Soul Render (Soul Stones Book 1)

by T. L. Branson

  “…why I came in here with the amnesia and all,” Will chuckled.

  Jefferson eyed him suspiciously, whether from his eyes flashing blue or the blatant lie, he didn’t know.

  “Right this way, sir,” he said.

  He dropped Will off in the medical section and once again went back to the front of the library. When Will could no longer hear his footsteps, he peered back into the aisle and, seeing no one there, crept to the door leading into the room containing the old books. He reached out to open the door.

  Locked.

  As he stepped back to think about what to do, the door opened. He spun to face the bookshelf nearest him, surprised to see it was Red who came out. Red gave him the smallest of glances, but it was enough for Will to confirm it was the girl he’d run into. In that brief instant, it looked like shock registered on her face. Then she was gone as quickly as she had come.

  Before the door had a chance to shut, Will stuck in his foot, keeping it open. After checking once more to make sure no one was watching, Will slipped into the room, letting the door close behind him.

  8

  Talon approached the door in the tunnel and rapped his fingers against it, two short then three long. The door swung away from them, the hinges grinding and groaning as it did. Light spilled into the tunnel and Robert raised his arm to cover his eyes. The smell of sea salt and the sound of waves crashing into rocks rushed in after it.

  Talon stepped over the doorframe and Robert followed him in. Robert lowered his arm and realized they were in some sort of large hidden cove. To his left, the great mouth of the cave led to open ocean as far as his eyes could see.

  Waves crashed against the outside walls while the rest of the water spilled into the cove rushing below him where it slowed and came to rest at a small port of some kind at the back of the cove. Three midsize ships were docked, their sails seemingly filling all available space.

  The door whined as it closed behind him and came to rest with a loud metallic thud.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Talon said.

  “Where are we?” Robert asked.

  “South of the city on the other side of the Thumb,” Talon said.

  “The what?” Robert asked.

  “Not from around here are you?” Talon asked. “No matter. The Thumb’s just what we call the southern strip of land that creates Shadowhold’s Coral Cove. Kind of looks like a thumb if you make a pincer gesture.” He held up his hand, opening and closing his finger and thumb like a crab might.

  Robert stared at him with a blank expression.

  “Never you mind. It’s not important. Here,” Talon said, extending his arm. “Meet Scout.”

  Robert turned to see a boy about John’s age. Scout saluted and extended his hand, a huge smile on his face.

  “A newblood!” he exclaimed. “Now maybe Strike will have someone else to pick on.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Robert said, shaking his hand. “My name’s—”

  “Uh-uh,” Talon said, holding a finger up. “No names here. Only titles. Scout’s our lookout. We’ll give you a name once you’ve proved your worth.”

  “I just got my name last month,” Scout said, beaming, then his lips pursed together. “Been here almost half a year though.”

  “You did fine,” Talon said. “Strike didn’t get his name for twice as long and look at him now.”

  “That’s only cause we didn’t use titles back then,” Scout said.

  Talon chuckled uncomfortably and said, “Let’s go introduce you to the rest of the crew.”

  Talon turned and started walking down a narrow path along the right wall of the cove leading to a cave on the other side of the port.

  “What is this place?” Robert asked as they walked.

  “It’s one of our many bases of operation,” Talon explained.

  “Base of operations for what? Why is it so secret? Are you engaged in questionable activity?” Robert asked.

  “Some might consider our actions to be illegal, but I assure you they are anything but,” Talon said. “Based on your actions earlier, I would have guessed that wouldn’t bother you.”

  “It doesn’t, to a degree,” Robert said.

  Now he was really starting to get worried. If they were pirates, Robert didn’t know if he could go along with their schemes, even if they did hurt the crown in the end. He wouldn’t rob and steal from innocents just so he could live a luxurious life.

  But if he refused? He had already seen their base. They wouldn’t likely let him live. He felt as if his hands were tied and he was dropped into the ocean. He was sinking fast and there seemed to be no escape.

  The path leveled out with the floor of the cave. As they drew closer, Robert counted about a dozen men and women on one of the ships. They rushed about, loading supplies and preparing the rigging.

  “What are they doing?” Robert asked.

  “Preparing for a raid,” Talon said.

  Robert waited for further explanation, but none came. Typical Talon.

  “Come,” Talon waved at the cave’s opening. “Our organization accepts people of all talents, but not everyone has the… aptitude, for our more devious business.”

  “And you think I do?” Robert asked, growing more leery by the minute.

  Talon only smirked and kept walking.

  They left the port behind and continued into the cave. It narrowed to where only three people could fit through at a time then opened into a larger chamber beyond.

  Crates emblazoned with the royal seal of Aralith lined the room. A few were open, steel swords glinting in the firelight that filled the room. Others contained wheat, flour, and sugar. But one small box in particular caught his eye. It was filled with a pile of glistening red rocks.

  “Pyridis?” Robert asked. “Where did you get your hands on that?”

  “Pilfered it straight from the isle of Kent,” Talon said proudly. “We don’t have much use for most of this stuff, honestly.” He extended his arm to indicate the whole room. “But everything we take is less in the hands of the crown.”

  “So that’s what you do?” Robert said. “Steal stuff?”

  “Gods, no,” Talon said, laughing. “What do you think we are? Common criminals?”

  That’s exactly what Robert thought, but he was afraid to say so unless these people were the type to chop off fingers and toes to earn one’s silence. He was beginning to wonder if he’d made a mistake following this man. Maybe he should have just gone home and saved his mother at least one of her sons.

  Robert noticed two additional exits to this room aside from the one he’d just come through. The first was to the far right where another tunnel sat, lamps hanging along the walls at intervals down its length. The second was at the top of a set of stairs.

  Right in the middle of the room was a large wooden platform. On top of the platform and straight ahead along the wall were shelves and shelves of sealed crates and various other supplies such as tools, parchment, pots, and fabrics. The stairs leading to the second exit led up and over these shelves, the underside of which carried even more supplies.

  Talon led them up the stairs and into another, shorter tunnel. It branched to the left and to the right. Talon turned left and Robert followed him, wondering what lay the other direction.

  A small wooden wall separated the tunnel from the room behind. Robert could hear muffled voices on the other side. Talon reached out and grabbed its handle, pulled it down, and pushed the door open with his shoulder. The voices silenced and half a dozen heads turned to look at them.

  “Talon!” a young woman said, standing. She had shoulder length blonde hair and a petite frame. “You’re back. Did you determine the purpose for this unscheduled beheading the king arranged?” As if noticing Robert for the first time, she narrowed her eyes and said, “Who’s this?”

  “It appeared to have something to do with the Soul Render,” Talon said, ignoring her second question.

  “The Soul Render? Are you sure?” sa
id a man leaning against the wall. His sleeveless tunic revealed large biceps sporting a tattoo of a striking viper.

  Must be Strike.

  “I’m not positive,” Talon said. “But the rumors are that it left Celesti to return to Shadowhold and Drygo did have some sort of stone with him at the execution.”

  “What does it mean?” asked a voice behind them.

  Robert turned to see a larger man with a crooked nose entering through the door.

  “I don’t know,” Talon explained, shaking his head. “The king was very distraught about something. Perhaps the boy got it to work or broke it somehow. All I know is that whatever he hoped to achieve with the boy’s execution didn’t turn out the way he planned. How did your meeting go, Trout?”

  “Ah,” he said with a wave. “He’s not ready. Don’t know if he ever will be. I met a strange fellow, though. Struck me as odd, but I can’t put my finger on it. He was asking all sorts of questions what he shouldn’t be.”

  “That’s all well and nice, but what about the soul stone?” the woman said again.

  “In a minute,” Talon said. “Today’s execution wasn’t a total bust, though. I want you all to meet this young lad.” Talon pointed his thumb at Robert.

  “Son, this is Trout,” he said pointing to the big man. “He’s our point man to Shadowhold’s working class.”

  “Pleasure,” the man said, nodding.

  “And this here’s Jade,” Talon said, holding his hand toward the blonde. “She’s our resident thief.”

  “I prefer ‘acquisitions manager,’” she said, crossing her arms.

  He introduced two more members of their team and then moved on to the tattooed man and said, “And this is—”

  “Strike,” Robert said.

  “My reputation precedes me,” he said, kissing the viper on his arm.

  “Strike handles the management of all offensive operations,” Talon said. “You’ll be reporting directly to him for tonight’s raid.”

  “Wait… what?” Jade snapped. “You’re going to send a newblood out on his first day?”

  “If he’s half as a good a fighter as his brother, he’ll do fine,” Talon said. “If not, well… there’ll be no great loss now, will there?”

  “Did you just say my brother?” Robert asked. “What do you know of my brother?”

  “I know a great deal about many things, son,” Talon said. “My network of informants goes beyond your imagination.”

  “Who are you?” Robert asked.

  “I’m the Talon, the right hand of the Raven. And, like it or not, you’re now a part of the Revenant. Welcome to the insurrection, son.”

  9

  Shaw finished cleaning off his sword and put it back in its sheath. He leaned on the wall of the alley and banged the back of his head against it, his breathing short and heavy. His right hand started to shake and he curled his fingers into a fist to steady them.

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to make sense of what happened.

  He had heard Drygo. Had heard him in his mind. As if the king were there, right next to him. And then… and then the king killed the man. It wasn’t the man’s death that bothered him, he would have done the same. It was that he lost control of his body, a helpless bystander trapped in his own mind.

  The king was far more powerful than anyone gave him credit for. He could do unimaginable things, crimes beyond anyone’s wildest dreams. It scared Shaw, and he didn’t scare easily.

  He steadied himself and pushed off from the wall. He had no choice but to proceed with his investigation. If Drygo could take control of him at any point, that meant he could likely see through his eyes whenever he wanted. Shaw couldn’t afford to give the king any reason to kill him. Was this how he kept people in line? His control over the various kingdoms suddenly made more sense.

  He traced his steps back to the tavern. Pushing open the doors, a few heads turned his way as he reentered. Spotting the blood spatter on his uniform, they quickly turned away.

  Shaw approached the bar and inquired with the barkeep if he’d seen any suspicious people lately that might have looked like the old man. The barkeep shook his head and went back to serving drinks.

  Taverns were as good a place as any to continue his search. Many a barkeep was more informed of the goings on in the city than the king’s advisors themselves. Shaw left the establishment and stepped back out into the harbor. Just a short way down the street was another tavern he’d frequented on occasion, the Golden Rose.

  He stepped inside and scanned the crowd. When he made eye contact with the barkeep, the man looked down at his chest and raised an eyebrow.

  “Day just keeps getting weirder,” the man said. “We don’t want no trouble here, sir.”

  “What did you say?” Shaw asked.

  “I said, we don’t want no trouble—”

  “No,” Shaw interrupted. “Before that.”

  “Oh?” The barkeep paused. “The day just keeps getting weirder?”

  “Weirder?” Shaw pressed. “In what way?”

  The barkeep shrugged. “Guy walks in here and orders water. Who orders water at a tavern? Then he talks about… well, he talks about things the likes the king would frown upon. Shortly after, as if the king’s ears were ringing, one o’ the guard walks in looking like death itself.”

  This piqued Shaw’s interest. He couldn’t be certain it was Will, but it was a decent enough lead. He had nothing else to go on.

  “Did he say where he was going?” Shaw asked.

  “I don’t make it my business to get into other people’s,” the man said.

  Shaw drew his sword and grabbed the barkeep by the throat, bringing the tip of the blade to rest underneath the man’s chin. A collective gasp rose up through the crowd. Shaw glanced back then returned his attention to the barkeep.

  “No more blood need be spilt this day, but I’m not against it,” Shaw threatened him.

  “Aye,” the barkeep said, nodding as best he could. “The temple. He was asking about the temple. No clue what he wanted there, honest.”

  Shaw pulled his hand away and lowered his sword.

  “The crown thanks you,” he said, sheathing his weapon and swiping a mug of ale from off the counter. He downed it in one breath and slammed it back on the bar, then walked out.

  What could Will possibly want at the temple? Shaw didn’t care. It was suspicious enough to follow up on. No drunkard he ever knew had any inclination toward anything spiritual, unless the spirits were in the drink.

  Shaw quickened his pace as the barkeep had said the man had left not long ago. The trail that was hours cold had suddenly gained a little warmth.

  Twenty minutes later he stood at the door to the temple and stared at it. He’d not set foot in the place since he was a boy. His mother and father both died when a rival kingdom destroyed a transport vessel before Drygo had unified the land. A young Shaw came here and offered his pleas to Iket, god of death.

  He’d not set foot inside since.

  He pushed aside his reservations and entered into the temple. It was much as he remembered it, if a little worse for wear. He stalked down the center aisle with purpose and approached the priestess waiting to greet weary pilgrims.

  She gasped and stepped back as he approached. He didn’t have time for this.

  “Have you seen an older man, beard, dressed kind of shabby, acting weird?” he asked.

  Her expression turned to one of curiosity as she said, “Y-yes. He went to the library out back.”

  Will found the text he needed: The Immortal Gods. Unlike most of the books here, the cover was free of dust, as if it had been recently used.

  Curious, Will thought.

  He opened it. The manuscript could hardly be considered a book. It was a series of parchment pages bound together by four sets of thin cords. The low, flickering light of the lone candle and the parchment’s faded ink made it near unreadable. The parts that were legible were written in an archaic form o
f Aralithian.

  Will managed to work out that the stones were crafted in a place called Anima Temple. There was a map on the opposite side of the page that placed the temple within the Wandering Wood, on the other side of the Frostpeaks just east of Shadowhold. He’d never heard of Anima Temple and it was not on any modern maps.

  The sound of a key jiggling in a lock drew Will’s attention away from the book. He tore the page from the book, darted across the room, and pressed himself into the shadows by the door. A moment later it opened away from him and Jefferson walked in without looking back. He slid out through the open door before it could close behind him.

  Will folded the map and stuffed it in his pocket. Working his way back through the library, he exited through the front door and began walking back to the temple.

  “Get out of my way!” a familiar voice yelled from within the temple.

  Will’s heart leapt into his throat and he ducked behind a tall shrub by the library. A moment later Shaw burst through the refectory door and into a small courtyard.

  What is he doing here? Did he track me?

  Shaw whispered something indecipherable under his breath and entered the library. Will didn’t have much time. He needed to get out of the city now.

  He followed a path that led around the temple hoping to avoid further contact with any of the priests or priestesses. In just a few brief strides, he was once again in the street where people continued to move about their day. He breathed easier now that he’d put a little distance between him and Shaw.

  The temple sat along the northern wall, the road rising up the escarpment behind it. He followed the road’s descent to the west, once again sticking to the alleys and less traveled paths to avoid patrols.

  At last, the main gate came into view and he could finally put Shadowhold behind him for now. Will was halfway down the last alley when two men stepped in front of him. The smaller man brandished a dagger, while the taller one stood with his arms crossed, blocking Will’s path. It was Scarface, the man he’d seen in the refectory.