Solomon's Exile

by James Maxstadt

“Yes, so he told us. He also told us that you wish to live here. To settle and let the Soul Gaunts roam the Greenweald as they would. Is that true?”

  “In a sense, yes. But that makes it sound so dangerous. And really, it isn’t. I have a rapport with them. And I will contain them, stop them from going near any compounds, or any individual houses. I’ll make sure that they only take game, and that at a sustainable rate.”

  “See, that is where I admit to some confusion. I’m sure we all do.” Florian stopped to look around at Shireen and the others, silently asking for their agreement. “In one sentence, you talk about them as if they were animals, then in the next, as if you can speak to them. We’re not sure which it is.”

  “Oh!” the man seemed surprised at Florian’s statement. “Now I understand! You must forgive me. I’ve spent so much time with them that I forget that not everyone knows them as I do. Yes, I can definitely see why you’re confused.”

  He stopped and chuckled. Florian raised an eyebrow, and Jediah glowered at the man. Shireen herself felt her hackles rise at the sound of the laughter. There was something wrong here. More than the whole situation, there was a bigger threat. She looked around the compound, but saw nothing out of place.

  “Well,” the man said when he stopped laughing. “Perhaps you’d care to see for yourself.”

  “No,” Florian said, “thanks all the same. As I’ve said, I think we’re more comfortable out here at the moment.”

  “You misunderstand. I insist!”

  He raised his hand and the doors to the main tree flew open, and darkness flowed out of it. The temperature surrounding Shireen dropped immediately to a numbing cold, and the air grew dimmer as if storm clouds had obscured the sun. The man was chanting in a harsh language, filled with crashing consonants, and the sky blackened further.

  Shireen tore her sword from its sheath and put her back to Orlando’s, aware of Jediah and the two Whispering Pines soldiers surrounding Florian.

  The horses screamed, reared onto their hind legs and tore off without their riders. Even the best trained horse couldn’t stand in the face of the fear that gnawed at them. Shireen could feel it eating at her resolve already.

  They would take them, take her, and drag her into that tree. Back to where it was pitch black, with unclean things growing and death and rot and sickness all around. They’d kill Orlando and make her watch, laughing at his suffering and then do the same things to her, but even more slowly.

  Her sword trembled in her hand, and she could feel Orlando’s own shivers against her back.

  A Soul Gaunt flowed up in front of her, and she swung wildly, slashing where it had been for an instant, but hitting nothing. There was a chuckle from nearby, a vile sound that made it feel like worms were crawling through her flesh.

  Orlando let out a sudden cry, and she spun in time to see a Soul Gaunt rake its claws across his chest as it flew past. The sharp nails made a skittering noise as they slide off the chain link of his armor, but the force of the blow was enough to drive him to the side and send him stumbling. Shireen lunged toward him, but then let out her own cry as sharp claws clutched the back of her thigh, puncturing through and causing her to stumble forward.

  She fell to one knee, but scrambled up, turning and thrusting with her sword. The point entered the black cloak floating before her, but met no resistance. Remembering the sight of the one laying on the ground on that other earth, she drove her sword up, keeping the blade vertical and felt it make solid contact. The thing before her screeched, pulled back and was gone, leaving no sign of damage behind it.

  By the time she got to Orlando, he had recovered and was fighting a Soul Gaunt of his own, his sword weaving patterns in the air as he tried to hit it. The Soul Gaunt evaded, its green eyes glowing in the depths of its cloak as it looked for its own opening.

  Shireen took it in the side, swinging her sword like a woodsman’s axe and catching it solidly below the arm. It too let out a horrible screech, and dropped to the ground, but before either Shireen or Orlando could attack again, it sped away, leaving them panting.

  Shireen could feel blood running down the back of her leg, and Orlando was holding his left arm oddly. She saw that when the Soul Gaunt had raked its claws across his chest, they had caught in the muscle of his bicep and ripped it badly. His face was pale, and he was breathing heavily, but his eyes scanned the deepening gloom for any more enemies.

  “Where are they?” he said.

  “We just drove two of them away.”

  “Yeah, but how many came out? It looked like a lot. So where are they?”

  For the first time Shireen realized that the fury of battle had driven them away from Florian and Jediah. She peered into the dark, trying to see them, but couldn’t. There was the noise of fighting though, and she ran that way, trusting that Orlando would follow.

  She tripped on something and went sprawling. Looking back, it was the body of one of the Whispering Pines soldiers, his throat torn out, staring lifelessly up at the darkened trees.

  Shireen scrambled to her feet, running after Orlando who had now taken the lead. The sounds of the struggle receded in front of her, and she could hear the still chanting voice of the Advocate growing in volume.

  Suddenly, everything went pitch black, as if she was in a cave deep under the earth with no source of light. There was the cry of a man’s voice and the air turned so cold that she could hardly breath. But strangely, the sense of dread began to fade away.

  A moment later, and the light began to slowly return. Orlando stood a few yards from her, frozen in place as she was by the dark and the cold. Ahead, the doors to House Rustling Elms stood open, and the Soul Gaunts were flowing back into it. Shireen looked around wildly, but there was no sign of Jediah or Florian.

  The Advocate still stood at the bottom of the steps, coming more clearly into view with the gradual lightening of the sky. He stared at her, then his face split into a wide grin. He turned, climbed the three steps and entered the darkness within the tree. The doors slammed, leaving her, Orlando, and one of Florian’s guards behind.

  CHAPTER 45

  It was every bit as dark and suffocating with fear that it had been the last time Thaddeus had been in the Rustling Elms tree. The Soul Gaunts were all around, but kept their distance, seeming content to stay hidden in the shadows, chuckling as he strode through, trying to keep his back straight and his head high. In spite of the cold, sweat stood out on his brow, and his fingers itched to grab the stone in his pocket, say the words and have it blaze with light. But he knew that could well be fatal, regardless of what the Advocate said.

  The human trailed behind him, showing none of the dignity and resolve that Thaddeus was trying to project. He walked along, hunched over, his arms hugging his sides, muttering to himself. If this was the best that the Soul Gaunts could find to serve them on that earth, then he pitied the place. But that was none of his affair. He had done as requested, brought the Advocates message to the Head of his House, and found out the plans for his response. Additionally, he had taken the initiative and brought Luke here. He was sure he would be rewarded extra for that.

  It was early morning when they had arrived at the compound, and the doors to the main tree were shut fast. Luke had moaned at the sight of the bodies scattered around, but Thaddeus had told him to shut his eyes, and led him up the steps to the entrance. Although he found the man to be rather pathetic in general, he couldn’t blame him in this particular case. The view was far from pleasant.

  He had no idea where to find the Advocate, and when he had asked the question to the dark shapes watching them, his only answer had been dry, cold laughter. They wanted him to walk through them, feel the dread that they caused and feed on his fear. Thaddeus hoped they choked on it, and resolved to give them as little as he could.

  While he had no doubts that the Soul Gaunts would triumph and had decided to serve the winning side, he also had no illusion about what they were. Regardless of what the Advocate told him, or wh
at he himself had told the rest, they were evil. A bunch of wild animals or a race of lesser developed people, it didn’t matter. They existed to cause fear, pain and misery, simply because they could, and they enjoyed it.

  Thaddeus wasn’t entirely sure what that made him for agreeing to serve them, but he did know that at the very least it made him a survivor, and that was all that mattered.

  He kept walking though the darkness, feeling his way as he needed to, his hands finding slimy lichens and soft fungi. He led Luke up the stairs and into the room where he had been held the last time. There was no more light in there than there was anywhere else in the tree, but he could tell by the stench that the poor man that had been hung on the wall was still there. Why wouldn’t he be? To take him down would be to show a modicum of compassion. Plus, it added menace to the room, not that it needed it.

  “Ah, Thaddeus.” The voice of the Advocate came out of the darkness. “And you’ve brought a friend. How lovely. Please, be seated.”

  Thaddeus stood unmoving, refusing to be baited.

  “Oh, of course. My apologies.” The voice started to whisper a chant, but cut off abruptly. “You know, on second thought, why don’t you make the light? That way, you can moderate it how it seems best to you.”

  “And keep me weaker,” Thaddeus thought to himself. But pulled the stone from his pocket and cast the spell that caused it to faintly glow. It did little to illuminate the room, which was fine with him, but it did spread enough light for him to see the Advocate seated comfortably in a chair, with another positioned so that it was facing him.

  Thaddeus took that one, carefully setting the stone down on the arm of it.

  “You also,” the Advocate said, looking at Luke. “Sit, please.”

  Luke looked around, but there were no other chairs visible in the small circle of light. He glanced into the darkness and shivered, and then sat on the floor at the side of the chair that Thaddeus had taken.

  “Perhaps that’s fitting,” the Advocate said, smiling down at the human, and then shifting his gaze away as if Luke no longer mattered. “What do you have to tell me?”

  Thaddeus hesitated. Now that the matter was at hand, he found himself unsure. The thought of truly betraying Florian, his cousin and Head of House, was bothering him more than he thought it would. He had reconciled himself to the reality that not only Florian, but all of House Whispering Pines, and the other Houses, would be destroyed. He knew that they would never bow to the Soul Gaunts, and even if they did, many, most really, would end up as food. But still…

  “Thaddeus,” the Advocate said, his voice growing colder, “we had a deal. I would hate to think that I wasn’t able to trust you.”

  He leaned back in his chair as he said this, and suddenly, the light from the stone began to dim. Thaddeus fought back, chanting under his breath, the sweat now running down his face, but it did no good. The light flickered, and against all of his will, went out.

  They moved in. Luke whimpered beside his chair, and Thaddeus could feel the dread pushing from every side. He couldn’t see a single inch in front of his face, but could feel them there. If he reached out, he would touch one, perhaps in the torso, or worse, in the face. Where the jaws could open, and let his fingers pass through to snap shut on them.

  “No,” he half screamed. “I wasn’t hesitating! I was only trying to figure out which to tell you first!”

  “Oh, well that’s different then,” the Advocate said, and slowly the light welled from the stone again. There was no sign of a Soul Gaunt anywhere near him; only Luke, bent over at the waist, his face hidden between his hands. Feeling an uncharacteristic bout of pity, he reached down and put his hand on the human’s shoulder. Luke stiffened for a moment, then started to tremble as sobs racked his body.

  “Now,” the Advocate said, ignoring Luke and sounding for all the world as if he were simply asking the time of day, “what can you tell me?”

  “They’re coming to talk to you. Today.”

  “Really? How convenient. And by they, who do you mean, exactly?”

  “Florian and Jediah, as well as the two who were with me when I…when you…before. The two scouts from Towering Oaks, Shireen and Orlando. Maybe more, I’m not sure.”

  “Both Lords Florian and Jediah. How interesting. And they are coming here for what purpose?”

  “I did as you instructed me to,” Thaddeus began, but the Advocate interrupted him.

  “Thaddeus, my dear friend, I instructed you to do nothing. I merely asked for a favor.”

  “Of course, my mistake.”

  “Try to be more careful. Precision in language is so important with these things. It can really make a huge difference.” He smiled sincerely at Thaddeus, who struggled to return it.

  “Yes, you’re right, of course. As I say, my mistake. I did as you asked me, then. I told them about how the Soul…excuse me, Nightwinds, are predators, forced to flee from their home and looking for a new place to live in peace.”

  “And how did they respond?”

  “As you predicted, with skepticism. For Shireen, with outright derision. She doesn’t believe it at all, and had no problem saying so. To be honest, I don’t think any of them actually believe it.”

  “Then again I ask, why are they coming here?”

  Thaddeus shrugged. “On the chance that they can avoid bloodshed.”

  “They’re concerned about spilling the blood of the Nightwinds?”

  “No, their own peoples,” Thaddeus answered, before he realized that the Advocate was being sarcastic. “You know that, of course.”

  The Advocate smiled again. “They are afraid. And rightly so. And you, Thaddeus? Are you afraid?”

  “Terrified,” Thaddeus admitted.

  “There is no need to be. You are safe here, with us. But now, I have another question. One has come back, one who the Nightwinds know and speak of in whispers among themselves. One who scares even them, if you can believe that.”

  “Solomon.”

  “Yes, Solomon. What of him?”

  “He won’t be with them when they come. He’s gone off to find his missing sword.”

  The Advocate frowned. “What sword is this?” His voice had gone deathly quiet.

  “His sword Justice. A legendary weapon according to Jediah. It’s had other names though. I’m not sure of…”

  “Nightslayer!” hissed the Advocate. “He was the one who had it! We wondered…”

  Thaddeus had a moment to wonder about the “we” before the Advocate was speaking again, urgency in his voice. “Where is it? Where is he going to retrieve it?”

  “The pool where Florian’s daughter was killed. I’m not sure exactly where…”

  “I know, fool!” the Advocate snapped, springing to his feet. He turned to the darkness covering the deeper parts of the room.

  “You! Take five others! Find him and kill him before he gets that sword! Track him down and show no mercy! Don’t play with him, do you hear me? He’s too dangerous! Kill him, take the sword and bring it to me!”

  There were hissings and chitterings from the dark, noises that grated on Thaddeus’s nerves and caused Luke to whimper and curl into himself again. This was the Soul Gaunts’ own language, alien and cruel to both Folk and human.

  But the Advocate didn’t seem to mind it at all. “The rest will stay here. I have other plans for you.” He turned back to Thaddeus. “Take the human and find a place to settle. I don’t care where, this place is full of rooms. Stay there until I summon you.”

  Thaddeus knew better than to argue. He stood and gently coaxed Luke to his feet, grabbed the stone and stumbled from the room.

  “Why did you bring me here?” Luke asked from where he now sat, curled into a corner of what was once an opulent bedroom. Now, the bed was rotting in on itself and the air smelled of decay. But it was one of the better rooms that Thaddeus had found, although he hadn’t looked for long. Soul Gaunts were everywhere in the tree, and even though they kept their distance, th
ey had obviously been given no orders that they had to make him feel comfortable. The innate fear and cold that they generated was everywhere, and there was no getting used to it.

  In this room though, he and Luke were left alone. No Soul Gaunts came into it or tried to interfere when Thaddeus had shut the door. They had been there for hours now, Luke curled into the corner, Thaddeus seated in a chair that wasn’t quite rotted yet, trying to get his thoughts in order. Luke’s sudden question startled him.

  “To save you,” he answered automatically, but then was surprised to find that he spoke the truth. Yes, he had initially done it thinking that the Advocate would reward him for his forethought, but it was more than that. The man had been through a lot, as Thaddeus himself had been. That bound them together more than a mark made on the spirit by being in thrall to these vile things.

  “You have to find your strength,” Thaddeus told him, rising from his chair and moving to squat down near him. “If they think you’re useless, why would they not simply kill you? Stop cowering and show that you can face them enough to do the things they need you to.”

  Luke shook his head. “This was a mistake. I can’t go through with it.”

  “You must! They won’t let you walk out of here now. They’ll take you again, and you know what they’ll do. When the end comes, when they’ve taken everyone, they’ll have Lacy too. And they won’t be kind to her. If you serve them, perhaps the Advocate will let you save her as well.”

  “Perhaps? You told me that they would!”

  Thaddeus turned his head away. “I thought they would. Now…I don’t know. But still, it’s the best opportunity. Otherwise, there is no chance at all. You know this.”

  Luke bowed his head again, but his tears had stopped. He sat silently for a moment and then took a deep breath. “What do I need to do?”

  “Nothing at the moment.” Thaddeus looked around. “In truth, there’s nothing to do at the moment. For either of us. We sit here, in this festering room, until we’re called on.”