Time of the Stonechosen (The Soulstone Prophecy Book 2)

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Time of the Stonechosen (The Soulstone Prophecy Book 2) Page 9

by Thomas Quinn Miller


  She pointed at the largest of the four who had come forward. He was easily the largest man Gaidel had ever seen. He was also completely bald, his face and scalp heavily scarred. The Mother Druid called out some chant and the crowd erupted in cheers. The massive barbarian raised his fists into the air and roared to the sky.

  Rachard leaned in to Gaidel, “A face only a mother could love, eh?”

  Patron Sister Bosand shooshed him.

  The next mother stood, this one used a walking stick to steady herself. Her skin hung from her bones like a sack. If she was not moving and singing, Gaidel would have thought her a corpse.

  She pointed at the female among the four and called out a different chant. The crowd erupted into cheers again.

  Gaidel noted that the portion of the crowd that cheered was different than the first. She realized it must be the members of the tribe of the one selected who were cheering for their champion. Gaidel wondered how many different Nordlah tribes gathered to compete in these violent games, and to what end?

  The next mother stood and went through the same ritual as the two before. The tribe members of the third champion cheered. Only Mother Brambles remained. She finally rose and stepped forward.

  The remaining barbarian lifted his chin in anticipation, but otherwise remained still, waiting for her words. Mother Brambles pointed at him and spoke the language of the plains with the same sharp dialect. But instead of cheers, there was a moment of silence followed by a mixture of gasps and roars of outrage.

  Shieldwarden Rachard stepped protectively in front of her and Patron Sister Bosand. Luckily no one had brought weapons to the ceremony, but Gaidel held little doubt that the gathered crowd would have little trouble beating them to death with their bare hands.

  Gaidel moved instinctively closer to Shieldwarden Rachard, but then noticed the nearby tribesmen were moving away from her, not moving in to attack. She looked from one dark face to another. Some eyes held confusion, but more than one looked resentful and angry. Many looked from her to Mother Brambles. She wondered what Mother Brambles had said and why they were all looking at her now?

  She looked back to the center of the gathering and found Mother Brambles focus was now on her, along with her outstretched finger. She repeated whatever she had said before.

  Gaidel looked over at the one remaining barbarian, who also now stared at her. Where others looked upon her with confusion or anger, this one seemed to have set his jaw and was weighing her worth.

  Something in Gaidel snapped. Who did he think he was? She set her fists on her hips and stared back at him in full measure.

  “It cannot be,” the Patron Sister said.

  Bosand moved closer to Gaidel and put a protective hand on her shoulder. “Mother Allwyn protect you child. You are to be bonded.”

  The sounds of the crowd mixed with the crackling of the bonfire to form a cacophony of noise that faded to the background as Gaidel took in the word her Patron Sister had spoken.

  Bonded.

  It was not until a druid was ready to be separated from her patron sister that she was bonded to a shieldwarden. It was then his job to protect her with his life. The bonding process joined them forever, linking their individual songs together as one.

  Never had Gaidel heard of a plainsman being bonded to a druid from the Redwood. By the looks on the faces around her, she was not the only one.

  Many members of the crowd were still shouting and shaking their fists. Whatever honor that was meant to be bestowed on this barbarian, Mother Brambles had taken it from him by declaring him a shieldwarden. Had this been her reason for summoning them here all along?

  Gaidel looked at the other Mothers who stood near Mother Brambles. Mother Brambles had moved up to the barbarian and repeated herself. She pointed once again at Gaidel. The other mothers looked to the crowds and then each other. It was obvious from their expressions they were weighing their next actions carefully.

  It was finally the Mother who looked like a corpse that finally made a decision and moved up beside Mother Brambles and repeated her words. Once she spoke some of the crowd stopped shaking their fists and quieted. Others just spat on the ground and stormed off.

  When the other two Mothers moved up beside Mother Brambles and repeated her words to the lone barbarian, the remainder of the crowd quieted.

  All eyes were on the lone barbarian now.

  Waiting.

  He straightened his shoulders and nodded his head with one sharp bob.

  All eyes then seemed to settle on Gaidel.

  Mother Brambles motioned her forward.

  The only sounds that accompanied her steps were the sound of the flames. She could feel the heat of the bonfire build as she neared Mother Brambles and her soon to be shieldwarden, it reflected the burning in the pit of her stomach.

  “Little Daughter.”

  Two Elk's voice brought her back to the present.

  He stood in the black fetid water, staring at her, Ghile hanging limp over his shoulder. “Movement in trees. We not alone.”

  8

  Living on the Edge

  “What are we waiting for?” Riff said.

  His gait now included a pronounced limp and he winced with each step. He struggled to keep pace with the group as they made their way around the broad boughed trees and moss covered rocks that bordered the Ghost Fens.

  They had reached the shore without any further incident. Between them, they had spotted at least five different humanoid creatures moving through the trees during their approach. Since they reached land and turned south, the number had doubled.

  Whoever or whatever they were, they were keeping their distance. Both of Ghile's valehounds had their hackles raised and took turns barking their warnings into the forest.

  Gaidel heard birdsong following them. The amount of whipper and redbeak calls she heard were too many for such a small area. Their watchers were using the calls to communicate. The only thing she was sure of was they were not vargan or dwarves. Neither would use birdsong to communicate.

  “I said we are not attacking and I meant it. We do not know their numbers or their intentions,” Gaidel said.

  The sorcerer's aching feet were apparently adding to his temper and he seemed ready to pick a fight. This one is too quick to battle for my tastes, Gaidel thought.

  Riff ducked under another moss laden limb and continued his tirade. “So, we are just going to keep traipsing along until we walk into an ambush? Is that your plan, oh wise one?”

  Gaidel tightened her grip on her staff and bit back the insult that jumped to her lips. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to beat Riff senseless. Instead of giving in to her anger she settled for glaring at him.

  “Enough!” Two Elks said. He placed Ghile's limp form on the ground. Ast and Cuz began sniffing and licking Ghile.

  Two Elks slung his large kite shield from his shoulder and settled it in place on his forearm.

  “They come,” he said.

  Gaidel heard it then. Two Elks had kept the fens to their left, but in all other directions she heard the sounds of movement. She gave one final glare at Riff and moved to Two Elks' side. She took a deep steadying breath to clear her mind. The Song ready on her lips.

  “Finally!” Riff said.

  He pulled out his everflame and grimaced as he set his bare feet in the soil.

  The valehounds growled deep in the back of their throats, hackles raised.

  A human's voice, deep and resonant called out from somewhere in front of them, the accent strange to Gaidel's ears. “Hold dem hounds. We no wanna fight. We wanna talk.”

  “Riff, grab them,” Gaidel said.

  “You grab them, Druid. I'm not dropping my guard.” His gaze darted back and forth, looking for a target.

  Two Elks turned a baleful glare on Riff. “Riff, take hounds.” He lowered his shield and relaxed his stance. “I not ask twice.”

  Riff let out an exasperated sigh and limped over to grab the two valehounds by thei
r collars. Neither Ast or Cuz seemed ready to charge forward, though if they did, it was unlikely Riff would have been able to stop them. He whispered some reassurances to them. Ast gave a couple warning barks and then was still.

  Two quick calls of a blue jay came from up ahead and the forest exploded with motion as shapes appeared all around them. Over a dozen different humans, melted out of the surroundings, their skin covered in dry mud. Foliage hung from them. Most had bows, drawn and ready.

  A short stocky one stepped forward. The blue and white of his eyes stood out in sharp contrast to his mud covered skin and slicked back short cropped hair. He did not have a bow in his hands, but an axe. “We no wanna hurt you or da hounds. But we will defend aw selves.” He was the one who called out before.

  Gaidel was surprised to see his axe was made of some yellowish-brown metal. A human with a metal weapon. She wondered if he was a Fang of his people.

  Gaidel stepped forward and leaned her staff against a nearby limb. She held both her hands before her, palms upward and inclined her head.

  “I am Daughter Gaidel of the Redwood Druids. This is Two Elks, my shieldwarden. The man holding the hounds is Riff, a sorcerer of the Cradle. Why do you hinder us?”

  The surrounding humans broke out in excited whispers. Gaidel noted they were of various ages. The ones nearest them were all adult warriors, but more than a few further back were boys, others older, wrinkled with age beneath their camouflage. They were mostly unclothed. All were clad in various furs and what looked like hairless skins from some green animal.

  The stocky man who had spoken, whistled again, silencing the others. He slid his axe into his fur belt and proffered his hands in a gesture like Gaidel's.

  “Ma name is Craluk. We be look'n ta trade.”

  A short distance behind Craluk, one of the younger ones let out a series of short chirps. It reminded Gaidel of a squirrel. A few of the other humans chirped back.

  Craluk whistled sharply and the others fell silent. He walked forward.

  Two Elks stepped up to stand just to the side of Gaidel. Craluk barely reached Two Elk's chest. He was shorter than Riff, though almost twice as wide.

  Gaidel heard the sounds of tightening bow strings around them. She placed a hand on Two Elk's arm.

  “Please, Craluk. We have little, if anything to trade. We only wish to be on our way,” She said.

  “What wrong with'um?” Craluk motioned to Ghile.

  “Why do you want to know?” Riff said.

  “It be said a druid be a right powerful healer. Why you not heal this'n hea?”

  His accent was thick, but understandable. His question was a fair one. Gaidel felt the weight of eyes on her. She looked to Two Elks and even Riff. Both simply stared back waiting to see how she answered. If she told the truth, that Ghile was stonechosen and was no longer a part of the All Mother's Song, how would Craluk and the others react? If she told them they were fleeing a Culler and were in search of another soulstone to help Ghile fulfill a prophecy, would their quest end here, before it even started?

  From the beginning Gaidel had fought for leadership of their group. She thought it her responsibility from the start. Now, with everything riding on her next words, for the first time, she doubted herself. Was she a leader?

  “I can heal a person here.” Gaidel motioned to her whole body. “He is hurt inside here.” She pointed to her head.

  The same one that had chirped excitedly before lowered his bow and whispered, “Craluk, sure'n she help-”

  Craluk made a sharp slicing gesture at the boy. “Enough, Lotte. Shut it.”

  “Do you have someone who is injured?” Gaidel said. She looked from Craluk to the one he called Lotte. Lotte quickly smiled and nodded, but stopped when Craluk looked his way.

  Gaidel could tell Craluk was having the same inner battle about leadership that she was. He was weighing his next decision and all the ramifications his decision would have on him and his men.

  He issued a short three chirp whistle. Bows were lowered and a few of the men even smiled to one another nodding.

  “Come. Follow. It'll be dark and ain't safe in da wood afta dark,” Craluk said. He turned to go.

  Gaidel watched as Craluk made silent gestures to his men and began walking back the way Gaidel and the others had just come.

  “Craluk, wait. I thought you wished to trade? Where are you going?” Gaidel said.

  He stopped and motioned for them to follow. “Trade in da village. It be this way, hea.”

  Gaidel motioned back in the direction her group had been going. “But the place we seek is that way.”

  Craluk looked out into the trees as if he could follow her gesture and see where they were headed. “If ya be head'n to da Freezone, it be too fa ta reach a'fore night. Ain't safe afta dark, for certain. You be a druid and a sorcerer, but not even you be safe afta dark, for certain. Betta come with us. You rest, eat some. Then, we trade.”

  Gaidel didn't like being told what to do by anyone. Especially not by someone who just assumed she should listen. “And if we refuse?”

  Craluk shrugged. “Then we go to da village and be safe. In da tomorrow we track yuns. Then, we take whatever the dead ones leave of ya.”

  Riff cleared his throat. “I think following them sounds like an excellent idea.”

  Riff was in a foul mood. The swamp cats had tried to eat him. The insects were in the process of finishing the job. His feet were killing him. The over sensitive Gaidel refused to heal him. The parts of him that were not sore were wet. He was in a foul mood indeed.

  He needed a warm bed and a warmer meal. A little village girl to keep him company wouldn't be turned away either.

  The only reason he was out here was to protect Ghile, who had passed out the first time they encountered trouble and not woken since.

  Riff followed a short distance behind Two Elks along the sorriest excuse for a trail he ever had the pleasure to limp along. These mudmen really needed to get out more. Half of them walked ahead of them and the other half behind. Convenient.

  The talkative one, Lotte was his name, was right behind him. Every time Riff had turned around the kid gave him another annoying smile. What was he smiling about, he was covered in mud and twigs. Riff shook his head and gave his underarm a sniff. He needed a bath, too. What was the likelihood there was a nice inn at the end of this trail? Riff glance around at Lotte's mud covered face and was rewarded with another annoying smile. Not likely, he thought.

  “By the gods, what do you keep smiling about?” Riff called over his shoulder.

  “Do ya joke on me? We ain't had no visitors fer a long while. Now, when we need da most help, da muther answers our prayers right certain. Sends us one druid and one sorcerer. How can I not be a smile'n?” Lotte said.

  There he went again about needing help. Riff had tried getting more details about this help they needed along with more information about what the leader of the mudmen had said about dead ones from Craluk, to no avail. 'It'll be dark and ain't safe in da wood afta dark.' That hadn't been ominous at all. Riff leaned out around Two Elks and caught of glimpse of their leader, Craluk, all the way in the front. Unlikely he could hear all the way back here. Time for some answers.

  “Yes, you are lucky indeed. So, tell me, how do these dead ones make the Deepwood unsafe after dark?” Riff said.

  “Because da dead ones take ya and turn ya into dead ones, fur certain,” Lotte said.

  Riff stopped walking and turned around to stare at the boy, who offered yet another stupid grin. “Come again?”

  “Da dead ones. They come git ya at night and take da liv'n. It is why we finally approached ya. If ya gone any further we no make it back to da village afore dark.”

  Riff was not sure which concerned him more. What the mud boy was saying or how he was saying it. Like he was talking about the weather or what he had for breakfast. Riff looked around and noted the sun sat low on the horizon, painting the sky orange and red. If the last few days were any exam
ple of things to come, Riff did not like his odds if the dead decided to take someone. He was sure he would be first on the menu. He slapped at something climbing along his neck.

  “Walk faster,” Riff said. He focused on walking without such a pronounced limp. “How much further to your village?”

  “Not much. So, ya Cradle born then?”

  “Yes.”

  “What it be like up thar?”

  “Fascinating place.”

  “Listen, why did you wait until the last minute to approach us? We backtracked all the way back to where we left the fen. We could have been to your village by now,” Riff said.

  “Craluk be right fussed over if'n it be worth jumping you. It was when da big one named ya sorcerer and you named the other druid that Craluk fixed on talk'n with ya,” Lotte said.

  Again as if he was talking about the weather, Riff thought. What was wrong with this kid? “Wait, if the dead walk the Deepwood, what about the elves? I thought the Deepwood was their domain?”

  Lotte was walking faster and trying to keep up with Riff. His took a deep breath before answering. “Elves don't come this far out on da edge. It be safe from the treefolk out hea. Too far for them ta come and too far for da dwarves to come. We be safe hea. Well, that be afore da dead ones.”

  “What do these, dead ones, look like?” Riff said.

  It was obvious to Riff that the young Lotte liked to talk, well…a lot. He was hitting his stride now and fell into a matter of fact pattern as he filled Riff in on all the details of the dead ones.

  They looked like whatever they were before they became dead ones. They had seen dead ones who were human, goblin, even vargan. They all were ghostly pale with deep red veins running all through their flesh, except the vargan, of course. But Lotte assumed they were covered in veins beneath their fur. Their eyes were big and pale white. They could see really well at night and traveled in packs, but most of all, they were vicious. The only thing that seemed to scare them was fire.

 

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