The SoulNecklace Stories

by R. L. Stedman

  They ran after her.

  Arrows hissed in pursuit; I stopped, faced the archer. I had the advantage now, for I was the one uphill. I loosed the arrow, heard the wet thump and scream at its delivery. Will crouched low on the mare’s neck, as his horse twisted through the gnarled trees.

  “Watch for roots,” I called.

  I didn’t know if he heard me, but he slowed his pace. I pulled two more arrows from the trunks of trees. Steel-tipped, they’d been driven inches into the bark but my dream-strength yanked them free as though they were stuck in butter.

  “There!” called Jed, pointing. Behind us was a man on horseback. Will turned toward him, chasing the shooter, shortening the distance. A risky move, for the man was skilled, putting the arrow to the string as he galloped.

  “Will!” I screamed and he ducked.

  Too close. Way too close. Angry, I followed, zooming through the trees so fast they blurred.

  Jed called from the right. “There’s two of them.”

  “You take the other. I’m on this one!” Will pulled a blade from his boot, threw it at the man’s face. His quarry screamed and swayed, toppling to one side as his horse turned downhill, running as if a dragon was after it.

  The dead man’s foot had caught in the stirrup and he was dragged like a heavy sack, bouncing and jerking until the stirrup leather broke. Eventually he jolted free, the knife sticking out of an eye.

  I waited behind a tree, waiting for the others. And here they came, five men on small ponies, dark against the gray sky. I took two of them before they entered the forest; the third under the tree and the remainder as they passed at a gallop, not seeing me in their terror. Perhaps I was invisible.

  I turned, ran up the slope as effortlessly as a deer, worrying: Will didn’t have a bow! Above us, Jed bellowed and we heard the clash of metal on metal. Will retrieved his knife then turned, galloping toward the sound. I ran behind him, toward the hill’s crest.

  In the distance the trail continued onwards across grasslands toward white-topped mountains. The land seemed peaceful, serene. Jed called a warning and Will turned his mare quickly as another horseman, hiding on the other side of the peak, swung out from the trees, an arrow pointed straight at Will. I put an arrow to my bow, but Will spurred his mount forward, blocking my fire.

  His mare reared and screamed, a terrible sound, and fell with an arrow in her belly. Just in time, Will jumped clear. “Hah, kill my horse, will you?” he shouted.

  The bandit spurred his horse forward with his knees, put another arrow to his bow. Will threw his blade hard, in one smooth motion, at the stranger’s horse. It screamed and stumbled, crashing to the ground. But the man had leapt clear, and now had a sword.

  I sprinted toward them. I had forgotten just how fast Will could move. He rushed his enemy, hands flicking: block, parry, counter stroke. The man could hardly raise his hands before he was on his knees. With a grunt, Will dragged the blade from the horse’s eye. It was caught in the bone and he had to yank hard. The man stumbled to his feet but Will kicked out and knocked him over. Like a training session with the sentries; so easy. Will completed the finishing stroke automatically, stabbing the blade into the raider’s neck, blinking at the sudden fountain of blood. The man groaned and sagged.

  “Well, now,” said Jed.

  Will, covered in drying red-brown blood, didn’t seem concerned that he’d killed with such violence. Instead he went to his horse. The mare lay on her side, an arrow in her chest.

  “Damn good archers,” said Jed. “Got her through the heart.”

  The smell, it must be the smell of blood and death that made me feel sick. And the flies that crawled over the bodies and landed on the open eyes of the dead man. I staggered to a crack in the rock and vomited. And then I just sat, resting against the gray stone, thinking nothing at all, watching the gray sky and black birds drifting on the wind.

  “And what,” said Jed, coming round the rock and nearly standing on me, “is this?”

  He was on me before I could move, a knife pressed to my throat.

  “No!” called Will. I blinked as he knelt beside me and touched my forehead. Despite the warmth, Will’s hands felt strangely cool. I sighed, turned my cheek toward his palm.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I think,” I put my hand to my head, “That I’m dreaming.” Oh, it was wonderful to see his dimples and the sweep of his dark hair on his forehead. Even his smell, blood and horse and sweat, was good.

  Realization dawned, and he grinned. “Is this your dream or mine?”

  I got to my feet, slowly. “Mine. Definitely mine.”

  He seemed taller than I remembered, deeper voiced and broad of shoulder. I touched his face, stroking the stubble on his jaw. “You look older, Will.”

  He held my wrist. “Dana!” The familiar exasperation, the firm grip that I couldn’t twist away from, no matter how I tried.

  “What just happened, Will?”

  “We were ambushed.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the merchant was a tight-fisted fool,” grunted Jed, running his hands through the dead bandit’s pockets.

  “What merchant?” I asked.

  “The one who hired us,” Will said. “We’re supposed to be his guards.”

  Jed spat. “Told him he needed more than just the two of us, but would he listen? Don’t pay to do things on the cheap. Not round here.” He cocked his head, listening. “Sounds like the battle’s over. Such as it was.”

  Will squatted beside his dead horse and removed its saddle and bridle.

  “Where are we?”

  “Near the mountains,” said Will, picking up the saddle. “Where am I going to get a horse?”

  “I’ll steal you one. They can’t see me.”

  “I can see you, though.”

  “You didn’t before.”

  “Before?”

  “I chased you up the hill. I killed the men following you.”

  Jed looked at me. “This your first time to kill a man?”

  I nodded.

  “Well then.” Jed scratched the ground with his boot. “First time’s the worst.”

  Turning, I slipped back into the dream state, a blend of unreality and solitude, not unlike the trance of training. I flowed downhill, gently as water, past the still bodies of the men I’d killed, down to the quarry where men with curved swords pillaged the dead and dying. Their horses grazed on the sparse grass beside the track.

  I took the nearest one, the tallest, and turned it gently toward the slope. It didn’t seem to mind, tipping its ear at me as I whispered to it, asking it to head where I asked. Strangely, none of the bandits seemed to see us. Had the horse become invisible too?

  When I returned to the men, they seemed shaken. “We didn’t see you coming.”

  Even Jed looked amazed. “Like you came from nowhere. A ghost.”

  I laughed. “A very convenient ghost. Here you are, Will.” I gestured to the horse. “Don’t worry,” I added, as he circled round the animal, “it’s real.”

  He smiled, his grin crooked. “What do they say about a gift horse?” He considered the animal. “Think I’ll keep my own saddle.”

  “Anyone follow us, Lady?” asked Jed.

  I shook my head, looked at Will. “When will you be home?” I miss you.

  “We’ve heard tell of a huge city, on an empty plain. The Black City, some call it. Others call it the Stronghold. It’s where the king is supposed to live. Hold this for me, will you?”

  He handed me the bridle and reins. The bit was sticky. “What king?”

  “Or an emperor. Some sort of ruler, anyway. Either way, he’s old, very old. The rumor is that he’s eternal.” He put his saddle on the new horse, did the girth up.

  “The locals won’t talk about him,” said Jed. “Turn away if we ask. That’s why we took up with skinflint down there,” Jed jerked his thumb toward the track. “He talked to us.”

  “Pass me the tack, will you
?” Will nodded at the bridle, and I handed it to him. “The king is called “Perpetual” or “Never-ending”.”

  “Never-ending nightmare more like,” said Jed. “Merchants said he was old, and cruel. He has many soldiers and sorcerers. Long ago he came to this land. Big cairns full of skulls beside the paths. A monk showed them to me. They fear he could return.”

  “They say he hears the sound of his name from a thousand miles away,” Will was struggling with his horse, who didn’t want the bridle and kept pointing his nose to the sky. “Come on now.” He slipped the bit into the horse’s mouth.

  “So why are you looking for him?”

  “Merchant said the Eternal is searching for an island kingdom. “For news of an island kingdom, the ancient one offers a fortune in gold,” he said. He wanted to get his hands on it, I warrant. Anyway, we thought we should follow it up.”

  “There’s lots of island kingdoms,” I said.

  “True,” said Will. “But there were strangers at the Crossing. They were dressed somewhat like the descriptions of the king’s army. We think that maybe they came from that land.”

  He seemed different: quieter, terse. Always self-contained, Will often appeared wary. Now, that hesitation was replaced with self-reliance. It was strange, this change in such a short time.

  “How is everyone at home?” he asked.

  “It’s Festival time. Everything’s a little crazy.”

  “Festival? It can’t be. It’s not yet October.”

  I shook my head. “It’s tomorrow. Unfortunately.”

  “We haven’t been a year, have we?” Will stared at Jed. “I counted the full moons.”

  “What does it matter?”

  Will sounded indignant. “How could I be out by nine months?”

  I didn’t really care about the moons. I cared about the bandits down in the valley. Sooner or later they’d start thinking about their missing companions.

  “You’d better go,” I said urgently. “We can talk about this while we travel, can’t we?”

  “She’s right,” said Jed. “Come on, lad.”

  “You can ride behind me, Princess. Provided you’re well behaved.” Will smiled and the dimples deepened in his cheeks.

  Stepping up to his horse, I reached for the saddle, but it was like drifting through treacle. Too slow. The change happened quickly.

  “I’m waking,” I gasped, as my fingers and toes grew heavy. Before it was too late, I turned to Will and wrapped my fading arms about him.

  When I woke, I could still feel his body pressed against mine.

  Chapter Thirty

  Belle of the Ball

  Rosa had shrunk. The necklace seemed to be weighing her down, pulling her head toward her chest. She breathed harshly, like a runner after a long race. Except there was no race, no running, just this padded seat at a table in a tower.

  Even N’tombe, who spent more time here than I, was shocked by her appearance. “Woman, you must eat more.”

  Rosa smiled, the skin of her face crinkling like paper. “Do I look that bad?”

  I couldn’t bear to look at the tissue-thin skin, the shaking hands. I felt the stone of the tower surround me, encasing me in my own private tomb. I wanted to turn and tumble down that winding stairwell, out into the light.

  Rosa glanced at me. “Some of the hardest battles,” she said, “are fought not with arms, but with our own mind.”

  I still felt unwell from last night. N’tombe had entered my room just as my eyes blinked open. Overnight, it seemed, a storm wind had tumbled through my chamber. Torn sheets were strewn about the room and my uncombed hair was tangled. Worse, I’d been sick but had slept through the whole nasty business. I felt as though I’d been rolling in sewage; I looked it too. Even Nurse, who normally behaved as though I was three and any accident was a minor indiscretion that could be fixed by soft bandages and cuddles, appeared shocked.

  “A bath will fix it,” said N’tombe firmly.

  My skin was pale, and the girl in my mirror had blue shadows under her eyes. But worse than my looks or the sickness was a terrible fear for Will. What would happen to him? What if he was attacked again, and I was not there to help?

  “Are you in pain?” N’tombe asked Rosa, jerking me from my reverie, returning me to a fresh worry. How deep was the chest wound? How much longer could my aunt last? True, my concern was partly selfishness. I never wanted to be permanently in this place, but now, staring at Rosa, there was pity also.

  “Some,” she acknowledged, rubbing her chest.

  N’tombe seated herself next to Rosa and held out her hand, palm uppermost. “Here.”

  Rosa placed her hand on N’tombe’s. Black skin, pink skin merged together. I felt a humming sizzle and Rosa straightened. She blinked, and her voice was stronger. “You need to be careful.”

  N’tombe shrugged. “It is the least I can do.” She sounded out of breath and her dark face seemed suddenly tired. If I had been able to relax, I was sure I would have seen glowing golden lines passing from my tutor to my aunt. If I could relax. I needed to work on this.

  Rosa smiled at me. “Don’t worry, child.”

  N’tombe scowled. “Do not soothe her.”

  “And why should I not?” Rosa said. “She’s done very well. Exceptionally well, if you ask me. And not a child for much longer. When do you turn sixteen, Dana?”

  “Tomorrow,” I said glumly. “There’s a ball and everything.”

  “Ah, yes,” said Rosa and smiled. “Fireworks. I always enjoy them. Up here, you know, I have such a wonderful view.”

  Everyone loved the fireworks except me. I still hoped that by some miracle tomorrow might not arrive and I would never turn sixteen, never have to wear adult clothes or behave as an adult. A birthday was only a day out of one’s life. Strange, how that one day could change my life completely.

  “Tell Rosa about your dream,” said N’tombe.

  “She already knows,” I looked at Rosa. “Don’t you?”

  She nodded. “But it’s good to filter it through your perception. What you saw, why you did what you did.” She looked at N’tombe. “That’s the sort of thing one never gains from watching.”

  N’tombe pursed her lips. But as I recounted what I’d done, what Will had said, her face relaxed and she nodded agreement. I talked about the dream honestly, but kept a few things to myself. Some things were mine and private. They didn’t need to be shared.

  When I’d finished, Rosa looked at N’tombe. “Impressive.”

  N’tombe raised an eyebrow. “I find it concerning.”

  “Concerning? What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Dana,” said N’tombe, “have you not realized? You have killed men. Not just one man, but many men. And in a dream.”

  “But,” I faltered, “it was a dream. It wasn’t real.”

  She shook her head. “You dreamed it; that is correct. But it was a true dream. And in those dreams ...”

  I finished the sentence for her. “What you dream has really happened.” What had I done? I could kill when asleep. Was I a monster?

  “No,” said Rosa, startling me. “You did what you had to do.” She stared at N’tombe, her face fierce. “Don’t you understand? You do what you have to do. As your aunt used her magic to keep you alive, N’tombe. As you did when you left to come here.”

  N’tombe bent her head, assenting but not agreeing. “Once she has the necklace, though ...”

  “Yes,” Rosa stared at me. “Oh yes, once you have the necklace, Dana, you will be formidable.”

  I didn’t want the necklace; I didn’t want to be formidable. I just wanted to be me.

  Rosa smiled. “What we want and what we get are often two very different things.” She sounded like my mother. She heard my thought – when would I learn to mind my thinking around her – and smiled again. When she smiled her eyes sparkled, her cheeks lifted; she seemed healthier. “Have you had any other dreams of Will?”

  I shrugged, about to say no, the
n remembered. “I had one earlier.” I told them of the first dream, as much as I could recall of it.

  “So,” said Rosa slowly, “these dreams of yours are not in real time.” Catching my blank stare, she added, “In your first dream, you say Will seemed unchanged, yet in the second, how did he appear?”

  “Older.”

  “And the land? Was it the same in both dreams?”

  “Yesterday there were mountains in the distance. Tall, with snow on their tops.” Not that I’d paid much attention to the scenery. “And when I told Will about the Festival he seemed surprised it was so soon.”

  “I imagine he would,” Rosa leant back from the table. “You’ve been moving about in time as well as space. You’re dreaming at a different speed to the real world.”

  “I can move in time?” Of course I could; hadn’t I seen Rosa as a girl, accepting the necklace? Still, the concept was disturbing. What if I dreamt of myself as an old woman? What would I see?

  “What of this Eternal One?” said N’tombe. “And the warrior who calls himself a merchant?”

  Rosa tapped her finger on the table, thinking. The ruby swayed with her movement. “I mustn’t reveal myself,” she decided. “You will have to question him.”

  N’tombe nodded. “I have some ideas on that,” she said softly.

  “Mother won’t like this,” I warned.

  “I’m not worried about Cyrilla,” said Rosa.

  “You can’t’ – how to say this? – “You can’t trust her. Not when it’s her appearance at stake. You sending soldiers to take that merchant will have upset her. He was her guest.”

  N’tombe shrugged. “He’s a prisoner now. We have him under guard.”

  I shook my head. “Don’t you realize? Mother is obsessed by status. She will do anything to maintain this. Anything.” I remembered a conversation: Who do you think pushed the slut?

  “Nevertheless,” said N’tombe, “I will question this merchant. While you are at the ball.”

  “And I,” said Rosa, “will talk to Leovane. He will explain to Cyrilla.” She patted my hand. “Don’t worry, child.”