The Third Soul Omnibus Two

by Jonathan Moeller

  “Where can we find him?” said Raelum.

  “He dwells, as far as I know, about fifty miles to the northeast,” said Ulrich.

  “Where Marsile is now,” said Carandis. “Do you think he sought out Arthuras?”

  “I doubt it,” said Ulrich. “Even if he did, Arthuras could remain unseen until Marsile passed.”

  “Then I will go in pursuit of Marsile at once,” said Raelum.

  “I will come with you,” said Carandis.

  Lionel looked at them. “This is folly. Marsile will slay you both, and demons will inhabit your corpses.”

  “I will take that risk,” said Raelum. “Come with us.”

  Lionel flinched. “What?”

  “Come with us,” said Raelum. “You are a Silver Knight yet, whatever Nightgrim has done to you.”

  “No,” said Lionel. “I am tainted, unclean.” His haggard face tightened. “And what of Nightgrim?” He swallowed. “He’s still out there. If he finds me, if he kills me, a demon will enter my flesh and I’ll rise as another draugvir.”

  “And if he finds you, it will be our chance to kill him,” said Raelum. “Run to Tarrenheim and hide if you wish. But if you do, you will never be rid of him. Do you think he will forget you? It might take him thirty, forty, even fifty years to find you again, but do you think time matters to a draugvir? Come with us, and fight, and you might escape from him.”

  “Madness,” said Lionel, shaking. “Madness and folly. You will all die.”

  Raelum laughed. “Everyone dies. Would you rather die choking in your own terror, or die fighting for your freedom? For die you must, tomorrow or today.”

  Lionel sighed. “All right.” He laughed, his voice high and wild. “If I am damned to become a draugvir, well…what have I to lose?” He sighed and stood. “I am with you, Sir Raelum.”

  “And I as well,” said Carandis. “Let us then seek out Marsile together, and bring him to justice.”

  “Very well,” said Raelum. “We will go at once.”

  “Now?” said Ulrich.

  “It’s not yet noon,” said Raelum. “We can cover a few miles before sundown.”

  ###

  They left St. Tarill’s on foot, each walking a pack horse laden with supplies.

  “The road gets worse the farther you go,” Ulrich had said, “and I’ve no doubt it soon vanishes. You will not be able to ride.”

  Raelum had gotten Fortune back, and the horse seemed glad to see him.

  “You have a way with animals,” said Carandis, leading her own horse. She wore a heavy cloak, a gift from Ulrich, over her red robes. “I don’t think I’ve seen a horse that happy in years.”

  Lionel walked in the rear, clad again in his breastplate and chain mail, leading his horse. His scabbard banged against his legs with every step.

  They walked along the road in silence. The woods thickened, and the Alderine River gurgled, chunks of ice crunching against each other. The light dimmed and reddened, long shadows lancing through the barren trees.

  “Tracks,” said Carandis, glancing over the road. “Many tracks. Marsile’s been here with his minions.”

  “The First Brother was right,” said Raelum. “Marsile is making for this bridge.”

  Lionel began to laugh.

  Raelum turned, frowning. Lionel’s usual solemn expression had cracked, and for an instant Raelum expected to see the crimson gleam of demon fire in Lionel’s eyes.

  “Are you well?” said Raelum.

  “This is absurd,” said Lionel. “Do you know why I joined the Silver Order?”

  Raelum said nothing.

  “I was the third son of my father, the Duke of Tarrenheim,” said Lionel. “The first son inherits the duchy. The second son becomes First Brother of Tarrenheim. The third son goes into the Silver Order, in time becomes a Commander of the Order. After Hildebrand killed Marsile, I would return to Chrysos and become a Commander.” He shook his head and laughed again. “Now am I tramping through the wilderness with an Adept of a Conclave and demonborn man. My father would be appalled.”

  Raelum shrugged. “A man cannot see his future.”

  “That’s probably for the best, eh?” said Lionel. “We’d go mad otherwise, would we not?” Neither Carandis nor Raelum answered. “So how did you become a Silver Knight, demonborn man? I was fostered at Chrysos. Were you? Hmm? How does a demonborn become a Silver Knight?”

  Raelum said nothing for a long time.

  “It was hard,” he said at last.

  Chapter 19 - The Making of a Paladin

  “This is the place,” said Raelum.

  He walked before Oliver Calabrant’s horse. The Paladin rode with ease, reins dangling from his armored hands. His armor and cloak drew stares from the slum dwellers. None dared to approach him.

  “A convent of the Temple, I see,” said Sir Oliver, sliding from the saddle. He led his horse into the orphanage’s courtyard, to where one of the older women stood watch over a dozen children.

  “Is Sister Julietta here?” said Raelum.

  “Aye,” said the old woman, nudging one of the orphans. “Minna. Go get the Sister.” The child disappeared into the orphanage and returned with Sister Julietta.

  “Raelum,” said Julietta. Her eyes flicked to Sir Oliver, her face wary. “You’ve brought a guest?”

  “I did,” said Raelum, swallowing. “This is Sir Oliver Calabrant, a…um, Knight of the Silver Order.”

  “Greetings,” said Sir Oliver. “Sister. I have heard much about you from Raelum.”

  “A Silver Knight? It was you, wasn’t it?” said Julietta, eyes widening. “The slavers have vanished from the slums. You were behind it.”

  “I was,” said Oliver.

  “And what will that accomplish?” said Julietta, eyes flashing. “Some others will take their place soon enough. You did it with Raelum’s aid? Suppose some of Red Philip’s band survived? They will kill Raelum at the first chance!”

  “Sister,” said Oliver. “Slavery is a grievous evil. I would end it, everywhere and forever, if I had the power. I do not, and I know it will soon return. But Red Philip’s band had been selling the children to a cult of Ramhirdras, to a blood sorcerer who used them for his foul spells.”

  “And you helped Sir Oliver?” said Julietta.

  “I did,” said Raelum.

  “That was very brave.” Julietta sighed. “Red Philip will never forgive you.”

  “I can endure that,” said Raelum.

  “But will you live through it?” said Julietta. “That troubles me.” She sighed again. “Ah, Raelum, what shall we do with you? You are too brave and clever to remain a street thief.”

  “I have offered to take him as a squire,” said Oliver.

  For the first time, Julietta smiled. “You have, sir knight? You would take a demonborn child as a squire?”

  “I would, and I will,” said Oliver. “He is a thief, aye, and demonborn. Yet he was brave enough to aid me against the slavers. And he brought you and the others food, at great risk to himself.”

  “It wasn’t that great a risk,” said Raelum. “I didn’t get caught.”

  “But I caught you,” said Oliver.

  “You tried to steal from a Silver Knight?” said Julietta, raising her eyebrows. “I warned you. Sooner or later someone would catch you. You’re fortunate that it was this man. Most Silver Knights would have slain you out of hand.” She hesitated, and bowed. “Meaning no dishonor, sir.”

  “None taken,” said Oliver.

  “Go with him, Raelum,” said Julietta. “It’s a better life than you will find in this miserable city.”

  “But,” said Raelum. He did not want to leave Julietta and the others. Who would bring them food? “I…I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.”

  “I must leave the city today,” said Oliver, “on business for my Order, but I will return in a week and await you at the Gate of Sorrows. Think it over, lad. I would be pleased to take you as a squire. More, I would be honored
.” He climbed into his saddle and rode away.

  “Go with him, Raelum,” said Julietta, voice soft.

  “But who will bring you food?” said Raelum.

  Julietta laughed. “If you got killed trying to bring us food I’d never forgive myself. I’ll find a way to feed my orphans. But you, Raelum.” She put her hands on his shoulders, looking down at him. “Listen to me. There’s…something special about you. I don’t know what. I am no seer or witch to spout off prophecies. But you will do great things. The Divine has destined you, I think, for something special. Go with him, Raelum.”

  Raelum blinked back tears and hugged her. She hugged him back.

  “I’ll,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “I’ll be back tomorrow. I’ll let you know then.”

  She smiled and bade him farewell.

  Raelum went back to the seawall. Could he abandon Julietta and the orphans? Or perhaps he could come back someday, after he had become a Silver Knight? Come back and drive out the slavers and the emirs and the fat merchants? Of course, maybe he had no choice. He had not spoken to Black Kaheen since he had met Sir Oliver. Black Kaheen might not take him back.

  Raelum crawled into his nest of crates and fell asleep.

  The next day he made his way back to the orphanage, still unsure of what to do. Raelum wrapped himself in his black cloak and kept to the shadows. The crowds seemed agitated, and Raelum wondered if the guards had swept through the slums.

  Then he smelled the smoke.

  He saw the orphanage and his hands curled into fists.

  Black smoke rose in twisting spirals from the wreckage. The roof had collapsed, along with most of the walls. The air reeked of burned wood and charred flesh. Had the kitchen caught fire? His fear blossomed into panic, and he ran around the smoldering debris, searching. Had Julietta and the orphans burned in their beds? Raelum began digging at the rubble, searching for any sign of survivors.

  “Daft boy. The toughs took everything worth taking.”

  Raelum whirled. An old woman in rags stood behind him, pushing a cart of charcoal.

  “What happened here?” said Raelum.

  “All the valuables are gone, all the food,” said the old woman, shaking her greasy head. “But I’ll have charcoal to sell for weeks, so I will.”

  “Tell me what happened here!” said Raelum.

  The old woman frowned, looked at him, and jerked back, almost tipping over her cart. “Demon! Demon! Get back. Back!”

  Raelum didn’t move. “Yes, I’m a demon. Now tell me what happened here, or else I’ll drag you off to hell. Now speak!”

  “I didn’t do it,” said the old woman, sobbing. “My soul’s pure. I just saw it. The ones that did this, you want their souls, not mine.”

  “Yes,” said Raelum. “What happened? Speak!”

  “A gang of thugs,” said the old woman. “Nearly a score of them, led by a big fat fellow with fiery hair.”

  “Red Philip,” snarled Raelum.

  “They clapped all the little ones in irons,” said the old woman. “They dragged out the Sister, ripped off her robe, and clapped her in chains, too, the poor pretty thing.”

  Raelum felt himself snarl, and the old woman kept babbling.

  “They said it was revenge, that they’d lost all their merchandise, so they’d have to take more,” sobbed the old woman, face white with terror. “They dragged off the Sister and the children, and then they set the orphanage on fire. I hid in the alley so they wouldn’t see me. That’s all I saw, I swear. Don’t take me off to hell!”

  Raelum wasn’t listening. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, black cloak flapping. His fear had transformed into fury and focus. Red Philip couldn’t have possibly sold Julietta or the children for a decent profit yet. Raelum had time, but not much. For a moment he considered waiting for Sir Oliver’s return, but decided against it.

  He had to act now.

  ###

  Raelum did not sleep for four days.

  He scoured Khauldun from end to end, from Legate’s Hill to the slums, from the palaces of the merchants to the grimy pawnshops of thieves. He lurked in taverns and brothels, listening to the customers talk. Thrice he ambushed men twice his size in alley, holding his dagger to their throat and his demonborn eyes to theirs until they told him everything he wanted to know.

  He followed men in the darkness, watching their comings and goings.

  He visited an apothecary, a half-blind old man, and bought what he needed.

  And on the afternoon of the fourth day, he learned where Red Philip and his lieutenants met at night.

  They gathered in an abandoned warehouse not far from Khauldun’s docks. Raelum slipped into the warehouse before anyone arrived and took a look around. Empty crates towered in rickety, dusty stacks, and a long table stood in one corner, laden with empty goblets. A barrel of cheap wine waited near the table. Raelum opened it and added one of the powders he had purchased from the apothecary. Then he climbed a stack of crates, crouched on a rafter, and waited.

  The sun went down, the warehouse falling into blackness. Raelum remained still, flexing his arms and legs to keep them limber. Exhaustion and desperation battled for control of his mind. He wanted to run howling into the street, killing every member of Red Philip’s band he could find.

  Instead he crouched and waited.

  The light flared, and a knot of cloaked men stepped into the warehouse, lanterns in hand. They settled themselves at the table, filling the empty goblets with wine from the barrel. More cloaked men appeared and did likewise.

  “No one’s late, I see,” rasped a thick voice. “Good. Always a shame to start a meeting by killing somebody.” The cloaked men laughed.

  Red Philip stepped into the light, throwing back his cloak. His greasy red hair seemed like flame in the lanterns’ glow, the birthmark on his jaw like blood. “Come, you dogs. Let us drink!” He filled a goblet himself. “I swear by the wine, and my blood, and the name of the Divine, that any man who betrays our secrets shall die screaming. So I swear!” He raised the goblet to his lips.

  “So I swear!” chorused the men, draining their goblets.

  “Now, dogs,” said Red Philip, settling himself at the head of the table, “what news?”

  “The guards have been bribed,” said one of the men, “and they demand double, the grasping pigs, but they will leave us alone.”

  “The Paladin has left the city,” said another man. He coughed, wiped his mouth, and kept speaking. “He will not interfere with us.”

  “Suppose he returns?” said a third man. He coughed, shaking his head.

  “The city’s demon-cult has been destroyed,” said Red Philip. “Rich fools, the lot. Their precious Ramhirdras didn’t save them from the Paladin’s sword, did he?” The lieutenants laughed. “But their coin was good enough, was it not?” The cloaked men nodded, some still coughing. “No matter now. Time to cut our losses. We’ll sell our slaves to the usual buyers, to Legate’s Hill and the Carthians. The fools had best pay their protection fees, if they don’t wish to wind up in chains.” Raelum gritted his teeth. “Now. What of the little demonborn rat who helped the Paladin? I want his hide nailed to my wall, dogs. Have you found him yet?”

  “He eluded us,” snarled one of the cloaked men, rubbing his throat.

  “What?” said Red Philip. “Idiot! If burning that orphanage to the ground doesn’t draw his attention, nothing will!”

  “One of our watchers spotted him,” said another man, coughing. “The old charcoal-seller…not…not,” his coughing worsened, “not four….days….”

  The cloaked man’s words vanished into a flood of coughs. The other thieves began coughing violently. Several fell from their chairs, foam bubbling at their lips.

  “What is this?” roared Red Philip.

  “Poison!” wheezed one of the thieves, shuddering. “The wine...”

  Raelum gripped the beam, swung down, and dropped to the floor.

  Red Philip’s bloodshot ey
es narrowed. The coughing, dying lieutenants took no notice of him.

  “It was in the wine,” said Raelum, “and you all drank of it. I have the antidote. Tell me where Sister Julietta and the orphans are, or by the Divine I swear I’ll let the lot of you die choking!”

  Red Philip picked up his goblet and upended it.

  A stream of red wine splattered against the floor.

  “Men have tried to poison me for years, boy,” said Red Philip. “Do you think I’d be so foolish as to drink my own wine?”

  Raelum held his ground. “Then tell me what you did with Julietta and the orphans, or I’ll let your men die.”

  Red Philip stood and shrugged. “So?”

  Raelum flinched. “So…they’re your men! Tell me where Julietta is or they’ll die.”

  Red Philip stepped over his dying lieutenants. “I can always get new men.”

  Then he lunged with terrifying speed, moving faster than Raelum thought such a fat man could move. His blades shrieked through the air, and Raelum ducked, twisted, and rolled away, the daggers tearing splinters from the floorboards.

  Raelum yanked his own dagger free and sprang back to his feet. “What did you do with Julietta and the orphans? Tell me or I’ll kill you!”

  Red Philip cackled, circling Raelum like a panther. “Is that why you’ve come, boy?” He spat on the floor. “Come to find out what I did with the pretty wench and her brats? You’ll find out, soon enough.” He flipped one of the daggers, his hands blurring with speed. “I’ll take out your hell-fired eyes, cut your manhood, and sell you as a eunuch to the Carthians…”

  He came in a rush, stabbing and slashing. Raelum staggered back, trying to stay away from the big man’s reach. Red Philip reversed a dagger and slammed the hilt down. The pommel smacked hard into Raelum’s nose, and stumbled to one knee, blood spraying from his nostrils. Red Philip seized him by the throat and slammed him into the wall, the dagger falling from Raelum’s hands.

  “Rat!” said Red Philip. Raelum twisted, trying to break free from Red Philip’s hard grasp. “You know how much money you’ve cost me? Well, you’ll pay me back for the rest of your days.”