The Shattered Orb (Vagrant Souls Book 1)

by Samuel E. Green

  "Maybe," Saega said. "Or maybe it wasn't a mage who did it."

  A rapping came from the door, and Saega went to answer it. He used the staff to keep himself upright. Usually, he walked with such ease. Had the giant harmed him?

  A few moments later, he returned. Before he sat back down, he fought through a coughing fit. He wiped spittle from his mouth. For the first time, Edoma noticed deep wrinkles etched into his face. He had been old when she'd met him. He was ancient now.

  "Idmaer is calling a Council meeting at first light," he said. "I'm interested to see what he makes of this event. The talentless are so intriguing when they try to explain magical happenings."

  Talentless. The word was a terrible way to describe those without a magical propensity. Edoma caught herself scowling.

  "Idmaer is the worst of them," Saega continued. "He thinks he knows of magic. He hasn't been called by the gods, nor has he developed enough devotion to be granted their magic. His father passed the spire down to him. Some say he's an atheist now." His sneer turned into a look of surprise, as though he had said something he shouldn't have. "Sorry. You two aren't still . . ."

  "No," Edoma said. "Certainly not." Not wanting to remain in the awkward situation another moment, she thanked Saega for the broth and went to the door. Bodil's headdress hung over a hook, even though she had left him for another man two years ago and died a year after that.

  Edoma turned and looked at Saega with pity. A terrible thing had happened—the worst possible thing—and she had come to his house in the middle of the night to accuse him. The man had done much for Indham. He'd given High Priest Idmaer counsel for years. When Edoma had needed a friend, Saega had been there.

  "I'm sorry I accused you," she said.

  Saega waved his hand. "Nothing to worry about." He hobbled over to the door and glanced down at her tool kit. "You've been searching the catacombs for years, and you've yet to find the tomb. Don't you think you should try something different? Why not bring someone along with you?"

  Edoma smiled, glad to be talking about something other than Aern's orb. "I doubt your old lungs would handle the dust."

  "I have my magic," Saega said.

  "That you do. But we've sworn not to use it." The magical staves they'd obtained in the Scorched Lands were one thing, but blood magic was something else altogether.

  "I fear that oath will be broken soon. You'll have to make wards again, you know."

  Edoma's smile faltered. She hadn't thought that far ahead.

  Grasping the runestone around her neck, she wondered how she would use magic after so long. She remembered simple wards of healing, but nothing beyond that. She had never been anything more than an apprentice mage. The little she remembered didn't include wards of protection.

  With this distressing thought in mind, she left Saega and traipsed through the muddied streets back to Enlil's Temple.

  6

  Idmaer

  "King Beorhtel has refused to give us sanctuary in Wostreheim." Idmaer held up the letter that had arrived by raven that morning. It had been two days since the orb was shattered. "'A single foot into my territory is trespassing. Anyone to do so will be filled with arrows. No one is exempt,'" he quoted, "'not even you, High Priest Idmaer.'"

  In his haste, Idmaer had organized a Council meeting for the morning after Aern's orb had been broken. But that had been foolhardy. He needed more time to gather his resources. So he had postponed it. Many of the Council members had been pleased. Most considered the meetings tedious and the time better spent attending to their tasks.

  He had planned on presenting the Council with a way out—a mass exodus to Wostreheim. But with the letter he now held in his hand, that was impossible. It meant he would have to present the Council with his alternative plan. To do that, he needed the support of Wulfnoth the tracker and Saega the augur.

  Idmaer had called them to his spire. Now they stood before him. Saega was warming his age-spotted hands by the fire. Wulfnoth scowled at his hirsute image reflected on a polished shield mounted on the wall.

  The two were Idmaer's trusted advisors. But they hadn't always been. He'd inherited his previous advisors from his father's rule. Soon after Idmaer took office, the men were replaced. None of them had approved of Idmaer's secret marriage to Edoma—an unclean northern wench, they had called her—so he had them banished. That decision, along with marriage to a foreigner, had been the first in a long line of "mistakes" that had ostracized him from Indham's Council and its people. Luckily, the High Priest of Aern was as much an office of kingship as it was sacerdotal. So his rule was total.

  "We're on our own," Saega said, his eyes vacant.

  "How many years have you talked of alliances with Beorhtel?" said Wulfnoth. Mud was spattered over his tunic. Bags sat beneath his eyes. He had been searching for signs of the giant for two days straight now. It was probably the longest time he'd been sober in years. "We sold him bloody dragons, and this is how he repays us?"

  "He already paid for the dragons," Saega cut in. "And quite highly."

  "Beorhtel refuses us because he can. We have nothing to offer him." Idmaer sighed. He was angry, too, but he couldn't see how complaining would help matters.

  Wulfnoth grimaced. "The gods give him the plague. I never liked that bloody king." He still wore the green outfit of a warrior even though he had retired years ago. The garment was a little snug around the waist and bore scuffs and stains from spilled food and drink. Even from a few feet away, the stench of ale wafted from him.

  Saega coughed into his hand. When he looked up, his eyes were swollen and rheumy. "I spoke with Edoma. She knows the orb is shattered. Unsurprising, considering what happened in Mundos. I thought it important to tell you, particularly if you were thinking of lying to her about it. She won't tell anyone else."

  "That's good to know," said Idmaer. He would have lied to her had he not known. And that would have led to trouble. In saying that, he avoided most conversations with Edoma. Mostly because he feared his conscience might finally succeed and he would admit everything. He wasn't ready for that. Especially now. There were bigger things to worry about than his past sins.

  Idmaer trusted Wulfnoth with his life, Saega less so. Idmaer had sought Saega's advice often, more than any other man, but he'd started to question his motives. It wasn't that the man was untrustworthy. He was just watchful. Beady eyes always roaming as if he might discover something he could use against you. He'd never openly opposed Idmaer, not even with the dragon trade. But he had been friends with Durwin, the man Idmaer had sent to the chopping block. That wasn't enough to incriminate Saega, but it had made Idmaer more cautious. Nevertheless, he needed the man's advice and assistance now.

  "When you were in Mundos," Idmaer said to Saega, "how long after the orb was broken did the wraiths come?"

  Edoma and Saega had told Idmaer little about their flight from Mundos. All Idmaer knew was that they had been scholars in Mundos's library. They had fled through the Scorched Lands and come to Indham. Much of what they had told him was vague. Even when he had been married to Edoma, she had spoken little of her past.

  Idmaer suspected they were hiding things, but he hadn't wanted to press the issue. For one thing, they each carried magical staves, written with runes of power. They had said they'd found them while traveling through the Scorched Lands with Jaruman. A dying man had given the staves to them and asked nothing in return except a decent burial. Idmaer suspected that wasn't the whole story. After all, they'd crossed a land few survived.

  "We had dozens of mages," Saega said. "They provided wards that kept the wraiths out. For a time. Two years later, the wards were broken, and the wraiths came in their clouds of flame. I don't know exactly how much time Indham will have. Winhurst is directly beneath Babon's Pass, so they'll be the ones to suffer the wraiths first. Our time will come soon after."

  Idmaer swallowed. He didn't like that a whole city might die to give them time to stall. But it was a necessary evil. "When Winhurs
t's warning beacons are lit, we'll know the wraiths have come." Not that it would matter much. If they hadn't left Indham by then, they were doomed anyway. "We must ask Hurn for help. We will be safe in Eosorheim."

  Eosorheim was the region to the east. Its forest lands were mostly uninhabited by humans. Once, many people had lived within its boundaries. But that had been before Hurn had estranged himself from other men. It had also been before he'd declared revenge upon Idmaer. That message had come in the form of a vial of poison, accompanied with a letter. The letter told Idmaer to drink from the vial, for that would be better than Hurn's planned vengeance.

  After some thought, Idmaer wondered whether Hurn was responsible for killing Aern. But Idmaer had once been a friend of Hurn, long before their enmity began, and he knew that Hurn wouldn't doom an entire region of thousands just to avenge the slight of a single man.

  "I had a feeling this was what you dragged us here for," Wulfnoth said. "I thought about it myself. Hurn isn't likely to agree. Not after what you sanctioned."

  "I realize that." Idmaer's mind had been playing over the various ways he might convince Hurn to help them. Most fell short. There was, however, one that might just work. "It'll take two men who were friends with him. Men who never wanted the dragons to be sold."

  "Sigebert and Cenred," said Wulfnoth, guessing immediately.

  "They despise me, but that just might mean Hurn will listen to them. I'll need your help if they're to agree."

  "I can try," Wulfnoth said. "But what happens when they learn that the orb is shattered?"

  Idmaer had been waiting for this question. "They won't learn of it. At least not until we've come up with a solution."

  "Do you think it's wise to lie to the Council?"

  "I think it's necessary."

  "I don't mind bending the truth," said Saega. "The Council need not know what has happened to Aern. The truth is far worse than any lie we might tell. A giant shattered Aern's orb and removed his protection from Aernheim. We have no choice but to tell them otherwise."

  "I'm not pleased with it," Wulfnoth said, "but I see your point."

  "If the people learn the truth," said Saega, "there'll be chaos. Soon, maybe even tonight, the wraiths will come and rip Indham's children from their beds. Mothers will tear the flesh from their infants' bones. What then?"

  Idmaer nodded. "They will try to escape from Aernheim on the very night they discover Aern no longer protects them. Those who go south to Wostreheim will become target practice for King Beorhtel's soldiers. And if thousands go east to Eosorheim? Hurn will take it as an assault on his forest lands. A smaller group will succeed where a large one would fail."

  Wulfnoth stiffened. "So you're suggesting Indham should be saved while the others in Aernheim perish to these monsters?"

  "I'm saying we keep things quiet. We'll send a small party into Eosorheim to ask Hurn for refuge. Should he accept, then Indham's people will go first. We'll see about getting others through the boundary after that."

  "He's not simply going to say yes," Wulfnoth said.

  Idmaer threw his hands in the air. "Do you have a better idea? It's the best we have."

  Wulfnoth chewed his cheek. He seemed unable to disagree. Good.

  "In the meantime," Idmaer continued, "we'll send ravens to all the major towns and cities within Aernheim, writing of Aern's apparent weakness. That will give reason for the storms and why the pilgrims cannot visit Tyme's Hill. If the entire region starts to panic, the roads will be blocked off, giving us no hope of retreating into Eosorheim."

  Idmaer paused at that. By not informing the other places of what had really happened to Aern, they would be ill-prepared for the coming wraiths.

  He walked over to the window. It was small and rounded, but at a single command, the bricks shifted until the entire wall vanished. Now, Idmaer could see across the horizon unhindered. The nearest village looked no bigger than his thumb. How many people lived there? One hundred? Two hundred? Would they become hosts for the wraiths as all those in Mundos twenty years ago?

  It didn't matter. Those elsewhere in Aernheim would have to find their own means of protection. Idmaer was only responsible for Indham.

  7

  Edoma

  Edoma remained in the hall after the Council meeting had concluded. Saega sat beside her, staring into a mug of ale.

  During the meeting, the two warriors, Sigebert and Cenred, had agreed to go to Eosorheim to request Hurn's aid.

  "Aern is gravely ill," Idmaer had said. "We will ask Hurn for refuge inside Eosorheim while we seek a way to make Aern well again. It is just a precaution. There is nothing to worry about."

  Edoma's stomach churned at remembering the smug smile Idmaer had worn while he spouted his lies. Without blinking an eye, he had promised that the wraiths would never enter Indham. How could he make such an empty promise?

  "The way Idmaer stood before the Council and lied made my blood boil," Edoma said to Saega. "You lied, too. And you forced poor Hiroc to lie as well. Was that your idea or Idmaer's? Ah, forget it. I don't want to know."

  "It's for the best," said Saega, his soothing tone setting her on edge. "You saw what happened in Mundos after the people learned that Mun's orb had been destroyed."

  There had been chaos. The lords had calmed them eventually, after the mages had constructed wards to protect against the wraiths. But many lives had been lost in those initial riots. She still thought Indham's Council would be able to take the news where the regular folk of Mundos hadn't.

  "Besides, it's a good plan," Saega said. "I was thinking of it myself."

  "Hurn isn't going to let us inside Eosorheim. He's more than capable of stopping us. King Beorhtel might have an army guarding the boundary, but Hurn has magic greater than anything you and I have even thought of."

  Even in Mundos, when Edoma was learning the basic history of magic, Hurn had been legendary. It was unknown exactly how old he was, but some said he had lived while the First Empire was in its infancy. A man who was thousands of years old had plenty of time to learn the kinds of magic that could destroy armies with a single empowered rune.

  What if that magic had been used to kill Aern?

  "Do you think Hurn could be responsible?" she asked.

  Saega raised an eyebrow. "He would certainly have a motive." He rubbed the back of his neck. "But it cannot be. The man I fought was a giant. Hurn has no giants in his employ—he despises them. I need not remind you of the millennia-long feud between dragons and giants. Hurn would be no friend of dragons if he employed giants."

  Edoma had to agree. There were still dragons within Eosorheim, and Hurn wouldn't antagonize them. He was also a just man, deep down. He would only take his vengeance out upon Idmaer. Maybe he had even forgiven Idmaer since he had taken no steps toward retribution since the poison vial.

  If not Hurn, then who? The lack of an answer to that question infuriated her.

  "You said before that the murderer might not have been a mage," Edoma said, speaking her thoughts aloud. "Even if that's true, then he still needed a grimoire. There is a grimoire inside the First Priest's tomb." The histories wrote that all grimoires found their beginnings in the First Priest's grimoire. Although difficult, a person without magic could use the grimoire. It would require incredible sacrifice, but it could be done.

  "Maybe if the catacombs have been touched," she continued, "we might have a clue as to where the giant went or who he was." Wulfnoth had said during the Council meeting that there was no trace of the giant. Strange, considering Wulfnoth was renowned for his tracking skills.

  "Finding the murderer won't bring Aern back," Saega said.

  "But it'll mean justice."

  Saega shrugged. "What is justice? I'm sure knowing that he has doomed thousands of people to a terrible fate is weighing heavily on his conscience. Finding the man who did this means little now. I have other matters to attend to." He coughed over his hand and hid it in his pocket. Edoma was sure she had seen a dark patch of blood
on his palm.

  "Are you not well? I can heal you." She hadn't used healing wards in years, but she could do so now. Especially since she would soon use magic again for protection wards.

  Saega raised his hand, but not the one he had coughed on. "Nothing to worry about. Take one of the Daughters to the catacombs if you must. I fear you're far too old to be going down there alone. You might find yourself unable to haul yourself back up the shaft." He laughed, a wheezing sound like he was breathing through a tiny hole.

  Edoma examined Saega. It was unlike him to be ill. Time affected everyone, of course. But why now, when she needed him more than ever?

  * * *

  Edoma eased herself down the shaft for what felt like the thousandth time in two decades. The pulleys creaked from her weight, which had grown substantially after twenty years in Indham. She had stayed for much longer than she originally planned after falling in love with Idmaer, and the birth of her twins had made the stay permanent.

  Now, her days were spent trying to decipher the runes covering the sibylline halls beneath the temple.

  Fryda's ropes creaked above. Edoma had dragged Fryda from the barracks where the warriors trained. She had been watching Alfric. Fryda had protested, thinking that Edoma had caught her shirking her novice duties. After Edoma told her that they would be going into the catacombs, she couldn't leave fast enough.

  Edoma was certainly glad to have Fryda along with her. She questioned why she had never taken anyone else into the catacombs before. She hadn't wanted anyone to discover what secrets the catacombs might hold. Not because she was selfish or wanted them for herself, but because she knew even the slightest knowledge of the arcane arts could corrupt the most virtuous.

  Edoma reached the bottom of the shaft and unclipped herself from the harness. Shortly after, Fryda landed lightly on the ground.