She attempted to match Sanook’s first attack, sending a solid wall of air flying toward the Shadowman, but her arms were caught in bonds of air and pressed tightly against her sides before she could complete the weaving.
He’d beaten her again. Shel relaxed and waited for Sanook to release her.
“No,” the Shadowman snapped. “Don’t give up, child.”
Shel scowled; they’d been at this for more than a week and he still insisted on calling her “child” or “girl” at every opportunity. He knew how much it irritated her. That was probably why he did it.
“Let me down,” she said through clenched teeth. “And I'll show you who’s a child.”
“If you are not a child,” answered Sanook calmly, “then you can get yourself down.”
“But you've got me trussed up like a bird for the pot,” complained Shel.
“I have restrained your body, child.” Sanook’s voice was even and unruffled, but there was a slight emphasis on the last word. Shel bristled again. She thought she heard the Shadowman sigh softly behind his gilded mask.
“Think of your soul as a muscle,” he instructed her patiently. “It is a muscle many never flex, but you have learned to stretch this muscle. It must come naturally to you. And you must remember that when you exert this muscle you impose your will on the physical – but this muscle itself isn’t physical. Do you understand?”
“I think so.” In truth, it puzzled her. She truly did think she understood, but it was such a strange concept. It was real, but it wasn’t real. She had never bothered herself so much with metaphysical ideas, and the notion of a spiritual muscle didn’t come easily to her.
“Then get yourself out of this purely physical trap,” Sanook said, folding his arms across his robed chest.
“But I can’t,” Shel said, painfully aware of how close to whining her voice sounded. “Your soul powers are holding me – it’s different.”
“It isn’t different,” the Shadowman told her. “You are being held by air. Nothing but air. I am controlling the air with my soul, but it isn’t my soul itself that binds you. Do you understand?”
Shel didn’t answer. Instead, she clenched her teeth tight in concentration and tried to envision the solidified bands of air that held her trapped in mid-air. She imagined the knots Sanook had tied around her, and pictured her soul as a misty white field of energy that couldn’t be confined. She pictured tendrils of this energy, picking apart the Shadowman’s knots.
“Good!” Sanook said, sensing her effort.
Shel grinned, still picking at the knots. She wasn’t using all of her energy for the task, so she imagined another tendril of energy that spread around her body. It covered her completely, but stayed inside the tightly woven bands of air. Now she pressed outward, forcing the bonds away from her skin.
Without warning, Sanook sent a dozen fists of air to pummel her from every side at once. Shel cried out in surprise and anger. She glared at the Shadowman and for a moment she hated him, hated his lessons and his mastery over her. That bitter feeling crystallized in her mind and she willed it at him without thinking.
Midway between them, a pocket of air burst suddenly into flame. The fireball hurled itself at the Shadowman, who flung himself out of the way at the last moment. The encircling bands of air that held Shel suspended over the floor evaporated all at once and she fell with a surprised cry.
When Shel picked herself up, she saw the Shadowman rising to his feet and dusting off his robes. Beneath his cowled hood, the gilded mask had slipped and now she saw a portion of his face revealed. Seeing the direction of her gaze, Sanook hurriedly adjusted the mask – but not before Shel saw the intricate markings that covered his forehead.
Shel’s mouth fell open in recognition. The marks!
Behind her, the door to the chamber was thrown open and Rez strode imperiously into the room. He eyed the pair of them speculatively as he entered. Seeing him, Shel forgot about Sanook’s markings for a moment and focused on the leader.
She hadn’t seen much of Rez this past week. Sanook had kept her busy with training and exercises. She could feel the power of her soul now; she could feel that part of herself that had once been Aemond, and she was both excited and frightened by the possibilities it presented. She could sense something more in the depths of her mind, some further echo of the dead Shadowman that teased her with a seemingly endless wealth of knowledge and power.
Now that Rez was standing right here before her, Shel could sense something else. She sensed the leader’s own power, and she was in awe of it.
“You have so many,” she whispered, staring wide-eyed at Rez.
He had been about to speak, but now Rez blinked in surprise and closed his mouth with an audible click of teeth snapping together. Cocking his head slightly to one side, he looked at Shel curiously.
Shel returned the look, but she was seeing Rez with different eyes now. Rather, she was sensing him with her inner, more spiritual senses. He was more powerful even than Sanook. So many souls…But where had he gotten so many?
“I see you've been learning,” Rez broke the silence first. He turned to Sanook. “Is she ready?”
“She needs more time,” the Shadowman said, moving closer to the leader and the young student. “She has an admirable grasp of the basics. And just now she did something…”
The Shadowman trailed off, peering through the eye-slits of his gilded mask at Shel. He had clearly been impressed by her fireball. Shel realized she didn’t know how she’d done it. Would she ever be able to repeat the trick? There was so much she needed to learn…
“But she isn’t ready,” Sanook continued, giving voice to the doubts Shel felt but didn’t want to speak aloud. “She needs more time, more training.”
“I'm afraid we're out of time,” said Rez. “The Conclave has been summoned, and the archons heed their master’s call. Thorne and his men march the old King’s Road.”
“Thorne.” Sanook said the name slowly, thoughtfully. He peered at Rez through his mask. Shel couldn’t tell what the Shadowman was thinking, and she felt like she was missing something.
“Who’s Thorne?” she asked.
Rez chuckled. “You see, old friend? She wants to know more. She’s ready enough.”
Sanook didn’t answer. He stood with his arms crossed, and somehow without speaking or showing his face the Shadowman managed to convey his disapproval. Nevertheless, he was apparently unwilling to contradict the leader.
“I hope you're right,” was all he would say.
“Thorne is one of the imperial archons,” Rez explained to Shel, putting an arm around her shoulders and guiding her toward the door. “The high nobility of the empire. Patriarchs of the great families. Once, long ago before the endless summer, their families ruled the various kingdoms of the land. Now they serve the emperor and tend to his realm while he secludes himself in the depths of his palace.”
“And you want us to attack this Thorne?” asked Shel as they walked down the corridor outside the training chamber. The main hall was behind them; she didn’t know where Rez was taking her.
“That’s right,” the leader confirmed. “It has been a long time since he last visited the capital. All of the archons are rich in souls. They’d have us believe they are all powerful weavers, but the truth is only a handful of them know anything at all about weaving. Still, they have the souls.”
“So,” Shel said slowly. “Not everyone with a collection of souls is able to use them?”
“That’s right.” Rez glanced over his shoulder, but Sanook hadn’t followed them. “The Shadowmen, now, that’s a different story. Every man, woman, and child among their people can weave. But for the rest of us, it does not come easily or naturally. The archons pretend to be great sorcerers, but very few of them could even lift a candle from the table. None of them come close to matching the power of the emperor.”
“But they're all filthy rich,” guessed Shel. Rez halted in mid-stride, turning to face her. He
looked surprised for a moment, and then he burst out in rich, hearty laughter.
“They certainly are,” he said when his laughter subsided. “But we're not after gold, Shel.”
“We're not?”
“Not in the slightest. Oh, there will be gold. But what I'm interested in are the souls.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You will.” Rez smiled and patted her shoulder; Shel hated that, but kept her irritation to herself. She wasn’t a child. She thought Rez understood that, though; after all, he wanted her to go along on this heist.
He led the way to the end of the corridor and opened a small door she had never noticed before. It led outside, to a narrow courtyard within the high stone wall that surrounded the abandoned fortress. Dappled sunlight warmed the air and tall grass waved in a gentle breeze. At the far end of the courtyard, Shel saw a heavily armored carriage. No team of horses was in evidence, but the carriage was otherwise complete. Heavy gilding decorated the richly lacquered wood. Even the sturdy wooden wheels were decorated, and gemstones glistened at their hubs. Rez pointed to the carriage.
“The archons buy and trade souls, even though most of them can’t use the souls. They're status symbols more than anything else. But for the emperor, the souls are vital. Without souls, he can’t maintain the Long Summer. Without souls, he couldn’t rule. But the emperor is a very busy man. He demands tribute from his archons. Whenever a Conclave is summoned, it means one thing. The emperor needs new souls to replenish his power.”
Understanding blossomed in Shel’s mind. “So these archons are all bringing souls to give the emperor!”
“That’s right, Shel. Thorne is one of the most powerful of all the archons. His tribute will be the largest. You see that carriage? It’s a replica of one that we'll find among the archon’s convoy. In that carriage, he will transport at least a hundred souls to lay at our glorious emperor’s feet. Except they'll never reach their destination. We're going to steal them. Actually, you're going to steal them.”
Chapter 8 - The Heist
Shel lay prone on the ground just beneath the crest of a high ridge of earth overlooking the old King’s Road. The ancient highway of smooth-worn stone stretched from the capital in the south to the northernmost regions of the empire. No one remembered who had built it, or when, but the King’s Road had survived a hundred generations of travelers. It would likely survive a hundred generations more.
The sun had risen less than an hour ago. A thin mist clung to the ground, wrapping languorously about the narrow trunks of the trees making up the thicket in which the gang was hiding. They kept low, out of sight of the road.
From her position at the ridge crest, Shel could see the road if she lifted her head. Rez was nearby, peering down at the road cautiously. Sanook was with him. Rez whispered something to the Shadowman, and Sanook nodded before backing away from the crest and crawling toward Shel.
“The convoy approaches,” he whispered when he was close. “There are many armsmen. I will lead the others in distracting them. You and Rez will go after the souls. Are you ready?”
Shel swallowed nervously. She knew Sanook didn’t think she was up to this, but the Shadowman had kept his opinions to himself ever since the day Rez let her in on his plans. Their training sessions had continued – in fact, they had grown far more intense over the four days before the gang started out for this ambush.
Rez and the rest of the gang were depending on her to retrieve the souls. It wasn’t a task even Sanook had been able to prepare her for. Rez told her the method could only be learned from the vague, hidden memories Aemond had passed on to her along with his soul. It had taken her hours just to pick out some of these faint memories, and days to find the right ones that would teach her how to collect the souls. No one else in the gang knew how to do it, and she wouldn’t have known where to begin teaching someone else. She was on her own.
The cross-country journey had taken two full days, and Sanook had drilled her every step of the way. Aside from his relentless exercises, Shel had needed every spare moment to practice the soul-gathering technique she had learned from Aemond’s memories.
She was completely worn out by the time they reached the small, dense thicket of trees beside the King’s Road. She had dropped to the ground and been asleep within moments, and it seemed like only moments more before Rez had shaken her awake. That had been an hour ago. Her stomach had twisted and turned and crawled around her belly every minute of that hour. Was she ready, truly ready for this? Shel didn’t know. She certainly hoped so.
“I don’t have much choice,” she told the Shadowman. His dark eyes studied her through the slits of his mask, but as always she couldn’t see his face. She had no idea what he was thinking.
“Stick with Rez,” he told her urgently. “Follow his lead. You won’t be alone out there. And remember, the rest of us will be nearby. Everything’s going to be fine.”
Sanook turned and crawled away to join the others. Maul and Kal were there, with about a dozen more members of the gang. Shel had overheard something about another group being sent after one of the other archons. She realized she still didn’t know everyone, or even how many people were in this gang of Rez’s. There was so much she didn’t know about her new family.
This wasn’t the time to worry about that, she told herself. Just another distraction. Focus. She held her hand up in front of her face and pictured her soul extending from the fingers as smoky tendrils. She wanted to make sure the power was still there. She was really spooked. She’d never felt this way before a job before.
She felt eyes on her. Shifting her position, she saw Rez staring at her from a few feet away. He nodded his head very slowly when he saw her looking. Nervously, she returned the gesture.
Rez peeked over the ridge again, lifting one hand on a stiffly extended arm behind him. He closed his fingers suddenly in a tight fist: that was the signal. Almost before Shel even recognized the motion, Rez had thrown himself over the cresting ridge into action. She jumped to her feet and raced after him, only distantly aware of the others charging out of the thicket.
The convoy stretched out along the road in front of her. A dozen heavily armored men marched out front, holding long pikes at the ready. Behind them came the horses pulling the ornately decorated carriage. Behind that, more soldiers and then another carriage – smaller, large enough only for a single occupant. That must be the archon. All around and behind this carriage were dozens more armsmen bearing swords, crossbows, and pikes. It seemed they all turned to look directly at her, all at once.
Shel heard shouting. The gang surged over the ridge and rushed down on the road. Maul led the charge on the front. The giant swung a heavy club of solid oak; the club was nearly as large as some of the startled soldiers. Six men followed the giant, shouting their war cries and brandishing swords.
At the rear of the convoy, Kal led the other wave. The honey-haired thief carried twin daggers in her hands. Shel knew the other woman carried at least two dozen more knives concealed in her clothes. Six men followed her, armed with swords and daggers. They descended on the convoy’s rearguard howling their challenge.
The convoy exploded into chaos. Archers hidden in trees to either side of the road poured arrows into the mix. The ambush had been intricately planned by Rez. Of course, the plan involved a lot of fighting.
Shel gasped as she saw Maul strike the first of the pikemen out front. The massive club, wielded by the biggest hulk of a man Shel had ever seen, struck the soldier full on his heavily armored chest with a loud crack. Shel saw the plate armor buckle and dent even as the pikemen was lifted bodily off the ground and hurled through the air to crash down a dozen feet away. Maul plowed ahead, striking another man in the face and crushing his skull in an instant.
Shel found Rez, a few paces ahead of her and racing for the carriage that was their main objective. Her heart pounded in time with her churning feet as she struggled to keep up. She had to remember her part in all of this.<
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A soldier came out of nowhere, charging straight for her. Shel tried to slow her headlong rush, but she was going to crash right into him. She saw his wild eyes and furious snarling lips, saw the sword in his arms coming up to gut her. Half a dozen feathered shafts suddenly blossomed from his chest and neck. Blood spurted, splashing over Shel’s face as the soldier dropped to his knees and lost his sword. She jumped over him and left him behind.
Two men lowered their pikes and charged Kal. She ducked beneath the wickedly barbed blade of one, spun around and leaped into the air. Her jump carried her over the second pike. She landed adroitly, spinning on nimble feet to drive one of her long daggers into the second pikeman’s belly between two plates of armor. The man screamed in pain and surprise as Kal ripped him open. The honey-haired thief moved on before the soldier fell.
The other pikeman tried to turn, but she was behind him in a flash. With a wordless shout, she drove both daggers point down into the base of the man’s neck. Her wrists were crossed, and she pulled her arms apart. The twin blades passed each other as they tore the man’s neck apart. Gouts of blood were flung in either direction as the blades ripped free. Kal spun away from the dying man, already seeking her next opponent.
Sanook stood on the crest of the ridge. Beneath his mask, his eyes were closed and his lips moved in silent incantations. He could “see” everything before him with his mystical senses. Every arrow loosed by the bowmen concealed in the trees was his to command. He steered this one to ensure it found its target; he knocked that one aside, preventing it from striking one of their own men.
When the archon’s crossbowmen loosed shafts at the howling raiders, Sanook blasted the bolts aside to strike harmlessly into the dirt alongside the road.
To a Soulweaver’s eyes, the Shadowman on the ridge was aglow with a raging torrent of power. Misty white tendrils encircled him in a whirling maelstrom; crackling bolts of energy writhed around his outstretched arms and occasionally lanced out to strike one of the heavily armored soldiers. He called down lightning from the skies, panicking the horses and cooking pikemen in their armor like spitted meat over a fire.
Soul Weaver: A Fantasy Novel Page 6