by Matt Moss
“Thanks,” Rico said and secured the book. He looked at Rat with a grin. The knife flashed and sliced through the priest’s neck. Wide-eyed with shock and horror, Rat held the gaping wound as blood poured. It flowed down the white robe and dripped upon the alter. He held a hand out as if to grab Rico. Rico gripped his hand by the wrist before it could touch him, and wiped the blade clean on Rat’s white robe. “I never said I was an honest man. And priests never impressed me.”
Rat fell to his knees and choked on his own blood. Backwards he fell upon the alter and died.
Rico left him there and walked back down the hall of the church as the priests stood still, gripped with fear, their eyes following him as he passed. With eyes fixed ahead, Rico walked out of the church, satisfied to tie up a loose end.
The Path of Man belonged to the Order.
It belonged in the Grand Highlands.
FORTY-THREE
A year had passed since Arkin’s death.
Behind the Order’s camp in a hidden grove, Lyla knelt at his grave. Her knees fell into a thin layer of snow—the first of the year—and she collapsed upon the ground. Weeping, she wrapped her arms around the gravestone. “I miss you so much.” The pain of losing him was almost too much to bear. Throughout the seasons, restless nights gave way to dark thoughts, and she didn’t know if she could go on without him. But a heart had beat inside her—one that belonged to him as much as it did her—and that gave her hope. After their child was born, she knew her purpose was set, and swore to never let despair take her faith away again.
“He looks so much like you,” she said, smiling and choking back emotion. “I wish you could have met him. You would be so proud.” She raised herself up and touched the grass where her body had melted away the snow. Though his body was never found, Arkin’s memory was placed to rest next to his father, which was next to his father’s, and his father’s before that. Ten graves; ten generations of bloodline passed down from one another, all resting at peace. She looked along the line of headstones and smiled, thankful that she knew him.
“Your mother ran away with Lucian after the war. They stopped by recently and I told her about your grave, though I don’t know if she came here or not. And just like I promised, she met our son, Eli. You should have seen the look on her face. She was so proud. I know she loved you with all of her heart.”
She bent down and kissed the grave. “I love you, Arkin. I’ll always love you. You’ll forever be a part of me and I’ll see you again.” She stood and smiled. “I’ll be back next year. At the first snow. And every year after that.” She looked up and closed her eyes, feeling the sun’s warm kiss upon her face.
She wiped away her tears after leaving the grave, and made her way back to the camp with a newfound spirit—her soul happy and at peace. A woman and two boys no older than ten met her on the edge of the grounds. “Who are you?” Lyla asked.
“I am the caretaker of these young lads here,” the lady said, placing a hand on each of the boys’ heads. Lyla cocked her head and looked upon them, finding an eery resemblance between the two. The lady continued. “Forgive me for waiting so long, but I had to know it was safe. I had to know it was over.”
“What? The war?”
The lady nodded and looked to her right. “This is the son of Moses.” She looked to her left. “And this is the son of Paul.”
Lyla’s eyes went wide and she knelt down to greet them. “Hello. My name is Lyla and I knew both of your fathers. They were great men.” The two boys looked as though they had a thousand questions to ask but held their tongues—a life of discipline shining through.
“Forgive their manners, m’lady, it’s just…”
“I understand,” Lyla said and looked at the two. “All of you have had a secret to keep for such a long time.”
The lady nodded as tears welled in her eyes. She wiped them away and smiled. “Precautions, is all. The leaders of the Order, as you know, must keep the lineage alive. I understand you have a little one of your own. Seems with the three of them—boys at that—the Order has no worry about passing down the lineage.”
“It seems not,” Lyla said with a grin.
“They’re all yours now,” the lady stated. “They’re grown enough to be trained, strong enough to help out and pull their own weight.”
Lyla grabbed her hand. “Then I suppose your work is done. Thank you. Anytime you like, you’re welcome here.”
The lady shook her head. “Thank you, but I’ve a family of my own back home and must be getting back to them.” She knelt down and kissed the boys goodbye, fighting back the tears. Lyla knew that it must be hard for her, raising two children as her own for ten years, then suddenly saying goodbye. The lady kissed the boys on the head. “I love you both so much. You mind your manners now.”
“Don’t go,” a boy pleaded.
“Please, don’t leave us,” the other cried.
“Hush now. This is what’s meant to be. Our path has been set and we’re going to walk it, understand?” she told them. They gripped her around the waist and she gave them one last hug. She looked at Lyla, smiled, then walked away.
“Wait, I never caught your name?” Lyla said.
The lady turned. “Perhaps it’s best that way.” She disappeared into the forest as the three watched.
Lyla knelt down. “So, what’s your name?” she asked Moses’s son.
“Borin,” the boy choked out, sniffling.
“And yours?” she asked Paul’s son.
“George,” the boy said and looked at her, puzzled. “And your name is Lyla.”
She smiled at him. “That’s right. You know, I knew a George once. He was a king.”
“Really?” the boy asked with wonder. “And you knew him?”
She nodded. “Well, I didn’t exactly meet him myself. But I knew of him. He was an honorable man and a just king.” She took them by the hand and walked towards the camp. Joko saw them coming and broke away from his training. “Who are these boys?” he asked. After Lyla told him, he smiled wide. “I knew both of your fathers. Both were great and mighty men.”
“What were they like?” Borin asked. “Were they kings?”
“Or knights? I want to be a knight,” George noted.
Joko laughed. “They were neither, but they did great things—wondrous things that shaped the world. Everyone that knew them, changed; most for the better. Everything they touched, changed. It was not always good, but it was always right—just the way it was supposed to be.”
Lyla questioned him. “So everything worked out in the end? Just how it was meant to be?”
He met her gaze. “I believe that it did. I believe that it always does.” He picked Borin up and raised him high in the air. “The universe always works out.” The boy laughed and George wanted to have his turn next. Lyla smiled and left them in her mentor’s care as she went for baby Eli. Creeping inside the hut, she found the babe still asleep. “Oh, Eli. I love you so much it hurts.” She lied down beside him on a pile of furs and watched his chest rise and fall with each breath. “I know you’re only little, but what do you say we take a little trip? I promise I’ll take care of you,” she whispered to him.
In peaceful slumber, a grin crept upon the babe’s face and disappeared just a quick, as if he were lost in a dream.
Lyla led the two boys to The Crossing with baby Eli strapped to her chest, bundled tightly for warmth. She brought The Path of Man with her after Rico had returned the book to its rightful owners. There were many words she would have to inscribe inside the book—many stories that had to be told and written down. The lives of Arkin and the others would be recalled among history, and their deeds would shine throughout the ages.
Everyone will know of what you did for us—what you did for all of us.
They walked up to the Whistestop and she stopped in the street.
“What is this place?” George asked, looking at the shop.
Lyla put a hand to her mouth, biting back the flood of fee
lings that wanted to break over her like a charging wave upon the shore. She gave the moment its time, then smiled and regained her composure. “This was your father’s shop. Then it was your brother’s shop.” She bent down and looked into his eyes that were big and brown like Arkin’s. “And now it’s your shop.” It still felt strange to her that the child was Paul’s son and Levi’s brother.
“Really? This place is mine?” he asked in amazement. Lyla nodded and the boy ran off to explore the inside. Borin ran after him. “Wait, not so fast,” Lyla instructed, but they boys had already opened the door and gone inside.
She walked up the steps, the top one creaking, causing her to pause and look down. She stopped at the door, hesitant to go through. It had swung back, partially shut but not all the away. She closed her eyes and placed her hand on the old, wooden door. It felt warm to the touch. She saw a beam of light cresting through a window inside, lighting the room. She smiled, knowing that she was home; that they were home.
Once inside, she looked around at the cobwebs and dust that filled the place as the boys ran around, bouncing from one keepsake to the next, as the place was still filled with all sorts of treasures and knick-knacks. She put both hands on her hips as she looked around the room at all the work that needed to be done. “Alright boys, time to clean this place up. You can play after the work is through.”
“Do we have to? We just got here.”
“Yes, you have to,” she replied and grabbed a nearby broom. She handed it to Borin. “You, sweep. And you, dust,” she told George and handed him a rag. The boys grumbled and she cleared her throat, warning them to stay in line. Begrudgingly, the boys did as they were told and before long, began to make a game of cleaning the place up, filling the home with laughter and life. After they worked for a while, Lyla sat them down.
“How about we take a break? Would you boys like to hear a story?”
“I love stories,” George noted.
“Is it about a dragon? Or a knight?” Borin asked, plopping down on the floor.
Lyla cradled Eli in her arms and the babe smiled up at her. She sat on the floor next to the two boys. “I’ve got a better story than that.”
“What is it?” the boys asked in time.
“I’ve got a grand story to tell. One of the grandest, as a matter of fact.”
Their eyes beamed with wonder and they shifted on the floor in anticipation.
“It’s about the Order and the Dark Society. About kings and emperors, prophets and sailors, oracles and magical stones.” She looked up, recalling the past. “About friends, and family, and hope.”
Their interest peaked and Lyla knew she had them with baited breath.
She gave them a wink.
“Let me tell you a story about your fathers. About your family, and where you came from.”
THANK YOU
Thank you for reading the complete SOUL STONE TRILOGY and THE END OF DAYS. I would love to hear what you think about the book, and the trilogy as a whole. As a self-published author, reviews and word of mouth is the best thing I could ask for. So if you enjoyed the book, tell the world and tell a friend! I would really appreciate it.
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