Soul Render (Soul Stones Book 1)

by T. L. Branson

  In stepped two guards. One had a bandage around his head, the other’s neck was bruised and he seemed to be stiff.

  It was the two guards they had knocked out. Callum had called them Shaw and Gill. Will had no way of telling which one was which, though.

  Now is your chance to escape, the voice said.

  I can’t risk my brother’s life, he told her. Leave me alone.

  They opened Will’s cell and one of them picked him up off the floor where he lay. After dragging him through the prison, they placed him in a small room and shackled his arms to the wall above his head.

  He sat on the cold floor, his arms stiff and achy. Blisters formed on his wrist beneath the iron shackles. After an hour, Callum walked in alone and sat down on the solitary chair in the center of the room.

  “Here’s how this is going to work. You’re going to tell me how you got in, why the Soul Render now looks like a worthless pebble, and what you planned to do with it. If you tell me the truth,” he said, one side of his mouth lifting into a smirk, “I’ll promise you a quick death. Lie to me, and, well… let’s just say you’re better off sticking with the truth.”

  He’s alone, the woman said. We can easily take him.

  Will stared into his eyes and didn’t say a word.

  “I can see you’re not going to cooperate. I’ll help you get started. You and your two friends attack my men at the servants’ door,” he said.

  Will’s eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened.

  Callum noted his expression and said, “Ah, you thought we didn’t know about your other friend.”

  Come on!

  Will shrugged off the disembodied woman. His thoughts shifted to Robert. He wondered if they had caught him. He guessed not or they would have placed Robert in the cells with him and John.

  “Now, let’s try this again. Tell me what happened,” Callum said, sitting calmly, one leg crossed over the other.

  He still didn’t speak.

  Callum calmly stood up, walked over to Will, and pressed his thumb into Will’s wounded hand. Will clenched his teeth and grunted, but didn’t give Callum the pleasure of hearing him scream.

  Now! Attack him now.

  “No!” Will shouted at her. “I can’t. I won’t!”

  Callum jolted, looking at him in confusion. “Excuse me?”

  Will only stared back. The voice didn’t return.

  Callum relaxed the pressure and snapped his fingers with his free hand.

  The man with the bruised neck walked back in holding something covered with a sheet. He unwrapped it and revealed Will’s bow.

  “We found this after searching the area. Shaw, here, told me he saw you fire the arrow that knocked out the lamp,” Callum said. “We’ll have to have that replaced, you know. It will cost some poor family half a day’s wages because of your foolishness.”

  Callum grasped at straws, clearly trying to unnerve him or fire him up about injustice.

  Will didn’t bite.

  “I don’t like repeating myself.”

  Will held his tongue.

  “You remind me a lot of my son…” he said, appealing to Will’s emotions, another tactic.

  Silence.

  “…stubborn and bullheaded,” he finished.

  “Wonder where he gets it from,” Shaw mumbled under his breath.

  “Did you say something?” Callum asked, looking over his shoulder.

  Shaw coughed, “Uh, no, sir.”

  Callum redirected his attention back to Will and waited. No explanation forthcoming, he sighed and said, “I grow tired of this game. Bring him in.”

  Gill walked in, pushing John along in front of him.

  Will’s body tensed and dread coursed through him for the first time since the interrogation began.

  Callum narrowed his eyes, his gaze drilling into Will, waiting for a response.

  Will’s lips held tighter than a miser’s coin purse.

  He snapped his fingers again and Gill brought a knife to John’s throat. John let out a whimper.

  “No!” Will yelled. “Leave him alone.”

  Raising his voice and enunciating each word, Callum said, “Then tell me what I want to know.”

  Will looked from John to Gill to Callum and back again.

  “Fine,” Will said through gritted teeth.

  Gill relaxed the knife from John’s throat.

  Will recounted his story, once again leaving out certain details.

  “Get to the point,” Callum said. “Tell me what you did to the stone and to my men.”

  “I… I don’t know.”

  “Liar,” he said.

  Gill pulled the knife to John’s throat and pressed it into his skin, drawing a small line of blood. John hissed from the pain and let out a whimper of fear.

  “What do I have to gain by lying to you?” Will shouted, frustrated. “I’m dead either way and there’s nothing I can do now. I’m telling you the truth. I don’t know. I touched it and it glowed.”

  It was only a half-truth. He touched it before and nothing happened, but Callum didn’t know that.

  Will wondered what had made it trigger the second time. Fear, anger, adrenaline, desperation? He truly didn’t know.

  “Fine,” Callum said. He turned to Shaw and Gill and said, “Throw them back in their cells and prepare for departure. We’re taking them to Shadowhold. Lord Drygo will deal with them.”

  Shaw prodded Will down the hallway like a cow returning to its stall. He opened the cell door and kicked Will in. Will managed to stay on his feet this time, but ran into the wall with a thud. Shaw’s swollen face smiled as he locked Will in.

  John’s cell door squeaked closed and locked with a click. Shaw and Gill left a moment later, the prison door slamming shut behind them.

  “We’re in trouble, Will,” John said.

  “When you poke a hornet’s nest, you’re going to get stung,” Will mumbled.

  3

  Shaw and Gill came for them again a few hours later. Will tensed. His breath caught in his chest, escaping only in short bursts. His hands shook and his stomach churned.

  “Time to go,” Shaw snarled and proceeded to shackle Will’s feet with iron manacles, loose enough that he could walk, but not run.

  “Worried you’ll have to chase me?” Will said, examining Shaw’s slightly pudgy form from head to toe. “Had one too many scones, didn’t you?”

  “Shut yer mouth,” Shaw growled, grabbing Will by the neck and shoving him out of the cell. Gill fitted John with similar accessories, then they were led back upstairs and out into the light of day.

  A contingent of soldiers milled about on the street. There were several transports being prepared and a few wagons with supplies. Will and John were hobbled through the mass of bodies and stuffed into a tiny prison carriage.

  It was a small, solid wooden box with two tiny windows on either side, bars lining them. Shaw bolted the doors shut from the outside. Flies buzzed and circled around a sticky yellow and brown puddle in the back corner. Will sat as far from it as possible, but he couldn’t escape the odor that permeated the whole carriage.

  The sun was high in the sky by the time the caravan began to move. It would take them almost a week and a half, barring delays, to reach Shadowhold, the king’s capital city in the south.

  They rolled through the main gate of the abbey and down the dusty streets. Through the small window of the carriage, Will caught a glimpse of the crowd.

  People paused from their chores to get a look at the cause for the ruckus. A mother stopped sweeping her porch and yelled at her children to go indoors. A man carrying lumber hurried out of the way and laid down his burden to watch as they passed. Neighbors whispered to one another, gossiping about what they must have done.

  “I don’t see Robert, do you?” John asked.

  “No.”

  Nor did Will expect to. If Robert got away, he was too smart to try anything now, here.

  Their carriage shook as they continued do
wn the uneven dirt road. Before long, the city faded into the distance.

  The last bit of light waned as the sun sank beneath the horizon on their first day of travel. The entourage stopped. The sounds of soldiers setting up camp for the night drifted through the window.

  A loud shriek sounded behind them. John jumped, covering his ears and pulling his head in closer to his knees.

  “What is that?” John asked.

  “Shrieker,” Will said nonchalantly. He was trying to put up a strong front for John. If he didn’t show any fear, perhaps John wouldn’t be frightened.

  “A what?” John asked.

  “They don’t have any souls… or something like that,” Will said, shrugging.

  Will sat down beside John and draped his arm around his shoulders.

  “Do you think Robert will attempt a rescue tonight?” John asked.

  “Maybe, but probably not,” Will replied.

  John turned his head and stared at him.

  “It’s the first night,” Will said. “The guards will be on high alert. But at the same time, they wouldn’t expect anyone to be so stupid as to attack because of that very reason. So it’s hard to say, but I wouldn’t do it, so I don’t think Robert will either.”

  “Oh,” John said, his shoulders sagging.

  John looked up to Robert. When Drygo’s army killed their father during Celesti’s conquest fourteen years ago, Robert stepped up and helped their mother take care of the family. John got used to relying on him and Will could tell Robert’s absence bothered him.

  “Hey, keep your head up,” Will said. “Remember when you forgot to lock the coop and one of the chickens escaped? Robert spent his own coin to replace it.”

  “Yeah,” John chuckled to himself. “Then a day later he carved your name into the kitchen table. Mom didn’t believe you didn’t do it and you couldn’t sit for a week after that beating.”

  “Yeah,” Will echoed. He still never got Robert back for that. “Robert loves his little bro, and he’d never let anything happen to you. He’ll come through. We’ll get out of this.”

  “Will?” John asked. “What about Mom? We never told her what we’re doing. She woke up this morning and we weren’t there. What’s she going to think when we don’t come back? When we don’t—”

  “Hey, hey,” Will said, giving John a hug. “I said we’ll get out of this.”

  They sat quietly for a while. A fire sparked to life in the distance, the orange glow filling the carriage as it grew.

  John broke the silence. “What do you think they’ll do to us?”

  “I don’t know and I try not to think about it.”

  “I’ve heard terrible things about the king. Bill said he cuts off the hands of thieves and eats them. Francine told mom she had a cousin who was impaled on a stake outside of his village because he knocked over the king’s daughter in the marketplace, and Gus—”

  “Gus? What are you doing hanging around the tavern?” Will interrupted. “Besides, Bill was just trying to scare you so you’d stop stealing his raspberries. You can’t believe everything you hear,” Will reassured him.

  He remembered Francine’s cousin, though. It was a terrible day about eight years ago. Robert and Will were there, but they never told their mother. Drygo’s daughter, Maya, wasn’t paying attention and tripped over him. Drygo insisted it was his fault. What he did to that poor man… And Maya, she just stood there. She didn’t even try to save him.

  “Will, are you okay?”

  “Huh?”

  “Your hands,” he said, nodding at them.

  Fresh blood dripped down the side of his seat. Will’s knuckles were white and his wound had opened again as he’d clenched his fists tighter than he realized.

  “It’s…” Will thought about telling him then decided against it. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

  The door to their mobile prison opened, ending the conversation. The guards tossed in a few pieces of moldy bread and rotten fruit for dinner and slammed it shut again.

  The dull thump of supplies being once again loaded into the carts, accompanied by the grunts and shuffles of soldiers, woke Will the next morning. Half an hour later, they resumed their journey.

  As the days went by, the scenery slowly changed around them. The deep green of the northlands gave way to the red and brown of the south. Even the snow atop the Frostpeaks melted away. At first, the temperature was a welcome change. Now, the heat almost seemed stifling.

  Many of Will’s injuries had begun to heal, but his ribs still throbbed. Each rise and fall of the sun did little to calm their nerves, however. John fidgeted in the corner.

  “If Robert is going to rescue us, it’s going to be tonight,” Will said, trying to reassure him.

  “How do you know?” he asked.

  “Every day takes us farther away from home. The royal guard’s patrols of the highways will increase the closer we get to Shadowhold. Several days have passed without any problems, so our captors will drop their guard.”

  But Will was wrong. Another day passed without a single sign that Robert—or anyone—was out there. Even Will’s spirits began to sink, realization dawning that no rescue was coming. He didn’t know what to tell John.

  On the tenth day, they arrived at Shadowhold.

  Will’s heart nearly stopped as the carriage pulled up next to the sheer cliff at the city’s northern border. The city lay below, cast in shadow as the sun was not yet high enough in the sky. The back wheel of the carriage slipped over the edge as it turned. Will and John gasped and pressed themselves against the opposite wall.

  The carriage driver gave a shout and the horses whinnied in response as they pulled the wheel back onto land. As the carriage leveled out, Will’s breathing slowed and his heart settled. The only way to reach the city on land was from the north where a road wrapped down around the inside of the escarpment.

  Will approached the window with caution. The glare of the sun reflected off the clear, teal water of the Coral Cove to the city’s west, the land forming a huge crescent around it.

  Its beauty was mitigated by his growing sense of dread, a chill running down his spine despite the warm air. His stomach tightened into knots.

  “Robert’s not coming, is he?” John asked, his agitation teetering between fear and anger.

  “No,” Will told him.

  “You lied to me. You said we’d get out of this!” he yelled, slamming his fist into the wall. “You said Robert would save us. You lied to me!”

  John launched himself at Will. He threw several punches at Will’s shoulder, but there was no weight behind them. John collapsed in his arms and began to sob.

  As Will held his brother, he whispered, “I’ll protect you. I won’t let them hurt you.”

  4

  Lewis Shaw didn’t understand why this type of thing always happened to him. He never got the quiet shifts where nothing ever happened. Instead, he had to get the night shift on the one day out of the year that some fools tried to break into Celesti and steal from the king.

  Now here he was, babysitting a couple of fugitives. The trip from Celesti to Shadowhold had not been kind. What he needed was a nice hot bath to ease the stiffness in his neck. He guessed he should be thankful, though. At least he was out of the frigid northlands.

  Shaw yawned and unlatched the iron deadbolt on the prison carriage. He slid it to the side, releasing the door.

  “Out,” Shaw said, tilting his head.

  Will and John climbed out of the carriage.

  “Hey, do you think we could take a quick ride out to sea? I’ve never been on a boat before,” Will asked.

  A deep laugh escaped from Shaw. “What do you think this is? A vacation? You’ll be lucky to see the sun again.”

  “Don’t I get any last requests?” Will pleaded with feigned shock.

  “Get moving,” Gill said, pushing the tip of his sword into Will’s back.

  “All right, all right,” Will said as he turned and walk
ed toward the palace.

  Their progress was slow considering the shackles still around the brothers’ ankles. Shaw was ready to be rid of them, then he could forget this ever happened and go back to more important things, like relaxing on the beach.

  They plodded past the palace and into a small cave in the cliff where a massive iron door stood. Beyond it sat the prison. The hinges of the door squealed open. The echoing shriek kept the loudmouth brother silent for the time being, a momentary reprieve for Shaw’s sanity. Perhaps now the thief would recognize just how much trouble he was in. He didn’t know Lord Drygo like Shaw did.

  Shaw’s respite was short-lived as the tunnel widened into the greater prison area: five rows of cells each ten cells long, packed full of prisoners.

  “Wow, you’d think with all that gold you could afford a nicer place,” Will said, scrunching his nose. “I thought we’d at least get chamber pots here, but judging by the smell…”

  Shaw hated the prisons. He almost never worked down here, and if he came anywhere near them in the next year it would be too soon. The combination of blood, sweat, and fecal matter left little to desire in a prison shift. Not to mention the intermittent sobs and moans filling the whole dungeon.

  They came to a stop outside an empty cell. Shaw would have preferred to dump the loudmouth in with the murderers and psychopaths, but the grand marshal had given specific orders that they were not to be harmed.

  That didn’t stop Shaw from roughing him up a bit though. After all, the boy had called him fat. Shaw was in excellent physical condition, despite the love handles. Somebody needed to teach the boy some manners.

  Oh well, what does it matter? Shaw thought. He won’t be my problem much longer.

  Gill opened the cell door. Shaw shoved Will and John to the floor and laughed as the cell door slammed shut behind them.

  “Let’s go,” Gill said. “I could use a nap or something.”

  “You and me both,” Shaw said, rubbing his neck.

  “Chamber pots…” Gill sniggered as they walked back up the tunnel. “Did he expect to be staying in the royal suite?”