The Third Soul Omnibus One

by Jonathan Moeller

  Nine of them, at least, came Corthain’s thought. The Jurgurs with the scars around their eyes. The rest of them…I don’t know. They might have the ability, or they might not.

  Which one is Maerwulf, said Rachaelis.

  He’s not here yet. Corthain’s thought grew grim. You’ll recognize him when you see him.

  Why, said Rachaelis. What does he…

  The crowd went silent.

  Maerwulf stood atop the altar.

  His head was shaved, with the ritual scars around his eyes and mouth and jaw. Intricate black tattoos covered his scalp and cheeks, and the heavy muscles of his arms and chest. He wore only a pair of ragged fur trousers and a sash around his waist. Vials of dried and liquid blood rested in the sash, ready at hand.

  His black eyes swept the assembled Jurgurs.

  Rachaelis saw what Corthain meant. Something about Maerwulf’s presence was terrifying. Power hung over him, like smoke rising from a fire. He did not look a day over forty, but his eyes were ancient and hard. Like a knife drenched in the blood of generations.

  Yes, said Corthain.

  Emotion surged through Rachaelis. Maerwulf served the same high demon that had crippled her father. If there was a way to restore him, a way to bring him out of his half-dead sleep, then Maerwulf would know of it.

  He would tell her. Like it or not, he would tell her.

  Her hands flexed in eagerness.

  Careful, said Corthain. If you get too excited, you’ll make a mistake and get yourself killed.

  Rachaelis gave a sharp nod, watching Maerwulf. But she felt the same sort of eagerness from Corthain. The high demon might have crippled her father, but it had killed Corthain’s brother. And Maerwulf had led the Jurgurs along a trail of bloody carnage through the nations of the West.

  He wanted Maerwulf’s head just as badly as she did.

  “Hear me!” said Maerwulf in Jurguri, his deep voice rolling over the hollow like a thunderclap.

  The Jurgurs and Araspani nobles gazed up at him, motionless.

  “Grievously the Jurgur nation has suffered,” said Maerwulf. “The lands of the West belong to us by right, and the people of the West are our slaves, our chattels, by right. Yet we have been defeated. We have been scattered. And we have been enslaved by those who should be our servants!”

  A rumble went through the crowd.

  Maerwulf threw back his tattooed arms and screamed at the boiling sky.

  “But the hour of our retribution has come at last!” said Maerwulf. “You all have turned away from the gods and spirits of our ancestors, but I have not! I have remained faithful, and I have been rewarded for my fealty with power. For, lo! Some have said that the spirits of our ancestors, our patron demons, have abandoned us! But those who say such things are fools! For it is not the demons who have failed us, but we who have failed the demons! The demons respect only strength, only power, and the Jurgur people have been weak. Little wonder the demons have not brought us victory.”

  Does he really believe that, said Rachaelis.

  I doubt it, said Corthain. He’s trying to get his men fired up.

  “But despair not!” said Maerwulf, shaking a fist as the crowd. “For I am not weak! I have remained faithful. And I have stayed in communion with one of the high demons, mighty Azaramath itself.”

  Azaramath, said Rachaelis.

  The high demon’s name, said Corthain.

  Demons don’t have names.

  They don’t, said Corthain, but the Jurgur blood shamans will give their demons names. It makes them easier to call up.

  “And Azaramath has shown me the way,” said Maerwulf. “Victory for the Jurgur nation,” his dark eyes flicked to the Araspani nobles, “and victory for those wise enough to ally themselves with the Jurgur nation before it is too late. Mighty Azaramath desires to leave the mists of the spirit world, and to walk under the living sun. And through the power of Azaramath, I shall raise up an Urmaaghsk to lead our people to victory.” Another murmur went through the crowd. “Yes! An Urmaaghsk, melding the power of the Adepts’ High Art with the wrath and fury of a high demon. The Urmaaghsk will throw down the Conclave, and the Ring shall drown in the blood of the Adepts. The Urmaaghsk shall shatter the nations of the West. Orlanon will burn. Saranor will fall. Rhomaria will drown in blood. Nothing shall remain of Callia but ashes. And even the head of our mightiest foe, the Hammer of Dark River, shall be laid before the Urmaaghsk’s feet.”

  Try it, said Corthain.

  He’s telling them about the Urmaaghsk for the first time, isn’t he, said Rachaelis.

  My guess is that he wanted to try and snatch you quietly, before you realized the danger, said Corthain. So that way he could present you to them after he had already gotten you to take the high demon into your body. But that went wrong.

  So why is he telling them about it now, said Rachaelis.

  I don’t know, said Corthain. Keep your eyes open.

  “Azaramath has chosen a worthy host,” said Maerwulf. “A woman named Rachaelis Morulan, a new-made Adept of the Conclave. She has raw power, raw potential, but she is young and inexperienced. Once she is captured and shaped, she shall become a worthy vessel for Azaramath.”

  Corthain’s mood darkened.

  What is it, said Rachaelis.

  He’s planning something, said Corthain. Get ready to run.

  “Morulan has gone into hiding,” said Maerwulf, “fearing her destiny, timid and craven as all Adepts are. But we shall take her.”

  He gestured, and the hills started to move.

  Rachaelis flinched, but then realized that the hills were not moving. Rather, people were moving on the hills. Dozens, hundreds of them, all of them with slack, lifeless faces and fiery eyes.

  Ghouls. And a few Urthaags in the mix.

  “Azaramath has revealed Morulan’s hiding place to me,” said Maerwulf. “She is cowering in a room at the Red Water Inn, near the docks.”

  How did he find out about that, said Corthain.

  Maerwulf scraped some dried blood from the altar and rubbed it between his palms. At once hellish light flared into existence around his fingers, and Rachaelis felt the cold, greasy tingle of blood sorcery.

  “This sanctum is in the spirit world,” said Maerwulf, “and I am the master of the spirit world!” He raised his hands, and a pillar of flame appeared before the altar. “I shall conjure a gateway, one that will open into the mortal world just outside the Red Water Inn. Rachaelis Morulan is inside, hiding from her rightful fate. Kill her guardians. Take her alive. Whosoever brings her alive before me shall receive rich reward, and a kingdom of his or her own to rule when the new order arises!”

  Corthain, said Rachaelis.

  Run! Get out of there!

  She backed away from the crowd. The pillar of flame before the altar widened, forming into the shape of an arch. Every eye turned towards the flame, and no one noticed her backing away.

  She spun on her heel and ran.

  Chapter 3 - Wrath of the Blood Shaman

  A moment of agonizing disorientation, a crimson flash, and Rachaelis reappeared on the cracked steps outside Paulus’s ruined tower.

  I’m out, she said.

  Get back here, said Corthain. We’ll astraljump to the Ring before Maerwulf can finish opening that gateway.

  Rachaelis nodded, focused upon the wards Magister Nazim had left around their room, and astraljumped. A flash of silver light, and she found herself in the seedy room once more. Luthair crouched before the door, throwing knives in either hand, while Maria stood behind him with her mace ready. Corthain and Thalia sat hand-in-hand at the table, eyes closed, faces tight with concentration.

  Thalia blinked, and Rachaelis felt the thoughtmeld dissolve away. It left a sudden emptiness within her, a sudden loneliness. She had…liked having Corthain’s thoughts in her head.

  “Ah, good, you’re alive,” said Luthair. “Perhaps we should leave. Right now.”

  “An excellent idea,” said Corthain, getti
ng to his feet besides Thalia. “Can you two astraljump all five of us to the Ring? I don’t think even Maerwulf is mad enough to attack us there.”

  “We can,” said Thalia “Rachaelis, take my hand.” Rachaelis complied. “The rest of you, hands on my shoulders. Rachaelis, we’ll need to use extra power to compensate for Maria’s armor. Ready? On three. One, two...”

  The walls trembled. Bloody light blazed through the windows, and a thunderclap rang in the air. Dust fell from the rafters, and the floor quivered beneath Rachaelis’s boots.

  “What was that?” said Luthair. “Are they trying to blow up the Inn?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Rachaelis. The air around her felt greasy, tainted. Someone had just cast a powerful blood spell. “Doesn’t matter. Let’s go. Thalia…now.”

  Together they cast the astraljump spell.

  Nothing happened.

  “What the devil?” muttered Thalia.

  Rachaelis cast the spell to sense magic. She felt the power of blood sorcery laid over the Inn, blood sorcery strong enough to leak into the astral realm itself…

  “Maerwulf,” said Rachaelis. “His spell. It’s some sort of seal. It’s blocked us from astraljumping out.”

  “Then we are trapped here,” said Maria,.

  “No,” said Rachaelis. “That blood spell must take a tremendous amount of power. I don’t think it can cover more than a couple hundred yards at a time. If we can get far enough away from the Inn, we can astraljump to the Ring.”

  A chorus of maddened screams howled from the street.

  Maerwulf had finished opening his gateway. The Jurgurs were here…along with dozens of Urthaags and the Divine alone knew how many apprentice blood shamans.

  “We’ll have to fight our way through them,” said Maria, lifting her aurelium mace.

  “Bad idea, honored Sister,” said Luthair. “There’s too many of them. We fight, we wind up dead, and Lady Rachaelis ends up with a demon in her skull.”

  “What about the trapdoors?” said Rachaelis. “You said that Bolton sometimes dumps bodies in the harbor. Could we get out that way?”

  “We could,” said Corthain. “But it's a hundred feet to the water. We won’t survive that. Could you levitate all of us down?”

  “Probably not,” said Thalia, “and if one of the Jurgurs happens to look down, we’re finished.”

  “The rooftop, then,” said Corthain, striding towards the door. “All the buildings in the docks are right next to each other. If we can go from roof to roof, we can get away from that seal before the Jurgurs even realize what is happening.”

  He wrenched open the door and they spilled onto the balcony overlooking the common room. Rachaelis just had time to see Bolton vanish into the cellar, bolting the door behind him. The door to the street had been barred, but Rachaelis saw the door shake beneath hammer blows, saw the steel of axes biting through the wood.

  “The ladder to the roof is that way,” said Luthair, pointing at the hallway.

  “They’ll swarm through the door, catch us as we go up,” said Maria.

  “Not unless we slow them down a bit,” said Rachaelis. “Thalia. You use your will, I’ll use astralfire. Hit the door. On three.”

  Thalia nodded, Rachaelis counted, and on three they unleashed their spells in concert.

  Thalia’s thoughts transformed into a giant fist, and she struck the door with everything she had. Her will ripped loose the door, the frame, and a considerable part of the surrounding wall, hurling a cloud of jagged wooden shrapnel into the Jurgurs packed outside the door. A chorus of shrieks rang out, and Rachaelis saw a dozen men fall.

  Then she struck.

  A cone of blue astralfire screamed from her fingers, lanced through the jagged hole in the wall, and blasted into the street. A square yard of earth exploded into molten chunks, and the shock wave knocked those Jurgurs still on their feet to the ground. Rachaelis swept the astralfire to the side, searing through the wooden wall, and sent it hurtling into the Jurgurs.

  Men screamed and died.

  An instant later the entire front wall of the Red Water Inn collapsed in a spray of shattered timbers and cracked bricks. A billowing cloud of dust filled the common room, and the roof shuddered and groaned. For an instant Rachaelis feared that the entire structure would collapse upon their heads.

  “That should slow them down,” said Luthair, coughing.

  “Go!” said Corthain, and they hurried towards the ladder. Luthair went up first, a knife between his teeth, followed by Thalia and Sister Maria. Corthain all but shoved Rachaelis onto the ladder, and she scrambled up, Corthain a half-step behind her.

  The others waited on the roof. The street below glowed with the burning rubble and the harsher light of blood spells. It was a long way down to the street, and an even longer drop to the harbor.

  “This way,” hissed Corthain, pointing. “Stay low. Try not to make too much noise.”

  They hurried across the roof, keeping to a low crouch. A narrow gap separated the Red Water Inn from the next building, and Corthain jumped nimbly over the gap, followed by Luthair. Thalia and Maria went next, and the old woman managed the jump, aurelium-banded armor and all.

  It reminded her unpleasantly of the astraljump trial from the Testing. But if Maria could manage it, so could she. Rachaelis tensed, jumped over the gap, and landed on the other side. Her boots slipped on the shingles, but Corthain caught her by the arms and pulled her up.

  A voice boomed over the chaos in the street, speaking in Jurguri, but Rachaelis recognized it.

  Maerwulf.

  “He sees us,” said Corthain. “Run!”

  Crimson light flooded the street, growing brighter and brighter, and Rachaelis felt the cold power in the air intensify.

  Maerwulf was casting a spell at them.

  She thrust out her hands and summoned her own power, bringing forth a ward of silver light to shield herself and the others, and a heartbeat later Maerwulf’s spell slammed against the ward. Silver light strained against crimson with a snarling howl, and the backlash would have knocked her off the roof had Corthain still not had his hands on her arms.

  Maerwulf was strong. Hideously strong. The other blood shamans were children next to him. Even the blows Magister Arthain had flung against her wards during the Testing felt like gentle slaps compared to this. But the crimson light faded, and Rachaelis slumped against Corthain, breathing hard.

  Thalia flung a burst of silver astralfire into the street, and Rachaelis heard again the snarl of struggling energies.

  “Run!” said Corthain, pulling Rachaelis upright. “Run, damn it! If we don’t get away from that seal, we’re finished.”

  They ran, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, and Rachaelis heard the surge of the Jurgur mob below them. Thank the Divine that none of them had bows. But they had blood shamans, and Rachaelis saw the crimson glow brighten as at least a dozen of them began to cast spells at once.

  And a dark torrent of power as Maerwulf began another spell.

  But the pressure of the blood seal began to fade against her mind. She had been right. It didn't cover a very large distance. One more building, she judged, and they could astraljump to the Ring, and to safety.

  Then a Jurgur woman in a ragged dress sprang to the roof in front of them, her eyes burning over her scarred cheeks. Six more Jurgurs climbed up after her, eyes alight with rage, but mostly with demon fire.

  The Urthaags, she remembered, could climb walls like spiders.

  Corthain moved so fast that she barely followed the movement, his ancient sword a storm-colored blur in his hands. The first Urthaag’s head hopped off her shoulders and rolled across the roof, blood spurting from her neck. Corthain twisted past the falling corpse and ripped his blade across the throat of another man. But the remaining Urthaags recovered from their shock and sprang at him, moving with the superhuman speed and power granted by their demons.

  But by then, Rachaelis had recovered.

  She thrust out her
right hand, a sheet of white astralfire bursting from her spread fingers. It wasn’t enough to kill the demons in the Urthaags, nor even enough to drive them from their hosts. But it was enough to make the demons scream in pain, the Urthaags rocking back and losing their balance. And that gave Corthain enough time to kill another Urthaag with a quick swing. Luthair jumped past him, knives in either hand, and cut the throat of an Urthaag.

  Thalia loosed a blazing shaft of blue astralfire, drilling into the chest of an Urthaag. Maria raced forward, black robe billowing around her, striking back and forth with her heavy mace. Rachaelis flung another sheet of white astralfire, and the surviving Urthaags tumbled back in disarray, two of them even falling backwards off the edge of the roof. Rachaelis hurried towards Corthain, her heart hammering with terror and sudden hope. Just a few more yards, a few more yards, and they would be clear of the seal...

  Then a trapdoor burst open, and a man with the masklike scars of an apprentice blood shaman scrambled onto the roof. A vial of dried blood rested in his hand, and he pointed and began to chant, crimson flames dancing around his fingers. Rachaelis spun, bringing up her hand for another spell, but the shaman struck first. A rune of blood-colored fire appeared over his hand, bathing the rooftop in hellish light. Again the pain exploded through Rachaelis, and she staggered, trying to keep her balance, trying to work a spell.

  Maria raced towards the blood shaman, her face locked in a grimace. The shaman turned and focused upon her. Some of the pain eased from Rachaelis’s mind, and fiery light sprang into existence around Maria. She flinched, but the aurelium bands on her armor flashed white, and she leapt.

  Her mace slammed into the shaman’s face with a loud crack.

  That made a mess.

  The hellish light winked out, which was good, because Rachaelis saw two more blood shamans scurrying through the trapdoor. She raised both hands and released blue astralfire. Azure flames blasted into the two shamans, hurling one from the roof, and sending the other tumbling down the ladder. Rachaelis ran to the trapdoor and threw another blast of astralfire, turning the ladder to smoking embers and sending more blood shamans collapsing in a heap.