The Soul Sphere: Book 01 - The Shattered Sphere

by David Adams

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  She let out a short laugh. “You mean other than the fact we’ll likely drown in a few minutes.”

  Demetrius laughed despite himself. “Yes.”

  “I tried the ceiling with my spear. There was nothing I could see…” She paused for a few seconds, studying the ceiling to avoid his gaze. “Perhaps a sharp sword will be better.”

  As the water level continued to rise, taking the room’s occupants up with it, the sounds of those outside trying to smash through the door was stilled. Demetrius wondered if the silence was due to the depth of the water muffling the noise, or if they had simply given up. One by one their chances of escape were disappearing. He tipped his chin at the ceiling. “Next time I come up I’ll give it a try.”

  Alexis had joined the others in taking turns diving into the water with the Sphere, looking in the murky soup below for the one shard that might be their salvation. They shivered and their bodies grew numb, and each one upon taking the Sphere had to be certain their grip was true, lest a numb hand cause them to drop the object they had been assembling and doom them completely. When Demetrius’ turn came again he took a deep breath and dove, allowing his clothes and equipment to help pull him toward the bottom, a boost he felt he needed. The water was now some fifteen feet above the surface of the shard bed, and the pressure of it pushed painfully on his ears as he struggled down. When he reached the shards he dug into them, throwing up handfuls and moving the Sphere back and forth. His eyes strained to see a glimmer of light—a glimmer of hope—in the darkness, the tell-tale yellow-green glow that would identify the real shard. He tried to keep panic out of his movements, but the thought of the rising water pushed on his mind as relentlessly as the pressure of it pushed on his head. When his lungs burned and he was sure he could take no more, he flung up another half-dozen handfuls of shards, then pushed off from the bottom to race back to the surface. Gasping for air, he gave the Sphere to Tala, then tried to rub a brutal cramp out of his calf.

  “Three feet,” Alexis said.

  Demetrius nodded understanding between ragged breaths. He flexed the fingers of his right hand to try to get more feeling—if anything the water seemed to be getting colder—then drew his sword. He took a couple of ineffective swings at the ceiling. “Tough to get leverage,” he said. He gathered himself and then kicked up with his legs while he swung the sword in a swift arc. The metal sang out as the blade made solid contact. He tried to find the point of impact after the blow, but could not; no mark remained.

  “I’ve tried probing the grout to no avail,” said Alexis. “It’s hard to tell with the water coming through, but I don’t think it’s any weaker than the stone. Tala is sure it’s all protected with spells, otherwise the others might have been able to smash through by now.”

  Demetrius sighed, then took one more stab at the barrier above, trying to drive the point of his sword through the grouted area between then stones. After the effort failed the tiredness he had been trying to ignore seeped even more deeply into his bones.

  Tala’s latest dive was unusually long, and Demetrius felt a mix of fear and hope as he and Alexis exchanged questioning glances. Finally the water spit the elf out, and he grabbed hold of her while she fought for air.

  “Saw it…I think…” She rubbed the water from her face and allowed herself a few deep inhales. “You might have kicked it up on the last dive.”

  Alexis gently pulled the Sphere from Tala’s grasp. “Where?”

  “Try the center, where Demetrius has been working. I thought I saw something as I started back up, but by the time I could turn back it was gone.”

  Alexis nodded and dove.

  Demetrius reached up with his hand and touched the ceiling. “Time grows short. Maybe we should go down together after she comes back. Two sets of eyes looking at once might help.”

  Tala agreed but added, “You hold the Sphere. I am not sure how long I will be able to stay down. I am still trying to catch my breath.”

  Alexis returned empty-handed. “Nothing,” was the only report she gave.

  Demetrius took the Sphere, made sure Tala was ready, then headed down. Faintly he wondered if there would be air to breathe when he was ready to surface. Probably after this dive, he told himself. The next one...he didn’t have a good feeling about that. The sensory deprivation struck him hard, knowing Tala was somewhere near but being unable to see or hear her. He moved the Sphere back and forth before him as he descended, hoping against hope to see a light in the darkness. His free hand found the bed of shards and he worked at them as he had done before, but his focus was now on those at the surface. If Tala had seen the true shard, then it was either suspended in the water or lying atop the pile.

  Demetrius ignored the lack of oxygen as long as he could, but it seemed far too short a period of time. The darkness had yielded no hint of their salvation, and he propelled himself upward with a leaden heart. As he breached the surface of the water, his head scraped against the ceiling.

  Alexis pulled on his shoulder to turn him around, and held out her hand for the Sphere. He gave it to her, mistaking the look on her face for panic. It was actually excitement. She wheeled about, holding the Sphere out toward Tala, who held a shard in her palm. As the Sphere neared it, the shard took on the faintest of glows, a gentle green easily missed but for the growing darkness of the room and the fact the three of them were looking for it. That soft light warmed them more than any fire could.

  Alexis exchanged the Sphere for the shard, swam to the wall where the door had been, and dove. She worked her way down, keeping in contact with the wall using her free hand, the numbness in her fingers all too apparent. In the darkness she was quickly lost, and only by reaching the false shards did she have any sense of how far down she had come. Her frantic search for the indentation in the door took longer than the air in her lungs would allow. Before she kicked back toward the surface, she gave the wall three rapid smacks with her spear.

  Demetrius had his head turned sideways to keep his mouth and nose above water when Alexis returned. Out of breath, she simply held the shard up. He took it before Tala could grab it, and then descended once more.

  He moved quickly to the bottom, then found the wall, trying to gauge the height he needed to target from memory. He moved his hand up and down in an “S” motion, slowly making his way to the right. Faintly he heard a noise to the left, dull and distant but beckoning. He reversed course and the sound grew louder, and as he drew near he recognized the muffled noise of weapons banging against the other side of the wall. If they were striking the door…

  His lungs screamed for air and his head pounded from the pressure, but the noise held him. He forced his hand to move in a steady pattern, the rhythm of the weapons drawing him, making him hang on. He continued to probe, and then felt his index finger dip ever so slightly. Keeping the finger in place until he was ready, he took the shard and slid it into position. Immediately he felt movement, first as the door began to rise, then as the water started to run into the other chamber, trying to pull him with it. He pressed against the wall, waiting for the opening to grow larger. He felt rather than saw the world starting to go black as his body yielded to the lack of air. He removed the shard and let the water pull him down.

  * * *

  Rowan’s eyes had flown open at the first rap of metal against the stone from somewhere inside the sealed chamber. He remained motionless through the second and third clacks and for another ten seconds afterward. Rising, he went to the spot, arriving just after Corson and Lucien.

  “Signal?” the big goblin asked.

  “Likely,” Rowan replied. “But of what?”

  “We should respond,” said Corson, drawing his blade.

  Rowan pulled at his chin. “I agree. Strike the door only.”

  “Why?”

  Rowan shrugged. “It just feels right.”

  Lucien and Rowan worked together, not trying to break through, but keeping up a steady beat, w
hile Corson kept his ear to the wall to see if any sound could be detected from inside. “I may be wrong about this,” Rowan admitted.

  He soon learned he was not. The door started to inch upward and icy water rushed out, soaking their boots and pants up to the knee instantly. Rowan stepped back, away from the flow, but found he needed to brace himself to keep his feet as the rushing torrent spilled into the room. When the door had opened about four feet it stopped, and an instant later Demetrius came tumbling out. Rowan caught an arm and helped him up.

  Demetrius spit out the water that filled his mouth and nose, took a few desperate breaths, then responded to Rowan’s questioning look.

  “They were floating on top of the water. They should join us shortly.”

  Tala entered the room gracefully, having ridden the current through the opening after diving into the now shallow pool. Alexis followed less smoothly and feet first, her head marked red where it had struck the lower part of the half-raised door. She got up rubbing the sting away, and mumbling about the price one paid at times for growing tall.

  The water filled the chamber faster than it went out the opposite door and toward the maze, but even so its depth never rose above two feet. While they gathered their breath and their wits, the trapped trio told their tale, and Demetrius showed the prize they had gained. “I guess we can join this with the rest of the Sphere now,” he said, turning toward Tala.

  “I would wait until we are out of this place,” she said. “Just in case.”

  They sloshed back through the standing water, and were happily surprised to find that the shard’s placement in the door apparently had other benefits. The walls of the maze were now lined up such that a straight path was available through the room, and beyond that the ramp and stairs flanking the room that had held the stone scorpions ignored their passing.

  As they moved up into the wine cellar, Alexis was grateful to finally be free of the standing water. Her clothes were still soaked and the chill in her bones was setting up camp for a good long stay, but at least she had a chance of drying out now. Her boots made a squishing noise with each step that was almost sickening. She was looking longingly at the cots in the corner when Rowan called the group to a halt.

  “Perhaps we should remain here tonight,” he suggested.

  Demetrius shook his head. “We are in enemy territory. We should put the castle well behind us before we rest.”

  “Normally I would agree. But the three of you are sopping wet, and the winter air is unforgiving. Down here we could have a fire, eat a warm meal, and sleep in cots. Tomorrow your clothes should be dry enough to venture out. Besides, everywhere we step is enemy territory these days it seems.”

  Demetrius glanced once at his drenched companions and yielded without further argument.

  * * *

  When he rose the next morning, Demetrius silently blessed Rowan for his foresight. They had found no food or water but had had a small fire to warm themselves and the food they carried, and the cots were a welcome change. He was reluctant to leave, and the looks on his companions’ faces told him they felt the same way. He sighed and then shuffled up the ramp first, found the rope where they had left it, wrapped a few coils around his arm, and then motioned for Corson to lasso a battlement and ascend. After the others were safely back on the wall above, he shimmied up himself, taking one last look downward into the ice-blue portal. As tired as he felt, it seemed to beckon to him with the soft promise of peace and eternal rest. With a grunt of pain born of sore muscles he scrambled over the inner battlement and onto the wall.

  Demetrius grabbed the rope and followed the others around to the side of the castle where they had climbed the outer wall. Seeing that the horses still waited safely in the trees below, he muttered a “thank you.” As he was doing so he heard Rowan whisper thanks to the Savior for the same thing. Demetrius watched Rowan finish and couldn’t hide the bemused grin on his face.

  Rowan met his gaze evenly. “Well, I suppose I’d rather be thought amusing than drawing anger for my prayers. That’s happened before.”

  Demetrius shook his head and smiled more broadly. “I was laughing at myself. I had just given thanks for the horses as well, but I have no idea to whom or to what I was speaking. It struck me that at least your prayer had a point.”

  Rowan studied Demetrius for a moment, their eyes locking. “Not that that’s enough to make a believer out of you.”

  “I have trusted too long in my sword and the strength of men. But you’ve made me think. Perhaps that is enough for now.”

  “Maybe so.” He turned to survey the white landscape. “I did not miss the snow. My feet were just beginning to feel warm again.”

  “At least the horses will keep our boots off the ground. When you thank the Savior for that, add my gratitude as well.”

  “I will,” Rowan said.

  Once to the horses, Tala asked for the shard Demetrius carried, then re-fused it with the Sphere. The glow it emitted as it bonded had an added brilliance, a reminder that they were free of the castle’s magic. While the others prepared the horses, she walked a short distance off into the trees, wanting to cast her finding spell while she was alone. A troubled shadow crossed her face, but her features quickly regained the calm the spell usually required and induced. When she was done she returned to the others, who waited with expectant looks. “To the far south,” she announced. “The next shard is in Delving, near Upper Cambry.”

  Alexis looked at Rowan. “Home for you.”

  “And not good news, if a piece of the Sphere is there,” he replied.

  “At least that far south we’ll be warm again,” said Corson, trying to sound cheerful.

  Rowan laughed. “There is that.” He took a deep breath and mounted his horse. “Another long journey, which gets no shorter until the first step is taken.” He started off and the others followed.

  Chapter 9: The Dead Paladin

  Corson was trying hard not to think about the cold, the endless blanket of snow, the long trip ahead and what would be waiting for them when they arrived. He laughed at himself, thinking if he could push all of the things he was trying not to think about out of his mind there might be nothing left.

  The miles did drag on though, and the covering of snow the ground wore only added to the sameness. The day was clear at least, and the sun crossing the sky gave some indication that time was passing, and therefore the miles must be passing as well. They rode single file and mostly in silence, forsaking the pleasure of conversation for the ability to hear an enemy’s approach. Corson had just rotated to the back of the line, and one of his backward glances revealed that they were being followed. He had his horse move up next to Lucien, who rode just in front of him. “The Mist is back,” he told the goblin in a low tone.

  Lucien only nodded, fighting the urge to turn and look. “Tell others.”

  Corson worked his way up the line with the news. As the word spread the group tightened up the line, riding more closely together.

  “Is it close enough to hear us?” Demetrius asked.

  “Not if its hearing is no better than ours.”

  “I can think of no reason to let it follow us,” Rowan said. “Once we stop to rest it will have a chance to reveal our position to the enemy, and a night watch will avail us little if the Dead Legion descends upon us in numbers.”

  “I agree,” said Demetrius. “I say it has gained all the information it will be allowed for now. But our tracks in the snow will make it almost useless to chase it off. It will pick up the trail with ease if it wants to.”

  Despite the logic of the point, they determined to rid themselves of the spy. As one they turned, facing the Mist. It hovered twenty feet in the air, perhaps a hundred feet behind them, and even when it was obvious that their collective gaze fell upon it the creature showed no sign of trying to hide or flee.

  “Be gone, foul shadow!” Alexis shouted. “Go back to your dark master!”

  The Mist remained where it was.

>   Lucien drew his warblade and advanced toward it. “Be off!” he growled in his most menacing tone. He added some further words in his native tongue, the meaning lost to the others but the message clear enough.

  The Mist held its ground.

  “This is different,” Tala said quietly. She drew an arrow, took a leisurely aim and fired. The arrow passed through the Mist and fell harmlessly in the snow some distance beyond it.

  “I don’t think it’s going to be persuaded,” Rowan said. “It appears to be as stubborn as some of us.”

  “So be it,” said Alexis, turning back toward their destination and taking the lead. “As long as it’s there, all it can do is watch. I’ll be more concerned when it leaves.”

  * * *

  Five days later they reached the Crystal River, and the Mist had remained their constant companion, like a wild dog tagging along at a distance, hoping for scraps. It never drew near or moved far away, and when they paused or stopped, even for the night, it simply hovered a short way off from their camp. The first and second nights they set the watch with two on duty, so one could always keep an eye on the Mist, but it apparently had no mission of ill-intent to take up while they slept, and it simply waited patiently until morning and then followed once more when they set out. It watched them, wanted them to know they were watched, and for now that seemed to be enough. The weather remained cold, but no snow fell and for that they were grateful. For the most part the sky had been clear, occasional gray clouds threatening a storm but swiftly passing to the east without delivering.

  The Crystal River flowed rapidly as it neared the sea, and only a thin layer of ice had formed on the surface, not nearly thick enough to support them or their horses. They followed the river west, planning to cross at the first intact bridge they could find. Ridonia and Delving had existed in peace beside one another for as long as anyone could recall, and while no major road had been constructed to connect large cities, several small roads did exist and a string of bridges joined the two kingdoms. The first bridge they came upon only reached a few feet out into the river before ending in charred stumps.