Soul Shade (Soul Stones Book 2)

by T. L. Branson

  “There’s an urban legend among my people that somewhere along the Trident is a shipwreck. Supposedly, this ship was carrying the largest diamond known to man when the most deadly, inexplicable thunderstorm struck and capsized the vessel,” Sowena told him. “Every now and again, someone heads off in search of the lost ship.”

  Will stared at her expectantly.

  “Problem is,” she continued, “that all three prongs of the Trident have been searched and there’s no ship. Everyone who goes looking for it dies, their bodies washing up on shore. That doesn’t stop the occasional down-on-his-luck adventurer from trying, though. You have to be insane to chase something that doesn’t exist and trade your life for it.”

  “What does this have to do with what you called me?” Will asked.

  “We say someone ‘got speared’ when they are taken in by the legend,” Sowena explained. “The Trident has grabbed a hold of them—‘speared them,’ if you will—and taken them to a watery grave. Eventually the phrase evolved to refer to any crazy act or thought.”

  “That’s it?” Will asked. “People just die? Do you have any idea how they die?”

  Sowena shook her head. “They just wash up dead—not a mark on them. Some people think the waters are cursed as a way to protect the treasure. Anyone who goes looking for it is dragged to the bottom by a sea monster or mermaid or something and killed.”

  “Do you hear yourself?” Will said. “Maybe you’re the one who’s ‘been speared.’ Mermaids and sea monsters? You’ve been reading too many books.”

  “Hey,” Sowena said, raising both her hands. “I said that’s what other people think.”

  “What about you?” he asked.

  “It’s a legend for a reason, right?” Sowena said. “Legends aren’t real.”

  “Tell that to Ocken,” Will said.

  “Who’s Ocken?” she asked.

  “Friend of mine,” he replied as they walked up a hill. “I doubt you’ll ever meet him. Anyway, we’re almost there. Celesti’s just over this rise. It’ll be so good to be home, though I’m not sure how I’m going to explain—”

  As they reached the summit, Sowena stopped midstride when she saw what lay beyond. Will took a few more steps, then turned to look at her.

  “What?” he asked. “Is it something I—”

  He spun his head slowly, following her line of vision. Now she knew where that pillar of smoke was coming from. How long had it been burning? Four days now? Sowena tried to remember when she’d first seen it.

  “By the gods,” Will said softly. “Mother!”

  He took off without another word to Sowena. She chased after him, but he was too fast for her. Will had made it to what used to be the city gates before Sowena even reached the bottom of the hill.

  Slowing down, she made her way to the city. The smell of burnt wood mixed with a coppery metallic scent drifted on the wind. The closer she got to the city, the stronger it became.

  As she crossed under the remains of a wooden arch, what she saw could only be described as horrifying. The level of destruction that had been heaped upon Celesti—it was unlike anything she could have ever imagined. Just the thought of this happening to her town, to her friends, to her family—it sent chills down her spine.

  Sowena walked through the rubble looking for Will. Most of the city might have been in ruins, but enough of the stone still stood that she didn’t have a clear line of sight. She supposed he had gone to find his house, but where that was she couldn’t even begin to guess.

  One structure in town stuck out more than any others: a massive circular building at least three or four times the height of anything still standing. Made entirely out of stone, it was one of the few things that hadn’t been destroyed. Sowena had no idea what it was, but she decided to check it out and look for survivors.

  Ascending the stairs leading up to the entrance, Sowena was careful to avoid the area where the steps had been damaged from falling debris. At the top, a large chunk of stone a little taller than her had dislodged from the wall and crashed to the floor, blocking the structure’s only entrance.

  There was a small gap near the bottom of the stone. Trying to crawl through it, she quickly became stuck and was forced to twist free and go back. She wouldn’t get in that way.

  Maybe she could move it out of the way. She placed her hands on the stone, planted her feet firmly, and pushed with all her might. When it wouldn’t budge, Sowena sat down in front of it, then put her head back against the stone and stared up at the ceiling.

  The large rent in the wall was right above her. She jumped up and spun around. If she could get on top of the stone, the hole seemed to only be a few feet above it. She could pull herself up through that way.

  Grabbing a handhold on the stone, she climbed. Her weight caused the stone to shift, and it rolled toward her. Sowena flattened against it and held on as tight as she could. A flat portion slammed into the ground, closing off the gap she’d tried to crawl through, and came to rest.

  She held there for a few seconds, steadying her breathing and calming her beating heart. When she was sure the stone wouldn’t move again, she resumed her climb and made it to the top.

  Placing two hands on the lip above, she pulled herself into the hole. A library. The building was a library—the largest Sowena had ever seen. Glass lay shattered on the floor from the broken dome above, and a few bookshelves had fallen over, but otherwise it seemed to be intact.

  At least thirty tables filled the room, many of them bearing books, maps, or other parchments. Whatever had happened had been quick. Based on the amount of books that were strewn across the ground, Sowena imagined an overzealous librarian attempting to save as many books as possible, scooping a bunch up and heading for the exit, the books falling out of his arms as he ran.

  “Hello!” she called out. “Anyone in here?”

  No response.

  The drop down into the room was too far, and Sowena didn’t feel like stacking tables to get back out again, so she decided to leave it be. She was convinced no one was here.

  Climbing back down, she left the library and went in search of Will again.

  She found him about five minutes later, kneeling in front of a blackened heap that she supposed used to be his house. He laid a bundle of blue flowers in the center of the mess and stood.

  “Are you all right?” Sowena asked.

  “My mother is dead!” Will snapped. “How do you think I am?”

  “I’m—I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean—”

  He shook his head and shivered. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

  “It’s fine,” Sowena told him. “Really. I know what you’re going through.”

  He nodded sullenly.

  “So, what are we going to do now? Wait until dark and hunt down the soulfiend?” Sowena asked.

  “Forget about the soulfiend,” he said, waving his hand.

  Sowena furrowed her brow. “Huh? But that’s the whole reason we came here. You said—”

  “I know what I said. But this changes things. That soulfiend is a minor inconvenience compared to this,” Will said. “The elves did this. I know they did. They must be stopped, but I can’t do it alone. We need another stone, and we need it fast. I tried telling Maya something like this would happen. I told her! Why did she have to be so stubborn? Why?”

  Will broke down into sobs and fell on Sowena’s shoulder. She recoiled in surprise, then wrapped her arms around him and pulled him tight. She remembered what it felt like to lose her family and how comforting it was to have a shoulder to cry on.

  After he’d regained his composure and wiped away the tears, she asked, “So what’s our next move? Where do we find another stone?”

  “I don’t know,” Will said with the shake of his head. “I came here to talk to my mother, but she’s dead.”

  “What about that goddess in your head, what does she say?” Sowena asked.

  “She doesn’t know either. Each of the
gods chose a different hiding place for their stones,” he explained.

  “You’ve got to at least have some idea, don’t you?” Sowena said. “Something you might have read or heard about in passing—maybe a bedtime story or legend.”

  “No, I can’t think of—wait, what did you just say?” Will asked.

  “Something you read in a book?”

  “No, after that,” he said.

  “A bedtime story or lege—you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking, are you?” she asked.

  Will’s face beamed. “Sowena, what if your legend isn’t as crazy as it might seem? What if there actually is a treasure and it’s a soul stone?”

  “Did you not hear anything I said? Everyone who goes looking for that treasure dies,” Sowena said, exasperated.

  “Then I guess it’s a good thing I can’t die,” he said triumphantly.

  “You’re forgetting one problem,” Sowena said. “The Trident is huge. It could take you months to search the whole thing.”

  His excitement deflated as quickly as it had come. He plopped his chin into his hand and looked deep in thought. “What if—no. Maybe—that won’t work either.”

  “Have you considered that there might be another way to fight these elves?” she asked.

  “You’re starting to sound like Maya,” Will said.

  “Why? What did she want to do?”

  “She wants to raise an army,” he told her. “That’s all well and good, we’ll need an army, but we’re going up against two—maybe more—super-powered gods, and each one of them is worth a thousand soldiers on the battlefield.”

  “Well maybe if we found out where the legend says the ship sank, we’ll have a better idea of where to look,” Sowena declared.

  Will raised his eyebrows. “I’ll do you one better. These adventurers that die, can you tell me where the bodies wash up on shore?”

  “Sure, I guess. But why?” she asked.

  “What if there is something protecting the stone? And that’s what’s killing them? When they wash up on shore they can’t be too far away from where they died, right? So if we check there, we should find it.”

  “I take it back, you have been speared,” Sowena said.

  “Do you have any better ideas?” Will asked.

  “No,” she answered.

  “Now all we need is a map so we can figure out where we’re going.”

  “I think I know where to find one.”

  26

  Ocken’s eyes slowly opened. It was dark outside—no, not dark, but he had a sack over his head with little pinpricks of light escaping through the gaps in the weave. His hands were bound together over his head and someone—or more than likely two someones—was pulling him along the ground. His feet had also been tied together.

  He groaned. His forehead throbbed, and he thought his nose might be broken.

  Regaining his mental acuity quickly, he began to work through possible escape scenarios. There wasn’t a lot he could do right now—an unknown enemy had captured him and probably Robert. So it wasn’t Ocken’s own life at stake, but Robert’s too.

  Add to that he didn’t know how many there were, their posted locations, or even where he was. There were just too many variables to do anything at this point. Unfortunately, he would have to let this play out until later—assuming he had a later. It was impossible to determine his captor’s intentions. He heard nothing aside from the grunts of the men pulling him and the sound of his body scraping against the ground.

  The light coming through the sack dimmed significantly, and then disappeared altogether. The damp smell of moist rock and dirt accosted him, leading Ocken to believe they’d entered a cave.

  An orange glow appeared along with the familiar pops and crackles of a fire. He stopped moving and his captors dropped his hands.

  Someone grabbed the top of the sack and wrenched it from his head. Blinking in the firelight, Ocken tried to survey the room. They had taken him to a small supply closet of some kind. There were doors on the wall behind the two men and a shelf to his left that held lanterns, pickaxes, buckets, and burlap sacks. They were in the mine.

  Beside him, Robert lay motionless. One of the men removed the sack from his head and got up to leave. Ocken tried to get a good look at their captors, but the lighting was too dim, and the positioning of the torch on the wall silhouetted their faces.

  As the men exited the room, they pulled the doors shut behind them. The scraping of wood on wood told Ocken that they’d barred the door.

  “Robert,” Ocken whispered. “Wake up!”

  Robert didn’t budge. A trickle of blood ran down the side of his face, and his mouth hung open. Ocken flipped onto his side, then shimmied over and kicked Robert as best he could without hurting him.

  Robert coughed and his eyes flickered open. He sucked in a slow breath and then let out a hiss.

  “Ocken?” he asked. “What happened?”

  “We’ve been ambushed,” Ocken told him. “By whom, I don’t know. Could be elves, could be the Celestians. Either way, someone wasn’t happy we came up that pass.”

  “Ah, my head is killing me,” Robert said, raising his bound hands to his forehead and wincing.

  “Got to admit, I didn’t expect this,” Ocken said.

  “You and me both,” Robert said.

  “The way I see it, they’ll be back before too long. We need to get out of these bonds quickly if we want to live through the day,” Ocken said.

  With one great thrust, Ocken swung himself into a sitting position. As he glanced around the room again, the only thing Ocken saw that might help them was a pickaxe, but it was four shelves up and Ocken didn’t think he could stand. He didn’t have any better ideas, though, so he had to try.

  Scooting along the floor, Ocken slid until his back connected with the storage shelves. Then he spun around and grabbed hold of the second shelf. As hard as he could, he flung himself upward. The tips of his fingers grazed the fourth shelf, but didn’t find purchase, and his chest slammed into the ground, pushing all the air from his lungs.

  “Are you all right, big man?” Robert asked.

  “Fine,” Ocken wheezed.

  Taking a deep breath, he flipped over onto his back, sat up, and slid back to the shelf to try again.

  “What are you trying to get?” Robert asked. “The pickaxe?”

  Ocken nodded.

  “You might be able to reach the shelf from where you’re sitting; it looks about right from here,” he said.

  Ocken glanced up, and then shrugged. It was a better idea than falling on his face again. Reaching up, he stretched his arms as far as they’d go. He successfully found the shelf and then his fingertips brushed against something metal.

  His angle was no good, though—he needed to face the wall. Holding on to the shelf, he tried to twist and maneuver his legs underneath him, but every attempt ended with him losing his grip on the shelf.

  Instead, he pulled his legs into his chest and pushed against the ground, forcing his back tight against the wall. Throwing his weight into the air, he rose about a foot off the ground. Ocken simultaneously moved his legs closer and shoved his back against the wall, locking his position.

  The whole shelving unit shook with the force of his blow and a bucket fell off the top, crashing onto the floor half a foot away from Robert.

  “Hey!” Robert said. “Watch it.”

  “It’s not like I’m trying to kill you,” he said, grunting as he attempted to launch himself again. Without the proper leverage from the ground, though, he couldn’t get any lift and fell back to the floor.

  Ocken sighed and smashed his head back into the shelves. They shook once more, and the handle of a pickaxe spun out over the ledge above. Inspiration suddenly hitting him, he leaned forward and slammed his back into the shelves again.

  “Cut it out, will you?” Robert said.

  “Just shut up and get out of the way,” Ocken said.

  He pounded the shelves with hi
s back four more times, and the pickaxe fell free, flipped, and landed pick first into the ground where Robert had just been sitting.

  “I could have died!” he exclaimed.

  “You’re all right, stop your whining,” Ocken said. “You’re starting to sound like your brother.”

  Robert recoiled and pursed his lips tight.

  Ocken shimmied over and picked up the pickaxe, putting it between his legs with the blade edge pointing up. He placed the rope over the metal and began to saw it. After a minute, the bond snapped, freeing his hands.

  Ocken used the axe to cut the ropes at his feet, then moved over to help Robert. As they both stood, Ocken heard voices on the other side getting closer. Squeezing the haft of the tool, he raised it above his head and prepared to attack.

  Wood scraped again as the barrier was lifted and the doors flew inward. Ocken roared and began to swing his weapon.

  “Gus?” Robert said in shock.

  “Robert?” one of the men replied.

  Ocken halted his swing and took a step back, confused. Three men stood in the doorway—their captors and a third man who looked to be about Ocken’s age.

  “You twits!” Gus said, smacking the two captors on the back of the head. “Do these two look like elves to you?”

  “Sorry, boss,” one of them said as he scratched his head. “You told us not to let anyone up the mountain and that our lives depended on it.”

  “What’s going on?” Robert asked.

  “Four or five days ago a small group of elves infiltrated the abbey,” Gus said. “They killed Governor Tomlin and half the city’s nobles before they were discovered and slaughtered by the abbey guard.”

  Gus took a deep breath. “That’s when it got real bad. I guess when their strike team didn’t return they decided to descend on the city in force. I don’t know how to explain it, but they had a dragon with them.”

  “Did you say a dragon?” Ocken asked.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” Gus said, extending his hand.

  “Ocken, this is Gus. I told you about him. After my father died, he kept an eye on me and my brothers,” Robert said.

  “Right, the blacksmith and tavern owner. I’m Ocken,” he said, shaking the man’s hand. “Now what about a dragon?”