The Third Soul Omnibus One

by Jonathan Moeller

Rachaelis frowned. “But that wasn’t your fault. Paulus did those things, not you.”

  “I know,” said Corthain. “But do you see? I could spend the rest of my days chewing over my regrets. Or I can deal with the present.”

  “Perhaps you’re right,” said Rachaelis. She smiled. “For a mercenary soldier, you’re very wise.”

  “And for an Adept, you’re unusually level-headed,” said Corthain.

  There was the silver flash of an astraljump, and Thalia appeared by the door.

  “Rachaelis!” she said. “You’re awake. How do you feel?”

  “I’m fine,” said Rachaelis. “How is Magister Nazim? Is he…”

  “He’ll get better, eventually,” said Thalia. “I checked on him after I was done with the First Magister. He was awake, and talking. That spell…I guess it locks the mind in its own nightmares. It should have driven him insane. Fortunately, Nazim knows as much about mind-affecting magic as anyone in the Conclave. He was able to fight off the worst of the attack. Though it’s going to be a while before he’s on his feet again.”

  Rachaelis let out a long breath.

  The door opened, and Luthair slipped into the room. “Ah, you’re back, my lady.”

  “Anything?” said Corthain.

  Luthair shook his head. “No Jurgurs. You picked well, my lord. Bolton hates Jurgurs, and doesn’t make them welcome here. Though if Araspani noblewomen are following Maerwulf, I suppose anyone could be a spy. And it would be impractical to kill everyone in the Inn.”

  “Indeed,” said Corthain, turning back to Thalia. “What did Talvin say?”

  “He was furious,” said Thalia. “I’ve known him since I was a little girl, and I haven’t seen him that angry since Paulus. It was bad enough when the Jurgurs were practicing blood sorcery within sight of the Ring. But an Araspani noblewoman? That’s treason. He sent the Swords to seize her holdings, and Father to deal with the blood spells.”

  “I imagine Father wasn’t pleased,” said Corthain.

  “No,” said Thalia. “No, he was not. He’s still not happy that you’re involved, and he was absolutely enraged that an Araspani noblewoman would practice blood sorcery. Anna Marinius may have been fortunate that Rachaelis killed her. Otherwise she would have had to face Father.”

  Corthain’s face hardened. “There are not many people I would hand over to Father’s tender mercies. But you saw that cellar. You saw those corpses. She butchered them like hogs and drained their blood for her spells. Little wonder she had gone through so many Jurgur slaves.”

  “Or,” said Luthair. For once the little man was not smiling. “She handed them over to Maerwulf.”

  “We should decide on a course of action,” said Rachaelis. “If this Maerwulf is behind the attacks, we need to find him.”

  “But first,” said Thalia, “you’re going to tell us who Maerwulf is, Corthain. Anyone mentions his name and you look as if you’ve just seen a ghost.”

  Luthair snorted. “If only.”

  “You know him?” said Thalia.

  Corthain paced around the room, stopped at the window.

  “The first time I heard of Maerwulf,” said Corthain, “was two months before the Battle of Dark River, in the Outlands. We came across an village a few hours after Maerwulf and the other blood shamans had left.”

  “The pyramid,” said Luthair, voice soft.

  “A pyramid?” said Thalia, frowning. “The village had a pyramid? Or the shamans built one?”

  “Oh, they built one,” said Corthain. “Out of the corpses of the village’s children. Maerwulf had killed them all, in front of their mothers and fathers, and harvested their blood for his spells. Then he killed them all. Except for one he left alive as a witness, to spread fear and terror among his foes.”

  Rachaelis shuddered.

  “That’s monstrous,” said Thalia.

  “That’s Maerwulf,” said Luthair.

  “I learned more about him from captured Jurgurs,” said Corthain. “He is at least two hundred years old. Maybe three hundred. He can use stolen blood to sustain his life. He is not an Urmaaghsk himself – he doesn’t have the High Art – but he can create Urthaags at will. Many lesser and greater demons come at his call. His blood sorcery is hideously powerful. And he is in communion with one of the oldest and most powerful of the high demons. Perhaps even the high demon that commanded the Jurgurs to invade the West in the first place.”

  “The one that wants to take Rachaelis’s body,” said Thalia.

  “Most probably,” said Corthain.

  Again Rachaelis shuddered.

  “How did you beat him, if he was so powerful?” said Rachaelis.

  “I didn’t,” said Corthain. “He was with the bulk of the Jurgur horde when we trapped them against the Dark River. The Jurgur horde collapsed around him, and Maerwulf must have survived the retreat. I put a bounty of a thousand crowns on his head, but no one ever collected. Most of the surviving Jurgurs scattered all over the West, but some of the blood shamans and Urthaags fled back into the East. I had assumed Maerwulf went with them. Instead, it seems that he has come to Araspan.”

  “Because that high demon of his commanded it?” said Thalia.

  “Almost certainly,” said Corthain. “And if he can turn Rachaelis into an Urmaaghsk, no doubt he thinks that she will destroy the nations of the West, and the Jurgurs will rise again.”

  Rachaelis could not envision herself doing that. But she had seen those corpses in Anna’s cellar. And she could envision what Maerwulf might do to her, to force her to accept the high demon.

  For a moment she wanted to cry.

  “So,” said Thalia. “That means we find Maerwulf and kill him. How do we find him?”

  “There may be a way,” said Corthain, taking a bundle wrapped in blue cloth from the table. “We took this from Lady Anna’s corpse.”

  He unwrapped it, revealing the silver amulet with the strange black stone.

  “What is it?” said Thalia.

  “I don’t know,” said Rachaelis. “But whatever it is, it’s absolutely vibrating with blood sorcery.”

  Thalia cast the spell to sense magic. “You’re right. It’s powerful, whatever it is. And…it’s like it’s not really here.”

  “Or it’s simultaneously in the mortal world and the astral realm,” said Rachaelis.

  “How is that even possible?” said Thalia.

  “That’s a good question,” said Corthain. “But if this thing is powerful, then that means Maerwulf created it. And if he created it, you might be able to trace the enchantment back to him.”

  “Yes,” said Thalia. “Yes. That…might work. But Maerwulf might have taken steps against someone using this amulet to trace his location. Those warding sigils we saw in Anna’s basement, for example. A spell like that would block us from finding Maerwulf.”

  “But if we put enough power into the spell,” said Rachaelis, “then we can penetrate the wards anyway. And we’ll know where Maerwulf is hiding.”

  “And then we can contact Talvin,” said Corthain, “who will bring the Adepts and the Swords down upon Maerwulf’s tattooed head.”

  “I like this plan,” said Thalia.

  Rachaelis got to her feet. “Then let’s get started.”

  ###

  Seven hours and a dozen attempts later, they had made no progress. Rachaelis sat back upon her bunk, rubbing her aching head.

  “It’s absorbing the spells,” said Thalia. “If it does indeed exist in the astral world as well, any spell we cast at it is pulled into the astral world and dissipated.”

  “But why would a blood shaman even make something like this?” said Rachaelis. “What possible use could it have?”

  “A shield, perhaps?” said Thalia. “To absorb hostile magic?”

  Rachaelis shook her head. “It didn’t save Lady Anna from my astralfire.”

  Thalia grinned. “Maybe that was because you’re so strong. You just overwhelmed the thing.”

  “Then why di
dn't the spell destroy it?” said Rachaelis.

  “Let’s stop for now,” said Thalia, wrapping the amulet in the torn strip of cloth. “We can try it again in the morning with a fresh head. Go get some food. I’m going to check on Magister Nazim.”

  She disappeared in a burst of silver light.

  Rachaelis walked to the door. She had changed out of the gown and back into the worn leather and wool of a mercenary scout. The trousers no longer bothered her. Odd that they became so comfortable so quickly.

  Luthair sat in the hall, smiling, his eyes darting back and forth.

  “Good evening, my lady,” said Luthair. “And may I say that leather suits you.”

  “Thanks,” said Rachaelis. “Where’s Corthain?”

  Luthair jerked his head towards the end of the hall. “The balcony. He’s always liked to go to balconies, when he wants to think.”

  Rachaelis hesitated. “How long have you known him?”

  “About seven years,” said Luthair. He produced a knife and began cleaning his fingernails. “Almost eight, now.”

  “How did you meet?” said Rachaelis.

  “I joined his mercenary company,” said Luthair. “I had recently escaped from a group of bandits, after…ah, relieving them of some ill-gotten gains. Lord Corthain’s company had a contract to destroy the bandits. I informed my lord Corthain about the bandits’ ambush, and he rather cleverly reversed their trap and destroyed them. He seemed like the sort of man who would bring his followers victory, so I’ve followed him ever since.” He lifted his knife, glancing at the edge. “And I was right, wasn’t I? The Hammer of Dark River, and now domn of Moiria. And he’ll rise higher yet, I’ll wager.” He grinned. “And I never like to lose a bet.”

  “He is…quite an exceptional man,” said Rachaelis.

  Luthair sighed. “But he’s going to get himself killed protecting you, you know.”

  Rachaelis flinched. “What?”

  “He likes you,” said Luthair. “All these years, and I’ve only seen him take a few women to his bed. Certainly he could have had his pick as domn of Moiria. I could never figure out why. Eventually, I realized that he feels obliged to defend anyone under his protection. And, for some mad reason, he considers having taken a woman to his bed to mean taking her under his protection.”

  “Your reasoning is flawed,” said Rachaelis, voice cold. “Corthain hasn’t shared a bed with me.”

  “Ah,” said Luthair with a lazy smile, “but he wants to. And I’d wager that you want him to. Even if you haven’t realized it yet. And I don’t often lose a wager.”

  “I think we’re done talking now,” said Rachaelis.

  She stalked towards the balcony door, ignoring Luthair’s eyes on her back. Annoying little man. Useful skills or not, she wondered how Corthain tolerated him.

  The balcony ran the length of the building, and had a fine view of the harbor and the ocean beyond. And, Rachaelis mused, of any corpses dumped over the harbor wall from the hidden trapdoors. Corthain stood a distance away, hand resting on his sword hilt, eyes distant as he gazed over the water.

  He smiled as she approached, and Rachaelis realized that Luthair had not been entirely wrong.

  Or wrong at all.

  Damn it.

  “Any luck with the amulet?” said Corthain.

  “No,” said Rachaelis. “Thalia thinks that the amulet disperses any spell cast upon it. We’re going to try again tomorrow.”

  Corthain grunted. “Perhaps you should bring it to a Magister of the College Artificia tomorrow. They focus upon enchantments. One of them might have the skill to trace the amulet’s enchantment back to Maerwulf.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” said Rachaelis. “But I’m…hesitant to get anyone else involved. Suppose Maerwulf can sense it if we trace the enchantment back to him? Marvane and all those Swords have already died, and Magister Nazim was almost killed. I don’t want anyone else to die on my account.”

  “If we don’t find Maerwulf,” said Corthain, “then a lot more people will die. You among them, perhaps.”

  “I know,” said Rachaelis. “I’ll ask Thalia about it when I see her.” She hesitated. “There was something else I wanted to ask you.”

  “Oh?”

  “Do you think it might be possible to take Maerwulf alive?” said Rachaelis.

  Corthain frowned. “That would be extremely dangerous. He can use his own blood to cast spells, and a blood shaman of his skill would need only a small amount of blood to work a deadly spell.” He snorted. “For that matter, I’m not even sure we can kill him. Why do you want him alive?”

  Rachaelis looked away. “He might know what happened to my father.”

  Corthain said nothing.

  “None of the Adepts know what happened to him,” said Rachaelis, “and the Magisters of the Colleges Excorisia and Maleficia know more about demons and dark magic than anyone in the world. But they don’t know what happened to him. But if Maerwulf's in communion with a high demon, then he probably knows more about demons than any other living man. He…might know what happened to my father.”

  “He might not, either,” said Corthain. “Paulus was an Urmaaghsk, but he was still an Adept, not a blood shaman. It’s possible what happened to your father is some hidden aspect of the High Art that Paulus discovered.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Rachaelis. “The High Art…it has no spells that can affect mortal souls. And Paulus wasn’t a blood sorcerer. So it had to have been something with the high demon inside him. Something it did to my father. And Maerwulf might know.”

  Corthain was silent for a moment, staring at her face. Then, “If it is possible to take Maerwulf alive, we will do so.”

  “Thank you,” said Rachaelis. “If we do…that is another thing I will owe you. You already saved my life once.”

  Corthain looked away. “It was nothing.”

  “It wasn’t,” said Rachaelis. A sudden impulse seized her, and she unbuckled her sicarr’s sheath from her belt. “Here. I want you to have this.”

  She held the dagger out to him, hilt first.

  “Your sicarr?” said Corthain. He sounded startled. “I thought Adepts kept these. A badge of office.”

  “They do,” said Rachaelis. “But sometimes they’re given as gifts.” She shrugged. “I can always make another one.”

  Corthain drew the sicarr, examined the blade.

  “Careful,” said Rachaelis. “That enchantment keeps the blade from dulling. You could cut your thumb off, if you’re not careful.”

  “This is a fine blade,” said Corthain. “You need a weapon. You should keep it.”

  Rachaelis laughed. “My weapons are my spells. If I ever need to use a dagger to defend myself…I’ve already lost.”

  “You have a point,” said Corthain. “Then I accept. This…is a magnificent gift. Thank you.” He blinked. “I never thought I would have one of these.”

  “You deserve it,” said Rachaelis. “I’ve never really met anyone like you.”

  Corthain shrugged. “And I've said this before, but you’re certainly unlike any other Adept I’ve ever met.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek.

  Rachaelis hadn’t expected that at all. She didn’t know what to do next. The Conclave’s training had not given her preparation for this sort of thing, after all.

  So she caught his neck, turned his face towards hers, and kissed him back.

  He broke away first. Rachaelis was breathing hard and shivering a little.

  “This is not the time,” he said, voice hoarse. “Not now. Not until we’ve dealt with Maerwulf.”

  “You’re…” Rachaelis’s throat had gotten so dry. “You’re right.” He was right. Part of her wanted to scream in frustration, though. “It’s just…yes. After Maerwulf.” She blinked and stepped back. “I’m suddenly quite hungry. Join me for supper?”

  Corthain smiled. “Of course.”

  ###

  Thalia awaited them in the ro
om.

  “What is it?” said Rachaelis. “What’s wrong?”

  “There was a message waiting for me at the Ring,” said Thalia, handing a scroll to Rachaelis. “Apparently a Sister of the Temple wants to get in touch with you.”

  Rachaelis opened the scroll.

  “Sister Maria?” said Corthain.

  “Yes,” said Rachaelis. “And she thinks she knows how to find the blood shaman.”

  Chapter 9 - The Inquisitor

  The silver flash faded, Corthain’s head spun, and he found himself once more in Araspan’s rambling maze of dockside alleys.

  Rachaelis rocked on her heels, shaking her head.

  Corthain caught her arm. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” said Rachaelis. “Just a little tired. It’s been a long couple of days.” She blinked a few times. “All those tracing spells must have taken more out of me than I thought. But I’m fine.”

  “I don’t think you are,” said Corthain. “You wanted to take us to the Temple?”

  “I did,” said Rachaelis. “The Temple is right over…”

  Her voice trailed off in confusion. “At least…it’s supposed to be over there.”

  “It’s actually six blocks that way,” said Corthain.

  “Oh,” said Rachaelis. She sighed. “Maybe I am more tired than I thought. At least I didn’t put us in the harbor.”

  “But you didn’t,” said Corthain. “So, no harm done. A little walk never hurt anyone.” Unless they blundered into some of Maerwulf’s followers, of course. “But we shouldn’t talk about it here. Let’s go.”

  Rachaelis nodded, adjusted the hood of her cloak, and started walking.

  Corthain followed her, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His eyes roamed over the walls and the doorways, watching for any danger, but kept returning to Rachaelis.

  What was he going to do about her?

  Luthair would have said to take her to bed and have done already. But Corthain was not the sort of man to do anything casually. There had been only a few lovers in his life. His first had been the daughter of a noble Araspani house, who had spurned him after his exile. Some years later she perished in her Testing. During his years as a mercenary, there had been the impoverished widow of an Orlanish nobleman, who had hired his company to defend her lands from brigands. Later she married a wealthy merchant with the money to provide for her and her children. In the year before the Jurgur invasion and Dark River, here had been the daughter of a Khauldish emir, fleeing from her cruel father. She had wound up marrying a Callian knight.