Finding The Soul Bridge (The Soul Fire Saga Book 1)

by Zax Vagen

  The travelling companions froze in their tracks as the guards surrounded them. Kelvin presented them with a broad smile. “Good afternoon gentlemen, we are three weary travellers just passing through. Pray, guide us on our way as it seems that we are a little lost.”

  “A little?” boomed the captain of the guards with laughter. “I’d say that you are completely lost, do you know where you are?”

  “No! You fool.” snapped Thist, “We are lost, remember?”

  Jem cringed as he watched the captain swat Thist with a vicious back hand. Thist staggered back and tripped over a stump and landed on his back. His clothes and bag flailed in the commotion, causing a comical display of idiocy.

  Jem rushed to aid Thist and to stay his hand as the guards roared with laughter. The captain of the guard pointed a finger at Thist’s face as he spat the words. “Your kind is not welcome in these parts!”

  Thist wiped his bleeding lip and shoved Jem’s hand away as he helped himself back up to his feet. Jem stepped between Thist and the captain. “Don’t Thist. Please sir, we are just weary travellers passing through, we wish to find the bridge tavern, pray tell, do you know the way?”

  The captain looked at Thist, scrutinizing him from head to toe as he answered Jem. “It’s up that way where the moon sets.”

  Thist shouldered his bag and started up the hill. He hadn’t taken five steps when the captain said. “Not him, he will come with us.”

  Thist turned his head and saw the captain pointing at him. “No, I will not go with you. I have no business with you.”

  “Thist no!” pleaded Jem. “Remember what happened last time.”

  All seven guards drew their swords and advanced on Thist. At that moment Jem and Kelvin realized what was happening they both averted their faces and covered their ears as they ran from Thist.

  Thist waited only seconds for his friends clear some distance before he let the guards wish that they had never disturbed him.

  Thist screamed the leaves from the shrub next to the captain. He screamed the eyebrows off his second in command and the guard next to him turned into ash and blew away in the breeze. The captain fell to his knees like a wet rag, his eyes and ears bleeding. His hair had turned from dark brown to white and he was unconscious before he hit the ground.

  Jem and Kelvin were on their knees on the pebble beach. Thist surveyed the carnage before him. Some gannets fell from the sky, there were six guards lying in front of him and in the distance he could see the forest line begin to darken. The wisps were gathering on the edge to see what spectacle was unfolding. Jem stood up and staggered. He reached for Kelvin as he too struggled to find his balance. “Good man.” said Kelvin as he turned to see what Thist had done. “Where is the other guy? The seventh guard?”

  Thist shook his head as he made a hand motion of disappearing smoke, “Poof!” said Thist.

  Jem stared at the carnage with wide eyes. “Are they dead?”

  Kelvin put his ear on the captain’s chest. “This one is alive, barely.”

  Jem did the same with the next guy as Thist just stood there in his own shock gaping at the horror.

  “This one is fine too.” said Jem “Thist what have you done? Where is the seventh guard?”

  “He turned to ash, and blew away in the wind.” mumbled Thist. “Let’s leave them and go. I don’t think that they will bother us again.”

  “Thist!” called Kelvin, “You have become a formidable weapon, and I implore you to please learn to stay your anger. The consequences of your anger are diabolical.”

  Thist was in shock. “Sure.” said Thist “I will try.” He opened his right hand to see the stone that was in it. He watched it turn from a dull stone back to a glowing orb and realized that the rage that he had imbued in the stone had flowed back to him as he clenched it in anger, amplifying his rage a hundred fold. “Should I hold on to it or let it go?” he asked himself.

  A voice came to him as clear as a mother’s scold. “Let it go.”

  “Why?” asked Thist

  “An angry man is of no use to himself or those he loves.” said the voice. “Let it go.”

  “What if I need it again?”

  “There is no use for anger.” said the voice, “Any decision you make in anger is a bad decision.”

  Thist dropped to his knees. He put the stone that he had imbued with anger amongst all the other beach pebbles. It stood out from all the others pebbles as it glowed. He rolled a large bolder over it to cover it. Thist wept. Tears of sorrow and regret flowed down his cheeks as his body was wracked with the sobs of a broken man.

  “Why do you weep?” asked the voice.

  “I am losing a part of my soul.” said Thist.

  “But it’s a good part to lose,” said the voice “you will be better without it.”

  “It’s still me,” said Thist, “and it still hurts to lose it. I want to be a good person and do what is right and good.”

  “Everybody wants to do the right thing.” said the voice. “Some do the right thing only for themselves, these are often bad things. Others do the right things only for other people, and these are often good things.”

  Thist wiped his face. “How will I know if I am doing good or bad?”

  “Everyone is good when everything is going right.” said the voice, “A person’s true nature will show when everything is going wrong.”

  Thist stood up and scanned the horizons. Jem and Kelvin were watching the spectacle.

  “Are you finished talking to yourself?” asked Jem.

  Thist shot Jem a stern look. “I was consulting with my advisors.”

  “Whatever.” said Kelvin. “Let’s just go home.”

  “No, No.” said Thist. “We have a castle to take.”

  “Wow.” said Jem. “Your advisors are persuasive. Did they say how to do it?”

  “We’ll figure it out Jem.” said Thist with a smile. “How bad can it be?”

  The three had decided to leave the six unconscious guards where they lay. They walked back toward the ancient forest. The wisps had gathered in great numbers but did not venture out from under the tree canopy. They hid under the shade and in the dark shadows.

  Neither of the three cared for the appearances and disappearances of the wisps anymore. They had become playful and friendly after the seeds of their forest had grown. They only made soft whooshing noises and crooned like meerkats. Some could be seen darting here or there between trees, but they didn’t bother the trio as they entered the forest. Jem was still cautious as he was more nervous around dark apparitions, but he had accepted their friendly, albeit distant, demeanour.

  “How are you planning on taking the castle then, Jem?” asked Thist.

  “I have some ideas based on what I can do and what you can do,” said Jem. “I think Kelvin has a few tricks up his sleeve. What can you come up with?”

  “I’ve got tea.” said Thist. “I think I need to find the depth of my power.”

  Kelvin nodded, “Not a bad idea. But what can you contribute to the siege of the castle?”

  “The tea.” said Thist “and the wine that you spoke of that is still hanging on the bridge rope. We can use that to great advantage.”

  “How?” asked Kelvin.

  “That’s easy!” said Thist. “We send the castle folk a nice present of berry wine. And the cure for the hangover.”

  “No.” said Kelvin “that combination gave us massive nightmares.”

  “Yes.” said Jem with a broad grin. “It did.”

  Thist chuckled. “Tomorrow we deploy weapon number one, dream tea.”

  Kelvin stroked his young beard. “Aren’t we just going to ask nicely first?”

  “Sure we are,” said Thist, “or at least I am. Then I will present them with gifts of liquid refreshment and in the morning they will either be happy that they cooperated or sorry that they didn’t. What are you guys going to contribute to the siege?”

  Jem nodded as they walked. “I will build the trebuchet f
rom hell, if it comes to that.”

  Kelvin stared at the castle in the distance. “Do you think that a couple of rocks will scare them off?”

  “Who says I’m going to sling rocks at them?” said Jem, “Besides, its early days. Let’s see what happens with the tea and step up the attack slowly.”

  “Agreed.” said Thist. “Let’s get the wine. I’ll imbue it and the tea before we send it.”

  The hair on Jem’s neck rose as a chill ran down his spine and gave him goose bumps on his arms. “Sheesh, imbue the berry wine? Why? That stuff is potent already. It will be like adding fire to flames.”

  The crowd of wisps followed them like puffs of fog with eyes. They had become curious, like children trying to glimpse their hero. They jostled for position bumping each other this way and that and flowing over each other like smoke in the wind. Jem occasionally peered back at the wisps, and each time he did they would dart away behind the trees as they tried to hide. It wasn’t long before Jem started to test them by turning and making a surprise face like a father playing peekaboo with his baby.

  “Jem, stop that.” said Kelvin.

  “Why?” asked Jem.

  “You’re being an imbecile.” said Kelvin.

  “Don’t be silly,” said Jem, “I think they like us.”

  Thist stopped and took a gulp of water from his bottle. “Maybe we can use the wisps to our advantage.”

  “We have to get them to be on our side if there is a fight in the forest.” said Jem.

  “How do we do that?” asked Kelvin “None of us speak wisp.”

  “I have an idea.” said Thist, “but we will have to get some help from the tent villagers on the hill.”

  “Well good luck with that.” said Jem, “Those people don’t want to help. They just want the results. And I don’t think you are going to get anything out of the wisps either.”

  “My idea will work,” said Thist “I just need three tatty robes.”

  “Okay.” said Kelvin “let’s see if we can get through this forest and up the other side before the next thunderstorm.”

  The three men picked up the pace. After all their travelling, they had become fit and had built up impressive stamina. The climb up and through the forest was testing their limits again as their breath became laboured. On the distant mountain horizon thick grey clouds could be glimpsed through gaps in the trees. Dark plumes boiled over the peeks while crisp white fog crept down the mountain to the valley.

  Jem clicked his tongue in frustrated resignation. “Stupid thunderstorm is dead on time isn’t it?”

  “We’re going to be wet again tonight.” said Thist, “I’m getting sick of it.”

  Kelvin chuckled, “Would you prefer the musty caddels?”

  “No!” protested Thist. “I am never going back to that infernal place. Bring on the rain, it’s just water anyway.”

  Jem plodded forward, step after step trying to make good time by keeping on and not stopping. “You know, it’s funny how people often hate the situation that they are in, no matter what situation they are in.” said Jem “Maybe we should just camp out in the rain and pretend that we have found heaven.”

  Kelvin shook his head. “You idiots are either hungry, dehydrated or just going mad.”

  “Madder!” corrected Thist. “A voice told me once that the definition of crazy is simply doing what other people normally don’t do.”

  “And what is the definition of ‘normal’?” asked Jem. “Doing the same thing over and over again even if it’s wrong, just because everyone else is also doing it?”

  “Sounds about right.” said Kelvin.

  The thunder rumbled in the distance as the sky grew darker. The first drops hit them as they stepped out of the forest and entered the shrubby parts higher on the mountain. The rain drops were large but were not hitting hard. They were more like giant spit than wet missiles. Nothing seemed right at that moment, as if the rules of nature had been tampered with.

  “Thunderstorm and fog at the same time.” said Jem, “That’s the second time I see that.”

  Thist crouched down with his feet on the ground, his hands on his knees and his head down in a lightning-safe pose. Jem walked ten paces forward and crouched in the same way. Kelvin took a place ten paces to the right, making a perfect triangle. The lightning storm crept toward them striking the shrubs ahead of them closer and closer.

  Thist knew that if ever there was a chance that one or even all of them would perish at the hand of a lightning strike it would be today. They were in the wrong place at the wrong time. The lightning bolts were massive and lasting longer than they were used to. First a loud hiss, like the sudden ripping of a bed sheet, followed the whooshing of an arrow and a long winded and deafening blast. “Rip! Zip! POW!” The thunder spoke, “Rip! Zip! POW!”

  Thist took off his coat and folded it into a tight bundle around his right hand. He took the stone of power that he had burnt his hand on in the forest and put it into his makeshift-glove. He stood up in the thunderstorm and raised the stone above his head.

  “Thist what are doing?” shouted Jem “Get down!”

  Thist held his hand high and shouted at the lightning storm. “Come and get me!”

  At his command the lightning obeyed and singled Thist out as the only target on the mountainside. It struck the stone in Thist’s hand again and again and again. Each time it struck it lingered longer than before. Thist clenched his jaws as he strained to keep his balance. His lips pulled tight over his teeth as the fifth lightning strike took hold of the stone, then the sixth, then the seventh. “Rip! Zip! POW!”

  “Give me everything.” shouted Thist as his folded coat started to smoulder, a cloud of smoke forming around his hand. The rain drops hissed as they struck the stone, sending up a plume of steam.

  Thist opened his eyes. They glowed like furnaces. With his hand outstretched to the thunderclouds he commanded: “Your power is my power. I command you as my servant.”

  The thunderstorm obeyed. Its dark clouds gathered in, twisted and darkened as a deep rumble of thunder sounded from far and high. Thin fingers of lightning crept up from all the edges to the centre of the storm cloud right above the trio. The thunderstorm unleashed all of its power and fury in one last lightning bolt down to Thist’s hand. The longest and brightest bolt of lightning that the world had ever known struck Thist’s stone of power. All the fury and power of one thunderstorm funnelled into it.

  Kelvin turned and sat on the wet ground in the middle of the wild shrub field. “It’s not natural what you have just done.” said Kelvin, “Jem, is it natural what Thist has just done?”

  Jem was gaping in disbelief as Thist lowered his hand and placed the white hot stone of power on the ground. “I’ve always wondered how these things are created.” said Thist.

  “Well now you know.” said Jem “A freak like you makes them while meandering through a forest one day.”

  “I’m not a freak.” said Thist. “I’m just a little different.”

  “Yes,” said Kelvin, “you are just a normal, normal person who does freaky stuff at will.”

  “That’s worse,” said Thist. “If I had to choose between being called a normal person and being called a freak, I think I should choose freak.”

  “Why?” asked Jem

  “Nobody gets immortalized in tales of history for being normal.”

  Jem and Kelvin came closer to Thist. The rain was pelting them from one side and they huddled together like cold travellers around a fire. Only their fire was a white hot glowing orb of power. And it was warmer than a fire. Plumes of steam rose from it as the rain tried to soak it. “Yes.” said Thist as he felt the cold rain water run through his hair and down his neck. “This is much nicer than the cold dark caddels. I will never go back to that stupid place.”

  The lightning had stopped.

  52

  Jem rummaged through the large pile of items from the tavern basement. “There’s a lot of stuff here, more than I can remember
.” said Jem.

  Uncle Tarn had given the three men a disused tent where they could sleep and stash their wares. Kelvin was out hunting fowl and Thist was stoking a fire just outside the tent. “Are you looking for something specific?” asked Thist.

  “No, just trying to get a picture of what we have so that I can piece together a plan. You should come and look at this stuff for yourself.”

  Thist left the fire to burn itself in. He entered the tent and waved off some flies only to have them bother him again. He went down on his knees and started choosing things out of the pile of salvaged jewellery; a silver locket, a collection of golden bracelets, some gemstone earrings and a handful of gold buttons that still had some pieces of ripped cloth sewn to them. “There’s some nice stuff here. I’m glad you brought it all.”

  “What are you going to do with all that jewellery, Thist?”

  Thist looked at his handful of treasures. “I think they will make nice arrow points for Kelvin. Then I will imbue them with crazy stuff. Maybe give us a fighting chance at whatever is in the castle.”

  Jem nodded in approval. “Can you imbue me some shots for my trebuchet?”

  Thist gave Jem a wry smile. “Can I?”

  “Would you please?” asked Jem.

  Thist gave Jem a friendly slap behind the head. “Idiot…hardly have to ask…I love imbuing better than breathing.”

  “Doesn’t it scare you?” asked Jem.

  “What? Imbuing items with magic?” said Thist. “No! I love it.”

  “Aren’t you scared that one of your items will fall into the wrong hands and cause havoc, adversity or even suffering?”

  “No.” said Thist.

  “How can you know for sure?”

  “I cannot know for sure,” said Thist, “I am hoping.”

  “Which of your imbued items do you think could cause the worst problems if you lost them?”

  “The rage stone and the stone of power.” said Thist.