Soul Siphon: Set includes four books: Midnight Blade, Kingsbane, Ash and Steel, Sentinels of the Stone (Soul Stones)

by T. L. Branson

  They stopped just a few hours north of the city. Far enough to avoid detection yet close enough to actually get some rest while darkness still reigned. They didn’t have much to steal, but the protection of the king was still paramount. Even so, only one guard sat on duty that night. They just didn’t have the manpower to run a proper watch of the perimeter.

  In the morning, they took a slower pace. They couldn’t afford to wear their horses out. Yet even at a trot they made greater time than if they’d walked.

  The king’s attention stayed on the path that lay before them. Bigsby and Geoffreys trotted side by side, chatting nonstop. Ocken took up the rear. He had hoped to speak with Khate and thought perhaps the long journey would provide some insight into her mysterious nature, but she rode ahead.

  At midday they reached the first fork. The westernmost route would take them to Havan, Sunbury’s closest trade partner. Relations between Sunbury and Havan had not improved in the past months, but neither had they worsened. Sunbury and Havan tolerated each other out of mutual necessity. Though they all had their suspicions that Havan was behind the attack that killed Drygo’s father some years ago, they had no actionable evidence. Alexander would cut ties if he could, but without proof, none of the other kingdoms would enact an embargo and thus the only kingdom that would suffer from cutting ties would be Sunbury.

  Khate was waiting for them at the fork, so they decided to break for their noon meal. Ocken pulled back on the reins, bringing his steed to a halt. After dismounting, they tied their horses to trees so they could graze.

  Moving into the tree line, they found a spot to set up a fire just a short distance away. Drygo stood back on the road, a map laid out over his saddle. Geoffreys and Bigsby went in search of firewood while Ocken had a seat on an old tree stump. Khate sat down next to him. She pulled a few carrots from a sack then tossed the sack at Ocken.

  “Care to be useful?” she asked.

  “Sure,” he said. “Let me get my knife.”

  “Never go anywhere without a knife,” she said. She pulled a spare blade from her boot and flung it end over end at Ocken. It impaled itself into the stump between Ocken’s legs.

  “If that had been a little higher…” he said, eyes wide.

  “If I wanted it higher, it would have been,” she said, her voice flat and even.

  “You don’t mess around,” Ocken commented.

  “No point. It’s easier that way.”

  Ocken wrenched the knife free and began cutting vegetables for their stew.

  “So… Khate,” he said.

  “Not interested,” she said.

  “I didn’t say anything,” Ocken said, taken aback.

  “You didn’t need to,” she explained. “You’ve been goggling me since we left.”

  “Perhaps I just wanted to find out more about you,” he said.

  “Perhaps you did, but to what end?” Khate asked. “Handsome guy wants to know more about a pretty girl, what else could he want?”

  “You think I’m handsome?” he asked, and heat rushed to his cheeks.

  She rolled her eyes and continued cutting her carrots.

  “Look, all I wanted was to know more about who I’m riding with,” he explained.

  At that point, Geoffreys and Bigsby returned, laughing at something.

  “Take these goons, for instance,” Ocken said to Khate, pointing his knife at them. “I’ve known these guys since they joined the guard ten years ago.”

  “And you’re better for knowing us, too,” Bigsby said.

  “He’s better for knowing me,” Geoffreys said, elbowing the big man.

  They laughed. Ocken ignored them and continued his conversation with Khate.

  “And the king,” he said, tilting his head toward the road. “He rescued me off the streets. Saved my life. My hand, anyway, and probably my life.”

  She looked up at him but didn’t stop her work.

  “But you…” Ocken said. “I know nothing about you. Well, that’s not true. I know loads about you, but whether it’s true or not…”

  “Half of it’s true,” she said.

  “And the other half?” he asked.

  She just shrugged.

  “Ocken!” Drygo called from the road.

  “Yes, sire?”

  “Come here, will you?” he asked.

  Ocken stood and flung the knife into the stump. It landed at a perfect ninety-degree angle in the center. He smirked at Khate as he left.

  When Ocken arrived beside the king, Drygo pointed to a place on the map.

  “We’ve got about a day’s ride to the gate,” he said, dragging his finger east to the towers at the base of the Frostpeaks. “Your brother is still stationed there?”

  “Should be, unless you changed his orders?” Ocken asked.

  The king shook his head. “I want you to talk to him. See if they’ll lend us some food. They won’t be receiving another supply drop for at least a fortnight and we didn’t have time to gather the proper supplies for this type of journey before we left.”

  “Why not—”

  The pounding of hooves caught their attention. A brown cloud rose up from the road to the south, back to Sunbury. Ocken stepped in front of the king. As it drew closer, they noticed it was a single rider.

  The rider wore a green cloak, the hood pulled low. Ocken couldn’t make out if the rider was male or female. The rider didn’t seem to be a threat, but neither was he slowing down. He passed them at a full gallop, not even bothering to glance in their direction. The rider clipped Ocken, bumping him into Drygo’s horse, which started and knocked him to the ground.

  Ocken hissed and spat a curse.

  “Idiot,” he said, climbing to his feet. “Did he not see us standing here?”

  Ocken brushed off his pants and turned his attention back to the king.

  “What was I saying?” Ocken asked.

  “Why not just command my army to feed us?” the king said, guessing at his question.

  “Right,” Ocken said, nodding.

  “Rudimentary politics. A request works better than a command,” the king explained. “And any request from me is going to sound like a command. Better if someone else asks. Plus, we’re asking them to ration their own supply and it’s best if one of their own suggests it.”

  “So you want me to pull Thren aside and convince him to suggest it,” Ocken said, filling in the pieces.

  “Seems like the best option,” the king said.

  “If you boys are done getting run over, the stew is ready,” Khate called out.

  ***

  Ocken had an upset stomach. He couldn’t figure out how Khate had botched a stew, but it hadn’t settled well. That made the next hour of riding all the more uncomfortable until they reached the second fork.

  Two roads lay before them, one to the north and another that branched to the east. If they continued north, they’d end up at Derton in about two days. But their road led east. This would take them straight to the Frostpeaks.

  Nobody ever took this road. Few traveled into the mountains and none ventured into the Wandering Wood beyond. So Ocken was quite confused when he saw an innumerable amount of hoofmarks leading down the eastern road from the north.

  He ran his hand along their path. Khate knelt down beside him.

  “Do you find this unusual?” Ocken asked.

  “What’s unusual about horses on the trade roads?” Khate asked.

  “It’s not the animal that concerns me but the number of them,” he said. “No one goes this way. It’s what I like about Thren’s assignment at the Eastgate.”

  “Change of the guard?” Khate posited.

  “Hmm… I don’t think so,” Ocken said. He looked over his shoulder at Drygo and asked, “When was the last rain?”

  “About four days ago,” Khate answered for the king.

  Still looking at Drygo, Ocken asked, “Have you ordered a guard change since then?”

  Drygo shook his head. “Even if I had, we d
on’t have any troops north of here. That’s Havan’s land.”

  “It’s probably nothing,” Khate said. “Just a caravan that got turned around or something.”

  “Still,” Ocken said. “Eyes open and ears on the wind.”

  “That’s cute,” Khate said, smirking.

  “It’s something my people used to say.”

  “Let’s get moving,” Drygo said. “I don’t like standing around. Not when my wife’s life is at stake.”

  “Yes, sire,” they all chimed.

  “And Khate…” the king said.

  “Your Majesty?”

  “Do as Ocken says, and be extra cautious, will you?”

  She nodded, mounting her horse. “H-ya!” she yelled as she urged her horse forward.

  The others followed in her wake. As the dust from Khate’s horse settled, the Frostpeaks came into view beyond.

  “Have you ever wondered why they call them the Frostpeaks?” Bigsby asked. “There’s not a drop of frost on them.”

  “You’ve never been to Celesti, have you?” Geoffreys commented.

  “No. Why?” Bigsby asked.

  Geoffreys didn’t bother to elaborate.

  Ocken chuckled. Their friendship reminded him a lot of his relationship with Thren. He hadn’t seen Thren in at least a year, maybe longer. Ocken lost track of time in the king’s palace. Excitement rose within him and a smile grew on his face. He would see his brother tomorrow.

  The remainder of the day was uneventful. Khate rejoined them as the sun dipped below the horizon.

  “No sign of your spooks,” Khate remarked to Ocken.

  “Never said there would be,” Ocken replied. “Better safe than sorry, as they say.”

  “Don’t tell me how to do my job and I won’t tell you how to do yours,” she said.

  “That’s enough,” Drygo said.

  “Yes, sire,” she said.

  “I’m sorry,” Ocken said.

  She cocked her head and looked at him curiously. “I’m the one who should apologize. We’re all just a little on edge, I think.” She looked at Geoffreys and Bigsby, who wore blank expressions. “Okay, I’m on edge, all right?”

  She hopped down off her horse, tossed the reins into Drygo’s hands, and darted off into the night.

  Ocken dismounted and made to follow.

  “Leave her be,” the king said. “Come on. Let’s keep going for at least another hour.”

  “What about Khate?” Geoffreys asked.

  “She’ll find us,” Drygo said. Then a bit quieter, more to himself, he said, “She always does.”

  About an hour later they stopped and set up camp for the night. They brought the horses into the trees this time. The smaller their camp, the easier it was to protect. Ocken loosened a buckle on the horse and removed his bedroll. They would normally get a fire going before setting up their beds, but they decided it was best not to light a beacon.

  After laying out his roll, Ocken set out to sweep the perimeter and check for possible ambush points. A strange noise caught his attention. He decided to check it out.

  As he drew closer, he realized it was somebody retching. That’s when he saw it was Khate. Apparently lunch had not sat well with her either. She sat on the ground with her back against a tree and pulled her legs in close to her chest.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “No,” she said.

  “If it makes you feel any better, I feel a little sick, too,” he said.

  She chuckled, but continued moping. “That’s not what I meant.”

  Ocken stood there, dumbfounded. He felt stupid. He didn’t know much about women, let alone consoling them. He shifted uneasily and decided on sitting down across from her.

  “Want to talk about it?” he asked.

  “No,” she said again.

  “All right,” he said, and made to stand.

  “It’s not fair,” she said.

  He paused, confused.

  Didn’t she just say she didn’t want to talk about it? He shrugged and sat back down.

  “What’s not fair?” Ocken asked.

  “Life,” Khate said.

  “Well, that’s the way of—”

  “Save the lecture,” she said.

  “Do you want to talk or not?”

  She didn’t answer, just stared out over her knees at some invisible point on the ground.

  “Okay, well, I’ll be in camp if you need anything,” he said, rising once more.

  “Stay,” she said. Then she added, “Please?”

  If Ocken was confused before, he was straight up baffled now. He opted for sitting in silence. He tried to see what she found so fascinating on the forest floor, but came up with nothing. So he stared at nothing, too.

  “It’s my sister,” Khate said at last.

  Ocken hesitated to respond. Last time he tried talking it didn’t work. When her eyes lifted from the ground and looked at him expectantly, though, he said, “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Khate said.

  “Well, I’d like to,” he said. “Know about you, that is.”

  “I’m sure you would,” she said, half-mockingly. Before Ocken could respond she said, “I’m sorry. Force of habit.”

  “What is?” he asked. “Hurting people?”

  A pained expression crossed her face.

  “Now I’m sorry,” he said.

  “No. Don’t be,” she said. “You’re right. That’s all I’ve ever done is hurt people.”

  “So the rumors are true?” he asked.

  “What rumors?” she asked.

  “About you being an assassin?”

  “Oh, gods no,” she said, taken aback. “Killing in secret is the coward’s way. I prefer to get my hands dirty.”

  Ocken smiled and flushed. He was beginning to take a liking to Khate.

  “Tell me about your sister,” he said.

  “Oh, you already know her,” Khate replied.

  Ocken leaned a little closer, his curiosity piqued.

  “She’s the queen.”

  CHAPTER 4

  The next day, Khate kept her distance from Ocken. Perhaps she wasn’t used to opening up to someone. Perhaps it was because she had revealed a long-kept secret to him. He was still coming to grips with what she’d told him.

  She was neither an assassin nor a courtesan, but a princess.

  When Ocken pointed out as much, she said, “I’m no more a princess than you are. My family has no royal blood.”

  But it mattered little to Ocken. The man who rode before him, his king, was Khate’s brother-in-law. No wonder he brought her on this journey. She had as much at stake as he did.

  If Khate told Drygo that Ocken knew about her and Evangeline, he did not let on. It had been business as usual that morning. They packed up, had a quick breakfast, and were off once again. The king wanted to make the Eastgate by nightfall.

  Khate didn’t return for the midday meal. It was then that Ocken discovered there would be no midday meal. Drygo was that adamant that they arrive before the sun set. Ocken couldn’t disagree with him. He hated the night.

  Reaching over the side of his horse, he dug around inside his pack and pulled out a piece of bread to snack on. Just because they didn’t want to stop didn’t mean he couldn’t eat.

  Just as the sun painted the sky red that evening, the Eastgate came into view. A cool breeze washed down off the mountain sending a chill through Ocken’s bones. He grew up in the heat of the arid desert. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the more moderate climates.

  Three quarters of an hour later, long after the sun had gone, they approached the gate. Two towers stood at opposite ends of the gate on either side of the pass. A large structure or room of some kind atop the gate connected the two towers. The gate itself was massive. Larger than anything he’d ever seen before.

  What manner of creature lives in these mountains to need such protection?

  The gua
rd that stood in front of the gate called out, “State yer name and business.”

  “Do you not recognize your own king?” Ocken called back.

  “It’s all right, my friend,” Drygo said.

  The guard grabbed the lantern and held it out toward the party. The guard squinted in the night. Drygo stepped into its sphere of light. The man recoiled.

  “M-my king,” he sputtered, bowing. “What brings you here? How can we help?”

  “We wish to enter the Frostpeak Pass,” the king said.

  “Of course,” the man said. “Raise the—”

  “But first,” the king interrupted, “we would like to rest. Perhaps dine with you this evening?”

  “Oh, of course, of course. Right this way,” he said.

  After they stabled their horses, the man led them to a door at the base of the southern tower.

  “Your name is?” Drygo asked.

  “Sorry. How rude of me. The name’s Severin,” the guard said, swinging the door wide to allow them entry. “Shouldn’t expect the king to remember all his subjects. I ’pologize.”

  “Perhaps it is I who should apologize, dear Severin,” the king replied. “I almost never forget a name. Would you be so kind as to remind me where we met?”

  The guard pulled the door shut behind them. The burst of air as the door closed caused the flame of a nearby lantern to flicker before settling once more. The breeze was gone now, but Ocken was no less cold. The stone tower did little to preserve the heat from the day.

  “I served in yer father’s royal guard when you was a wee boy,” Severin said as he began ascending a winding stone stairway.

  Ocken leaned in close to Drygo and whispered, “I thought your father’s personal guard were all killed in the attack ten years ago.”

  “Maybe he retired before then?” Drygo offered.

  “Doesn’t look that old,” Ocken stated.

  “Men retire from the royal guard for different reasons. Look where he is now,” the king mumbled. “Won’t find much danger here.”

  “What’s that?” Severin called back from his place a few stairs ahead.