Soul Sanctuary: Book Two Of The Spirit Shield Saga

by Susan Faw

  So, Alcina has outlived her usefulness. Genii straightened and ran a hand over his nonexistent beard, a habit left over from his mortal days. What was Helga planning for the legion army? Surely, they would be thrown into disarray with the slaying of the former queen. Or maybe that was the plan? He pondered the events he had witnessed as he walked away from the pool and off to prepare chambers. It appeared they would have a guest…or two, very shortly.

  Chapter 37

  Stony Silence

  HELGA SLID OUT OF THE SHADOWS at the edge of the Thunder Falls, a wraith transformed to human form once again. The unconscious wizard was draped across her saddle, but she would not remove him. She slung down from the saddle and, grabbing the reins, pulled Diablo into the mouth of her home.

  “Genii! You have prepared accommodations? I have an unexpected guest, one I cannot say I am sorry to encounter! Where are you, Genii?”

  “Here, mistress!” answered Genii as he came around the bend of the long hallway, hands tucked into his robes. “I have a cell prepared, mistress.”

  “No, no, a cell is no place for so great a personage.” Helga dropped the reins and brushed past Genii. “Put him in the guest quarters overlooking the gardens. He is no threat to us now.”

  “Yes, mistress!” Genii bowed once more and then moved over to the side of the horse and hefted Mordecai’s still form over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Skinny wizard; he weighs no more than a starving rabbit.

  Genii straightened with his burden and headed down the side passage that had been travelled not long ago by Artio. Once he reached the bottom, he pushed his way through the dense copse of trees to series of doors that stretched along the stream. He entered the third one and then carried the unconscious wizard to the bed and rolled him down onto it. A bowl and a pitcher of water sat on a washstand under a dusty mirror. He picked up the pitcher and strode outside, dipping the pitcher into the stream and bringing it back filled to the brim with sparkling fresh water. He pushed aside a curtain that allowed light to filter in from the outside and lit a lantern hung on the wall. With one last look at the wizard, he left, pulling the door closed behind him.

  ***

  Helga stirred the objects on the table with a long-nailed finger, pleased with the outcome of her raid on Alcina’s camp. She had only intended to dispose of the woman, to sow seeds of confusion and chaos in the armies of men, but as luck would have it, she had also acquired control of two of her enemies. She chuckled as she picked up the doll of the wizard. To have control over one such as he, was a boon beyond measure. You serve me better in death than life, Alcina. Your soul was already mine. But what to do with the wizard? Helga pondered his uses, turning the doll over and over in her hands, examining how it was made. In the back of the doll, a coin was wedged. Although she could not see the significance of this, somehow it was tied to the wizard.

  Helga set the doll down and picked up the second one, this one resembling Cayden, her dear reincarnated brother—but a human, no longer a godling. She snorted, amused at their attempts to play at being royalty and at being godlings. They had given up that power to her long ago. If it were not for the wizard’s dabblings, their rebirth would have been impossible, but such as it was, they were nothing but annoying gnats that she would eventually swat out of existence, crushed beneath her will.

  With this doll, I can make you dance to my tune, Little Brother, and dance you will, before the end. Before I am finished with you, you will wish you had never been reborn.

  She flipped the doll over, and a quick search revealed it also had a gold coin tucked in the back of it. So…the wizard and the boy are linked by the coins…how interesting. She put the doll back down and then picked up the two other objects taken from the wizard. One was a clear crystal, oblong-shaped and smooth, and it fit easily in the palm of the hand as if made for it. She picked it up, and it immediately darkened. Grey clouds swirled through it, occluding the crystal, and it grew hot, very hot. Hastily, she dropped it, sucking her fingertips. Immediately, it cleared; so fast she blinked, unsure if her mind was playing tricks on her. She stretched out her hand toward the stone, caution slowing her reach, and as her hand hovered over the crystal it flashed again in warning. She frowned at it and instead reached for the second stone, a simple river rock, smoothed by water.

  Leery of a similar reaction, she thumbed the rock. Nothing happened. She picked it up and turned it over in her hand. There were no special markings. There were no runes or painted symbols. She scraped a nail down it. Nothing happened. It seemed to be a rock and nothing more. She put it back down, puzzled. Why keep it in with the other crystal if it was of no importance? She frowned. She did not like mysteries, not at all, especially when they were related to magic. What she didn’t know had the ability to become annoying and to interfere with her plans.

  At that moment, Genii returned from depositing the wizard in the guest room. He stood hesitantly in the doorway, waiting for permission to enter, a good and loyal servant. Helga studied his body, silhouetted by the muted light of the hallway. So tall and handsome, he had been her mate for eons now. She could have asked for no better.

  “Enter, my love.” She beckoned him forward with a crook of her finger. “What do you make of these objects?”

  Genii paused at the edge of the table, studying the objects. He did not touch anything. “The dolls are of Flesh Clan make, possibly Soul Fetches. The stones…they are wizard rocks. The crystal one is a focus stone, which tightens the will of the wizard when performing spells, amplifying his powers. The second…” His hand reached out to the rock but stopped short of touching it and let his hand hover above the rock. “This is a memory stone. I cannot tell whose stone it is, but it carries the unadulterated memories of someone. Possibly of the doll’s hosts, but it could be anyone’s. I cannot tell. Only the person whose memories reside in the stone can retrieve them. It is also an object of spirit and will.”

  “Thank you, love. You are such a good pet.” She patted his arm as one would pat a good dog. “You will watch the wizard and stay with him at all times. I want to know everything he knows. Perhaps you can persuade him to cooperate with this.” She picked up the wizard’s doll and handed it to him. “But if you can do it by conversation, that would be better. He will need his strength for what I plan to do with him. His powers will be tapped to their fullest.” She stroked the silent stone one last time. After a moment of consideration, she tucked it back in the bag. “Perhaps this stone would help to persuade him, but first I will see what I can learn from him. Work on him with the doll. Lie if you wish, use force if you wish, but find out what he is up to.”

  “As you command, mistress.” He bent over her hand and kissed it. “So it shall be.”

  Helga patted his cheek, and he left like a good hound. She watched him go and a tiny frown wrinkled her brow. Genii was…different lately, ever since Artio’s visit. At times, she thought he might have had a stirring of memory at the sight of her, that something of that distant past may have surfaced, but he never spoke of it. She wondered, not for the first time, if she should be watching him more closely, but then she dismissed it. He was the only one she truly trusted. Paranoid—you are becoming as paranoid as the ones you manipulate, she thought, as she picked up the focus stone with the bag it was carried in and then tucked Cayden’s doll inside the bag for safekeeping. But still, caution is warranted.

  Maybe I should not have trusted him with the wizard’s doll. Caution is warranted. But what can he do with it other than torture him? Her frown deepened. She did not think he would be careless with the doll.

  And she had other tasks requiring her attention.

  Dismissing Genii from her mind, she stood up and wandered to the railing overlooking the grotto. A plume of smoke drifted cross the peak of blue sky that shone from the skyward opening, temporarily darkening the grotto. There was no way to mask her machinations beneath the mountain, no way to hide the tremors and quakes as they dug ever deeper into the earth. This time Hel
ga meant to rule all, and no one would be able to resist, not even a skinny boy, now turned elderly wizard. There was no one left to resist. She smiled grimly down at the nearly pastoral scene below and then pushed away from the stone window and marched out the door.

  Chapter 38

  High-Flying Rescue

  CAYDEN SOARED ABOVE THE TREES, scouting the landscape below for activity that might mean enemies lay ahead. Brimstone flapped his wings once, twice, and then spread them full, glittering black wing tips fluttering in the wind. He glided over the trees, hooves brushing the highest tips. Bursts of fragrant pine filled the air, and Cayden laughed. He felt so free, something he had not felt in a very long time. But the feeling of freedom was short lived. Memories crowded in, both happy and sad, triggered by his return to the air on Brimstone’s back. The past year had changed his life completely. While he now knew the why and the how, it had also brought the weight of ancient responsibilities crashing down on his young shoulders.

  They had made so many mistakes. They had originally gone about the investigation of the disturbances in the Highland Spine with an arrogant nonchalance and innocence that was shaming. Brimstone had fully restored Cayden’s memory, complete with vivid flashbacks of that awful evening when he had died…when they had all died, everyone except for Helga. He could still feel the ripping pain of having his soul dragged from his being, of losing his immortality. If it had not been for Mordecai, that sweet boy of Hud’s, darkness would have swallowed the world and all would be soul enslaved to Helga. Mordecai was an elderly man now, long-lived for a human as all wizards were, provided they survived the trials of the magic to live to full adulthood. It seemed strange to remember the boy who had been Mordecai. Cayden had so many memories to sort to reconcile with his current life.

  As he flew, his eyes drifted toward the heavens to the planets of the distant cosmos where he knew the gods resided, his father Morpheus among them, having returned to the gods. Did he know what a mess his offspring had created on Earth? Probably not. Cayden doubted if his father ever looked at the world he had lived in so briefly. He certainly didn’t check on them. Without their mother, he had no interest in the world. Helga had a point when it came right down to it; the gods cared little for the world. Although Cayden didn’t agree that the worship of the gods should be completely abandoned, he could see Helga’s point. Unfortunately, the power of the gods was necessary to keep the natural world in harmony and the spiritual world in balance. The power of the gods was the sticky and often-hated glue cementing the world, keeping it whole. Without the gods, it was possible to destroy the world from the inside out. Without the gods, the world would decay, rot from within, until all was consumed by the belly of the world, enslaved to the underworld and Helga’s dominion.

  Perhaps, if they contacted the gods and asked for their intervention, things could be different. Would they respond to the prayers of the people if they prayed? Would they even hear them? Would they hear mine?

  From the vantage point of Brimstone’s back, the peaks of the Highland Spine were ringed in smoke, reminiscent of that day so long ago when the world had nearly ended. The fiery hearths deep down inside the mountain stirred a caustic warning of doom’s reawakening. And to the east, an army stirred, clouds of birds rising from the trees, heralding their passage. The Primordial clans were on the move. Cayden’s eyes traced the path that would lead him to them, located deep within the Sacred Forest.

  As Brimstone skimmed over a break in the treetop, his eyes fell on the remnants of a battle. The bodies of men littered the field below him. By virtue of the fact that there were no crows or ravens or vultures present, the battle could not be that old. Maybe someone is still alive down there! Blue mist rose from those who had recently died, their lost souls calling out to Cayden from the clearing. “We must land, Brimstone. Put us down, boy, but away from the worst of the carnage if you can. I don’t want us to be shot down.” Memories of Brimstone screaming in pain as his wing tore flashed across his mind. He gritted his teeth to stem the flashback. “Keep your eyes sharp!”

  Brimstone circled, and Cayden kept a sharp eye, but nothing stirred. With a flap or two of wing and a light gallop Brimstone settled back to Earth at the edge of the forest. Cayden slid off his back and then pulled his sword, examining the scene before him. He grimaced at the sword, knowing he could not kill anyone even if they attacked, but perhaps he could incapacitate them.

  The better part of one hundred bodies lay in the clearing, some Primordial, some bearing the insignia of the legion. He walked the battlefield as he had done a thousand times before, gathering the souls of the dead and sending them to the stream of souls that fed the well in Cathair. He was not even sure how he did it; it was just who he was. He could sense the stream of souls that fed the well, the conduits who ran in a hidden stream back to that central point under the castle in Cathair. He could sense the streams wherever they were, for they were a part of his soul and he a part of theirs. It was as if he was the heart and they the veins keeping him alive, and vice versa. He could feel the flow and as he focused on the stream closest to him, he frowned. It was a sluggish stream, as if it was blocking up, the walls narrowing.

  Alarmed, he searched the killing field once more. He must find them all; they were his to gather, his to guard. Only the truly evil, the unredeemable, were sent to Helga’s realm. They would not be reborn. Cayden cast around to check that he had gathered all the blue pinpoints of light. A blue light flickered on the edge of the clearing, and Cayden walked over to the fallen man. Not quite passed from this life, he thought as he approached the stricken man. He wound in and around the corpses, but when he reached the dying man he found two men, not just one.

  Cayden tossed down his sword to gently roll over the first man and froze, shock tingling down his body to his toes. Cayden stared into Gaius’s heavily scarred face, matted with blood from a sword cut across his forehead.

  “Father!” he gasped aloud, and pulled him into his arms. “Father!” he repeated and then ran a hand down his arms checking for additional injuries. He couldn’t find any, other than the forehead slice that was serious but shallow and had already stopped bleeding. He looked a mess, but Cayden didn’t think his father was badly hurt.

  Cayden took the sleeve of his tunic and wiped his father’s face, clearing the blood from his eyes.

  “Move one inch and this sword will have your head bouncing through the grass.”

  Cayden froze at the prick of a sharp blade against the side of his neck. Not again! he thought. When am I going to learn to look before I leap?

  The blade circled around his neck as the man came into view. Cyrus stared at him, his gaze as cold as death. Pure, unadulterated hatred shone on his sweat-soaked face. His tunic was splattered with blood and torn by one too many blades that had come too close, slicing through the sleeve and breast of his coat. “Well, if it isn’t the boy from the dungeons of Cathair. What a pleasant surprise. The Primordial bitch I chased escaped me, but instead I get you.” He chuckled. “This is even better. You’ve caused me a great inconvenience. In a few short months, Alcina would have been dead by now and the throne mine, the last of that family line extinguished. With you out of the way, I would have had her murdered in her sleep, leaving my path to claim Cathair clear and unobstructed…but you had to ruin that, didn’t you? You and that straw-filled scarecrow of a wizard. I should have strung the both of you up, not just chained you to the walls. Hung you from the belfry for the ravens to pick clean no matter what Alcina commanded.” He paused in front of Cayden, blade sinking from throat to just over his heart. “But it matters not. You will never leave this clearing…and I will deal with Alcina later.” He looked down at the two unconscious prisoners, and a look of malicious glee spread across his face. The stare made Cayden shiver to his boot soles. “But first, a taste of what it means to lose what means the most to you.” He swung around to plunge his sword into Gaius’s chest.

  Cayden shouted, “No!” but before he could lau
nch himself in defense of Gaius, Cyrus was snatched off his feet by Brimstone’s teeth. He clamped on to Cyrus’s cloak and jerked him with such force that the sword tumbled from his grip as he was swept screaming into the air. Brimstone screamed a counterpoint through his clenched teeth, the sound high-pitched and heady. His great wings battered Cyrus as he soared skyward, still gripping the struggling would-be king’s tunic, climbing and climbing until they were but a pinprick in the sky. Brimstone banked then dived, flying directly at the stony face of the mountainside, diving as a kingfisher dives for fish. Cyrus’s screams cut off abruptly as Brimstone released him, dashing him into the cliff face. He smacked the stone hard and plummeted hundreds of feet to the rocks below.

  Cayden sank to his knees beside his father in relief and shock, sucking in great gulps of air as he slowed his racing pulse. His large hands trembled. Too many shocks. I am becoming a nervous wreck! Get control of yourself, Cayden! He took two deeper, steadying breaths, then pushed himself shakily to his feet.

  Brimstone circled the clearing then landed a few paces away. It took Cayden three tries to finally gather enough moisture into his mouth to whistle to Brimstone. Crouching down, he scooped up his father and stood, only to find that his right wrist was shackled to another man’s, a Primordial man who lay nearby. They were chained together. By the juxtaposition of the two men, they must have tumbled off their horses together. Cayden put his father back down and went to examine the second man. His chest rose and fell with his shallow breaths, but he appeared to be unhurt.

  Brimstone danced excitedly over to Cayden and forcefully nudged him in the chest, snorting at the smell of death all around him, then snapped his wings, his black eyes narrowed and wild.