Entombed in Glass (Unfortunate Soul Chronicles Book 2)

by Stacey Rourke

  Cursing myself for listening to him, I dropped my hand. To my surprise, the three-headed temptress shrank back into the crowd with laughter bubbling from their lips.

  Peeking through his fingers, Sterling’s arms drooped an iota. “Huh. I did not think that would work.”

  “It didn’t.” Tensing, my hand twitched over the hilt of the dagger.

  Necks lengthening, the three heads moved with serpent fluidity, slithering and swaying in search of their prey. Utilizing the same approach, Three chose a boil-marked troll. Locking stares with him, she murmured inaudible sentiments that made his breath catch. Tongue darting out to wet her lower lip, One targeted a centaur. Meanwhile, Two spoke soft and sweet to the ill-tempered ogre.

  I wasn’t privy to the promises or incantations they uttered. I didn’t have to be. The punch of their impact resonated with a force that knocked the air from my lungs.

  “Kill them for me,” all three simultaneously crooned.

  Bedlam erupted in response. With a high-pitched caterwaul, a troll tackled an unsuspecting dwarf. Rolling across the ground, the two punched, and kicked at any soft tissue where they could land a blow. Behind them, a centaur mule kicked two bushy-bearded ruffians. The two flew back, bowling over on-lookers before slumping to the ground in a heap of tangled limbs. Stepping over their crumpled forms, a grey-pallored ogre stomped straight for a shriveled hag who protected herself by throwing a potion in his face. A spray of magical magenta sparks cursed him with a pig snout, and a curly pink tail. Beaming in triumph, the three-headed she-devil sunk into the forest’s overgrowth, allowing the foliage to swallow them whole.

  Violence and magic winging all around, a coven of women and children—recognizable by the pewter pentacle pendants strung around their necks—huddled together in the midst of the waylay. Hiding behind the skirts of their mothers, the terror on the faces of the young whispered to my warrior instincts. Shoving my way through the scuffle, I blazed a path to their aid.

  “Are you all able to move?” I pressed, rounding my back to shield them from an airborne hob-goblin.

  Hands clasped in a protective circle, subtle nods from the sisterhood were the only response they offered.

  “Good. Stay close to me. I’ll get you out of here.” I started to turn, only to be halted by a tender hand on my forearm.

  “Child,” the elder of the coven, with greying hair at her temples, beseeched me, “come into the circle.”

  Setting my jaw to the task, I squared my shoulders for battle. “No, m’lady. I’m here to secure you safe passage.”

  As if sent to challenge that claim, a gnarled twig of a man stumbled up beside me. Reaching for a waifish redhead in the folds of the coven, he slurred through missing and rotted teeth, “Such untouched innocence. Give us a kiss, lass.”

  Drunk on purpose, I flipped the dagger over with a swirl of my fingers. Palming it in an overhand grip, I swung wide, stopping close enough to shave his neck in the most final of ways. “Step away from her.”

  The man’s eyes, rimmed yellow from obvious abuse of spirits, shifted to my blade. His unruly brows knit tight. “There are many men here with growing needs and insatiable appetites. Do you think you can protect them all?”

  “Show me one among you that couldn’t be cut down with a well-aimed swipe,” I growled, lips curling from my teeth.

  Corners of his eyes crinkling, the overly-sauced man stuck two fingers in his mouth and pierced the hush with an ear-piercing whistle.

  “Appetizer!” the ogre who bumped me earlier bellowed. The earth trembled as the colossal beast charged straight for me.

  “While he’s batting you around, I’ll make friends with your charges.” Yellow-eyes snickered, making disgusting kissy noises to the ladies behind me. Luckily, they were too focused on their chanting to pay him any mind.

  “Sterling!” I shouted, middle finger drumming my agitation against the hilt of the dagger at my hip. “A bit of help would be appreciated!”

  He lingered on the edge of the chaos, watching with a spectator’s enthusiasm. Every punch thrown, elbow to the gut, or knee to the nose earned an awestruck gasp of appreciation.

  “Sterling!” I hollered a second time.

  “Alastor, my friend and traveling partner!” he shouted back, not blinking out of fear he might miss something. “Are you seeing this?”

  Tongue lolling from his mouth, the ogre licked his lips with a noisy smack. His hands hungrily reached for me as he clomped closer still.

  “Sure am!” I yelped, fighting the urge to squeeze my eyes shut before being eaten alive by the giant monstrosity. “Little help here?”

  “Oh!” Throwing open his satchel, Sterling’s head disappeared inside the bag. “I have just the thing!” Rustling around within the confines of the fabric, he emerged with … a wood flute.

  Yellow-eyes howled with laughter, clutching his side in between peals.

  Not ready to accept the bone-crunching to come, I assumed a defensive stance and pulled my blade. “What’s the plan, Sterling? You going to throw that thing at him?”

  “How would that be helpful?” Sterling mocked with a snort, and brought the flute to his lips. While I feared a grisly, bloody death, he coaxed an up-beat melody from the instrument.

  Under the weighty yoke of his lunacy, my shoulders sank. “Music to be eaten by. That’s helpful. Thank you.”

  Eyebrows raised, Sterling nodded exuberantly in between soothing toots.

  “The eye, go for the ogre’s eye.” The grey-haired Wiccan nudged me forward with an elbow to the kidney.

  “Sterling!” I barked in one last ditch effort, cringing as the ogre arched back for attack.

  His response?

  To play faster, with a bit more pep.

  Clenching my teeth in preparation for the first strike, a flash of yellow streaked by close enough to blow my hair back. Drawn to the music, the darting orb zipped around Sterling, bobbing and dipping in time with the tune. The light lilt of laughter rode the breeze behind it, dousing the belligerent crowd with a calming air of innocence. Fists froze mid-punch. Bites morphed into perplexed frowns. Stabs, intended to be deadly, opted merely for flesh wounds. As a blanketed hush fell across the courtyard, all eyes locked on the nymph materializing beside Sterling in a spray of twinkling white light. Wearing a gown of leaves that whispered over her curves, a halo of wildflowers decorated the snow-white hair falling in messy waves to her waist. Eyes, the bright green of freshly sprouted moss, crinkled at the corners as she lifted her shoulders with a dainty giggle.

  One as delicate as she should have shrunk from the heaving ogre. Nevertheless, she glided to his side, moving with the simplistic grace of a feather on a breeze. Placing her hand on the thick boulder of his forearm, she blinked up at him with a face full of trust and acceptance.

  “If you act in darkness, you’re no better than those that hurt you,” she said, her voice the sweet melody of a tinkling bell.

  The ogre chewed on her statement before snorting through flared nostrils and stomping off into the tree line. Ground shaking under his substantial stride, he didn’t slow or glance back.

  Work not yet complete, the nymph pranced to the side of the yellow-eyed drunk. “Samuel, this won’t bring her back.”

  I expected him to sneer. To scoff at such a foolish attempt at distraction. To my shock, his face crumbled. Shoulders shaking with vigorous sobs, he folded into her welcoming embrace. In between hiccups, he muttered thanks to the wild beauty that cleansed his tarnished heart.

  Gifting her his treasured flask, yellow-eyes sulked off with whimpers still leaking from his quivering lips. It was then that the nymph turned my way, gracing me with the beaming warmth of her smile.

  She skipped the distance between us, then pressed two fingers to my wrist, urging me to lower my weapon. “Alastor,” head listing to the side, flaxen hair swept from her shoulders in an exquisite veil, “he had no one before you.”

  “B–but … I barely know the bloke,” I stammere
d, rapidly blinking my confusion.

  As the sun sunk in the sky, torches were lit along the castle walls that illuminated the nymph’s hair with a halo of sparkling gold. “It’s time … to start believing in yourself.”

  Further questions were forming on my lips when a sharp trumpet blast cut through the night, demanding the attention of the crowd.

  A spray of sparkles and the nymph disappeared.

  “You there, hero!” an armor-clad soldier called from horseback. “Was your valiant display worthy of the commotion it caused?”

  Lifting my chin with an air of defiance, I owned my actions. “Aye. I will never stand idly by while the weak and downtrodden are victimized.”

  “Weak?” The guard chuckled, straightening in his saddle. “Perhaps you should ask the sisterhood how they feel about being described in such fashion.”

  “I’m sure they appreciate me acting in …” Glancing over my shoulder, I trailed off. The entire coven was gone. If I had to guess, I would wager it was thanks to a spell they didn’t need me, or my bolstered bravado, to evoke.

  “You must be new to these parts. People of the Kingdom of Caselotti quickly learn that the sisters are among the most powerful of our residents.” Steadying his side-stepping stallion, his eyes narrowed in judgement. “How was it you summoned the nymph? Do you possess magics of your own?”

  “No, sir. Fortunately, my traveling companion knew how to summon her with a song.”

  In the process of stowing away his flute, Sterling hummed a merry little tune, oblivious to being mentioned.

  After exchanging conspiratorial glances with the guard opposite him, the soldier offered me a forced smile. “The king is done meeting with his subjects for tonight. However, for your attempted chivalry, we can allow you and your friend to sleep in the royal stable if you are without shelter this night.”

  “It’s that, or the forest floor. We graciously accept the invitation.” Catching Sterling by the elbow, I guided him alongside me as we followed the soldiers inside the imposing walls of the kingdom.

  Glancing from my grip on his arm, to my face, Sterling brightened. “Alastor! It’s so good to see you! I just played a grand concert! The wine flowed, and people danced and twirled into the wee hours of the night. One fresh-faced maiden even lost her slipper.”

  “What a wonderful performance that must have been,” I muttered, through my teeth.

  Every word from the little imp’s mouth was more befuddling then the last, yet the nymph claimed he was lost without me. I would guide him. Travel with him. Help him in any way I could. Even so, if faced with the chance to return to the sea, I couldn’t allow guilt over a mad stranger prevent me from following my heart.

  Lying on a bed of straw, I stared up at the night sky and contemplated how I became the pawn of a demi-god. Hades maneuvered me where he saw fit, and I allowed it. Why? Because love is an intoxicating distraction impossible to ignore.

  Huddled across the stall from me, Sterling challenged a pregnant sow in a battle to determine which could snore the loudest.

  Had it not been for their rhythmic onslaught, I may have slept through the parade of soft, floating lights gliding past the barn. Drawn to their glow, I pushed myself from the ground in a crunch of snapped stalks, and crouched alongside a sleeping goat to peer out. Six cloaked figures drifted in circles, swaying and dipping. Their cadenced waltz honored the flickering flames of lanterns cradled in their palms. Faster and faster they moved, the poetry of their dance eliciting an energy that crackled through the square.

  Momentum reaching a fevered pitch, one among them stabbed her lantern toward the sky. Taking the cue, the others responded in turn. Like shooting stars, each lantern lifted from the fingertips of their host to become part of night’s bejeweled cloak.

  “That’s it then?” a timid male voice interjected, breaking the spell of their prancing pirouettes.

  The figure who led the ritual stepped forward, shrugging off her hood.

  Craning to see over the slotted barn wood, I recognized her as the grey-haired woman from the coven. Not knowing much about their craft, I guessed her to be their High Priestess.

  “When the sun sets tomorrow evening, the chosen oracle will awaken to his call,” she stated in a clipped tone, folding her hands in front of her.

  The mysterious man raised one hand, as if to reach for her. Thinking better of it, he closed it into a tight fist and let it drop to his side. “And … we’re sure this lad will do? He is noble of heart?”

  Titters of amusement from her coven earned a silencing scowl from the Priestess. “Had you seen his actions in the courtyard, you wouldn’t think to doubt me.”

  An icy chill skittered down my spine. For reasons I couldn’t explain, I knew without a shadow of doubt they were talking about me. It seemed Hades wasn’t the only one herding me in the direction he desired.

  “I would never—” the man countered, only to be cut off by the Priestess’ raised hand.

  “This awakening,” she interrupted, “comes with a warning. The oracle and the trickster are bound by nature’s balance. When you strengthen one, the other is equally bolstered.”

  “The trickster?” the man reiterated, taking a step back into the shadows.

  “Varying cultures refer to them by a plethora of titles.” A nod from their priestess and the coven began gathering their lanterns and supplies. “Tricksters, Menehune, leprechauns; to name a few. All refer to the same mischievous spirits. While the oracle will guide, the trickster’s talent lies in unfathomable atrocities. None in your kingdom will be safe until both entities are banished from these lands.”

  “I can’t banish the oracle until the artifact is recovered!” the man erupted, pacing a trench into the castle square. “Elsewise this will all be for naught. There must be a way to contain the Trickster. How do I identify this malicious spirit?”

  A smile snaked across her lips, coiling at the corners. “Make no mistake, Your Majesty, they will find you.”

  Light―as bright as midday sun―flashed, and the coven was gone.

  In their absence, a powerful urge to sleep blanketed me. It claimed me before my lashes could brush my cheeks, leaving my body to crumble atop the snoozing goat.

  Chapter Six

  “Throw him in the stocks!” a commanding voice boomed.

  “No, please! I meant no harm! Sometimes, I just … end up places!” Sterling shrieked, his feet dragging over the ground.

  “End up places?” Holding him by the arms, the soldiers forced him forward. “You were in the nursery of the infant princess. That is dastardly, deliberate, and you shall pay dearly for it.”

  Slapped awake by their shouts, I pushed from the straw-covered ground and stumbled to the stall door through a thick cloud of grogginess.

  “I was in the nursery of the princess?” Sterling scowled, visibly perplexed by such an accusation. A crowd had begun to form in the square, the sounds of their scuffle waking the sleeping court. A beat later Sterling’s eyes brightened. “Ah, yes! I was in the nursery of the princess!”

  “He admits it!”

  “To the stocks with him!”

  “The king will have his head!” The armor-clad soldiers shouted over each other.

  I took a step toward helping him, only to be hit by a powerful wave of vertigo. Hand gripping the door frame, I struggled to steady myself. My eyes. Something was wrong with my eyes. Blinking hard, I squinted to focus.

  “Alastor! There’s my friend Alastor!” Limp feet thumping up the stairs, Sterling was heaved onto the raised platform of the stocks. “Tell them! Tell them about my affliction!”

  Pushing off the door, I staggered out through the haze causing my temples to pound. “He … slends up paces,” was the best my thick tongue could slur.

  “Compelling counterpoint, by the drunk,” one of the soldiers sneered, shoving Sterling forward with more force than necessary.

  Blinking hard, I opened my eyes to a world of starbursts and strobing colors. Jaw
swinging slack, I marveled at the flashes of pink and purple pulsating around Sterling in a hypnotic current. The soldiers manhandling him were haloed by a pulse of red flaring around them. Every person my stare swung to reflected another variation of a color.

  While I was momentarily frozen by this newfound rainbow, Sterling’s head was snapped forward by an elbow to the skull. “Gents, please! If you could just give me a moment, this can all be explained as the innocent act it was!”

  “You can tell us all about it, while you’re locked up and baking in the midday sun!” the husky guard with a red, wiry beard growled. Gritting his teeth, he attempted to shove Sterling into the binding contraption, only to have him wriggle from his grasp.

  “I would really prefer we talk beforehand.” Squeezing his eyes shut, Sterling vanished with an audible pop. While the guards holding him fumbled to regain their footing, he reappeared perched crosslegged atop of the stocks. “Am I back? Is all of me here?”

  “Commander, he has magic!” A young soldier with a rash of freckles yelped, reaching for his sword.

  “I do?” Sterling pulled back, arms pinwheeling to keep his balance. “How wonderful! What kind?”

  “Get down at once!” red-beard rumbled. Hand curling around one of the support posts, he scanned the contraption for his own way up.

  “Gladly, just as soon as you stop trying to stick my head in things,” Sterling bargained with an enthusiastic nod.

  Using one of the arm restraints as a foothold, Red-beard heaved himself up with a series of strained grunts. “No such agreement will be made. You will come down and face your sentencing like a man!”

  The instant his hand closed around Sterling’s ankle, the enigmatic imp disappeared yet again. This time he solidified on top of the castle wall. Patting himself down, he did a cursory scan to ensure all his parts made the journey with him. “Bugger, my pants are on backwards. Hope the bits underneath are still facing the proper way.”

  “Enough of these foolish games!” Jumping down from the stocks, the captain’s boots slammed against the wooden platform, kicking up a cloud of dust. “Archers, take aim! Come down, son, or we will shoot you down!”