Drygo’s arm shot out and clutched Yesenia by the throat. His eyes turned black as the night and Yesenia’s head snapped back. Black veins spidered from her eyes.
Yesenia screamed. The warm tone of her flesh faded away, leaving a pasty gray.
“Lady Yesenia!” someone called out.
Ocken tore his gaze away from the scene for a brief second. Half a dozen soldiers wearing Celesti’s blue and silver poured into the room.
Drygo glanced at them then turned his attention back to Yesenia. The smirk fell from his face and he clenched his teeth, his eyes narrowing.
Celesti’s soldiers advanced.
Yesenia began to shake. Her left bicep doubled in size, then the rest of her arm.
The soldiers stopped, blinking in shock.
Ocken gasped as, all over her body, Yesenia grew larger until she towered a foot over Ocken and Drygo could no longer hold contact with her. He fell away, heaving as his back collided with the wall. One of his royal guards rushed to support him.
The behemoth that used to be Yesenia turned around and stared at Ocken. It squatted down, flung out its arms, and let out an earsplitting bellow.
Ocken watched in horror, his mouth agape. He’d heard rumors of Drygo’s growing powers. Brawlers they called them, and Ocken could see why.
Celesti’s soldiers turned to flee through the door they entered, but more of Drygo’s men sealed off their escape. They drew their weapons to fight to the death.
Ocken dropped into a fighting stance and readied his swordstaff, Melody. The brawler charged in, raising its fists.
Ocken backed into a table. The monster’s fist came down. Ocken dodged its lumbering swing, but the table couldn’t get out of the way in time and splintered into two pieces under the force of the brawler’s blow.
Ocken hoisted Melody and swung for the creature’s arm. It didn’t so much as try to block. His blade sliced cleanly through its bicep.
The brawler flicked out its injured arm, connecting with Ocken’s chest. The big man flew backward and fell to the ground, landing ten feet away from where he’d been standing.
Ocken struggled to one knee as the brawler stalked in. Blood dripped from its wound, but it gave no reaction, not a howl or a cry. It didn’t even act as if it were hurt.
Ocken’s eyes widened. What was this thing?
The brawler swung its fist again and Ocken dodged beneath its blow, countering with his own strike to its thigh. Again, no reaction from the beast.
It turned and bellowed at him. Ocken yelled back, charging the creature and thrusting Melody’s blade deep into the brawler’s abdomen.
Its hands came in to grab Ocken. The swordstaff refusing to budge, Ocken regrettably left it behind as he rolled away.
The beast’s meaty fists wrapped around the swordstaff and plucked it from its body like a man would a gray hair and tossed it aside as if it were a mere dinner knife.
Ocken was in trouble. He didn’t have time for this. Riley needed him.
He circled the creature until he was between it and the soldiers of Celesti who were fighting Drygo’s men. Then Ocken stared at the brawler, narrowed his eyes, and let out a roar, taunting it. The brawler bellowed back in response, lowered its shoulder, and ran at him.
Ocken dived to the side and the beast barreled past him into the fight, batting aside a soldier and sending him soaring through the air.
Above the din, Drygo shouted, “Give me the stone, or you’ll wish I would have been as merciful with the girl.”
Riley gasped and let out a sputtering cry.
Without hesitation, Ocken flung the stone at Drygo. The king of Shadowhold raised an arm and caught it with ease. He held it up and turned it over in his hand, mesmerized by the power swirling beneath its surface. He let out a chuckle, which turned into a laugh, then without taking his eyes off the stone, he signaled for his guard to release Riley.
The man shoved her across the room into Ocken’s waiting arms. Ocken pulled her in tight and held her.
“Kill them,” Drygo said.
Ocken pushed Riley aside and picked up his swordstaff.
Chaos ensued. On one side of the room, Ocken once again prepared to fight as he faced off against Drygo’s elite. They might be good, but Ocken, once a member of the royal guard himself, was better.
On the other side of the room, he was only moderately aware of the battle that still raged. The brawler continued to pummel Celesti’s soldiers, but three had managed to avoid its lumbering swings and were putting up a sizeable defense.
Ocken ducked under a swinging sword, and caught the man’s arm with the staff of his weapon and slipped the pommel behind the man’s head. He twisted to deflect the attack of the second man, simultaneously driving the first to the floor.
Raising his weapon, he slammed the pommel into the back of the skull of the guard on the floor, crushing it.
“No!” Drygo yelled.
Ocken diverted his attention. Drygo held two stones, a blue one in his right hand, the Soul Render, and a black one in his left. It was the Soul Siphon, a stone Ocken had helped Drygo acquire, the biggest regret of his life.
“Stones!” Drygo cursed. “Why won’t you work? Give me your power, Lotess. I demand you release it now!”
Ocken’s eyes widened and a smile flitted across his face. He couldn’t use it. Drygo couldn’t access the Soul Render’s powers.
Just touching the Soul Siphon had given him the power of the god of death, Iket, but perhaps Lotess, goddess of new life, did not relinquish her power so freely. Even Ocken himself had touched it with nary a tingle.
Ocken laughed. Drygo couldn’t use it. After the shock of the discovery had passed, Ocken remembered what he was doing.
He turned just in time to see his opponent’s sword held high, beginning its downward arc for his neck. The man froze mid-swing. He grimaced and fell forward in a heap.
Three long daggers protruded from his back. Ocken looked up to see Khate standing in the servant’s door at the back of the room.
“Why is it that I’m always coming to your rescue?” she asked with a smirk. She motioned at Riley and said, “Come on.”
Ocken and Riley covered the distance in three strides.
“Khate?” Drygo asked, astonished.
“Alexander,” she said.
“She’s alive, Khate,” Drygo said. “I can still save her.”
“You’re deluded,” Khate spat with derision. “Stop this nonsense and leave things be. I’ve moved on. So should you. Goodbye, Alexander.” Then she disappeared down the servant’s hallway. Ocken and Riley followed.
“After them!” Drygo yelled.
Ocken glanced over his shoulder to see three of Drygo’s men racing for the door, but the brawler, who could not tell friend from foe, intercepted them.
Screams followed Ocken down the passage.
***
Riley ran harder than she ever had in her life. Her chest ached, her side felt like someone was driving a knife through it, and panic had a deathly grip on her heart.
She tried to process everything that had just happened. Drygo had some unearthly power that transformed a person into a feral beast, she lost the stone her mother died to protect, and she almost died. Twice.
Her body couldn’t take it anymore and her legs gave out. Ocken caught her and slung her over his shoulder. She bounced there, staring off into nothing.
Her surroundings changed several times, but they didn’t register in her mind. The next thing Riley knew, she was staring up at the dark tops of trees and Ocken was shaking her shoulders.
She shook her head and blinked then pulled herself to a sitting position. They appeared to be just outside the fortified walls of the abbey, just inside the safety of the tree line.
“What happened?” Riley asked.
“That’s a great question,” Ocken said, turning to look at Khate. “I thought you weren’t getting involved.”
“What do you think I am? Heartless?” Khate said. �
��I saw Drygo ride into town while you were still in the abbey. I knew you’d get yourself into trouble, and I was right. A simple thank you would have been nice.”
“Thank you,” Riley said.
Khate smiled at her then cast a glare at Ocken.
“Thanks,” he muttered, then, so only Riley could hear, he said, “I could have handled it myself.”
Khate shifted uneasily and said, “So… that’s it then? He’s won? Can we all go home now?”
“Not a chance,” Riley said at the same time Ocken said, “It’s not over.”
Khate frowned.
“I don’t know why and I don’t know how, but the stone won’t work for Drygo,” Ocken said.
“Sounds to me like you’re not needed then. Go home. Wherever home is,” Khate said, looking off into the distance at the city. “Settle down. Meet someone. Start a family. There’s more to life than wars and politics.”
Riley was surprised to hear her own voice saying, “That’s easy for you to say. You’ve never lost anyone to that man. He killed my mother, he destroyed my home, and he will not stop until he unlocks the stone’s power. You can sit back and ignore what’s going on around you or you can do something about it. Me? I won’t rest until I get that stone back or die trying.”
EPILOGUE
14 YEARS LATER
A sword sailed in for Will’s head. He rolled to the side out of his opponent’s reach and quickly regained his feet. Will raced in with his own attack. Clack, clack, clack their swords echoed as they collided over and over.
Will danced back to catch his breath and stared down his opponent. He pushed aside the aches in his legs and the tightness in his chest. Roaring, he attacked again.
Will swung his weapon high then reversed directions at the last minute. His opponent, surprised at the move, struggled to deflect, but managed to sidestep before Will’s sword could strike home. Will stumbled off balance.
His opponent took advantage of the moment and slammed his weapon into the back of Will’s calf. Will collapsed in pain, his own sword falling to the side. He grabbed his leg and pulled it in tight.
“You almost had me there,” Robert, Will’s brother, said, tossing his own wooden sword to the ground. “A few more weeks and you’ll be better than me.”
Robert extended his arm. Will grabbed a hold and Robert lifted him to his feet. Leaning down, Will rubbed his calf.
“You didn’t have to hit me so hard, you know,” Will said.
“How else are you going to learn?” Robert said. “Pain is the greatest teacher.”
“I thought that was failure.”
Robert shrugged. “Does it—”
“Guys!” a voice yelled followed by thundering footsteps.
Will turned in the direction of the voice. It was John, his youngest brother, and he was waving a large piece of rolled up parchment in his hand.
“Guys!” he said again with excitement as he came to a stop. “I got it! I got the map!”
“You what?” Robert asked, taken aback. “How the—?”
“It’s probably a map of Bill’s house,” Will chuckled.
“It is not,” John whined. “It’s of the abbey. And I found a way in!”
Robert frowned and raised an eyebrow.
John dropped down into a squat and unrolled the map on the ground. Will looked over his shoulder to see what it was.
There was the wall, the portcullis, the three levels of buildings, and, at the top left of the map, was the abbey.
He did it, Will thought. He actually did it.
Robert laughed and clapped John on the back. “Good work! This is it, boys. It’s time. Tonight, at midnight, Drygo pays for what he did to our father. We’re breaking in, we’re going to find that stone, and we’re going to take it.”
AFTERWORD
Thank you for reading Soul Siphon. I hope it was a fun read. Would you please consider helping others share your experience by writing a review on Amazon? Reviews are worth more to an author than the Soul Render to Alexander Drygo. Seriously. I would greatly appreciate it.
The story continues in Book One of the Soul Stones series, Soul Render, which will be launching in just a few weeks. Keep reading for a free sneak peek. If you’d like to receive a release notification, sign up for my newsletter. You can also join my Facebook Messenger feed and never miss an update (just click Get Started at the bottom of Messenger).
Have a question or comment? Or just want to chat? I’d love to hear from you. Feel free to contact me at [email protected].
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Wow, where do I start? Four novellas now neatly wrapped in one little package. It’s been quite the journey and I couldn’t have done it alone.
First, thank you to my two best author friends, Angel Haze and Sean Hinn.
Angel, without you, there would be no Soul Siphon. None of these shorts would exist. All because you pushed me to write one little short story, now they’re a complete series themselves.
Sean, you are the most supportive and encouraging guy I know. Willing to put up with my endless stupid questions and constant badgering. You are the true model of patience, kindness, and generosity.
Second is my editor, Phil Athans. Thanks for taking on an unknown author with not a single published work to his name. You bent your rules a bit to edit Ash and Steel and I’m so thankful you did.
Next, there’s my beta readers. Alex, Jonathan, Marissa, Erica, and JD, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, you guys are my A-Team. I can count on you guys to read, proofread, and constructively comment on everything I write. You are invaluable to me as an author and as a friend.
And of course, my diehard fans. Without you, I would have no books and there would be no reason to write. At the risk of leaving out a few names, I’m not going to name names, but you all know who you are. You comment on everything I post on Facebook, you buy everything I publish as soon as you hear about it, and you tell everyone who will listen about this no-name author who you’ve discovered. Thank you!
Thank you to each and every one of you. Thank you to every author who has helped promote my books in some capacity or another. Thank you to every reader who is reading this right now because you bought this book.
Thank you.
My own personal journey into writing started when I was eighteen. I got an idea for a book and I wrote the first four chapters in a college dorm room. Then I put it away. To this day it still sits in a folder on my computer gathering digital dust. Maybe someday you’ll get to read it. I now find myself thirty years old finally publishing a book like I’d always wanted.
What am I saying? If you’re interested in writing a book, just do it. Do it now. Don’t wait like I did. Soul Render from inception to publication will have taken a year and half. It takes work, but it’s worth it.
If a full-length novel scares you, start with a short story. I wrote Ash and Steel in a single day and published it within a month of writing it. Six months later it has been downloaded over 6,000 times. You can do this.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
T.L. Branson is an author of YA and Epic Fantasy. Branson started writing when he was eighteen and has contributed articles to several blogs and websites over the years. Soul Render is his debut novel in a planned trilogy. He finds his inspiration from the kings (and queen) of story, J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, George Lucas, and J.K. Rowling. Born in Pennsylvania, he currently lives in California with his wife and two children.
www.tlbranson.com
[email protected]
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SNEAK PEEK
Will Sumner was about to commit high treason.
Tonight he would find absolution. Tonight, he avenged his father’s death.
He and his two brothers crouched within the treeline outside the fortified abbey of Celesti. Two guards stood as stone sentinels at the servants’ entrance, the dim light of a lamp on the wall flickering in the night.
They wore leather armor and a simple black tunic featur
ing the royal crest: a dragon soaring into the skies. These were not Celesti’s common watchman, but the handpicked soldiers of Aralith’s tyrant king, Alexander Drygo. They arrived three days ago with a caravan carrying the king’s most valued possession, a magical stone said to hold the power to steal a man’s soul.
Will and his brothers were going to steal it.
Will picked up his bow. Its firm, comforting grip eased the flutter in his heart.
From within the trees, his younger brother, John, screamed, “Help!”
The guards at the door looked at each other, the light still flickering behind them. One of them said something, drew his sword, and approached the trees. As the first guard drew near, A spike of adrenaline coursed through Will’s veins. He pulled back on the bowstring and let an arrow fly. It zipped past the guard’s head and shattered the lamp, plunging the area into darkness.
Will held his breath.
A muffled grunt echoed through the trees followed by a dull thud.
Silence reigned again.
The sound of an owl broke the stillness and then another. Will exhaled with a shudder at the all clear.
They dragged the guards into the treeline, tied them up, and gagged them. Will stashed his bow in some overgrown bushes for retrieval on their way out. If they got caught, they hoped to pass as servants. Will ran a finger across the hilt of the knife at his waist, reassuring himself he wasn’t completely unprotected.
They darted for the servants’ entrance without a sound. Arriving first, his older brother, Robert, pulled the door open on silent hinges. Will followed John through the entranceway then Robert checked to make sure no one was coming and closed the door behind them.
Rough-hewn stone surrounded them on all sides carved directly from the mountain. They split up, each heading down a different corridor.
Will entered the abbey in the servants’ quarters. The hallway in front of him was long and dimly lit. He crept along, passing door after door. Obnoxious snores from the third door on the right reverberated through the hall, breaking the silence. At least he didn’t have to worry about being heard.
Soul Siphon: Set includes four books: Midnight Blade, Kingsbane, Ash and Steel, Sentinels of the Stone (Soul Stones) Page 23