The Shepherd of Fire (The Soul Stone Trilogy Book 2)

by Matt Moss

  Lucian sheathed the blade and peeked around the corner. The guards were busy talking among themselves and rolling stones for money. Two were reclined upon the steps for a bit of shut eye. He had to move, now.

  He craned his neck up, seeking to scale the wall. There were sufficient enough holds to climb, but there was just one problem — the ledges were way too far apart. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and fell into the tap. His legs powered through the initial jump as his fingers purchased the first ledge. He quickly hauled himself up and pressed his back against the wall.

  The young guard, making his way back to his companions, stopped and stood in awe at the sight.

  “What is it?” another guard called from the front, noticing the young man’s demeanor.

  “Nothing, nothing,” he yelled and regained his composure. “Was just thinking about your mother is all,” he jeered and rejoined the group.

  Smart kid.

  With four more leaps, Lucian finished the ascent. His feet slid along the narrow ledge and he hugged the massive corner to gain a view of the balcony. It was empty and no shadows moved in the light from within. He looked down. The fall was more than enough to kill a man, but Lucian had tested his strength with heights before. He’d fallen from much higher with no more than a bruised heel.

  He extended his hand around the corner and felt for the hold. For a brief moment, his feet left the ledge as he swung himself around. They landed on the other side, and he quickly shuffled towards the balcony. With a nimble leap, he found himself outside the high priest’s room, his back to the entryway, listening. He heard voices from within, one that was definitely Sarie’s. The other belonged to a man, but sounded odd — raspy and strained like an old man on his deathbed. Like someone whose throat had been crushed.

  Was Moses telling the truth? Did Victor truly live?

  Lucian stepped to the middle of the balcony.

  Sarie gasped and put a hand to her mouth when she saw him. She looked marvelous, dressed in a white gown with a string of pearls around her head. Her crimson hair fell in locks around her shoulders and softly draped upon her breasts.

  Victor turned at her alarm and saw Lucian. He grinned at his former apprentice. “What do you think, Lucian. Isn’t she breathtaking? Never before has the world seen an Oracle like her.”

  Lucian didn’t know how to react. Every part of him was on fire — wanting to kill Victor and take Sarie away, but he couldn’t move. He stood there, his mind a blank state of disbelief. “You were dead,” he managed to choke out.

  “I was! And by your hand, no less. But that is in the past.” Victor walked to Lucian “I have already forgiven you, my son. Please, come in,” he gestured with his hand.

  Lucian’s hand twitched for his dagger. He wanted to grab it and finish the job right — with blade and blood. Sarie looked concerned. Something in her eyes bid him not to kill Victor, but bid him to join them. Why?

  “I knew you would return,” Victor said, slowly wrapping an arm around him. “If not for me, then for her.”

  Sarie straightened herself proper. “Hello, Lucian.” She said it as if they were old friends.

  “Sarie,” Lucian hesitantly greeted.

  “How is your side? Please forgive me. Everything was rather chaotic at the time to say the least.”

  “It’s fine,” he replied. “You have no need to apologize.” He stepped close to her and moved to take her hand, pausing to make sure she would let him.

  Hesitantly, she reached to meet his. Her eyes locked onto his other hand as his fingers traced along her skin. His touch moved up her arm, causing chills along the way, until it found her face. He ran the back of his hand over her cheek, gently brushing her fiery red hair to the side.

  “You’re more beautiful than ever,” he softly said.

  She dropped her head, briefly, then met his gaze again. She touched his face.

  “Lucian,” she sighed.

  He pressed his mouth against hers and held it there, lost in the moment. Passion rose from years of longing as both seemed to be wanting the same thing — their hands and mouths searching for more.

  Victor put a hand to his chin and watched, curious.

  After a moment, they both pulled away, Sarie with her eyes shut in remembrance.

  “It pleases me to see you two together again,” Victor spoke. “You were always meant for one another.” Lucian noted his tone — mocking, but with an odd hint of sincerity.

  “Why did you hide from me for all these years?” Lucian asked Sarie. “And with him?”

  “I was afraid,” she replied. “Afraid of the Order, of King George. I was afraid of you.”

  “Don’t be,” he assured her.

  From the desk, Victor poured three glasses of wine. He offered them up with a flourish. “A toast! To the lost becoming found. To love and to life.”

  Lucian dismissed the glass and shot a glare at Victor. “I haven’t gotten to you yet, but trust me, I will,” he threatened.

  Victor’s face twisted. “No need for hostilities, my son. This is a glorious day. A day of celebration.”

  Lucian stepped to him. “Why did you keep her from me!”

  Victor opened his mouth to speak.

  Lucian cut him off. “I trusted you! And for what, to let me die on the executioner’s block as you both watched, smiling?”

  Victor frowned. “No, Lucian. I would never want you to leave me, in this life or the next. You are my son.”

  “I am not your son!” Lucian yelled and the air seemed to drain from the room, causing some of the candles to snuff out and leave the room in a dim light. Lucian’s eyes were glowing white with intensity.

  “You’ve done it,” Victor whispered in amazement. “You’ve managed to tap into the next level.”

  “What are you talking about?” Lucian spat. He felt himself return to normal. He knew he soul tapped in reaction to Victor, but only afterwards did he realize that his power felt different. The intensity was like nothing he’d ever felt before. He looked at his trembling hands.

  “I had to test you, my son. It was the only way to unleash the power from within. You had to go through certain trials to gain the power that you now possess. That is why I kept Sarie from you for all these years.”

  Sarie lit a few of the candles around the room. She held one in her hands and rejoined them, adding a soft glow to each of their faces.

  Victor continued. “I knew that you wouldn’t die alongside Paul that day, Lucian. I’m sorry to have to make you suffer so, but it was the only way. You have built such a wall within yourself, nothing could penetrate it. But I knew that she could.”

  He offered Lucian the glass of wine again. “Sometimes, a person must be pushed to extreme limits to unlock their true potential.”

  Lucian accepted the glass. “It was all a test?” he said, slowly understanding.

  “Yes, my son. It was to discover your true power. You are the chosen one to fulfill the prophecy. You always were.”

  “The prophecy? You mean the prophecy that’s foretold in The Path of Man?”

  “The same,” Victor said.

  Lucian looked to Sarie. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking. He never could. A sly grin softly played across her face.

  “Sorry, that’s not me,” Lucian stated.

  Victor grinned. “I disagree. And now that you have discovered this new power, I have a task for you,” Victor said with amusement. “Just like old times.”

  “I’ve killed enough in my time. I’m done.”

  “Lucian, you must listen,” Sarie urged.

  Lucian changed the subject. “Word on the road is that the Order was destroyed.”

  Victor stood tall, beaming with pride. “It is finished. Finally, our mission to destroy the Order is complete.”

  “Then what more could you want?” Lucian noted and took a drink of the priest’s wine.

  “To rule, with you by my side. Together, we can make this world what we want it to be.”


  Lucian looked into his cup. “I don’t even know what I want it to be. Truth be told, I don’t care anymore.” He looked at Sarie.

  “Please, Lucian. We need you,” Sarie pleaded. The conviction in her eyes shown bright in the candlelight. “I need you.”

  Victor smiled and continued with his plan. “The independent cities are refusing to pay taxes for the King’s Generosity. The crown still rules over them. They need to be reminded of that.”

  As Lucian stared into Sarie’s eyes, he didn’t want to take the job. His rational mind told him not to go along with this plan because he knew it would end in suffering. The best thing he could think of would be to kill Victor right now, and do it right this time.

  Hard to heal yourself when you’re missing a head.

  The world would be better for it. He could take Sarie with him and they could start over, somewhere far away. But would she want him if he did? For some reason, her feelings towards him didn’t feel genuine. He needed more time to reconcile the past. He had no choice.

  “What would you have me do?” Lucian sighed, the words feeling strangely normal to him. He knew he would regret them.

  “Do what you do best.” Victor walked to the desk and returned with a silk ebony pouch in hand. “The Oracle, whom the people have come to worship, has already prophesied destruction upon Greenehaven if the cities fail to pay their dues. It’s time to make good on that promise.”

  Lucian took the stones. “Greenehaven, huh? The central trade city in the kingdom.”

  “Let this be a warning to all of the realm — he who defies the crown brings destruction upon his head,” Victor stated, his face snarled.

  “When?” Lucian asked.

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Doesn’t leave much time for leisure,” Lucian noted, tucking the stones away.

  “You must leave. Now,” Victor said. “I have reserved you a spot in the arena for tomorrow’s finale. I’m sure you’ll know what to do.”

  The son of a bitch always likes to put on a show.

  Lucian looked to Sarie. “Be safe,” she said. “I’ll be waiting here for you when you return.” Her eyes were oddly sincere. He shook his head and chuckled.

  His fist flashed to clench Victor’s robe before pulling him close. “This thing between you and me, it ain’t over.” His breath fell hot onto Victor’s face.

  Victor cracked a grin. “I would hope not.”

  Lucian grit his teeth and let the priest go. “We’ll settle up later,” he promised. He walked out of the room and left the way he came in.

  Victor walked to the balcony, making sure Lucian was truly gone. Sarie met him there.

  “Will he do it?” she asked.

  “He will,” he assured her.

  “And after that?” She grabbed his arm, turning him to face her.

  “After that, my dear, he will die.”

  “You promised me that before. It’s been eighteen years now, and I want justice for the son that he stole from me. I can’t play this game anymore and I don’t know if I can stand to face him again without vomiting.”

  Victor blinked. “If I have to, I’ll kill him myself.”

  “See it done,” she commanded and retired to the room.

  “Damn,” he said as she walked away. “All hail the Oracle.” He stepped to the edge of the balcony and gripped the rail.

  A worried look appeared on his face as he thought about the lies that he had told her. He had lied to her about Levi and the Order, and about how they started the rebellion. He told her that everything had been Paul’s fault. The truth had finally been buried with their destruction. All the lies had been kept safe. All but one. The one lie, that if she knew, could undo everything.

  Arkin.

  THIRTEEN

  Arkin left the Crossing the morning after his encounter with Lucian. He couldn’t sleep the night before. Again. But it wasn’t fearful thoughts that kept him awake this time — it was thoughts of vengeance. Weary eyed and tired, he rode for Kingsport.

  Standing at the the city gates for the first time in many years, he was immediately filled with awe. He remembered it being grand as a child, but not this grand. Polished brick and cobblestone streets paved around newly furbished shops adorned with polished bronze caught his eye. Townsfolk dressed in fine attire hustled about, chatted with one another, and browsed items through shop windows. Arkin noticed that even the outhouses were worth more than most folk in the Crossing could afford.

  This is main street. I know good and well the rest of the city doesn’t fare like this.

  Arkin pulled the hood of his cloak tight and kept his head down as he entered the streets. The guards at the gate paid him no mind — just another beggar boy in search of the next handout by the looks of him.

  He knew that Victor ran the capital, and he feared being spotted by the high priest or one of his men. Still, he took the chance and came anyway. He wanted to see Malik and promised Clara that he would bring her news of his safety.

  He also wanted to see where Victor made his home. Observe the daily change in the guard. Look for a way into the palace. Wait for an opening.

  If I can cut the head off the snake…

  It was a long shot and one that would probably get him killed, but what else did he have to lose? Lyla was all that came to mind. She was definitely worth living for. But killing Victor was worth dying for.

  He left the commotion of main street for an alley that ran behind the shops. A few beggars regarded him as he passed, but quickly realized that Arkin didn’t look any better off than they did. A gang of cats hissed as he came too close to their den. Hiding in the shadows of two shops, he edged close to the main street. His eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of the palace in the distance. It was much larger than he thought and looked impenetrable to an unwanted visitor.

  He then took in the Church, amazed by the sheer size of it as it was even bigger than the palace. He noticed a heavy guard posted outside of both buildings, at least twenty men patrolling the grounds.

  He shook his head, knowing that barging in the front door of either one would be folly. Probably wouldn’t have much luck sneaking in either. He would have to find another way in.

  Or wait until he leaves the safety of his home. Meet him in the streets.

  He would be heavily guarded for certain. Even if soul tapped, one man against an army would be suicide. There had to be another way.

  An arrow through the heart would do nicely. He wished he could have snuck his bow into the city, but knew the guards would have noticed it under his cloak.

  Easy as that then — acquire the weapon, find out when the high priest would make an appearance, find a position where he could get a clean shot and not be spotted, and hope that Victor would come close enough.

  Arkin chuckled at the odds. Maybe all the stars would align and the universe would deliver justice through his hands. If nothing else, it was hope, and nowadays hope was becoming a fading commodity.

  He had an inside man, though. His cousin, Malik, was in the King’s Guard. He would know the turnings of the capital along with Victor’s comings and goings. He was key to making the plan work.

  Arkin didn’t even know if Malik was still alive after all the chaos that had occurred. And the last time Arkin had seen him, they had gotten into a fight.

  Arkin grinned. At least it’s a plan. It’s better than nothing. And hey, it could be worse.

  He took the last words back as soon as he thought them.

  The market was gone. A few buildings were being erected around the square, but most of the burnt remains had been removed. Charred, blackened stains spotted the streets where shops used to stand. The statue of the king still lie broken and fallen in the dry fountain.

  Curses flew amidst the hammer blows and saw cuts. Not abnormal for anyone in the trades.

  Arkin ducked a board as a worker carelessly twirled around. “Watch it, boy,” the young man spat.

  “Quit jackin’ your jaw and hurry up!” ano
ther man yelled out from atop a ladder. He shook his head. “Can’t find help worth a damn these days. Everyone wantin’ a free ride, too scared of good, hard labor.”

  “It’s the younger generation,” another worker chimed in. “Ain’t worth a damn.”

  The young man handed over the board. “I’d work circles around you, old man. Your kind is why we’re in the shit mess we’re in today.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he spat back, walking towards the young man in a threatening manner.

  “Exactly what I said. All you old bastards are the reason why the economy and the jobs have gone to shit. Best thing you could do is step down and let the next generation through, old man.”

  The old man threw his tools. “You son of a bitch!” He threw a punch that landed clean on the young man. The young man, hobbled over, spat blood then threw a hook into the old man’s side. In the blink of an eye, three more men joined the brawl, and two men lay reeling on the ground before the guards showed up. They took their time in breaking up the fight, idly enjoying the show. Arkin figured it was a good time to be moving on.

  Steering clear of the guards, he was hoping to ask someone in the market about Malik. He turned from there and approached the docks in search of someone who looked unsavory enough to trust. The smell of gutted fish grew stronger as he approached the inlet. A man sat on a stump, making quick work with a filet knife.

  “Good day, sir,” Arkin greeted.

  The man grunted. “Just another day in paradise.” He ripped the bones from the fish. “What can I do ya for?”

  “I’m looking for my cousin. He’s in the King’s Guard last I heard.”

  The man spat tobacco and looked at Arkin as if he were daft. “Do I look like the sort that would mix with anyone in the guard?” With a swift cut, another fish head went into a bucket.

  “I guess not,” Arkin replied. “His name’s Malik. If you see him, let him know that I’m asking for him.”

  “Who’s askin’?”

  “Tell him it’s his cousin.”

  Arkin left the man and proceeded down the docks. Two guards were coming right for him in haste. Arkin froze, afraid that his identity had been called to question. He kept his head down as they ran past him and towards the market.