The Shattered Orb (Vagrant Souls Book 1)

by Samuel E. Green

  The library was at the top level of the temple, a gangway stretching from one corner to the other until it ended in a grand entrance arch. Along the archway were the words: Seek Knowledge and Prosper. Hiroc entered through the archway, hoping it wouldn't take too long to find Edoma.

  Luckily, he soon found her tucked away in one of the many inlets. She was bent over a number of books that were lying face open on a table. She didn't look up as he stepped toward her.

  Hiroc cleared his throat, and she glanced up, startled. When her deep brown eyes recognized him, she smiled. "Hiroc, how are you faring?" She always smiled at him with a mother's care. It was an expression she gave all the Fatherless.

  "Well—considering the circumstances. The acolytes have you to thank for warding the Basilica." He didn't know how Edoma knew that the wards would stop the wraith clouds or where she got the knowledge of the wards in the first place. Maybe from one of those books. Or maybe she had always known how to make the wards. She was a very mysterious woman, after all. Regardless, every single person in Indham—at least those who hadn't become skinwalkers or been killed by one—had prospered from her knowledge. It was this knowledge that had brought Hiroc to the temple.

  "I did what I could," she said. "I'm researching more about wards now." She peered back down at the books with a frown. "I cannot seem to find what I'm after."

  "There are a lot of books here." The library was the largest Hall in all of Indham. Shelves filled the room, and every one of them was overflowing with books. It was in this very room that Edoma had taught Hiroc to read. He still wasn't very good, and he could only read in the common tongue.

  "How very astute of you." Taking a book in hand, she peeled it open and started flipping through the pages. After a few agonizing moments with Hiroc trying to think how to phrase his question, Edoma lifted an eyebrow and gave him a wry smile. "I don't expect you came just to watch me read."

  Hiroc paused for a moment, thinking how best to say it. "I want to know more about the Talented."

  The book slipped from Edoma's hand, falling to the table with a thud. A hand pressed against her mouth. "You are . . ."

  Right then, he knew he had made a mistake. Of course she would have thought he was Talented after he'd asked that question. He had reasoned with himself for many hours before deciding that Edoma would be the best person to speak with about such a matter. She was probably the only one he could trust not to send a raven to Lamworth. It was still a risk he shouldn't have taken. He should have been more tactful. Instead of lacing his words with honey, he had told Edoma outright.

  Hiroc's mind filled with the image of King Beorhtel's inquisitors, clad in golden robes and astride white horses, coming to collect him. There would be no point fighting.

  Before he could think up a lie, Edoma reached out and touched his arm. Heat burst from her fingertips, even through his robes. But it bore no pain. It was the warmth that followed the swallow of strong firewine.

  She pulled her hand back and nodded. "You are Talented." Sighing, she muttered to herself, "I suppose one of them had to be Talented."

  "One of what?"

  "Never mind," she said, shaking her head. "I doubt King Beorhtel's inquisitors will be willing to cross into Aernheim to retrieve you. At least not until we deal with the problem of the wraiths."

  Hiroc sighed in relief. It felt like a weight had been removed from his shoulders, but another quickly took its place. "What will I do now?" he asked. Ealstan already had his suspicions. Kipp had seen him put his hand in the blue fire. Hiroc could be careful, but what if he accidentally called out to Enlil in his sleep and the entire Basilica was consumed by blue fire?

  "Nothing," she said. "Keep it to yourself. The last Talented burned down the bakery in Alchemist's Alley because he couldn't control his magic. Those in the alley aren't exactly the kind of folk to make enemies of. They find out you're Talented and you'll be in a world of trouble." She palmed the end of her braid and twisted it between her fingers.

  Was Edoma angry with him? Hiroc couldn't understand why she would be. Sure, she had been more like a mother to him than any other woman, but she'd paid him almost no heed since he'd become an acolyte.

  She narrowed her eyes. "How did you find out?"

  "On Tyme's Hill. I summoned blue fire from the heavens when the giant attacked me."

  Edoma's eyes widened. She glanced behind her at the eternal flame of Enlil that marked the stone wall. "So Enlil has chosen you for his own."

  "Invoking his name only seems to work when I touch the ring."

  "May I see it?" Edoma reached out, and Hiroc gave her his hand. She studied the ring for a moment. "It's a runic device. It provides a pathway for you to reach Enlil. A runic device is infused with the faith of the one who forged it. The greater the faith and the greater deeds done in homage to the god, the more powerful the runic device. But it won't work forever. Each has a limited use."

  Hiroc had found the ring in this very temple. As a child, he'd hidden from Alfric in one of the storerooms. He'd tripped over a floorboard and almost broken his neck. When he'd finally stopped cursing, he realized the floorboard had been intentionally pulled upward. Inside the hidden cavity beneath the floor was this ring. There was nothing else to identify who had hidden it there, so Hiroc had taken the ring. Alfric had always said that he'd stolen it, but if anyone had ever said it was theirs, Hiroc would have given it back. But they hadn't. So he still wore the ring. Still, it was strange to hear from Edoma that it was magical. It looked like an ordinary trinket. The jewel wasn't even real. The metal was bronze, not gold.

  Hiroc thought of the warmth that Edoma's touch had produced. "Are you Talented, too?"

  "Mun claimed me." He was expecting a story of some kind, but her lips were pursed, as though she refused to say any more about who Mun was. "I'm sure this is all very confusing for you. Myself, I know little about magic. What I do know is pieced together from memories of my homeland, combined with what I've been able to glean from these books in the last week since Aern's orb was . . ."

  Hiroc wanted to finish her sentence, but he found himself equally unable to say the word aloud. Shattered. Two days ago, it would have been easy, but now the reality of Aern's death had come to them with the wraiths.

  "Now that you have little duties with the Holy Order," she continued, "I think you can help me here. Fryda is coming along later. I need you both to look through the books."

  Hiroc picked up one of the books and flicked through its pages. It was written in a language he couldn't understand. "I can't read this."

  "You don't have to. I need you to find any depictions of this ward." She unfurled a scroll and pointed to a ward comprised of two half-circles, each with a rune in its center. One rune looked like a sun. The other looked like a crescent moon. He recognized them as the same wards she painted to protect against the wraiths. But there was no symbol of the spider. "You might find some other books worth reading on magic. Put them aside, and once you've found the book I seek, you may read them. But don't let Fryda see you. Best to keep your Talent between us. May I leave you to it now?"

  Hiroc nodded, and Edoma left him. He stared at the vast array of books. Behind him. In front of him. All around him. In truth, he wanted only to look for those books about the Talented and magic. A few days ago he would have cast aside Edoma's desires and fulfilled his own. But he had seen the terror of skinwalkers. Sighing, he forced himself to look again upon the scroll and began the search for a book with a matching drawing.

  24

  Fryda

  Once she passed through the iron gates, Fryda hailed the Daughter busy preparing the bloodletting mechanism. The Daughter stepped away from the mess of gears and iron piping and scowled at Fryda. "Where have you been?"

  Fryda was about to defend herself when Edoma appeared.

  "Fryda," she said, "come inside where we can speak." She was being short, which meant she was still angry with Fryda about what she'd said.

  The Daughter fr
owned, obviously wondering why the Mother wanted to meet with a novice. Fryda smirked at the woman and followed Edoma into the oratory.

  Fryda sat while Edoma made tea over the fireplace. Fryda had fond memories of this chapel where Edoma had often consoled her. Most times it had been after one of the other novices had mistreated her. Many of the rooms in the temple were chapels of some kind. Most no longer functioned as places of prayer. This one included.

  Fryda took a cup of tea from Edoma. It was too hot to drink, so she placed it on the table separating them.

  "I'm sorry for the things I said," Fryda began. "You might not be my mother, but you've been as good as any mother could have been."

  "There's no need to apologize." There certainly had been a need, since Edoma's angry expression seemed to melt at hearing the apology. "The novices have many tasks now that the wraiths have come. We haven't made any official statement to the people, but most have gathered that Aern's weakening allows them to enter the town." Edoma seemed to notice Fryda's awkwardness. "Do you have something to tell me?"

  Fryda had started chewing her lip when Edoma had said Aern was weakened. If she couldn't help showing what lay within her mind because of nervous ticks, then Edoma would soon find out about Alfric.

  "What are you keeping back from me?" Her voice was strained.

  "I know that Aern is dead." It was the first thing that came to her mind that wasn't about Alfric.

  Edoma sat back in her seat. Beneath the surprise was a look of admiration. "How do you know this?"

  "Hiroc told Alfric and me."

  "That explains why Alfric went on the quest. He always considers himself a hero. Perhaps he will be."

  Heart aching, Fryda forced the conversation elsewhere. "Jaruman told me what happened in Mundos."

  "Then you know how imperative it is that Hurn allows us to enter Eosorheim. Tell me, where did you go when you left the town? I was thinking about it, and you had to have been gone at least since the warriors left."

  "I intended on following them, but I got lost. Jaruman retrieved me."

  "And the skinwalker you fought?"

  Fryda looked away. She couldn't bear to lie to Edoma while looking her in the eye. "Some man. I don't know who he was."

  "We have had many like that. They become so different that they're more monsters than human. Unfortunately, there's no coming back once a wraith takes you."

  No coming back? Fryda stifled a sob. Jaruman had said the same thing, but to hear it from another person was heartbreaking. Even if Alfric had survived Flight running him down, he wouldn't be anything more than a skinwalker. The Alfric she had loved was gone.

  Edoma walked over to Fryda and placed a hand on her back. "Enlil will protect us," she said as she rubbed comforting small circles.

  Fryda sniffled. "What do you want me to do?" She imagined Edoma would have her punished for leaving the town.

  "I was going to have you look through the library with Hiroc…You don't like him?" Edoma looked at Fryda. She must have noticed the way she scrunched her face when Hiroc was mentioned.

  Fryda shrugged. The way he had betrayed Alfric still annoyed her.

  "Then you'll be pleased to know I've decided upon something else," Edoma said. "I think we should go to the catacombs again."

  Fryda tried not to smile, but it was impossible. This was no punishment! She had loved going into the catacombs. She hadn't had much time to think about them since she'd last been beneath the temple, but now that the opportunity had come again, she was ecstatic. It was the perfect thing to alleviate her mind of thoughts of Alfric.

  "When can we go?"

  "We'll prepare right away. I'll need some tools. You can help me make sense of that statue you noted. Hiroc is looking for a book that might contain information on how to make stronger wards. One of the library's books might contain such information, but I know for sure there's one within the First Priest's tomb."

  "That's the tomb you've been trying to open since forever." Fryda couldn't help but think this was a futile quest. Years with no results wouldn't suddenly change.

  "I have you now. While Hiroc is looking through the shelves, we can work together in the catacombs."

  Fryda didn't like having that large of a responsibility. Did Edoma really think they'd be able to find this book?

  As Edoma bent down to take Fryda's cup, a vial hanging from her neck slipped out from beneath her collar. It was filled with a thick liquid, but the color of the glass made it impossible to tell what color it might be.

  "What's that?" Fryda knew that Edoma was unlikely to tell her, but her curiosity didn't allow the question to remain unasked.

  Edoma surprised her by answering. "Dragon's blood." She held out the vial for Fryda to see. "Specifically, the blood from an onyx dragon." On closer look, the blood sparkled within the vial. It was as if magic were visible within it.

  Thinking of the machines outside the temple, Fryda said, "You're going to use them for wards?"

  "Possibly. The blood of an onyx dragon is much more powerful than human blood. Wards written with it should last at least a week. There's not much here, but it might save a few people."

  A few people? There were far more than a few people in Indham.

  25

  Hiroc

  Hiroc tossed what had to have been the hundredth book he'd sifted through onto the table. The table was now overflowing with books, and he had only emptied two shelves. His fingers were dry and covered with tiny cuts from scouring the pages. His back ached from leaning over the table.

  Edoma had given him an impossible quest. Not a single drawing looked like the pair of half-circles with runes of the sun and the moon inside them.

  There was also no sign of Fryda. She had likely had enough sense not to come to the library.

  Laughter came from the shelf behind Hiroc. A steady clopping sound followed it until Mildryd, the librarian, came, donned in the robes of a Daughter of Enlil. Each of her steps was punctuated by the clap of her walking stick upon the marble tiles.

  "She's got you looking for the wards, too, has she?" She squinted at the books in teetering piles on the table and laughed again. "I told her it would be impossible to find what she was looking for. Impossible unless you know where to look." The woman wriggled her eyebrows at Hiroc and then removed a book from within her robes. She opened the book and handed it to him. On the left-hand page was a drawing of the wards he was looking for.

  "Looks like your job here is done," Mildryd said. "I might even let you take the credit for it."

  Hiroc had always thought the woman old, but she seemed to have aged so much since the last he'd seen her. People talked about the librarian's vast knowledge, but he had never been interested in any of that. As a child, he'd only ever wanted to play within the temple's halls, not spend his days hunched over a dusty book like Alfric had. Strange considering where they both were now. Alfric had become a warrior where Hiroc had become an acolyte.

  "Never thought I'd live to see the day that you grew into a man." Mildryd looked at him with fondness. "I remember you as a babe. Barely a few days from your mother's womb and you couldn't stop crying. To think that such a loud baby would become an acolyte."

  "You must have me confused with someone else. I am a Fatherless." It was impossible for Mildryd to have known him as an infant. He had been six months old when he'd entered Indham with his twin brother, Alfric.

  "Nonsense. I watched your mother birth you."

  It was as everyone said—the woman had become crazy in her old age.

  But she seemed to be taken with him. And she was a librarian. Those two factors could be useful.

  "Do you know much about runic devices?" Hiroc asked offhandedly.

  "That's an interesting question."

  Hiroc slumped his shoulders. She wasn't going to talk about it.

  But she proved him wrong. She repeated what Edoma had said about runic devices allowing the Talented to use a god's power.

  Glad that Mildryd ha
d opened up to him, he decided to ask another question. "Do you know where I might find one of these runic devices?"

  "Another interesting question. This one is more difficult to answer. Not because I don't know the answer, but because the answer might lead me into trouble."

  "I won't tell anyone what you tell me."

  Mildryd smiled from the corner of her mouth. "I don't suppose you would. Wulfnoth owns a glove. It is a runic device. He keeps it in the stables. It won't do you much good—not unless you're Talented." She smirked.

  He tried to ignore the way she looked at him. "What is Wulfnoth doing with a runic device?" Hiroc said more to himself than to the woman.

  "His son, Garmund, used the glove to control his power. He was a Talented. Wulfnoth tried to hide him, but eventually the inquisitors came as they always do. Talented cannot control their magic, and something terrible always happens to them when they don't."

  "How can someone be imprisoned for something they have no control over?" Hiroc thought about himself and how he might be taken away even though he had done nothing except be who he was.

  Mildryd shook her head. "They're not imprisoned. The university is a good place for those cursed with the call of the gods. The inquisitors take Talented to save them from themselves." The last sentence was infused with meaning, as though Hiroc ought not avoid being taken.

  "Now, this is the last place I expected to find you."

  Hiroc cringed and slowly turned around. Ealstan was leaning against one of the shelves, arms folded across his chest. He wore his customary smirk. His robes were pulled back, and the dagger bearing Aern's likeness seemed to glow.

  "I best leave you now," Mildryd said, avoiding looking at Ealstan as she hobbled off. She had probably heard about how spiteful Ealstan could be toward the Daughters. Perhaps she had even been victim to his taunts before.

  "What do you want?" Hiroc said, trying to keep the anger from his voice.