hand and pulled him through the wrought iron door leading from the cemetery. “Use it again.” She stopped in a small clearing near the citadel’s rear wall and tossed him his blade.

  “But —” Ronan raised his hand trying to slow her down.

  “Since when does Ronan Latimer give up so easy?” Rika shifted into a jet-black war hawk and turned glaring yellow eyes on him. She shrieked a piercing cry that left no doubt where she stood on the subject.

  Ronan leaped and grabbed hold of Rika’s back.

  She took off in a burst clearing the citadel’s collapsed rooftop seconds later.

  Ronan shifted his consciousness and found the strange altered reality. Rika’s dark green aura appeared blazing with the same fury he’d seen in the cemetery. He tugged on a small thread and wove it into a protection shield and suppressed a gasp.

  The shield held three times stronger than anything he’d managed with Elan’s magic alone.

  Rika climbed, and the horde of dragons came into view. They swarmed across Freehold raining fire into homes and businesses along its entire perimeter.

  Over the Laborer’s District, a cluster of dragons circled an area heavy with black smoke and orange flame.

  “Elan’s Sphere fell somewhere over there.” Ronan pointed toward the dragon cluster.

  Without further prompting, Rika pitched left and climbed speeding toward the dragon cluster.

  Ronan peered over Rika’s side and gasped.

  Thousands of flickering lights appeared across Freehold. They shone through stone, smoke, and the earth itself. Dim gray pinpoints danced and hummed as if calling for rescue across a vast ocean.

  Ronan felt them buzzing below like a throng of fireflies at a midsummer festival. He recognized each light as a human soul. His mouth fell open, and he gawked, wondering about the possibilities. Would pulling on so many threads kill him? “Rika, hold still. I have an idea. If I collapse and fall, catch me.”

  Rika screeched in protest, but she heeded his call and beat her wings in rapid succession. She hovered in place seventy feet above the burning city.

  Ronan’s body thrummed as a cold chill swept along his spine. The boldness of his idea left his head spinning. “Here goes nothing.”

  Ronan opened his mind and reached for the threads.

  He wound them together, one thread at a time, crafting a thick gray rope. Thousands of thin soul threads, each a hair’s breadth, hung and shimmered as if waiting for his touch.

  Ronan held his breath and tugged. An ocean of power roared through the soul threads cascading in an infinite pool of pure energy.

  His eyes shot open, and he gasped. Exquisite beauty unlike anything he’d experienced filled his mind leaving him nearly overwhelmed. Faced with such beauty, he felt small and insignificant. “I had no idea…” His words trailed off as tears of pure joy formed at the corners of his eyes.

  Two dragons, noticing Ronan and Rika, broke from Trace’s cluster and flew toward them.

  Ronan channeled the combined energy of every soul within Freehold’s walls. His body blazed with blinding blue light. Spirit energy burst from every pore of his body racing outward like a million shooting stars.

  Rika screeched, and her body trembled beneath Ronan’s legs. But, she never wavered holding steady while blue energy raced across the sky.

  The approaching dragons roared and bucked unwilling to move closer to Ronan. Command whips appeared in the hands of their slave masters. Electricity snapped and cracked against their hides forcing them ahead.

  Ronan scanned Freehold’s skyline, and an idea tugged at his thoughts. He remembered words Moira spoke in the ice cave. She told him to look beyond using brute force. She said to look beyond the ordinary. Ronan smiled and nodded to himself. “Yes…that should do it.” His voice sounded thick and harsh in his ear as if the words came from a far older man’s tongue. A stranger’s voice.

  Ronan raised his arms skyward and focused the souls’ collective energy.

  A blue dome of pure spirit shimmered over Freehold’s skyline forming the largest spirit shield the world had ever seen. Thick enough to withstand a thundering dragon herd.

  Nausea slammed into Ronan like a stone fist doubling him over while a wave of dizziness set his head flip-flopping. “Rika, you have to move.” He fought for each word, his tone harsh and guttural.

  “Hang on,” Rika said, and she hammered down her wings darting thirty feet skyward.

  The dragons circling the Laborer’s District roared. Orange and red flame sprayed into the spirit shield covering Freehold. But, they might have more luck chopping down an oak tree with a butter knife. The flame attacks bounced away and disappeared.

  Sorcerers and shaman turned their raw power on the city’s shield. They sent waves of electricity, cold, and fire into the dome, but the shield held strong.

  Ronan clutched Rika’s neck pulling in ragged breaths. He opened his mind and reached for the soul threads hanging loose over Freehold. He found them but couldn’t find the inner focus needed to draw on their strength.

  Over the Laborer’s District, Shedu hurled his enormous bulk into the shield and let loose an ag
ony filled screech. He bounced from the spirit shield. The heavy scales covering his right shoulder glowed orange trailing curls of black smoke behind him.

  Across Freehold’s skyline, Trace’s entire herd turned and flew toward Ronan.

  “Ronan, look out,” Rika flashed upward as a turquoise dragon hurtled forward and snapped his jaws shut missing Rika by an inch.

  The sudden change in direction triggered a fresh wave of nausea, and Ronan struggled for breath.

  A vast presence pushed on Ronan’s mind, and he recognized Thoth’s calling. “Thoth, what’s happening?”

  “Silver Soul, you can’t use such magic without expecting consequences. Shedu has relayed the emperor’s rage,” Thoth said. “You’ll not survive the encounter unless you can find your focus.”

  “I can defend myself,” Ronan said.

  A midsized rust colored dragon changed course and slammed into Rika. She plummeted a hundred feet downward toward the looming spirit shield.

  Rika shrieked and beat her wings furiously trying to stabilize her flight pattern.

  “No!” Ronan’s body lurched, and he flailed sideways. His left hand slipped, and he dangled from Rika’s side clinging to her feathers with one hand.

  “This will not end well,” Thoth said. “You know little of containing such power. Think!”

  Ronan pulled himself onto Rika’s back while she found air beneath her wings. Using the soul threads, he could channel enough spirit to decimate the entire herd, but could he control it? He would destroy Freehold and wipe out an entire species. Thousands would die by his hand. “I’m open to suggestions.” Ronan scooted forward on Rika’s back and pulled in deep ragged breaths.

  A dozen feet above Rika, Shedu appeared and slammed his tail into Rika’s broadside. The force of impact sent Rika spinning end over end across the sky like a sparrow trapped in a tornado.

  “No matter your shield’s strength, Rika doesn’t have size enough to compete with Shedu. Once the herd joins in, she'll not last,” Thoth said. “A long fight will not end in your favor.”