Soul Catcher

by E. L. Todd

  “Hardly,” she said. “In fact, he never knew. Drake threatened to kill the maids if they squealed, so they kept the secret to themselves. Drake was a typical bully around the castle.”

  “What of Aleco?”

  “He was quiet, kept to himself for the most part. He spent his time outside the palace walls, to get away from his brother, I think. He was more talkative when the Nature Priest would visit from his forest,” she said. “They would spend the afternoon in the garden and the priest would instruct him in plant lore. Drake always gave him a hard time about that.”

  Accacia felt her heartbeat quicken in her chest. “Father Giloth?” she asked.

  “Yes,” she confirmed. “That was his name.”

  “He would travel from Orgoom Forest often?”

  “Of course,” she said. “He came to visit his brother.”

  “Who was his brother?”

  “The duke,” she said.

  Now Accacia understood the connection between the two men. The abrasive personality Aleco possessed hardly complemented Father Giloth’s serenity, yet they were very close, even closer than she was to Father Giloth. This familial tie explained it. He was Aleco’s uncle.

  “You should move on, Accacia,” Lydia said. “I can’t afford to be interrogated, and the less I know about you, the better. I hate to lie.”

  Accacia nodded her understanding. Lydia wasn’t just looking after herself, but the two children in her care, and that instilled urgency within her. “I’ll leave now.”

  “Good,” she said.

  Accacia turned to the two children, still at her feet. She hugged them both and kissed each one on the brow. “I hope I will see you again someday,” she whispered.

  She turned towards the door and waved. Lydia nodded her goodbye and the children waved in return. Accacia closed the door behind her and pulled the hood of her cloak up, concealing her face in shadow as she marched away from the house. She turned to a man in front of his home and asked for the location of the back gate. He pointed her in the right direction and she set off. Once he was out of sight, she turned down a different alley and headed towards the north gate. She hoped her question would throw the guards off her scent, away from Lydia’s home, and towards the back gate, the opposite way she traveled.

  Accacia strode through the dirt streets of the city, passed open shops and tables laden with goods for sale. Accacia ignored their hackles and continued towards the front of the city. She passed a large congregation of guards standing in a formation in the middle of the road. The elite guard was pairing watchmen together and sending them into different districts of the city. Paranoia flooded Accacia and she wondered if they were looking for her. Fear gripped her chest and she dashed through the city. When she reached the front gate, there were dozens of guards, a lot more than when she had entered. Carts lined the street as they prepared to exit the city. One of the town’s guards was inspecting each cart, checking for any stowaways, Accacia assumed. She hugged the wall and her brain searched for an exit route.

  She spotted the notice on the wall next to her. It was a drawing depicting her features, and she was horrified to see how detailed it was. It captured her countenance perfectly. Accacia feared she would never escape the city. Her thoughts turned to Aleco and his promise to come to her aid if she failed to return. That was the last thing she wanted.

  She crept along the line of carts and crawled underneath one that had already been inspected. She grabbed onto the planks underneath it and hoisted herself upwards, hiding her body from view. After a few minutes, her arms began to burn with the exertion of clinging to the planks, but she forced herself to keep her hold. She waited for the cart to move, and after what seemed like an eternity, the cart rolled towards the gate.

  Accacia hugged the bottom of the cart as close as possible, to minimize her dangling figure from the back of the wagon. She saw the cart pass the wooden doors of the gate and knew they were traveling across the sandy desert. Accacia fought the pain in her arms but forced her hands to retain their hold. She would wait until they were far enough away before dropping her body to the ground.

  When Accacia couldn’t keep her hold any longer, she let go and felt her body fall to the ground. The bottom of the cart rolled past her. She sat up and glanced behind her and saw the wagon continue on its way. She looked around the desert and saw the familiar jagged rocks where she had left Aleco. She got up and jogged to the location.

  “What took you so long?” he snarled. “I was about to go after you and drag you out by the hair.”

  Accacia drank from her waterskin with her eyes closed.

  “Where did you come from anyway?” he asked.

  Accacia capped her bottle and replaced it within the pack. “I had to hide in a wagon. Guards were searching for me everywhere and I couldn’t simply walk out the gate,” she said with heaving breaths. “I didn’t have a choice.”

  She ran her hands up her arms and massaged the tension from her biceps. She knew how sore they would be.

  “I’m impressed. I guess you aren’t that helpless,” he said. “How did they know you were in the city?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Did you keep your hood up like I told you to?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said, but then she remembered she lowered it at the barkeeper’s request. “Actually, I did lower it but it was only for a moment.

  Aleco sighed. She knew how angry he was, and waited for him to berate her. “We need to move,” he said through his teeth. “The guild will arrive soon and they will know we were here.” He grabbed his pack and dragged her to her feet. “We won’t stop for several days. I don’t care how tired you are, you better keep up.” He looked at her again and realized she had failed to do what he asked. “Where is your cloak?”

  Accacia had completely forgotten about buying it, but she probably wouldn’t have bought it anyway even if she did remember. Her silence answered his question.

  “Come on,” he growled. “Let’s go.”

  Aleutian Keep, Letumian Province

  22

  “Good evening, Councilman,” the duke said. “Please make yourself comfortable. I know you have traveled far to see me.”

  Rancar sat in the massive armchair facing his desk. He said nothing as he stared at the duke. Drake poured a glass of his renowned wine and handed it to his guest. Rancar took the glass with shaky hands. He despised himself for making this decision, but he would be an idiot if he made any other. He took a drink of the wine and sighed. It was delicious. Drake smiled his approval.

  Drake finished his own cup before speaking. “I appreciate all the assistance you gave at the council meeting. Your cooperation was necessary.”

  “I wasn’t given much choice,” he whispered.

  “No, I suppose not,” he said.

  “Where are they?” Rancar asked. “If they truly exist, that is.”

  Drake looked at him. “Well, if they aren’t here and don’t exist,” he said as he poured himself another glass, “you gambled on a bet you can’t afford.”

  “Decisions by the council can always be reversed,” he threatened.

  Drake smiled. “Don’t worry, Rancar,” he said. “They exist. I have them here with me.”

  Rancar waited for the duke to reveal them.

  “I insisted you come to me because of their value. I would never travel across the Continent with such a valuable gift,” he said. “I wouldn’t risk the loss.”

  Rancar nodded. “How do I know if they work? What if you betray us?”

  Drake sipped his wine. “Good point,” he said. The duke finished his wine, pulled a dagger from his drawer and held it up to the councilmen. “You recognize this, yes?”

  Rancar’s shoulders stiffened and his brow furrowed with nervousness. The duke’s unpredictable behavior was known throughout the land. His actions could never be foretold.

  “A Kadnit Knife,” he answered.

  “So you understand the danger of such a blade?”
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  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  Drake stabbed himself in the gut. He moaned with anguish as he pulled the dagger from his abdomen and dropped the knife on his desk. The blade gleamed red with his blood. Rancar’s eyes widened as he yelled in fright. He rose from his chair and stepped back.

  “M’lord,” he cried. “Shall I get help?”

  “Calm down, Rancar,” he said through heavy breaths. “Sit down.”

  Rancar took his seat. Drake withdrew a small stone from his pocket and held it within his palm, allowing the councilman to see the sparkling gem. Drake closed his eyes and concentrated. A quiet hum escaped his throat, almost inaudible to Rancar. A light sped across the stone as the duke continued to hum, and Rancar spotted the flash of a blue iris on the surface. The duke sighed with pleasure as the gem glowed brighter, illuminating the room with a cerulean sheen.

  Drake opened his eyes and dropped the stone upon the desk. He was smiling as he rose from his seat and opened the buttons of his tunic, revealing his unscathed torso. Rancar saw no indication of any trauma; it was as if nothing had happened. “Do you believe me now?” he asked.

  Rancar nodded but said nothing. The duke had spoken the truth; he really was immortal—and now Rancar would be as well.

  Drake withdrew a small pouch from his desk and tossed it to Rancar. He caught the sack with his hands and opened the drawstring. Four identical stones lay at the bottom of the bag, each the color of midnight blue. Rancar grabbed one of the gems and the feeling of utter despair washed over him, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. The stones functioned on a form of evil magic, he knew that, but he couldn’t deny his desire to live forever. Against his better judgment, he placed the sack in his pocket, hiding the fortune from view.

  “You are never to speak of this to anyone,” the duke said. “No one can know of its existence. If you ever reveal the truth, they will never stop hunting you.”

  Rancar nodded. He was still speechless by the course of events. He could never die—ever. Men fear mortality above all things, the inevitable destiny that came for them all eventually. There was no denying the promise of the afterlife, but he couldn’t part with this mortal one. He loved it too much. “Thank you, m’lord,” he said.

  The duke nodded. “Can I count on your continued service?” he asked. “Is the entire council at my disposal?”

  “Of course,” he answered. The duke bequeathed him a gift more valuable than any coin, gold, or weapon ever conceived. He would perform any task the duke asked of him, pass any law that he wished—he would even crown him king.

  “I thought so.” He smiled. “Now that I have the territory of Paso Robles, I wish to be crowned the Sole Sovereign and King of the Unified Continent. All the armies will be under my command—my authority will be absolute.”

  Rancar watched the greed flash in Drake’s eyes, the look of consummate determination. The councilman knew the duke’s reign would be a terrible one, but he didn’t care. He had what he wanted. “As the lead councilman, I guarantee the crown is yours. We will appoint you at the next council meeting,” he said. “You have my word and my allegiance, m’lord.”

  “Good,” he said. “Now you may go.”

  “Thank you, sire.”

  The duke dismissed him with a flick of his wrist.

  After Rancar left, the chamberlain entered the study with a pile of parchment sheets under his arm. They were the written trade agreements between the two lands, Letumian and Paso Robles, which were now unified under one leader—the duke.

  Aldo had been the chamberlain of the palace for many years. He had watched the duke grow from a small child, through adolescence, and into the cruel man he had become. When the Lord and Lady perished, Aldo wasn’t dismissed like the rest of the staff, and he knew it was for only one reason: his experience. Aldo understood the position better than anyone besides the late duke himself, and he knew Drake needed that expertise at his beck and call.

  The chamberlain loathed the duke, but obeyed his command so he could keep his head. Aldo knew the duke’s older brother, Aleco, wasn’t responsible for the death of the Lord and Lady Aleutian, but being the coward that he was, he never voiced the truth. Aleco had been with Aldo in the weapons room when the horrific event occurred. A servant came to Aleco and informed him that Drake wanted to see him in the master bedroom. When he arrived, Drake was nowhere to be seen, and Aleco saw only the bloody bodies of his parents. No one else saw the truth of the situation, that Drake, not Aleco, murdered his parents in cold blood. Because of his lack of courage, Aleco had suffered the consequences. He had been killed. Even after all these years, Aldo still mourned the loss.

  Aldo placed the updated agreement on the writing desk and handed the quill to the duke. “As you requested, sire,” he announced. “The nullified trade agreement is ready for your signature.”

  The duke waved the pen away. “It needs no signature,” he said. “All trade agreements are null. I have different plans for the realm.”

  The chamberlain retained his stoic expression. He edited these agreements too many times to recall and spent weeks perfecting the documents. He controlled the muscles in his face and hid his displeasure. He had become proficient in this ability through years of practice. “Very well,” he said as he retrieved the documents from the wooden surface. “What are my instructions?”

  “You have none,” he said. He placed his dirty boots upon the desk and faced the fire. “The realm will be the capital of forced servitude. The workers will be required to produce goods for the entire Continent and we will thrive on their production—for a heavy price, of course.”

  “The laws of the council prohibit slavery,” Aldo reminded him.

  “For now.”

  The chamberlain’s heart pounded in his chest. Aldo didn’t understand how the duke would manage such an undertaking but chose not to dwell on it. The less he knew, the better. He couldn’t sleep as it was. The duke rested his chin on his hand and concentrated on the dancing flames, his thoughts wondering to Accacia. “Any news?” the duke asked without glancing at him. His eyes were glued to the black hearth.

  Aldo knew he was referring to his beloved courtesan, Accacia. No details had emerged of her whereabouts, and the chamberlain was silently thankful for the lack of information. She deserved to be free of his cruelty.

  Years ago, the duke instructed him to fetch the scouting reports from the cavalry, but when Aldo went to retrieve the documents they were gone. He couldn’t remember where he placed them or if someone had taken the parchment sheets. The chamberlain searched for the report for nearly an hour before the duke sent a guardsman to retrieve him. When he was escorted to his private quarters, he arrived empty-handed.

  Accacia sat beside the fire reading a book from the duke’s glorified library and smiled at him when he entered. The duke stared at him from his desk. “Well?” he sneered. “Where are they?”

  Accacia looked at the chamberlain and spotted the sweat drip from his brow. She saw the fear in his eyes and realized he didn’t have whatever Drake sought. Aldo remained mute as he searched for an answer that would spare his life.

  “Do you have my scouting reports or not?” he pressed. He pulled his sword from his scabbard and placed the blade across his desk, his silent promise of retribution.

  “M’lord—”

  “Darling,” Accacia interrupted. “I am afraid I took your scouting reports.” She rose from the sofa and approached the duke.

  Aldo’s eyes widened.

  “Why?” Drake hissed.

  He stared at her with a look of fury. The chamberlain hated to be the recipient of that glare and he knew Accacia saw it on a regular basis. She sat on his lap and ran her fingers through his hair. “I fed them into the fire,” she said. “I mistook them for old parchment. I’m so sorry. It was an accident.”

  Drake stared at her for a moment. “You accidently threw them into the fire? You expect me to believe that horseshit?” he yelled. He slapped her ha
rd across the face and shoved her to the ground. “I told you not to touch anything. You deliberately disobeyed me.”

  “I’m sorry, m’lord,” she said as she covered her red cheek with her palm.

  He slapped her again as hard as he could. The sound resonated like the crack of a whip. She whimpered at the impact and fell to the floor. The chamberlain looked away, unable to watch her take the blame for his stupidity. He knew why she had done it. The duke would never kill Accacia, but he had no such inhibitions with Aldo. She just saved his life.

  The duke seized her by the hair and pulled her across the wooden floor. She cried as he tugged at her scalp. He grabbed her face and slammed it into the floor. She remained still, crying to herself. “I commanded you to never make that infuriating noise,” he said as he kicked her ribs. “Stop it now.”

  She feared he would kick her again so she forced the tears to halt. She was silent. The duke ceased his attack on Accacia and turned to his chamberlain. “I suggest you write another report,” he threatened. “And make sure it isn’t misplaced this time.”

  Aldo nodded. He glanced at Accacia before he left and saw the pool of blood from her broken noise. “Would you like me to retrieve the midwives for Miss Accacia?” he asked. It was his attempt to help her.

  The duke glared at him. “No, she’ll be fine,” he said. “She has survived worse.”

  The sound of the crackling flames brought the chamberlain back to the present. Drake stared at Aldo and waited for him to answer his question. He didn’t expect any news to be forthcoming, but he asked anyway. “No, m’lord,” Aldo answered.

  Drake nodded, anticipating that answer. “If any news of her whereabouts comes forth, any news, notify me immediately,” he said.

  “Of course, sire.”

  “I will find her eventually,” he said. “I just wish eventually was now.”

  Aldo said nothing, unsure of what to say. The grimace of pain on the duke’s face betrayed the depth of his emotions; he missed her dearly. If Accacia was retrieved, Aldo hoped the duke would treat her better. Even if Accacia hadn’t spared his life all those years ago, he would still harbor a great affection for the girl. Everyone in the palace adored her. They all prayed she would never return.