Souldrifter

by Garrett Calcaterra

  • • •

  Caile recoiled as blood spattered over his face and torso. When he opened his eyes, he saw the other ruffian rush forward to collide with a hulking figure striding through the smoldering doorway. Siegbjorn! Caile was flooded with sudden hope, and was not disappointed to see the burly northman nearly take off the ruffian’s head with one swipe of his curved hunting knife.

  There was still the Old World sorcerer to contend with, though. Caile jerked his head back, motioning toward the bedroom. “Sorcerer!” he yelled.

  The Old World stormbringer’s eyes were rolled back deep in their sockets and lightening was forming at the tips of his fingers.

  “Watch out!” Caile yelled, but before the words even left his lips, he saw the sorcerer’s forehead cave in as if it had been struck with a ballista. His eyes fluttered open briefly as the lightning died on his fingertips, and then he toppled backward onto the floor, dead.

  Caile contorted himself to face back toward the door and saw Talitha standing at Siegbjorn’s side. Caile had no idea what sort of magic she’d just unleashed, but it had stopped the stormwielder dead in his tracks. Standing behind Talitha in the doorway were two more familiar faces: Thon and Lord Nagel, the elderly statesman from the election council. Caile opened his mouth, but didn’t know what to say.

  Siegbjorn smiled and knelt down to cut Caile’s bindings and help him to his feet. “You are much welcome,” the hairy beast of a man said with a grin.

  Caile returned the smile, but then remembered the voting. “The election meeting,” Caile asked. “Has it…”

  “No, it hasn’t convened yet,” Talitha said.

  “Then there’s still time to stop them. Thon is Guderian’s son, and the rightful heir. We have to hurry!” Caile rushed forward, trying to gather them all up and herd them back out the way they came. “I’ll explain on the way to the council room.”

  “Slow down,” Talitha said, grabbing him by the arm. “We know who Thon is, and we still have time yet.” She motioned for Thon to prop closed what was left of the door behind him.

  “But how do you know? Did Lady Hildreth tell you?”

  Talitha shot a glance toward Lord Nagel. “Lady Hildreth? No. It’s a long story, but let it suffice to say I infiltrated Lightbringer’s Keep, pretending to be a chambermaid, and investigated the rumors of an illegitimate son of Guderian’s, which led me to Lord Nagel.”

  The old statesman nodded. “I knew long ago of young Thon. It was I who urged Lady Hildreth to give him up and hide him when he was but a babe. Yet somehow Guderian still found out, and put it upon me to kill the ill-born prince.”

  Caile shot a glance back at Thon, but if Thon was offended, he showed no indication.

  “Guderian was mad,” Lord Nagel continued. “He was convinced he was immortal. He had no desire to marry and saw any offspring as a threat to his rule. There were two things he feared: dreamwielders and a son. I convinced him to spare Thon’s life, but only by sending him to Khal-Aband. Lady Hildreth never said anything of the matter to me, but between her and her brother, Commander Buell, I’m certain she knows what I did.”

  “I don’t know if they know it was your doing, but they know who Thon is,” Caile said. “It was the two of them who apprehended me. They were trying to get you too, Thon. Lady Hildreth was ready to claim you as her son and pronounce you king. We can trust her, I think. And the houndkeeper, too, if you can believe it. It was the houndkeeper who found out about Ambassador Rives’s plot. It seems the Kingdom of Golier and the Old World have been plotting this entire thing to get Lord Kobel on the throne. They mean to kill the rest of the council—the sorcerer’s guild is in on it—as soon as the vote is finalized. And Old World ships will be here anytime as reinforcements. They want those war wagons.”

  “All the more reason to be precise with our actions then,” Talitha said. “I’ll take care of the sorcerer’s guild. Lord Nagel will take care of anointing Thon, and if it’s as you say—if the houndkeeper and Lady Hildreth can be trusted—then we have nothing to worry about.”

  “Except…” Caile couldn’t bring himself to say it.

  “Except what?”

  Caile swallowed. “I overheard the sorcerer you just killed say that Old World ships are ready to attack Col Sargoth.”

  “We’ll deal with that once Thon is king. They’ll be expecting to be welcomed with open arms by Kobel, so we’ll have the element of surprise.”

  “There’s more,” Caile said. “More ships are heading for Kal Pyrthin—Taera tried contacting me this morning through the speaking stone. And something else. The sorcerer said Makarria is dead.” The words sounded so wrong coming out of his mouth, he wasn’t sure he’d actually said them. “He said the dreamwielder is dead…”

  • • •

  Senator Emil glared at Mahalath. “Did you have some part in this? You did. You felt sorry and released the prisoner. Traitor.”

  Mahalath snorted at Senator Emil. “Me a traitor? You’re the one who unleashed a pthisicis-corporis, a master trickster. You broke an ironclad law enacted by our forefathers, and now you’re surprised to discover you too have been tricked?”

  It was a foolish thing to say, Mahalath knew, but at this point he didn’t care. What did it matter if Emil figured out Mahalath’s treachery? Mahalath would gladly confess to having known Makarria was still alive, and to secretly freeing Makarria from the dungeon. If he had not been such a coward, he would have done more. He should have done more, and sooner. As it was, he was ready to meet his fate at the dreamwielder’s hands. It was she who he needed to fear, not Senator Emil. Her bearing made that clear. The woman who came to a stop in the street below them and motioned for the crowd to silence was the nearest thing to a god Mahalath had ever seen.

  The immediate silence Makarria commanded was unnerving. Mahalath heard Emil gasp beside him, but couldn’t tear his eyes away from Makarria.

  “F… fire,” Senator Emil stuttered, and Mahalath heard the distinctive twang of crossbows loosening their deadly bolts. The projectiles shot forward from either side of Mahalath, but before they closed half the distance toward Makarria and the crowd of people around her, they turned into long-stemmed sunflowers and fell harmlessly to the ground.

  Makarria had said nothing, nor made any motion. All she had done was blink her eyes and the crossbow bolts were flowers.

  “Let that be your last act of aggression, Senator,” Makarria said then. “Command your soldiers to put down their weapons and surrender. You are in no position to bargain. Surrender and open the gates to the people of Sol Valaróz.”

  “Reload, fools!” Senator Emil yelled at the soldiers around them. “Fire at will.”

  The reaction among the soldiers was mixed. Many of them glanced at each other uncertainly. A few, however, began to re-cock their crossbows. Before Mahalath could think to warn them, they were transformed. The crossbows clanked to the marble battlements, and in the place of soldiers, two-dozen green parrots took to the skies, squawking. At witnessing their comrades’ fate, the rest of the legionnaires dropped their crossbows. The Valarion guardsmen mixed amongst them scurried to gather up the weapons.

  “And now the legionnaires behind the gates,” Makarria said. “Command them to disarm.”

  This time Mahalath acted. “Drop your weapons, all of you,” he yelled back over the battlements to the soldiers formed up in ranks in the courtyard below.

  Senator Emil didn’t bother to contradict his order. Instead, he grabbed Lord Galen by the scruff and shoved him forward off the wall.

  “No!” the Princess Prisca screamed, but her fear was unwarranted. Makarria’s father plummeted to the street below only to land in a pool of water that suddenly formed where paving stones had been moments before.

  Senator Emil laughed, and grabbed Prisca by the hair to draw her in close. “You think you’re so clever, Dreamwielder, but I didn’t push your father to kill him. I just wanted your attention, and I think I have it now. Submit yourself and I’
ll let your mother live.” He withdrew a dagger from his robes and pressed the edge of the blade to Prisca’s exposed throat.

  Makarria blinked her eyes and the dagger turned into a serpent that turned back and bit Senator Emil on the wrist. Emil screamed in pain, and Prisca took the opportunity to tear herself free and leap from the battlements into the pool below to join her husband.

  “You try my patience, Senator,” Makarria said. “Open the gates and surrender yourself.”

  Senator Emil ripped the snake off of his wrist with a grunt and flung it at Makarria. It too turned into a sunflower before it hit the ground.

  “Fine, you win,” Emil said, wincing in pain. “I surrender, but I demand fair treatment as my state status dictates. I am a senior senator of the Republic.”

  Senator Emil turned and glared at Mahalath as he made his way toward the stairs leading to the courtyard. Mahalath followed behind him, ready to meet his judgment. Royal Valarion guardsmen formed up around them when they reached ground level, and Mahalath saw that the legionnaires were all disarmed and kneeling with their arms behind their heads. The Valarion soldiers had not wasted a moment to turn on their captors.

  “Open the gates,” Emil started to say, but before the gatekeepers lifted a finger, the gates opened of their own accord, the giant chain pulleys ratcheting back the doors on their hinges as if manned by ghosts.

  Makarria strode into the courtyard with the crowd of people massed behind her. Emil took a knee and bowed his head, but something wasn’t right. Mahalath felt a tingling sensation in the air, and looked down to see Emil rubbing his fingers behind his back. He had seen firewielders do the very same thing in the Republic…

  “Makarria!” Mahalath shouted, but it was too late. Emil had already lunged forward and purple flames were spewing from his hands toward Makarria. Even three paces behind Emil, Mahalath was knocked back by the assault of heat. The flames billowed forward, blotting out Makarria and the screaming crowd behind her. But then the flames began to condense and spiral together. Makarria suddenly came into view behind the whirlwind of fire, unscathed.

  Emil barked something in the old tongue and hurled more fire at Makarria, but his efforts only fueled the tornado of fire Makarria had formed. She blinked her eyes and the maelstrom turned on Emil. With a panicked yelp he tried to scramble away, but the flames overtook him in a heartbeat and he was caught up in the spinning flames. His screams of pain were short-lived. The fire consumed him and then snuffed out, leaving only a pile of ashes on the ground.

  Mahalath stared at the pile of ashes, and then at Makarria in stunned silence. “Your Majesty,” Mahalath said, bowing. “Sol Valaróz is yours. I order the surrender of the Republic, and I take full responsibility for my actions. Or rather, my inactions. Punish me as you see fit.”

  Makarria stared at him and then nodded. She stepped forward and Mahalath closed his eyes, expecting the worst. Welcoming it.

  • • •

  Siegbjorn’s face flinched at hearing Caile’s words, but Talitha shrugged off the news. “I would not worry about Makarria. She is more than capable of taking care of herself. But you’re right about needing to help your sister, and perhaps Makarria can help in that.”

  “I tried contacting Makarria through the stone before I was captured,” Caile said. “She didn’t answer.”

  “No, her yellow stone is destroyed. I too tried contacting her, last night, and I could not sense the stone. Something happened to it. But there is another way. You can speak to her through the scent-hound. Take your stone and go to the houndkeeper’s tower. Speak to your sister through the stone. See if you can contact Makarria through the hound. Tell them both all that has happened.”

  “But I’m going with you to the election council,” Caile objected. “You’ll need my help.”

  Talitha shook her head. “No, there’s not enough time. Your friends trust you, Caile. You must do the same if we are to succeed.”

  “But, the firewielders. And you’ll need me to vouch for you with Lady Hildreth and the houndkeeper.”

  Thon stepped forward and grasped Caile by the shoulders. “This is the last thing I ever expected, Caile, but you know what? I’m ready. I’m ready to step out from the shadows and make things right for Sargoth. I’ve seen what you and Makarria have sacrificed for your kingdoms. Sargoth deserves no less from me. Let me do what I have to do. You go help Makarria and your sister. Please.”

  Caile lowered his eyes. Thon was right. Caile was a damn fool, always trying to do everything himself. “All right,” he agreed, looking up to see all his friends staring back. “I’ll go to the scent-hound, but be careful and send word as soon as Thon is anointed.”

  “I have my speaking stone with me,” Talitha said. “I will contact you as soon as it is done. You are the hub between Makarria, Taera, and myself. Go. Grab your stone and hurry.”

  • • •

  You’re a damn fool for waiting this long, Natarios Rhodas told himself as he scurried about his room and stuffed his valuables into a rucksack. Since when did you start trusting people?

  He had held up as long as he could for Lady Hildreth and the feckless prince to find this lost heir of theirs, and now here he was, still in Lightbringer’s Keep, less than an hour away from the election and his certain death. Natarios had enjoyed his moment of power as lord of proceedings, but he wasn’t so loyal to the position that he was willing to die for it. Particularly not when the mode of death was by sorcerous fire.

  I’m no swine to be turned on a spit, he mused, checking over his room one last time to make sure he had everything important. Satisfied, he made his way out the door into the spiral stairway, only to stop short.

  Someone was calling his name.

  “Do you hear me, houndkeeper? Natarios Rhodas?”

  The voice was full of menace. Natarios backstepped into his room silently, assuming the worst. Ambassador Rives and the Sorcerer’s Guild can’t be bothered to even wait for the meeting to kill me.

  “Houndkeeper,” the voice growled again. “If you can hear my voice, come to the scent-hound and say something.”

  The scent-hound? Natarios furrowed his brow. Why would Rives send his ruffians up there? And for that matter, why bother calling his name at all if they were simply out to kill him? Natarios’s instincts told him to stick to his plan and run while he still had the chance, but his curiosity got the better of him.

  He tossed his rucksack to the floor of his room and scampered up the stairs to the scent-hound chamber, expecting to find someone there. The room was empty, though, except for the scent-hound. The idiot creature’s body was taut on the compass wheel like he had never seen it before, the usually flaccid arm and leg muscles flexing as if the hound were trying to tear itself free. The eyes, which had always been closed before, were gaping now, revealing milky white orbs, pupil-less and marbled with red arterioles.

  “Houndkeeper, are you there?”

  Natarios shuddered. The voice had come from the hound itself, though it seemed disembodied and unnatural. It was as if Natarios was hearing a ghost.

  “Who’s there?” Natarios croaked, his mouth dry.

  “I am Makarria Pallma, Queen of Valaróz,” the voice replied. “Am I speaking with the houndkeeper?”

  “You are, indeed, although I don’t understand how. Where are you? How is this possible? If it’s magic, the hound should be baying.”

  “I’m in Sol Valaróz, speaking to you through the other scent-hound. Now tell me, please, what’s happening there? Has the election council voted yet?”

  “No, but they will within the hour, and then the Old World will have their man on the throne. Is it true you have surrendered to them?”

  “No. They imprisoned me, but I am free now and the Old World threat is eliminated here.”

  Eliminated. The way the dreamwielder spoke, even filtered through the scent-hound’s gravelly vocal chords, left no doubt about the validity of her claim. Natarios was taken aback by how nonchalant she made it s
ound. Then again, he was speaking to the sorcerer who had killed Emperor Guderian. He shouldn’t be surprised just because she was little more than a child.

  “I don’t know where your allegiance lies,” the dreamwielder continued, “but I call upon you now to stand for the Five Kingdoms. Whatever the Old World has promised you is nothing but lies. They mean to control us, plain and simple. I ask you to denounce them. Find Prince Caile and tell him that Senator Emil is dead, and his plot with him. Together, the two of you can reason with the council.”

  “I believe you more than you know about the Old World,” Natarios said. “Golier is in league with them and they mean to turn loose Guderian’s war wagons. Unfortunately, there is little I can do. Your prince is nowhere to be found and Ambassador Rives has bought nearly every voting member on the council. They’re all far too committed to turn back now.”

  “Where has Prince Caile gone?”

  “Off searching for a legitimate heir to the throne—Guderian’s bastard born child who was locked up in Khal-Aband.”

  “Thon?”

  “Yes, that’s him. He was here with the prince, but disappeared before anyone realized who he was. It would have all been so simple if we had only known, but now it’s too late.”

  “No, it’s not,” said a new voice.

  Natarios gasped in surprise and spun around to discover Prince Caile had snuck up on him. Natarios let out a relieved breath. For a moment, he had assumed the worst and expected to see firewielders behind him.

  “Is that you, Caile?” the dreamwielder asked through the hound.

  “Yes, I’m here. Is it really you, Makarria? I’d heard…the worst.”

  “The worst and more, but I survived. Is it true about Thon?”

  “Yes, he’s the true heir, and Talitha found him.”

  Natarios grimaced at the mention of Talitha. “That hag sorceress is here? Why?”

  “Because she’s going to save you from the sorcerer’s guild,” Caile said.