Soul Shade (Soul Stones Book 2)

by T. L. Branson

  Gus shrugged. “It is what it is. The elves attacked with a dragon, burned the whole town down. You saw what was left of it. Those of us that survived ran to the mines and holed ourselves up. We were about ready to leave when you showed up. The boys here thought we’d been discovered.”

  “There are other survivors?” Robert asked. “Is my mother here?”

  Gus’s face fell. “Not nearly as many as we’d like. Only about fifty of us made it out. And, no unfortunately your mother isn’t with us.”

  Robert took a step back, his eyes going wide. “So she’s…?”

  “Oh, gods no. Sorry, son,” Gus said. “Your mother left Celesti about a month ago looking for you. You haven’t seen her?”

  Robert shook his head.

  “Oh well, she’s a strong woman, she is,” Gus said. “I’m sure she’s fine. What are you boys doing here anyway?”

  “We’re looking for Wi—” Ocken said then paused, remembering that Will wouldn’t look like Will and explaining it all to them would take far too much time and effort. “We’re looking for a young man. Looks maybe slightly older than Robert. We tracked him here all the way from Shadowhold, have you seen him?”

  “Nah,” Gus said. “You’re the first souls we’ve seen in a day.”

  “That confirms what we suspected, then,” Robert said. “We did somehow get ahead of him.”

  “Well you’re both more than welcome to stay the night and wait for him,” Gus said, stepping aside and holding his arm out for them to leave the storage room. “The mine’s not the Raccoon, but she’s got plenty of space.”

  27

  “Whoa,” Farrow said as Penrythe’s Meridian Keep came into view. The tall, square structure dominated the center of the city and was situated at the highest point on the hill where Penrythe had been founded.

  “Have you never been to Penrythe?” Maya asked.

  “I’ve not had the pleasure,” he said with wonder in his voice.

  “It’s no pleasure, really,” Maya told him. “Just look around you.”

  Maya spun holding her arms out. All around was nothing but wide, open plain as far as the eye could see. They walked along the only road leading to the city from Westbarrow with not another building or traveler in sight.

  “So what’s the draw here, then?” Farrow asked.

  “Penrythe, like Tikani in Eastern Aralith, maintains a certain amount of autonomy that some of the other cities aren’t afforded,” Maya explained. “Penrythe provides little economic value for the kingdom, so its assets aren’t worth protecting. Thus, my father made very few visits to this city over the years.”

  “So you’re saying they are a bit lawless?” he asked.

  “I’m saying Penrythe is the type of place you go when you want to disappear,” she replied. “It’s the largest city in the kingdom, but holds the smallest military presence.”

  “Aren’t they worried about being attacked?”

  “From what? We’ve been at peace for fourteen years,” Maya said. “But before the Unification, the Keep was all they needed. It may not look it from here, but Meridian Keep is nearly fifteen stories tall, and it has another four stories built down into the ground with an expansive tunnel network.

  “At the very top is a wide courtyard where tournaments are hosted and guests are entertained for parties. But it also doubles as a watchtower. From up there, they can see Westbarrow on a clear day and have likely already spotted us. If an enemy attacks, the city will long be evacuated to the Keep before enemy forces arrive.”

  “That’s impressive, but it sounds costly to live here,” Farrow said.

  “On the contrary,” Maya explained. “Ninety percent of the residents live in the slums. The other ten are the ruling elite, safe in their high tower, living in luxury. There is no middle class here. Just wait, you’ll see.”

  Farrow didn’t reply.

  After a while, Maya said, “I still think we should have gone back to Berxley.”

  “I’m sorry about your friends, I really am,” Farrow said. “But it’s been days. If they’re dead, they’re dead. If not, there’s not much we can do. Breaching Berxley’s harbor walls is nigh impossible. The best thing to do is continue gaining allies and force Berxley to see that they stand alone in this.”

  Farrow scratched his right shoulder, raising the sleeve of his tunic and exposing his skin. Maya’s eyes widened in shock—it was perfectly healed.

  “Your arm!” she exclaimed. “There’s not even a scar or red mark where you were burned.”

  “Oh,” he said in surprise, looking down at it. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’ve always been a fast healer.”

  “Wow, I’ll say,” Maya said. “I’ve known people to recover faster than others, but that type of burn should have taken weeks, not days.”

  “What can I say?” he said. “Those healers on Kent knew what they were doing.”

  An awkward silence fell between them.

  “The only reason I’m here is because of Kosta,” she said at length. “Though for the life of me I can’t figure out why he agreed with you on us going to Penrythe. Kosta’s as bloodthirsty as they come. It just doesn’t make sense.”

  “What doesn’t make sense is sending all of your resources to fight a brutal and bloody civil war when you know what looms on the horizon,” Farrow said.

  “You’re right, I guess,” Maya said.

  “Of course I’m right,” he said with a smirk.

  “I just can’t shake this nagging feeling like something is wrong. And these headaches,” Maya said, rubbing her temples. “They won’t go away.”

  Farrow frowned. “Well if we get Penrythe’s pledge, we’ll have the backing of all three of Berxley’s neighbors. They can’t deny that. Let’s finish up here, and we’ll go to Berxley to find your friends.”

  Maya nodded her agreement and picked up the pace. Even so it was another three hours, the sun now dipping below the horizon, before they stepped through the city gates.

  Khate and Bryn sat at a table inside the Prickled Pony, which was supposedly the finest establishment in Penrythe. In truth, it was little more than a hovel. Despite Khate’s feelings about it, a cursory look at the town told her that their claim probably wasn’t far off the mark.

  She hadn’t had any reason to come to Penrythe before, and after this visit she wouldn’t be making plans to return any time soon. Khate had never seen such poor living conditions in all her life.

  From what she’d gathered, the city’s caste grew steadily richer the closer to Meridian Keep the houses got. As they first entered the gates, they were surrounded with nothing more than tents and bedrolls. Those turned into dilapidated shacks, and then into more stable stone buildings. But even the buildings were bare and served as little more than a reliable roof over the owner’s head.

  Khate hadn’t seen the inner ring, but Bryn told her a secondary wall that was heavily guarded by elite mercenaries protected the upper class from the rabble in the lower city. One of these mercs was Bryn’s contact.

  “If he’s one of the nobles’ elite guard, why are we meeting in this dump?” Khate asked.

  “Entry into the upper city is by permit only, and he couldn’t risk his job by allowing us through without the governor’s approval,” Bryn said. “So he’s going to meet us out here. It’s our usual arrangement.”

  “Usual?” Khate asked. “How often do you come here?”

  “Not as frequently as I used to,” Bryn said. “I ran into a spot of trouble last time I was here and haven’t been back since.”

  “What type of trouble?”

  “Never you mind that,” Bryn said. “We won’t be here long enough for it to cause any problems.”

  “Bryn Sanders!” a booming voice roared.

  A grizzled man about Bryn’s age walked toward their table, though the similarities ended there. Where Bryn was a frail twig of a man, the mercenary was everything you’d expect in a warrior: thick chested, legs as big as trees, and arms that co
uld snap you in half.

  “Ari Skystrider!” Bryn bellowed as he stood and moved around the table to embrace his old friend.

  “I’ve not seen you in nearly a decade, old man,” Ari said.

  “Who you calling old?” Bryn said, clapping the man on the shoulders. “It’s been too long.”

  “Are you here to finally make amends?” the mercenary asked.

  “Gah!” Bryn said, scrunching his face. “It wasn’t my fault and I’ll never admit to what isn’t true.”

  “Stubborn as ever, I see,” Ari said.

  “Would you have it any other way?” Bryn asked with a smile.

  Ari chuckled. “You wouldn’t be Bryn otherwise,” he said. “So if that’s not why you’re here, then what brings you to Penrythe after all these years?”

  “Come, have a seat and we’ll talk,” Bryn said, turning around. “Oh, where are my manners. Ari, I’d like you to meet a recent acquaintance of mine, Khate. Khate, this is Ari, my best friend.”

  “How do you do, ma’am?” Ari said, taking Khate’s hand and kissing it.

  “My pleasure,” Khate said. “But aren’t you a little old to be flirting with women my age?”

  “Age is wisdom,” Ari said. “Besides, I could use a little spice in my life.”

  “If you had any more spice you’d have to change your name to Basil,” Bryn said.

  “Aye, maybe in times past,” Ari said. “But I’ve slowed down these last few years.”

  “I’ll believe it when I see it,” Bryn said.

  Ari pulled out a chair and sat down.

  Bryn slid a mug toward Ari and said, “Ordered your favorite, an ale with two pinches of vanilla.”

  “Thank ye,” he said, lifting the mug and taking a swig. “So what is it that’s so urgent you’d come back here and risk getting thrown in the guardhouse?”

  “I’m in a bit of a bind,” Bryn said. “Crazy story, if truth be told. If there hadn’t been so many witnesses I’m not sure you’d believe me.”

  “Try me,” the mercenary responded.

  “I’m also in a rush, so why don’t I cut to the chase and fill you in on the details later?” Bryn said.

  “I’m listening,” Ari said, sitting back and taking a sip.

  “I need five hundred gold,” Bryn said quietly.

  Ari sprayed his ale all over the table. “Say what?”

  “You heard me,” Bryn said.

  “What makes you think I have that kind of money lying around?” Ari said. “And what in Iket’s name do you need it for?”

  “Half of it’s for a new ship, the other half I’ll explain later,” Bryn said.

  “What in the blazes happened to my ship?” Ari said.

  “Your ship?” Bryn said, placing his finger on the table. “I won the River Raider fair and square.”

  “You renamed her, too?” Ari asked.

  “Had to,” Bryn said. “Couldn’t have a respectable merchant’s vessel called the Scurvy Wench now, could I?”

  “Why was your ship named the Scurvy Wench?” Khate asked.

  “Named her after my ex-wife,” Ari said with a laugh. “Fiery redhead that one, and a temper to boot.”

  “Was that Tracy?” Bryn asked.

  “Nah,” Ari said, shaking his head. “ ‘Twas Sheila.”

  “How many wives have you had?” Khate wondered.

  “Only three,” he said.

  “Only?” Khate said, rolling her eyes.

  “But this piece of man is currently on the market if you’d ever consider settling down in Penrythe,” he said.

  “I’ll pass,” Khate said with a forced smile.

  Ari shrugged. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

  “So about the money,” Bryn said.

  “I do owe you one for getting rid of my second ex-wife,” Ari said.

  “You did what?” Khate asked.

  “It’s not what you think, lass,” Bryn said. “I married her.”

  “How is Janice?” Ari asked.

  “Dead,” Bryn said. “Passed two years ago this next moon cycle.”

  “Sorry to hear, mate,” Ari said, umconfortably. “But yeah, the gold. My boys should be able to round it up in a couple of hours. Let’s take a load off and catch up in the meantime.”

  Bryn nodded his consent. Ari whistled and a teenage boy—who’d apparently slipped in behind Ari—was next to the table in an instant. Motioning for the boy to lean in, Ari whispered in his ear, and then sent him off.

  “So tell me what happened to my ship,” Ari said, leaning back and crossing his arms.

  “If you don’t mind,” Khate said as she stood from her seat, “I’m going to step out for a moment and get some fresh air.”

  “Air isn’t any better out there, I’ll tell you that for certain,” Ari said. “But feel free; we’ll be here when you get back.”

  “Go on, lass,” Bryn said. “I’ll be all right.”

  Khate turned to Ari and said, “Everything he is about to say about the last few days is true. Well… most of it.” Then she left the tavern.

  Outside, Khate took a deep breath and let it out nice and slow. Ari was right, there was a pungent stink that hung in the air like a thick fog. But Khate hadn’t come out for a breather; she just didn’t want to listen to Bryn banter on about the dragon for the fourth time since they’d arrived back on the continent.

  Her eyes were inevitably drawn to Meridian Keep jutting high into the sky. It was an imposing sight from a few miles out, but up close it was overwhelmingly mind-blowing. Khate craned her neck as she followed its smooth surface all the way to the top. The silhouettes of birds circled around above, though they were too high to be heard.

  The tower made her feel uncomfortable. She didn’t know what it was that bothered her, perhaps it was just an irrational fear of dying should the thing collapse, but she knew she wanted to get as far away from the keep as she could.

  Heading the opposite direction, she walked down the hill toward the city’s entrance. Instead of following the main road all the way to the gate, she turned onto a side street before leaving the market district where most of the shops and stone buildings were located.

  The shadows were her element. They were where she went to unwind and get away from the stresses of life. Stepping up onto a crate, she hopped over onto a wagon, ran along its bed, and jumped up onto a wooden awning that stood out over someone’s back door. One giant leap upward and her fingers grabbed the lip of the rooftop ledge. Khate pulled herself up and lay down on the stone wall, crossing her arms behind her head.

  Her eyes drifted closed. She hadn’t had a moment to herself like this since before she’d stolen that goblet in Berxley, and something in her gut told her it might be the last for quite a while.

  I’m detecting several power sources incoming, Xyrth said.

  Way to ruin the mood, Khate told him.

  I make no apologies, he said. You are a more amenable host if you’re simply annoyed rather than dead.

  “My shoulder hurts,” a man said. “I need to grab a potion to relieve the pain. I think I saw an apothecary over this way, through here. Follow me.”

  “I thought you told me it felt as good as new?” a female asked.

  The soft patter of footsteps drew nearer, as did the voices. Khate turned her head and looked down. A man and a woman walked through the alley beneath her. As Khate moved to return to her rest, the woman spun around, looking back the way they’d come. Khate did a double-take as she caught sight of the woman’s face.

  It was Maya. Or at least she was fairly certain it was. She hadn’t ever met her niece, but there was no mistaking that this was the same woman whom she’d passed on a ship bearing the royal flag of Shadowhold just outside of Kent.

  “Are you sure it was this direction?” Maya said. “I’m pretty sure the market was back—”

  As Maya turned around, three cloaked figures burst from the shadows. One of them grabbed Maya around the waist. Wrenching her assailant’s hand
away, she spun, twisted the man’s arm behind his back, and forced him to his knees.

  A second enemy lunged forward, shoving Maya into a nearby wall. She hit hard and bounced off, then fell to the ground. As she struggled to stand, the third opponent launched his fist at her face and everything went black.

  28

  Maya’s head bobbed around as she fought to keep her neck straight. The first thing she noticed was that she had a sack over her head. Then she felt the ropes around her wrists, tied to the back of the chair she found herself sitting in. Voices whispered across the room.

  “Ophi changed her mind. She wants the little queen kept alive until she arrives,” one of the voices said.

  “Ophi is coming here?” asked the other voice. “I thought she and Erintos were staying in Morathil until it was time to attack?”

  “It has already begun,” the former said. “Celesti has fallen.”

  Maya gasped.

  Soft steps drew closer and the sack flew off her head. A man crouched on the ground before her—it was Farrow.

  A smile grew on Maya’s face. “Help me get out of here, quickly before—”

  An elf emerged from the shadows and approached Farrow from behind.

  “Look out!” she called, but Farrow didn’t react, nor did the elf attack the sergeant.

  “Farrow?” Maya asked. “What’s going on?”

  “You are now a prisoner of Morathil,” he said.

  “What?” Maya said, scrunching up her features.

  “Morathil, Realm of the Elves of the North. Don’t they teach you humans anything?” the elf said, crossing his arms.

  Maya looked at the elf and then back at Farrow, her mouth hanging open. “Why are you helping them? Why would you betray your kingdom?”

  Farrow’s chiseled features softened, and the tips of his ears grew to a point. Maya’s eyes grew wide. “You’re—you’re one of them? You’re an elf? But how—?”

  His appearance changed again. Maya found herself staring at her own face.