King Of Souls (Book 2)

by Matthew Ballard

  Ronan clung to Rika’s neck as he somersaulted across the sky.

  Rika’s wings caught air, and she stabilized hovering fifty feet above the spirit shield. “I can’t take much more. The shield’s holding but I’ll black out soon.”

  Ronan squeezed her shoulder. “Hang on a little longer Rika. I’m feeling better.”

  “You must act now,” Thoth said.

  “Thoth, I appreciate the pep talk, but I could use a few more concrete ideas.”

  Shedu pinned back his ears and rushed forward bridging the distance to Rika before bringing his tail around for a fresh attack.

  “Open your mind to Lady Rika, and find her soul thread,” Thoth said. “Draw on the human souls below, and I’ll guide you.”

  Trace’s herd grew closer to Rika and would arrive in seconds.

  Ronan found the aura surrounding Rika and opened his mind to hers.

  As the rust colored dragon swung its tail toward Rika, a massive red and black hawk appeared overhead like an avenging angel. The shaman riding atop the dragon stared wide-eyed at the looming war bird. The sorcerer pounded his command stick into the dragon’s flank oblivious to the impending attack.

  Ronan gasped, and the link connecting him to Rika scattered. “Father!”

  The sorcerer never saw it coming. Connal Deveaux sank his talons deep into the caster’s arm yanking him from the dragon’s back.

  Connal released the sorcerer dropping him into thin air. As the sorcerer fell, lightning arced from his finger and streaked toward Connal.

  A man with shaggy brown hair sat atop Connal’s back. Around his neck, an amulet like those worn by Obsith shaman, glowed a bright shade of blue. His palm flashed and a mirror-like surface appeared hanging suspended near Connal’s flank.

  The lightning bolt bounced from the reflective surface. Connal pitched right just missing the dragon’s snapping jaws.

  “Focus!” Thoth said through the mental bridge. “We have seconds before the entire herd is on you.”

  Ronan forced calm through his mind and found Rika’s soul pattern shining around her body.

  Two more war birds appeared above the turquoise dragon, Keely and Danielle. Before the sorcerer commanding the turquoise dragon could react, his chest exploded in a wash of blood. His face froze in a grim expression of pure shock while the spirit orb continued skyward and scattered.

  Knight Jeremy Brooks flashed a wide smile toward Ronan. He rode atop Danielle’s back clutching the pommel of a leather saddle with one hand. Whispers of spent spirit energy trailed from his upturned palm.

  Keely, flying in a gold war eagle’s form, lowered her head and slammed into the shaman’s back riding atop the turquoise dragon. The rider atop Keely, Kelwin Finn, pitched a handful of seeds into the shaman’s lap.

  The shaman screamed and pitched sideways hanging loose along the dragon’s flank. He scrambled to grab burlap restraints while thick vines sprouted and grew around his torso. Glistening black thorns, carrying enough venom to drop an adult ice bear, sank deep into the shaman’s body.

  The shaman screamed, and his eyes bulged. The vines constricted delivering toxin straight into his bloodstream.

  Ronan opened his mind to Rika’s, and a thick green cord appeared. But unlike earlier in the cemetery, thin wisps of white mingled with the dark green connection.

  Heat flashed across Ronan’s neck. Had he hurt her? What gave him the right to use and exploit her life force or anyone else’s? But, he couldn’t worry about philosophical arguments. Without his intervention, the herd would kill her within moments.

  Ronan traced backward the white wisps crisscrossing her aura.

  A white dot of swirling energy twisted and danced spinning in a cocoon nestled in Rika’s core somehow separate but also a part of her.

  Ronan’s eyes widened, and he almost dropped the bond he’d formed with Rika. A thin chill shuttled along his spine and broadened darting across his neck and back. “Rika, you’re pregnant!” Without thinking, he blurted out the words and immediately regretted them.

  Guilt transferred from Rika across their mental bond. “Yes, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before,” Rika said. “I was afraid you’d tuck me away in some corner like a porcelain doll.”

  He would’ve done just that. “And what’s wrong with that? I love you, and I love that child just as much. I don’t want to see either of you hurt.”

  Anger stirred replacing the guilt. “And I love you too dummy,” Rika said. “If something happened to you that I could’ve prevented, I’d never forgive myself.”

  A third presence broke the domestic standoff as Thoth spoke. “There’s no time for this bickering. Channel the soul threads now!”

  Ronan’s mind lurched as if Thoth had struck him. “Yes, I’m sorry.” He probed outward and found the soul threads glowing beneath Freehold’s giant spirit shield. Power, pure unchained and raw, filled his subconscious threatening to rip him apart. “Go!”

  Thoth spoke again using the bond. “Lady Rika, use your mind and find my essence. Bond with it. Hurry!”

  Rika’s mind moved across Ronan’s mental bridge, and she did as Thoth instructed. She gasped, and a feeling of awe filled the mental bridge. Rika didn’t hesitate and shifted.

  Power, greater than any Ronan could hold, flowed through him like a conduit. It entered Rika’s body fueling her transformation.

  “Leave the link open to the soul threads, and use the power Lady Rika,” Thoth said. “Fight!”

  A dragon, three times Shedu’s size, replaced Rika’s war hawk form. Gleaming ebony scales littered with silver flecks spread along her wings and body. Her tail bristled with needle sharp spikes.

  Rika turned her glowing silver eyes on the rust dragon nearest her. She roared with a sound so deafening it left Ronan’s bones vibrating.

  “Leave the dragons Rika,” Ronan said. “Find Trace.”

  Trace, Shedu, and over ninety dragons arrived circling Ronan and Rika. Danielle, Connal, and Keely fluttered near Rika’s broad flank.

  Ronan drew on a tiny amount of soul power. He surrounded his family and friends with shields thick enough to withstand any attack Trace could manage.

  As Rika turned her gaze on Shedu, she grinned bearing row after row of needle sharp fangs. Each tooth stood eighteen inches long and glistened with a fluid appearing more like lamp oil than saliva.

  Shedu balked pulling up inches short of Rika’s reach. Despite the sorcers assault with their command whips, the remaining herd twisted and fought. They refused to engage Rika in open combat.

  A mottled-brown juvenile dragon, the runt of the herd, wailed with a high-pitched screech. The sorcerer seated atop her beat the dragon mercilessly with his command whip.

  Ronan sipped at the soul power. He sent enough enhancement energy through his sheba blade to slice clean through a ten-foot thick granite slab.

  Fear, raw and foreign, touched Trace’s eyes as he launched gouts of flame from both palms.

  The flames licked Ronan’s shield without making a bare dent before scattering into nothing.

  Trace screamed as impotent rage boiled in his eyes. “You’ve no idea what you’re doing or the chain of events you’ve unleashed this day.”

  “Give me the bracelet,” Ronan said.

  Trace’s jaw dropped open, and he stared ahead wearing a blank expression. “No.” He choked on the word as he spoke.

  “Now!” Ronan said stretching out his palm.

  Trace opened a large crystal container fixed to Shedu’s saddle and reached inside. As he did, the charred edges of Ronan’s pack appeared.

  Ronan’s mind swirled. His eyes locked on his pack, the same one holding Elan’s Sphere. Trace had recovered his pack from the Laborer’s District before Ronan raised the shield.

  The Obsith emperor pulled out the heartwood sapling. The world’s last living heartwood tree and the lone hope for curing the plague ravaging the Obsith.

  “I’ll burn it!” Trace said as flames and smoke smoldered near
the crystal pot’s base.

  Danielle’s eyes blazed with fury, and she let loose an earsplitting screech. She beat her wings in a frenzy and burst forward launching herself toward the heartwood sapling.

  “Don’t come closer,” Trace said. He extended the sapling further pushing flames along the crystal pot until they licked its bottom branches.

  Danielle crested upward breaking off her assault before looping back near Rika.

  Ronan’s eyes flickered between the bracelet looped around Trace’s wrist and the sapling resting in his palm. Could he save both?

  Around Rika, dozens of dragons wailed. Their sorcerer handlers continued to assault them with their command whips.

  “They can’t hold back forever,” Thoth said through the bond. “If you don’t act, the compulsion will force them to attack.”

  Ronan’s gaze shifted between the bracelet and the smoldering tree. If the dragon herd broke loose he’d have no choice but to slaughter them, but could he? That members of his family or his cherished friends might die left his stomach churning. If he let Trace flee, he would combine the sphere’s power. Could he stop him afterward? Would Ronan hold any magic if that happened? “Rika, move six-inches forward,” Ronan said through the bond.

  Rika edged closer, and Trace’s eyes widened as fear washed over his face.

  The broad leaves on the heartwood’s lowest branches burst into flame.

  Danielle wailed turning tight circles with her eyes locked on the sapling.

  “Stop!” Trace said his voice heavy with desperation. “Allow me passage to Obsith, and you can keep the tree.”

  Ronan shook his head. “You’ve murdered thousands in the Heartwood, and I’ll not negotiate with a madman.” He channeled soul energy through his blade and swung with all the speed and power he could muster.

  Ronan’s blade flashed in a tight arc moving at a speed imperceptible to the human eye. A heavy metallic popping sound filled the air, and light exploded from Trace’s wrist.

  The bracelet shattered, breaking into a hundred separate pieces. Trace’s hand disappeared under Ronan’s blade.

  Trace stared slack-jawed at the cauterized stump where his hand had appeared moments earlier. His bracelet and his right hand vanished. The same hand where the heartwood sapling rested moments earlier.

  Danielle let loose a piercing wail before plunging toward the burning plant.

  The last of the great heartwood trees burst into flame and died before ever reaching the glowing dome fifty feet below.

  The sorcerers' crystal command whips hung limp and lifeless. But, they continued to beat the dragon’s flank with the effectiveness of a wet noodle.

  “Release!” Thoth said through the bond. “Praise be you Silver Soul!”

  One by one, dragons flashed glistening fangs toward their handlers. They rolled through the air bucking loose their unwanted riders.

  The rust colored dragon, Ronan’s mortal foe moments earlier, caught a draft of air and drifted upward opening his jaw wide. He drifted by a rose colored dragon shaking its body like a wet dog.

  The rust dragon scooped its jaw beneath a writhing sorcerer caught in heavy burlap restraints. The sorcerer’s command whip fell away. The dragon tipped his head back and bit down with a sickening crunch before swallowing the sorcerer whole.

  Ronan tapped the soul energy and channeled a detention shield around Trace. He left a heavy band of spirit tethered to the shield and yanked.

  Unable to resist, Trace’s body sailed free of Shedu’s saddle, and he swung like a rodent caught inside a translucent trap.

  Looming in the sky above, a great shadow appeared blotting the morning sun.

  Ronan craned his neck skyward and smiled.

  Moira descended and hovered before Shedu as the freed dragon herd buzzed around her swirling in a writhing mass.

  Shedu lowered his head as Moira’s enormous ivory body dwarfed him like a mother ready to scold her child.

  Ronan felt a presence, Moira’s he knew, press against his mind. “You can’t let him go free. Shedu was under no compulsion.”

  “We’ll find a fitting punishment for Shedu, but not until we’ve heard him out,” Moira said. “I can promise, he’ll pay for any crime he’s committed.” She turned her ruby gaze on Trace swinging in his crystal prison a dozen feet beneath Rika. “I might ask the same of him.”

  “I need him alive,” Ronan said. “He’s done this for some reason I can’t begin to understand. I need to find out why before he’s sentenced.”

  Moira tipped her enormous head forward nodding her consent. “I’ll return to the mountains with the herd, but I’ll be expecting you. There’s a great deal you still need to learn.”

  “Our troubles aren’t over. I still have Tara to deal with, and I need to find Devery Tyrell.” Ronan stared eastward as if he might find Tara and Devery buzz over the horizon at any moment.

  Connal Deveaux landed atop Shedu’s saddle while the dragon paid him no heed. He clutched the two leather packs in his talons and lifted off.

  “Can I call you using the statue?” Ronan said.

  “If you’ve need enough, yes,” Moira said. “Traveling becomes more difficult with every passing year. I’d urge you and Rika to make the trip to see me instead.”

  “Thank you Moira. For everything.”

  “You’re welcome Ronan, and congratulations to you and Rika,” Moira said. “She’ll need your help in the days to come.”

  Ronan’s face flushed. “You knew?”

  “Of course. I knew the moment I saw her. Don’t wait too long to find me. Okay?”

  “Yes ma’am. Thank you,” Ronan said.

  As Moira turned southward, the herd turned with her and followed in her wake.

  Ronan released Freehold’s spirit dome, and his eyes widened in astonishment.

  Ayralen and Meranthian citizens by the thousand flooded the snow covered streets. They turned joyous faces upward as they joined shoulder to shoulder cheering.

  Epilogue

  Snow, thick and unrelenting, continued its deluge over Ripool. Visibility had dropped to zero while the harbor had transformed, resembling a half-formed glacier.

  Ice boulders, clogging the harbor mouth, had spread to the shore. Ice ripped apart one of Ripool’s two major docks leaving behind icy splintered ruins.

  Tara moved from the great hall’s picture window. She eased into a wooden rocker near the meeting room’s massive stone hearth.

  Tara loved winter weather, and had missed it during her years in Baerin. General Demos didn’t like cold temperatures. Beyond that, his body couldn’t function with prolonged exposure.

  General Demos hoisted a four-foot section of charred timber and tossed it atop the already blazing fire. He settled onto a stone bench he’d dragged into the great hall from Bawold’s courtyard.

  “Have you heard from the scouts?” Tara said.

  General Demos shook his head without turning. “It’s going on three days since I last saw them. It’s possible the soul knight has captured them.”

  Tara nodded and stared into the spitting fire. “I’m sorry Gregor. I’m sorry for all that’s happened. I’d never imagined this disaster.”

  General Demos stiffened but kept silent. His unspoken words said enough.

  “I’d not expected finding a creature such as this Meranthian king,” Tara said.

  “We can take solace with the snowfall,” General Demos said breaking his silence. “The mountain is impassable, and the soul knight can’t bring his army until he’s cleared the pass.”

  Could she find a way? “Perhaps….” Her voice faded as she decided against sharing yet another fruitless idea with the Baerinese general.

  The great hall’s eight-foot iron door swung open. Gale force winds and heavy snow blew into the cavernous dining room.

  The Baerinese scout stooped and crossed under the doorway. He paused without bothering to close the door behind him. “General Demos come quickly!” The scout motioned toward the d
oor.

  The soldier hadn’t addressed Tara, but the general’s men rarely did. Tara stood and hustled behind General Demos who had already crossed half the room’s fifty foot span in three great strides.

  General Demos bent and crossed beneath the doorway before raising his arm to shield the blowing snow and ice.

  Tara secured her cloak and pulled tight her hood. She followed him through the stronghold’s snow-capped courtyard.

  The scout plowed through five-foot snowdrifts with ease before disappearing inside a guard tower.

  General Demos followed close behind and vanished through the tower’s burned doorway.

  Ten minutes later, Tara worked her way to the tower’s highest room. She found both the scout and General Demos staring across the ice packed harbor.

  “I found them a day and a half ago sir,” the scout said.

  General Demos smiled and squeezed the young scout’s shoulder. “Well done sergeant. Well done.” He laughed for the first time in weeks.

  Tara whirled and peered across the harbor’s icy surface.

  Ice heaved and cracked as a ship, five times larger than the Damocles, broke through the foot-thick ice like wet tissue paper. “Is that —?”

  “Yes mistress, that’s a juggernaut. Our juggernaut.” General Demos smiled. He stared at the pitch-black ship heaving and tossing through Ripool’s frozen harbor.

  The snow’s intensity faded revealing the harbor mouth and the open sea beyond.

  Tara gasped and squeezed General Demos’s wrist.

  In the still water trailing the juggernaut, ships by the score stretched in a single file line ending with the horizon’s dull gray edge. The Baerinese fleet had finally arrived in Meranthia.

  ***

  Ronan crossed beneath the palace library’s carved oaken archway and paused.

  Dry pine crackled in the hearth where a roaring fire spit embers into wisps of gray smoke before curling up the stone chimney. Crammed full, floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined three of the room’s walls. Nestled before the hearth, two leather armchairs sat beside a matching leather love seat.

  Across the room, Rika stared out a frost-covered picture window.