Sapphire of Souls (Fantastica Book 2)

by M. R. Mathias

  She didn't understand magic or what was directing her, but she knew it was right. She felt the soothing comfortable power of the jewel sheltering her as she walked and waited amid the brutal violence happening around her.

  More than once, a concerned warrior tried to snatch her up and carry her to safety, only to be hacked down at her feet or swept away in a surge of charging men and horses. Once, she had to run away from a man who was trying to get his blood drenched hands on her. He fell with several arrows sprouting from his back, and Chureal sent him to his death with a touch so that his pain would end.

  More than anything, she wished her dress hadn't been ruined for it was the only thing of her mother she had left. Her mother made it for her in the spring, and she remembered walking through a lush meadow full of bright-yellow blossoms and purple spotted mushrooms while her mother sang and silly old Jester barked and yipped at some elusive butterflies that managed to stay just out of his reach.

  While trying to hack each other to pieces, the soldiers parted way for her, and through a gap, she could see the sun setting behind the lone mountain of Ormandin. The sun caused its silhouette to look flat like a painting, but she knew it was round and sloping. They called it the Earth Tower, and it rose out of the sparsely wooded plains like a giant cone.

  Blue and orange flashes of wizard’s fire and yellow strobes of summoned lightning became visible now that they weren't consumed by the sun’s more powerful light. As dusk crept over them, all the sound of steel on steel became more chilling. Every now and then, a flash of lightning would illuminate the bloody grimaces and scowls of the combatants near her. When a stream of fire shot from a wizard's hand, through the lines of soldiers, it reflected orange off their shiny armor. Each of those scorching blasts set ablaze half a dozen men or more and burned for long terrible moments while they ran screaming or fell to the ground.

  Chureal tried not to watch the men die, but it was hard to avoid looking when someone was screaming so horribly and pleading to the gods for mercy. She'd learned the hard way that not even the power of the amulet she wore could help these burning men, for what its magic healed would still be on fire and only burn again. The stuff could not be extinguished, not with dirt or water. It had to burn itself out and would spread to any who touched it.

  Chureal's skin turned to gooseflesh. Whatever was coming was here, and when night suddenly turned brighter than day, not so far in front of her, the entire field, even the wounded, fell silent.

  At the center of this new source of light was the head of a giant red snake. Standing in its wide-open mouth, all wet and dripping and looking as confused as everyone else, was a young man who had an amulet around his neck that was exactly like hers.

  Braxton was awestruck. The jewel in his medallion was radiating light with such an intensity that the strange looking men staring dumbly back at him were washed of all color. He had no idea where he was. Only moments ago, he'd been standing neck deep in the water, focusing on the jewel in the void. He'd tried to transport himself from the water to the shore near Nixy, but it appeared he'd moved a little bit further than he intended. If he wasn't still dripping wet and standing in the mouth of the snake that was about to swallow him, he might have thought that not only had he changed places, but maybe times as well. Back at the lake, it had been a little after dawn, yet here, the red moon was high over the horizon in a position that he'd never imagined it could be. Its angry, swirling glow was so close he thought he might be able to reach out and touch it.

  He looked down and saw he was still standing with his boots on either side of the giant snake's pink forked tongue. A glance over his shoulder revealed a fang as long as his arm and that the snake’s body was no longer attached to the head. The enormous serpent’s length must be back in the lake.

  He might've pulled the hair from his head and started running away were it not for the sight before him. A war was raging, though all those fighting had stopped and were staring and the bright light radiating from the jewel at his neck.

  As if an answer to the dozen questions that ran through his mind, the medallion’s radiance narrowed into a tight beam. Slowly, the circle of light swept across the confused faces of the men staring at him. It came to rest on a blood-drenched little girl. She turned and started running toward him. Bouncing beneath her tear-filled expression was a medallion seemingly identical to his.

  Her steps quickened as she neared. When she was close enough, she leapt. Instinctually, he caught her in his arms, and as he cradled her, she broke into a fit of sobbing despair. This scared little girl was exactly that. She was just a scared little girl, and in the back of Braxton’s mind, the jewel was telling him he had to protect her.

  With a thought, the glowing beam disappeared completely, leaving everyone save for Braxton flash blinded. He held the girl tightly to him and ran toward the forest that skirted the edge of the battlefield. As he ran, he reached for the jewel in the void and found it was already there. He knew he had to get back to his companions before those winged rodents killed them. He tried to do what he'd done to come to this strange place, but all that he accomplished was to send out another blinding streak of light, only this one was hot and crimson and it ripped through everything in his intended path like a giant plow. All he had left to worry about was his footing.

  The girl was clinging to him, still sobbing. Her frail little body trembled, and Braxton had to remember not to squeeze her too tightly for fear of hurting her. Behind, he heard the battle resuming. He saw flashes of blue lightning reflected off the leaves of the trees in front of him. He tried again to do whatever it was he'd done at the lake that landed him here, but nothing changed.

  He felt more than saw a dark robed man who appeared out of nowhere in front of him. Luckily, he was wholly in the void, and he slowed to a stop before the strange looking figure at the edge of the trees.

  "Who are you?" the man in the robe asked cautiously. His accent was odd, but the words were understandable. "From where do you come?".

  "I'm Lord Braxton," Braxton answered sternly. "Now step away before I'm forced to bring you harm."

  The man stepped aside with a confused look on his old face. His shoulder length hair was silver-gray and his beard was long and thin. He had deep black eyes that were like pools of liquid.

  "From where do you come?" the old man asked again as he followed Braxton into the trees. "Your accent is strange and your arrival, well, that was nothing less than spectacular."

  "I'm from the kingdom, and I mean to return immediately to where I just was." Braxton had to fight to keep the branches he was cutting through from scratching the crying girl, and it took all his concentration to keep himself in the void while doing so.

  "Which kingdom?" the old man asked. "You're not from Ormandin or Pelania. If you were, I would've heard of you."

  Braxton could tell that the man wasn't going to leave him be, and the girl was growing heavy in his arms. He found a fallen trunk and sat down, gently cradling her in his lap as he did.

  "The Kingdom of Narvoza." Braxton looked at him, understanding something he hadn't until that moment. "And where am I now?"

  "I've never heard of Narvoza, but there are many lands I’ve yet to see." The old man forced the corner of his mouth to curl in a smile. "You, young wizard, are in the Kingdom of Ormandin, or maybe Pelania, depending on which side of this war you are on."

  "I'm not on any side of any war. I came here by accident, trying to escape a giant snake."

  "Yes," the old man put his hands on his hips. Braxton noticed the robe the man wore was very much like Debain's. "It seems that you brought part of the snake here with you." The old man chuckled. "That's a very clever way to relieve a snake of its head."

  The old man cocked his head as if he could hear something Braxton couldn’t. With a disappointed look on his face, he said, "Well, Lord Braxton of Narvoza, I regret that my king is calling me." He extended a hand for Braxton to shake. "If you are ever in Ormandin again, I would love to s
peak with you about Narvoza. Just ask for the high wizard."

  Braxton reluctantly shook his hand. "What is your name, high wizard?"

  "My name is Jorvan." With a flash of sparkles and a puff of smoke, Jorvan was gone.

  Again, Braxton tried to send himself and the girl back to the Wilderkind Forest, but nothing happened. The girl stirred in his arms, and the now familiar sensation of the jewel's power began to tingle through his veins.

  She pushed herself far enough away from him to get a good look. He saw that her eyes were deep blue and she had a smattering of freckles across her nose under all the blood.

  "You're all wet," she said in the same strange accent the old man had spoken with. She reached over and touched the claw wound on his shoulder with her fingertip, and he felt the slight pain he’d been feeling fade. Then, with the back of her hand, she wiped some clear mucus from under her nose and sniffled. "What took you so long to get here?" she asked.

  Braxton didn't really know how to answer her question, so he didn’t. Instead, he set her down, pulled his wet pack from his shoulders, and after a few panicky moments, when he thought Taerak's journal might have been ruined by the lake water, he found it safe, still wrapped in its oil cloth. He then took one of his extra shirts and gently wiped the dirt and grime from the girl's face.

  "My name is Braxton, but you can call me Brax," he said, handing her a piece of dried meat and his water skin. He had to make a conscious effort to keep his confusion and the rising panic of not being able to return to his friends from showing.

  "My name is Chureal Solace," she said shyly.

  It was clear she'd been through a lot, and since she was wearing one of two other jewels like his own, she probably had quite a bit more to go through, so he said the only thing that he thought might cheer her up.

  "That sure is a pretty dress, Chureal." He pushed the dirty, honey-colored hair out of her eyes and was rewarded with a genuine smile.

  Chapter Twelve

  By the next morning, Nixy knew that none of the group's injuries were mortal. Vinston-Fret had regained consciousness and had a large purple bruise on his face. Big H had used the elven salve on his cuts, and they were looking much better. Nixy was pretty sure she was going to have to stitch at least one of them closed, along with Darblin's torn forehead. Suclair's head wound was more scratches and knots than anything, and Cryelos was already hobbling around on his swollen ankles, though his movement was nowhere near as graceful as usual.

  The winged creatures had roosted on the lake shore again, only this time further east of the spot Vinston-Fret was now calling their camp. Vinston-Fret and Suclair planned to go explore and Nixy decided to go with them, but everyone was forced to wait while she finished stitching up the dwarves.

  "Ouch! Me head's no pin cushion girl," Darblin complained, but only half-heartedly. Big H refused the needle and thread saying that a scar would only add character to his face. Nobody bothered to tell him that his face was already so gnarled that the scar wouldn’t even be noticeable.

  The mood was somber and grim. Long silences were only broken when Nixy sniffled or a sob escaped her. She knew Vinston-Fret only agreed to let her go with him and Suclair so she would have something to think about other than the loss of Braxton. In truth, she wanted to go search for signs of him. She refused to believe he'd been consumed by the lake creature. She'd seen him talk to a hawk, and he had healed a dragon. He’d even turned into a white hawk himself. Even still, her stubborn hopes for his survival weren't strong enough to overcome her sadness and doubt. She’d seen him go under with her own two eyes.

  Of the group, only Suclair shared hope for him. They all understood the risks of their quest, and though no one saw Braxton die, most of them saw the winged creature that crashed into the lake get eaten. Reason said he'd been eaten as well.

  Darblin and Cryelos both voiced their sadness over the loss and how fond they'd grown of the young man's sense of wonder. Suclair said she’d felt Braxton's magic expand, and then disappear completely, and she was pretty sure that it wasn't her head wound that caused her to feel it. She said if Braxton had been swallowed, she would've felt his power fade, not disappear in an instant.

  While Nixy was finishing up Darblin's stitching, Vinston-Fret climbed up to the top of a tree. When he returned, he told them he’d seen a large, snake-ish looking thing drifting motionlessly on the surface of the lake. What this meant, no one knew. He also said he saw a way to get around the few winged creatures that had roosted on the shore east of them.

  "All we need to do this morning is scout the area and make sure no more threatening creatures or natural phenomenon will surprise us while we spend a few days here healing."

  Nixy followed Suclair, who was following Vinston-Fret. They went west sticking to the edge of the tree line. There was a generous expanse of space between the shore and the trees, probably from where the lake level rose during the spring thaw.

  Only a few hundred strides from camp, they came across several sets of fresh tracks that led from the woods to the water's edge and back. At first, Nixy thought they might have been Braxton's, and she ran excitedly up to them only to be disappointed and unnerved when she saw they were not human at all, though they were quite human-like.

  Vinston-Fret examined them more closely and announced they were the tracks of wood trolls. He almost sent the girls back because of their freshness, but decided they might be safer sticking together because of just how recent they’d been made. Cautiously, he followed the trail from the water's edge into the forest. As they picked their way slowly through the trees, Nixy realized they were heading in a roundabout way right back to their camp.

  They came to a point where they could see the rest of their companions through the trees. It was disturbing and frightening. By the amount of smashed undergrowth, it was clear several trolls stood in that very spot, spying on them, not so long ago. The sudden cracking of a limb in the near distance caused Vinston-Fret to whirl toward it. Nixy gave Suclair a look that told her to be ready for anything.

  "They were watching us just this morning," the elf whispered to Nixy when she moved up close to his side.

  "How many do you think?" she asked softly. She'd spotted four sets of tracks and wanted to hear the elf's opinion because there could be more.

  "Four, I believe, but more of them probably stayed back so as not to make too much noise." His expression was grim. "In the sorry state our group is in, four wood trolls would probably make short work of us." He glanced toward the camp, and then back toward the sound. "When we get back, we should try to set up some defenses."

  "I know a few caravaneer tricks that will keep them from coming at us unannounced," Nixy said. "We might be able to modify some of them to do a little more than that."

  "Good," he whispered back. "Let's follow a little farther and see what we see. They might still be close."

  "We're right behind you." Nixy urged Suclair to go between her and Vinston-Fret. As she passed, Suclair tapped her on the shoulder.

  "What?" asked Nixy.

  "I'm going back to tell the others," Suclair said, looking more pale than usual. "I make too much noise out here."

  "Good idea." Nixy forced a grin through her sadness. "Tell them to be ready for anything, but try not to cause a panic."

  Suclair gave Nixy a gentle squeeze on the shoulder and a sympathetic smile before turning to leave. Nixy started to catch up with Vinston-Fret, but he stopped her. He stood and watched until Suclair made it all the way back to the others. Nixy noticed for the first time a look of something more than simple concern in his eyes.

  He is enamored with her, Nixy thought. No wonder he always put himself on watch with her. Then she realized she might have been intruding on something by coming with them. All of this only made her miss Braxton that much more. Still, there were trolls about. It wouldn't do to get killed by the mangy beasts, and then find out later that Braxton was alive. To complicate matters further, she was pretty sure she was with chil
d, so survival was high on her list of priorities, with or without Braxton in her future.

  Suclair stumbled awkwardly out of the woods into the camp, startling Cryelos and Big H. Nixy saw Vintson-Fret smile at her clumsiness. In order to keep her own thoughts from wandering too far, and to save herself from another teary outburst, she pulled on Vinston-Fret's sleeve.

  "Let's go, lover boy," she said. The elf didn't reply and couldn't hide the redness on his cheeks as he turned and sought out the troll tracks again. They weren't hard to find, and they led to an area he estimated was just out of earshot of their camp. The trolls had bedded there for the night, it was clear. What wasn't clear was why the trolls hadn't attacked them, or where they were now.

  "It looks like they're only following us," Nixy said.

  The elf nodded in agreement. "Our two days of rest has become one," he said matter-of-factly. "We can set alarms and traps and hopefully make it through another night. But then, we have to go before they get hungry and decide to feast on us."

  Nixy had another thought, something a little different than what the elf voiced. Maybe the trolls were waiting on reinforcements to arrive before they attacked, and about halfway back to their camp, she told him as much.

  "I didn't think of that. Maybe we should move farther down the shore?" He looked at her. "I will go alone and look for a better place. A place more easily defendable." Before she could protest, he held up a hand to stop her. "I can move a lot faster and quieter alone."