The Third Soul Omnibus One

by Jonathan Moeller

  Corthain turned in a circle, sword and sicarr ready in his hand. The sicarr burned with white fire. It seemed important, somehow. Significant.

  But he could not remember why.

  “Corthain,” repeated the woman’s voice. “Look at them.”

  He did.

  He knew the corpses lying in the street. His brother Solthain. His sister Thalia. The hundreds who had died in Paulus’s tower. The thousands, uncounted thousands, who had perished on the banks of the Dark River. The men who had died in Maerwulf’s sanctum. Luthair and Rikon and Morwen and his retainers in Moiria. The freeholders of his domnium.

  “You failed them,” whispered the woman. “You failed to save them.”

  “I tried,” said Corthain.

  The world blurred around him.

  He stood again on the shattered fortifications of Dark River, looking down upon the blood-drenched battlefield. Thousands of his soldiers lay slain, their blood seeping into the earth, while Jurgurs beyond count lay piled near them.

  “You couldn’t save them,” said the woman’s voice.

  Corthain turned.

  The woman stood behind him, robed in shining white, her face a vision of beauty. But her eyes burned like coals.

  “You,” said Corthain. “You’re…Maerwulf's high demon. The one that controlled Paulus and Talvin. Azaramath.”

  The woman inclined her head. “So Maerwulf named me, though my kind has no need of names.”

  “What is this place?” said Corthain. “What do you want of me?”

  “I want only to help you,” said the high demon. “I can help you save them. I can help you keep it from happening again.”

  “What are you talking about?” said Corthain.

  The woman circled around him, her bare feet making no noise against the bloodstained ground. “All of your life, Corthain Kalarien. All of your life, you have labored to save them.”

  “You know nothing of me,” said Corthain.

  Her teeth flashed in a smile. “I know more of you than you think. As a mercenary, you tried to protect the weak. To save them. You saved the nations of the West at Dark River. As domn of Moiria, you protect your freeholders. To save them from the many dangers that threaten their fragile little lives. But none of that matters, does it? You failed to save one man, just one, and that has haunted you ever since.”

  Again the world changed. He stood in the great hall of the Ring, where the Conclave held their formal ceremonies. Solthain Kalarien lay sprawled upon the steps, his throat torn open, eyes glassy and lifeless.

  Corthain stared at the corpse and said nothing.

  “You couldn’t save him, could you?” said the high demon, her beautiful voice sympathetic. “You tried to talk him out of the attack. You begged him to get reinforcements. But he wouldn’t listen to you. He wouldn’t budge. So he went to his death. And he led all your Swords to their deaths. You survived only by the merest chance. And you wished in your heart that you lay among the dead. Because you could have saved them all…but you failed.”

  “I tried,” whispered Corthain.

  “You failed,” said the high demon. “And so you have tried, again and again, to save those who could not save themselves. Sometimes you failed. Very often you succeeded. But you always moved on, because the first failure…that was always with you, was it not? You could never erase it. You could have defeated an army ten times the size of the Jurgur horde…and still your elder brother would lie dead. And nothing you ever did would change that.”

  Corthain said nothing, his eyes still on his brother’s corpse.

  “But I can change that,” said the high demon, her lips close to his ear.

  “How?” said Corthain.

  “Power,” murmured the high demon. “Your brother is gone…but I can give you the power to save others. Your sister. Your retainers. Your freeholders. Rachaelis. Even your father, if you choose.”

  “That’s…something’s wrong,” said Corthain, shaking his head. If only he could think clearly.

  “No,” said the high demon. Her hands closed on his shoulders. “Let me inside you, and I will give you power and strength unlike anything you’ve ever dreamed. You will have the power to make Moiria safe and secure. None of your people will ever go hungry again, none of them will ever suffer.” Her burning eyes drew closer to his face. “I can give you the power to do this.”

  Corthain blinked. Those burning eyes frightened him, but her words…

  “And once Moiria is safe,” said the high demon, “you can do more. The realm of Callia needs a strong king, a king to guarantee the safety and prosperity of its people. You can do this. You can bring order to chaos. And once Callia is strong and prosperous…why not the rest of the nations of the West? Why not remake the Old Empire, build a New Empire, stronger, safer, and more prosperous than the first? You can do that. I can give you the power to make that a reality.” The burning eyes drilled into his head. “Just let me inside you. Let me come with you, walk with you along this path. Let me give you the power you need, the strength that you require. All this can be yours. Just let me inside.”

  “I…” Corthain closed his eyes, trying to think. It all sounded so right. He had seen so much suffering So much unnecessary pain and bloodshed and death and destruction. What if he could avert it? What if he could keep it from happening again? Wasn’t that reasonable?

  Didn’t he have an obligation to take the power?

  If only this damned fog wasn’t filling his mind.

  He opened his eyes, saw the high demon leaning closer, lips parted as if to kiss him…

  “Get away from him!”

  Corthain blinked, and the high demon spun.

  A woman stood on the steps to the dais, clad in leather armor. Her face was gaunt and tired, and brown hair hung in sweaty locks over her brow, but her gray eyes were the color of his sword blade.

  “Rachaelis?” said Corthain.

  She was important, somehow.

  “This isn’t real,” said Rachaelis. “It’s all happening inside your head. The high demon is trying to possess you. You have to fight it.”

  “Don’t listen to her,” said the high demon. “I can give you the power to protect your people.”

  “This is the high demon that possessed Talvin,” said Rachaelis. “It told Maerwulf to invade the West, it told Maerwulf to capture me. It possessed Paulus, and it stole your brother’s soul. Don’t listen to it.”

  Corthain looked at her, and the fog in his mind vanished. The memories came back to him in a rush. Paulus, Maerwulf, and Talvin. The vicious battle in the Testing chamber. Talvin falling at his feet in a pool of blood, and the burning wraith rising up to engulf him…

  He took several alarmed steps away from the high demon and back towards Rachaelis.

  “No,” he said. “I saw what you did to Paulus and to Talvin. Thanks for the offer, but I’m not eager to take their place.”

  “Fool,” said the high demon quietly. “I offered you power beyond the grasp of kings. Immortality could have been yours. And yet you spurn me. But…perhaps it as just as well.” Her mouth twisted into a smile. “A far superior host has come into my grasp.”

  Rachaelis scoffed. “I won’t have anything to do with you. Leave for the astral realm while you still can.”

  “Child, child,” said the high demon, shaking her head. “I am not giving you a choice. This man has no magical power, so I could not force myself upon him. But you do. You entered into his mind. You made yourself vulnerable to me.” She began walking towards Rachaelis. “Your flesh will be mine. Your powers will be mine. Whether you wish it or not.”

  Rachaelis snarled and sent a blast of white astralfire at the high demon. The demon flinched, briefly, but kept walking.

  “You exhausted your powers in the battle,” said the high demon, still heading towards Rachaelis. “And you have not enough left to stop me.”

  Corthain saw the determination on Rachaelis’s face start to crack, saw the first hints of fear
there. He stepped past her, sword and glowing sicarr raised, putting himself between her and the high demon.

  “I think not,” he said.

  The high demon stopped. “You? I may not have the power to take you, boy…but neither do you have the power to stop me from taking her.”

  “But I do.”

  Corthain froze.

  That voice…he knew that voice…

  Solthain Kalarien stood on the dais steps.

  He looked exactly as Corthain remembered him, exactly as he had on the day of the battle with Paulus. He wore the black armor of a Sword, with the red cloak of an Adept, cortana and sicarr ready at his belt.

  “Solthain?” said Corthain, unable to believe it. “Is…this another illusion?”

  “No,” said Solthain. “It has been a long time, brother, time I have had to think upon my mistakes. And you were right. I should have heeded your counsel, waited to attack Paulus. Because of my error, the high demon remained free in the mortal world. A mistake I will now rectify.”

  The high demon laughed, the sound all the more frightening for its unearthly beauty.

  “You have no power here,” said the high demon.

  “You are wrong,” said Solthain, walking down the steps. “You bound my soul to that crystal. And when Talvin was slain, the binding weakened. I was drawn here, to you. To stop you at last.”

  “Even so,” said the high demon. “You do not have sufficient power to stop me.”

  “Not without the aid of another,” said another voice.

  A man in the red robes and black stole of a Magister walked to Solthain’s side. He was lean, with graying hair and bright gray eyes. Corthain saw the resemblance to Rachaelis at once.

  Aramane Morulan.

  “Father?” whispered Rachaelis, her face blank with shock.

  “For twelve years, demon,” said Aramane, “for twelve you have held us bound while you stalked my daughter. But no longer. Your host is dead. You no longer have a hold in the mortal world.”

  “But I shall,” said the high demon. “Your daughter will be mine.”

  “No,” said Aramane. “It ends now.”

  The high demon laughed. “You think you can stop me, mortal fleshling? I was already old when your race was born. I was there when your race first turned to blood spells and necromancy. I watched the Old Empire fall, watched it burn in blood and death. I commanded Maerwulf to invade the nations of the West, and he gathered the Jurgur tribes, and uncounted thousands died. And I possessed Paulus for five years, and Talvin for another twelve, and none of the Adepts could hinder me. You are but a child next to my power, and cannot possibly overcome me.”

  “Not by myself,” said Aramane. “But you forget, demon, that I have watched you for twelve years. I know your plan. Three souls of power to rip open the barrier to the astral realm. But the opposite is true as well. Three Adepts of power, working together, can return a high demon to the astral realm.”

  The high demon laughed again, the fires in her eyes blazing brighter.

  “The mortal world is mine,” said the high demon, “and you mortals are cattle that I can do with as I please.”

  “No,” said Aramane. “We are not.”

  And that calm denial enraged the high demon.

  She screamed in fury and lifted her hands, fingers ablaze with flame. But Aramane pointed, and a shining beam of white astralfire leapt forth and speared the demon's chest. Solthain raised his hand and did the same. And Rachaelis threw out her palms, flinging a cone of white astralfire upon the demon.

  The demon shrieked in fury, fighting against the white fire, but the power was too much. The high demon vanished, devoured by the white flame, and the world shattered around Corthain in a flickering swirl of silver light.

  ###

  Rachaelis opened her eyes with a gasp.

  She knelt on the cold stone floor, besides Corthain, Thalia’s palm still on her forehead. Thalia trembled with exertion, sweat dripping down her face. Magister Arthain stood besides Magister Nazim, and both men seemed locked in a ferocious argument.

  “Do you think I like the prospect?” said Arthain, almost shouting. “But we have to act now. We’ll have another to deal with if…”

  “They’re awake,” said Thalia, voice hoarse. “I…I think they’re fine…”

  “The high demon,” said Arthain. “What became of it?”

  “It’s gone,” said Corthain, getting to his feet with a creak of armor. “They banished it.” He extended a hand and pulled Rachaelis to her feet. Her head swam a bit, and she leaned on his arm for support.

  “They?” said Arthain. “What do you mean, they?”

  “I don’t understand what happened,” said Corthain. “But…”

  Stone scraped against stone.

  Rachaelis turned. The sound came from the socket that had once held the altar. Talvin’s crystals lay in the rubble near by, both the dark one that was to have housed her soul and the two glowing ones.

  But both glowing crystals had gone dark.

  A man climbed out of the stone socket, wearing dusty black armor and a tattered red cloak. A man with black hair and green eyes.

  She felt Corthain go rigid.

  Solthain Kalarien straightened up, looked around, blinked.

  “Father? Corthain?” said Solthain.

  All the blood went out of Arthain Kalarien’s face.

  Talvin’s death must have released the spells upon the crystal, allowing Solthain’s soul to return to his body.

  And then the realization hit Rachaelis, along with hope so sharp it was almost pain. Hands shaking, she pulled away from Corthain and astraljumped.

  Silver light swallowed her, and when it cleared she stood in her father’s tower room, where she had visited every day for years, to see him lying motionless and silent upon his bed.

  But he was sitting up.

  Looking at her.

  A wordless cry burst from her lips, and she flung herself across the room and into his arms. He was breathing. His heart was beating.

  “Rachaelis,” whispered Aramane Morulan. “I heard you. Every day, when you talked to me. Every word. I heard you.”

  Chapter 11 - Father and Daughter

  A week later Corthain walked along the Ring’s outer wall. He had changed back to the black clothes of a Callian domn, his antique longsword riding comfortably at his hip. One thing had changed. Rachaelis's sicarr rested on his right hip.

  That, and Solthain walked alongside him.

  Corthain had forgotten how much Solthain liked to talk.

  “My little brother the hero,” said Solthain. “Who would have thought?”

  Corthain laughed. “You exaggerate.”

  “I do not,” said Solthain. “I’ve talked to people, you know. Having been out of touch for twelve years, I need to get caught up. I’ve heard how they call you the Hammer of Dark River. The man who stopped the Jurgur horde cold in its tracks, who save the royalty of every nation in the West.”

  “I had help,” said Corthain.

  Solthain grinned and leaned against the battlements. “And then Father banishes you for cowardice. But you return twelve years later, slay a demon-possessed traitor, save the life of the Conclave’s most promising young Adept, and restore myself and Magister Aramane to…er, health, I suppose. Like it or not, little brother…you are a hero.”

  “And I had help for that, too,” said Corthain.

  “Modest!” said Solthain. “The women love that. Why don’t you have a wife yet? Or a mistress, at the very least? Or why not both?”

  “I’ll look into it,” said Corthain.

  Solthain shook his head and laughed, and they stood in silence for a while.

  “What will you do now?” said Solthain.

  “Luthair went to the docks to find a ship,” said Corthain. “I will return to Moiria.”

  “You could stay, if you wanted,” said Solthain. “Every last Magister voted to lift your original sentence of banishment and exile. You c
ould have any office in the city that you wanted.”

  “No,” said Corthain. “I am domn of Moiria now. I have responsibilities there. Besides, I never liked Araspan very much. I want to go home. And I’m afraid Araspan isn’t it.”

  “You have a duty to your people,” said Solthain. “That, I can understand. I had a duty to mine. And I failed in it.”

  Corthain frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I heard what the high demon said to you,” said Solthain, staring at the city. “How you’ve blamed yourself for all these years because of what happened. You shouldn’t have.” He shook his head. “It was my fault. You were right. I should have pulled back for reinforcements, not tried to take on Paulus by myself. I should have listened to you. But I wanted to impress Father. And a fine job I did of it, too. What happened wasn’t your fault. It was mine.”

  “What’s done is done,” said Corthain. “And I don’t think anyone fully realized how dangerous Paulus was. Or that the high demon could possess Talvin and remain undetected for another twelve years.”

  Solthain smiled, briefly. “Brother, you are too kind. As always. But let’s talk about something else. Out of curiosity, what are you going to do about Rachaelis?”

  Corthain shrugged. “I assume she’ll stay in the city with her father. Aramane was always a strong voice in the College Liberia, and she’ll probably assist him.”

  Solthain laughed. “No, no, no. I didn’t ask what she was going to do. I asked what you were going to do about her. She likes you, you know.”

  “I know,” said Corthain.

  “Go after her, you idiot,” said Solthain. “Why not? You’re both noble born, and she’s clever and determined. And rather attractive, too.”

  “Because I am domn of Moiria,” said Corthain. “Because, as you said, I have a duty to my people. Marriage is a political affair for Callian nobles. Besides, I cannot stay here to spend a few months in courtship.”

  “Then ask her to come with you,” said Solthain.

  Corthain blinked. “What?”