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

by T. L. Branson

  “So… could the same logic lead us home?” Callum asked, yawning.

  Khate yawned as well. She hadn’t realized how tired she was. It must have been the turkey.

  “Perhaps,” Eamon said.

  “Then why…” Callum yawned again. “Then why… why…” Callum’s head slumped to the side and his body went limp.

  Alarms went off in Khate’s head. It granted her enough clarity to watch as each member of her team fell into an unnatural sleep before it claimed her as well. The last thing she saw was an evil smile on Eamon’s face.

  CHAPTER 8

  Ocken walked through the forest, plodding along over roots and under fallen branches. He felt like sinking Melody into one of the trees to vent his frustration, but he didn’t dare. He wouldn’t risk upsetting whatever god had cursed this place.

  Hours passed and he was no closer to finding his friends, or the temple, than he had been when he awoke that morning. He stopped walking and leaned against a tree to catch his breath.

  He thought of Khate. He guessed she had forgotten all about him. She was probably glad he was gone. He wouldn’t be surprised if she never wanted to see him again. He had insulted her.

  Yet he yearned for her, to see her comforting smile and hear her sweet voice. Ocken would have been happy to hear anyone’s voice in truth. He’d even take a dog or a cat over this solitude. He hated being alone.

  A flurry of sound and movement caught his attention. He pushed off from the tree and brandished Melody, ready to fend off his attacker.

  He looked around, but there was no one there.

  Great, now I’m going mad.

  A loud screech made him jump. Fear shot through him. The soulfiend had escaped the fog and was after him. If he were to die, he would die fighting. He spun around to face his demon. The screech sounded again, drawing his attention to the forest floor.

  A small falcon sat on a tree root, staring at him. The falcon cocked its head and screeched again. It was just a bird. Relief washed over Ocken and he let out a big sigh.

  The falcon ruffled its wings and took off into the air. Ocken watched as it left. It was curious. He hadn’t seen another animal since entering the Wandering Wood. Yes, he’d seen eyes and heard the rustling of the underbrush, but never actually saw an animal.

  A moment later the falcon returned to the same root and stared at him again. It lifted one of its wings almost as if it were trying to communicate with him. It had the strangest green eyes. Ocken had never seen a bird like it.

  “You want me to follow you?” Ocken asked.

  He could have sworn the bird bobbed its head.

  Ocken felt ridiculous talking to a bird. He didn’t know why he had in the first place. He just had this feeling in the pit of his gut that this bird was special.

  The falcon took off again and this time Ocken chased after it. The bird moved with a speed and grace that made following it difficult for Ocken. It soared through the air, weaving between trees and under branches.

  Ocken couldn’t explain it, but he had a sickening feeling like something was wrong and the bird needed his help. He ran with all the speed his legs could muster. He pushed harder and faster than he had in a long time, racing after this strange falcon.

  The thought struck him as foolish. That he would follow an unknown bird in an unknown place to an unknown destination. But he had tried everything and was getting nowhere. He figured the worst that could happen is he’d get even more lost than he already was.

  Trees blew past him but the landscape remained unchanged. He was still in the Wandering Wood. He was still lost. Nothing recognizable or significant stuck out at all. He began to doubt the wisdom of following this bird.

  Just when Ocken was about to give up, the bird stopped in front of a huge rock. Ocken placed Melody against the rock, clasped his hands behind his head, and steadied his breath. The falcon lifted its wing again, pointing—if that’s what it was doing—to the left hand side of the rock.

  Once Ocken had rested, he retrieved Melody and stepped out to the left. The backside of a gigantic house stood before him. How had he missed it? He must have been focusing too hard on the bird and not paying attention to his surroundings. More importantly, what was a house doing out here?

  As he walked around the side, he discovered a whole row of smaller houses sloping down a hill. There was a whole village here. A village. In the Wandering Wood. Ocken began to feel hopeful for the first time all day.

  He was about to walk up to the large mansion when the bird flew in front of him again, redirecting his attention to a smaller building at the far end of the property. The bird came to rest above a door.

  Ocken glanced between the large house and the small building behind it. The falcon had proven to be a reliable guide, so he saw no reason to doubt it now. As he approached, the falcon flew off into the wood and disappeared from sight. He opened the door and stepped inside.

  The sight that greeted him caused him immediate alarm. There, on the floor in front of him, lay the bodies of his friends. He couldn’t tell if they were dead, but he feared the worst.

  Hunched over Tulias was a man with his back turned to Ocken. He was holding the captain, rifling through Tulias’s pockets.

  Ocken stepped forward, both hands on Melody, ready to strike. A floorboard creaked beneath his feet.

  The man turned his head.

  Ocken relaxed, lowering his weapon, and sighed as Lind stared back at him.

  “Oh, thank the gods,” Ocken said. “What happened here?”

  Lind pulled a knife and slit Tulias’s throat. Blood spilled from it like a fountain.

  Ocken took a step back, his mouth agape. He lifted Melody once more.

  “What have you done?” Ocken asked.

  Lind stood and lunged for Ocken, who lifted Melody to block his path. The man bowled into Ocken, knocking him to the ground.

  Lind writhed and flailed on top of Ocken, trying to plunge his knife into Ocken’s chest. Ocken stared up into Lind’s face as he fought for his life.

  Lind’s eyes were solid black. Black lines crawled out from his sockets like a spider’s web. Lind let out an unnatural wail of fury.

  Ocken shoved the smaller man off of himself with a heavy push of his swordstaff. Lind fell to the floor beside him.

  Ocken stood to his feet and brought Melody to bear. Lind was up and on him again an instant later. Ocken danced away and parried the man’s rabid attacks.

  Something told him this was no longer Lind, that Lind was gone, but he couldn’t bring himself to harm the man.

  Can I save him?

  He didn’t think so as he caught the man’s arm with the staff of his weapon and shoved him back onto the floor. The knife flew from his hand, spinning and sliding along the floor as it disappeared under a table.

  He didn’t know what was wrong with Lind, let alone how to fix it. He decided to try to incapacitate the man and give him some time to figure out what was going on.

  Lind was halfway to his feet when Ocken swung his staff at the man’s head. It connected with a solid crack and knocked Lind back onto the floor.

  Lind let out another unearthly howl and began to rise.

  Ocken slammed the butt of his staff in the man’s forehead. A sickening crunch filled the room. Lind lay on the floor motionless.

  A wave of guilt washed over him. He had killed the man.

  But there was no time for grief. Tulias lay dying a few feet away—and possibly the rest of his friends, including Khate.

  Just before he reached Tulias, a growl drew his attention. He spun around and pulled his weapon up just in time as Lind threw himself at Ocken—and impaled himself on the swordstaff, piercing his heart. A heartbeat later Lind disintegrated into black dust that blew away in the breeze from the open door.

  Ocken stood there in disbelief.

  What just happened?

  He had no answers. He’d never experienced anything like it in his long life of desperate survival and military servi
ce.

  Ocken remembered what he was doing and turned back to Tulias. He knelt down beside the man and placed two fingers on the man’s neck. All life had fled from him. Ocken hung his head in despair.

  Please don’t let Khate be dead.

  By his oath to the crown of Sunbury, he should have checked Drygo next, but his heart took him to Khate instead. He paused as his fingers hung an inch from her neck. He closed his eyes, offered a prayer to Lotess, goddess of life, and touched her neck.

  He held his breath.

  A soft, low pulse greeted him. He exhaled in relief.

  What happened here?

  He found himself asking that question a lot in the last few minutes. Ocken leaned closer and placed his ear next to Khate’s mouth. She was breathing steadily. When she exhaled, he caught a whiff of a familiar scent.

  Kingsbane.

  They’d been drugged. That still didn’t explain Lind, but he didn’t have time to think about that. Whoever did this could return any minute.

  Ocken slung his pack off his back, opened the flap, and plunged his hand inside. He searched around through spare clothes and food until his fingers bumped against glass. He closed his fist around the vials and pulled them out.

  Holding one between his thumb and index finger, Ocken shook the vial and held it up to the light. The clear liquid turned a milky white. He thanked the gods Drygo had asked him to concoct some antitoxin before they left.

  Ocken cradled Khate’s head, tilted it back, and opened her mouth. He poured the whole vial in for good measure. Khate coughed then lay still.

  He didn’t have time to wait and see if it worked. He laid her head down gently and moved to Drygo next. He stared down at the vials in his hand. He only had two left, but three people in need of its medicine. He knew what had to be done, no matter how distasteful it might be.

  Ocken lifted the king’s head and poured a full vial into his mouth. He was sworn to protect him and he would never forgive himself if the king didn’t awaken because he didn’t get enough of the antitoxin.

  With one vial left, he could give it all to Callum and they would leave Geoffreys behind to die, or he could give each of them half and hope it was enough for both of them. Ocken opted for the latter. Theoretically, even a drop should work, but it all depended on how much kingsbane they’d ingested and the combination of ingredients used to draft it.

  After giving both Callum and Geoffreys half a bottle, Ocken stood and walked over to the door, peered out to make sure no one was coming, then pulled it shut behind him and engaged the lock. It probably wouldn’t help if the owner came with the key, but it made him feel safer anyway.

  Khate gasped and sat up with a start.

  She pulled a knife from her boot. Ocken reached for Melody in case whatever disease befell Lind was also upon her.

  Khate lifted the blade and made to throw it at Ocken, then recoiled.

  “Ocken?” she asked. Her words came out in a rush, “Thank the gods. Eamon, he drugged us with something. We have to get out of here.”

  “Calm down,” he said, laying Melody aside and kneeling next to her. “You ingested kingsbane. You need to take it easy.”

  Khate said, “I’m fine. I—” She turned her head and looked at Tulias and the pool of blood beneath him. She furrowed her brow and brought her hand to her mouth and began to wretch. She turned to her right and vomited all over the floor.

  Ocken looked away while she composed herself.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “I was going to ask you the same question,” Ocken replied.

  The king groaned and sat up, massaging his head.

  “Migraines,” Ocken stated. “A side effect of the kingsbane.”

  “Kingsbane?” Drygo asked. Then he muttered to himself, “I knew that tea tasted off.”

  “How are you here?” Khate asked.

  “This is going to sound crazy, but a bird led me here,” Ocken said.

  Khate smiled. Ocken’s face flushed and heat radiated from his cheeks. The tension between them was seemingly washed away in the turmoil. Ocken knew he needed to apologize, but he also knew now was not the time.

  “Tell me what happened,” Ocken said.

  “We happened across this village,” Khate said while Drygo still struggled to get over his kingsbane-induced sleep. “Their leader, Eamon, he invited us into his home, told us he had information about the temple we seek. Only he tricked us and we fell asleep.”

  “Why?” Ocken asked. “Why would he do this?”

  “I… I don’t know,” she admitted, rubbing her temples.

  “Take it easy. It’s fine,” Ocken said.

  “No. I—” She looked around as if realizing for the first time she didn’t see Lind. “Where’s Lind?”

  Ocken’s face fell. “He attacked me. I… I killed him. There was something wrong with him. He seemed possessed or tainted by some dark magic. He disintegrated into a black cloud that blew away.”

  “And Tulias?” Drygo asked, wiping his own mouth after vomiting.

  “Lind killed him,” Ocken explained. “Or rather that thing he became killed him.”

  “What of Callum and Geoffreys?” Drygo asked, pointing to their forms still lying on the ground, asleep.

  “I only had three vials of antitoxin,” Ocken said. He looked to Khate. “I gave a full vial to you both. I should have spaced two vials out between Khate and the others. I’m sorry.”

  Drygo’s eyes narrowed and he was about to say something when Callum coughed and rolled over. Ocken sighed in relief. It had been enough. A moment later Geoffreys followed suit.

  Ocken recapped everything to Callum and Geoffreys.

  “Did you at least figure out how to get to the temple?” Ocken asked.

  Khate told him what Eamon said about the Wandering Wood, what she then asked for, and how he had been led to her.

  “So we ask the wood and it will guide us?” Ocken asked. “Sounds crazy to me, but I did just follow a bird and it did lead me here. Why not? Let’s give it a shot.”

  The door handle jiggled behind them.

  A man cursed on the other side, though the door muffled his voice.

  “That’s Eamon!” Khate said, springing to her feet. She teetered off balance, but steadied herself.

  “Quickly,” Ocken whispered, motioning for the others to rise and move to the door. “We need to get out of here, and fast. I’ll open the door and we all need to run back into the forest as fast as we can.”

  Metal grated against metal as a key was inserted into the door on the other side. Drygo, Callum, and Geoffreys joined Ocken and Khate at the door. Ocken held up his fingers, counting down.

  Three, two, one.

  The lock clicked.

  Ocken shoved the door open, bashing Eamon in the face, knocking him to the ground.

  They burst from the building and bolted across the grounds.

  “Get them!” Eamon shouted.

  Ocken didn’t bother to look behind him. He ran. He ran like his life depended on it.

  It probably did.

  Villagers emerged from nowhere and took up the chase.

  Clearing the grounds, Ocken and the others entered the forest. They jumped and ducked, and turned and twisted to avoid all manner of obstacles in their path.

  Ocken didn’t know how long they ran, but he knew it had been several minutes, up to an hour. Eventually the party slowed, their stamina spent. They listened for signs of pursuit, but none came.

  Ocken fell to the forest floor and breathed heavily. His breaths turned to laughter. The laughter made his abs hurt, but he laughed anyway.

  “What’s so funny?” Khate asked.

  “This is absurd,” Ocken said. “We’re lost in a magical wood, guided by a magical bird, threatened by magical enemies that can spawn the undead.”

  Khate chuckled. “It does sound pretty crazy when you say it like that.”

  “There’s nothing funny about this,” Drygo said.

 
Even Callum and Geoffreys started laughing then.

  If looks could kill, Drygo’s glare would have murdered them all.

  “Do you all not remember my wife is dying while you sit here having a good time?” he said.

  “Yes, sire,” Callum said, standing straighter. “I mean, no, sire, I mean… yes, we remember, sire.”

  “You need to lighten up,” Khate said.

  Geoffreys gasped.

  “We’re all here, aren’t we?” Khate said, holding her arms out. “If we can’t laugh in the face of death, then there’s no point in living at all. We’ll crack under the pressure and we’ll be miserable wretches.”

  Drygo huffed. “Let’s just get going, before Eamon and his goons find us.”

  “How do we find the temple?” Ocken asked, changing the subject.

  “You ask the wood to take you there,” Callum said.

  “Okay,” Ocken said, pausing. “Khate, you’ve done this already, why don’t you take the lead.”

  “All right. Umm… O Wandering Wood,” she said, putting her hands together as if she were praying. “Take us to the Anima Sanctum.”

  Ocken chuckled again. He felt good. He was happy to be back with Khate and the others, the despair having melted away.

  At the same time, his heart mourned the loss of Lind and Tulias. Two more names to add to the growing list of casualties by this fool’s errand the king had brought them on. He tried to see it from the king’s perspective. If it were Khate lying in a bed, dying of an affliction that thousands of women die from every year, would he stop at nothing to save her no matter the costs?

  Ocken couldn’t answer that question. Either because he and Khate were not as intimate as the king and his wife or because he couldn’t even fathom the choice until it were thrust upon him.

  A shriek filled the forest as a falcon soared in through the trees and settled on a nearby branch. It looked like the same falcon, even down to its green eyes. Its head twitched from side to side, then it let out another call and pushed off the branch.

  “We have to follow it,” Ocken explained.