The War of Stardeon (The Bowl of Souls)

by Cooley, Trevor H.

  Faldon rode up to them alongside the cavalry and the other council members. They all looked battle weary and many of them were wounded. “We need to go now! We drove off that last bunch but another large group is right behind us.”

  “We’re ready,” said Justan. He looked to Jhonate. “Hurry, take Albert. I don’t think he can handle Fist’s weight on the ride back. Fist climb up! Let’s go!”

  They started off at a gallop but their burden slowed Gwyrtha down. Fist touched his mace to her side, but Justan had been forced to use up the last of her energy to make the changes and she was tired in a way that Justan had never seen her. They fell to the back of the group. The others slowed down, looking back in concern, but Justan waved them on.

  “Keep going, sweetie,” he coaxed, patting Gwyrtha’s neck.

  “They are coming,” Fist said. “And there are many of them.”

  “Will you hold on to Master Coal for me?” he asked the ogre and stood in the saddle, pulling Ma’am from his shoulder. He focused and turned, stepping around Fist, then stood on Gwyrtha’s haunches, assessing the situation.

  They ran forward in a steady stream, beasts of many types ranging from modified orcs and cats to enormous centipedes with mouths wide enough to swallow a man. Justan drew an arrow and focused on slowing them down.

  He fired strategically, blasting groups of smaller creatures into the air with fire or air arrows, and bursting larger creatures with water or earth. It was working. They were falling back. Then he realized he had just two arrows left.

  “How much further, Fist?” he asked as the enemy surged forward.

  There was a great boom and a lightning bolt fell from the sky stunning several beasts. Fireballs exploded into the midst of them, followed by several volleys of arrows. Justan turned. Wizards and elves stood atop the hills on either side of the road, raining death upon the remnants of Ewzad’s horde while the warriors of Sampo stood protectively in front of them.

  “We’re here,” Fist said.

  The cave looked like a wide crack that opened into the hill before them. Several wizards stood nearby, ushering people in. The cavalrymen were already dismounting and leading their horses in.

  Justan climbed down from Gwyrtha’s back and found Deathclaw standing there waiting for him. Justan swallowed. “Deathclaw, I’m sorry. I almost had her again, but she got away.”

  I know. Fist told me, said Deathclaw, but the raptoid didn’t seem angry. Don’t worry, Justan. I will kill Talon soon enough.

  From the intense feeling coming through the bond, Justan didn’t doubt it.

  “Sir Edge!” said a familiar voice and Wizard Beehn rolled towards him, propelling his chair with tightly controlled gusts of wind.

  He ran forward and embraced the man. “It’s good to see you, but-.”

  “You have a burden for me to bring over,” Beehn replied. “He didn’t know what it was going to be, but prophet wanted me to be there for just that purpose. Where is it?”

  Justan blinked in surprise and gestured to the centaur that was tied down to the giant corpse. “He’s unconscious. We need to get him to Master Latva.”

  “That is a surprise,” Beehn said. He frowned, but the sounds of approaching battle got louder. “I’m sure you’ll explain later.”

  He stuck out his hands and made a lifting motion and Justan saw an intense amount of air magic pool under the centaur’s body. The ropes around it fell apart and the centaur rose about two feet into the air.

  “Would you mind pushing me?” Beehn asked. “I can’t seem to do this spell and push the chair at the same time.”

  “Of course,” Justan said. He turned the chair and Samson’s body swung with them.

  Justan pushed the wizard to the mouth of the cave and went inside. The portal opened up along the back wall of the cave. It brightened the cave with a shimmering light and a steady mist flowed out of it, but Justan could not see what was on the other side. He pushed Beehn forward, but stopped right in front of the portal.

  “I’m not going through yet. Not until the others are through.” He stopped and looked back. “Uh, Poz, would you help push the professor through?”

  The freckle faced graduate nodded and took his place. Justan ran back outside the cave to see wizards and elves running towards them.

  “We’ve held them off as long as we can!” Shouted one wizard that Justan recognized as Munsey, the council fire wizard. “They’ll be right behind us.”

  Justan realized that Gwyrtha wasn’t going to fit through the portal. He rushed to her side and reduced her back down to her normal size. The rogue horse let out a sigh of relief as her energy rose back to its regular brilliant levels.

  I’m small again! she said happily.

  People crowded into the cave until only Justan, Jhonate, and his bonded remained.

  “What do we do?” Fist said.

  “We go in,” Jhonate said, grabbing Justan’s hand.

  Justan’s parents appeared at the mouth of the cave, urging them in.

  “I’m just waiting for Deathclaw,” Justan said.

  “What if he doesn’t want to go?” she asked.

  “He’s coming.” Justan backed everyone down to the cave entrance.

  Go! The raptoid ran over the hill in front of them. The head of a large centipede-like creature rose above the hill behind him, followed by bulky greenish creatures with large slavering mouths that dripped slime as they moved.

  “Trolls!” Jhonate yelled. “Modified trolls!”

  “Get in and get behind me!” Darlan shouted from the entrance behind them, her arms raised as she prepared a spell. They ran inside and the moment Deathclaw darted in, she thrust out her hands.

  A column of fire burst from her palms, extending outward in a large cone shape, covering the hill in front of them. Rock burst upward from the ground beneath the cone and melted, swirling around and scattering everywhere immolating everything within its range.

  It lasted maybe fifteen seconds, but when she lowered her hands the area in front of the cave glowed white hot, the hill in front of them sinking as it melted.

  Faldon was there to catch her as she released the spell and he pulled her back towards the portal. “That bought us a few minutes.” He looked around at them. “Well what are you waiting for?”

  “We have an issue,” said Sir Hilt. Beth and Charz stood beside him.

  “What is it?” Justan asked.

  “Four people have to stay behind and release the lodestones so that the portal closes. The four people on the other side are already ready with theirs.”

  “But?” Justan said. “You mean to stay behind to face these monsters alone?”

  “There is a back way out of here,” Beth said. “The four who stay behind won’t die today. I have foreseen it.”

  “Why can’t we all go through and just have them pull the stones on the other side?” Faldon asked.

  “The portal location is permanently fixed,” Beth said. “Even with the Mage School side closed, the council is worried that with the forces at Ewzad’s disposal, he could find a way to force his way through. We can’t give him a back door into the school.”

  “The three of us have been ready to stay behind all along,” Hilt said. “The Mage School is going to need eyes that can report back to them and Charz can send messages back and forth. Whoever stays behind will remain outside the school until the war is over.”

  Charz snorted. “Antyni was gonna stay, but she says she can’t do it now that she has a responsibility to her people or whatever.”

  “We need someone else to stay with us,” Hilt said.

  “I’ll stay,” said Darlan trying to push away from Faldon’s arms. “You all get away.”

  “No,” said Faldon. “You’re too weak to resist me and I’m taking you in there with me.”

  “Surely there’s someone else who can do it,” Jhonate said.

  “No,” said Hilt. “The prophet said it would be one of the last five who entered the cave.”


  “Then it has to be me,” Jhonate said.

  “No,” Justan said.

  “No,” said Charz. “It has to be a magic user.”

  “I will stay with you,” said Fist, walking forward and Justan’s heart sank.

  “Oh!” said Beth with a smile. “That would be so nice, but no. It doesn’t feel right.”

  Justan swallowed in understanding. Of course it would be him. How was he going to leave his bonded without him at the Mage School? He just saw his mother again after so long. He looked at Jhonate, his heart heavy. He didn’t want to leave her. Not now.

  “I will,” said Deathclaw. I have magic.

  “But Deathclaw I don’t think you-,”Justan began.

  “He’s the one,” Beth said with a nod. “I feel it.”

  I do not wish to be stuck around all those people anyway. Deathclaw said. I will be your scout outside the school.

  Justan hugged him. “I’m going to miss having you around.”

  Deathclaw froze. He had never been hugged before. Finally, Deathclaw patted his back and Justan felt his affection returned through the bond. I will miss you too.

  Justan stood back and Fist picked Deathclaw up in a mammoth hug of his own. “I’ll miss you too!”

  Me too! said Gwyrtha

  Don’t make me scratch you, the raptoid said in irritation. Put me down.

  Fist did so reluctantly and Deathclaw walked over to Hilt’s side. The four lodestones were set in the back wall, two on either side of the portal, and Beth showed him which one to take.

  Faldon and Darlan entered the portal, followed by Jhonate and then Fist and Gwyrtha. Justan paused just outside and looked back.

  I will contact you each night, Justan sent.

  Deathclaw nodded in response and Justan walked into the misty light.

  Chapter Thirty Four

  Justan stepped into the mist and a moment later walked out of the portal into a large ornate hall. The floors were made of polished marble, the walls painted white with gold filigree. Enormous pillars rose to the ceiling, each one covered in colorful murals. The hall was full of people, academy students and refugees, some being healed, others being guided away by Mage School students in work robes.

  There was movement behind him and Justan saw four wizards remove their lodestones from gold inlaid circles in the wall. The portal vanished and behind it was a mural depicting the portal. He found that distantly funny somehow.

  Deathclaw’s presence was now very far away. Justan had no idea of the raptoid’s thoughts or feelings, but he knew exactly which direction he was in. Justan looked around and realized he didn’t see Coal’s bonded anywhere.

  “Big John!” bellowed Fist. Standing a short distance away, talking to Oz the Dagger, was the prophet. He nodded in response to what Oz was saying a sad smile on his kind face. The ogre rushed forward and picked the man up in a mighty hug.

  The prophet didn’t seem surprised at all. He laughed and returned his embrace. “Fist! You have grown quite a bit since you last called me that. We should have to come up with something else, don’t you think? Now would you please set me down?”

  The moment Fist put him down, Gwyrtha nudged him.

  John!

  The prophet embraced her shaggy head and scratched behind her ears. “Yes, Gwyrtha, I am glad to see you too.”

  Everyone pressed in, each of them with things to say to the prophet, but he raised his hands. “I will speak to each of you later. Right now I have some urgent business to attend to. Edge and bonded! Follow me and hurry. We don’t have much time if this is to work out right!”

  He took a few steps and paused, then pointed to Locksher and Jhonate. “Oh, and you and you too. Come along!”

  The prophet walked quickly through a set of doors and up a curving stairwell. Justan grabbed Jhonate’s hand and followed.

  “Sorry, I know it is a tiring climb after all you have been through today.” The prophet didn’t look back as he spoke but he didn’t have to, his voice reverberated up and down the stairs. “Unfortunately it is necessary.”

  It was a long climb and the ceiling in the curving stairwell was low enough that Fist had to hunch over as he walked. The ogre’s back was aching by the time they reached the top. Gwyrtha had the toughest time of it though, her long claws making it difficult for her to find purchase on the polished marble.

  When they arrived at the top of the stairs, the prophet opened a gilded door with a crystal knob. They walked into a long, elaborately decorated hallway. The prophet shook his head. “You know when this place was first constructed, everything was so clean and austere. But wizards get bored. Leave them alone too long and they start gussying up the place.”

  The floor was covered in a plush red carpet that stretched the hall’s entire length. Flameless torches were mounted into the wall every ten feet between detailed paintings. On the right side were portraits of named wizards and on the left were portraits of named warriors. Justan knew where they were now. They were nearing the Bowl of Souls.

  “Ah, there you are,” said Master Latva, coming in from the door at the end of the hall. He wore his familiar blue robe.

  “Where is he?” The prophet asked in concern.

  “He just walked through,” said the head wizard. “I delayed him as long as I could, but he’s not exactly a talkative man.”

  The prophet jogged past him and pushed open the doors into the Hall of Majesty. Justan ran forward and followed him inside.

  “STOP!” John shouted with a voice of such authority that everyone froze in their tracks. Tamboor the Fearless stood in front of the Bowl of Souls, his body covered in drying blood, his sword Meredith held high in the air. He turned his head to look at them, his eyes troubled and unfocused.

  “Stop, Tamboor! The bowl will not accept you as you are,” said the prophet.

  Tamboor’s arms fell slowly to his sides and his sword slipped from his fingers. His mouth opened and he stepped towards the prophet, his arms outstretched. “John . . . John, they’re-.”

  Tears rolled down his cheeks and he fell into the prophet’s arms, sobbing. “Efflina, Cedric, Lina . . .”

  John held Tamboor in his arms and patted his back gently. To Justan’s surprise, tears rolled down the prophet’s face as well. “I know, Tamboor. I’m so sorry that happened. Come, please. I must speak to you for a moment.”

  The prophet led Tamboor to the far corner of the room and spoke to him in soft whispers. Justan couldn’t make out what was being said, but tears were still falling from the Tamboor’s face and he nodded, responding in soft words of his own.

  “He is talking,” Fist said and the ogre had tears rolling down his cheeks too.

  The doors behind them opened once again and Professor Beehn wheeled in floating the still forms of Coal and his three bonded on a plush carpet before him. His wheelchair was being pushed by the gnome Alfred who was trailed by Lenny and Zambon, both of them looking quite confused about their surroundings. Zambon stared up at the unending tiers of chandeliers hanging from the arched ceiling, while Lenny marveled at the statues of named warriors and wizards that lined the room.

  “I’ll be dag-gummed.” Lenny was still wearing his full suit of shining platemail and pointed with the helmet he held in his hands. “That there’s the Bowl of Souls itself.”

  The prophet looked back at them and motioned. “Zambon, would you please come here for a moment. What we’re discussing concerns you too.”

  The guard shared an uneasy glance with Justan and walked across the hall towards the prophet, his eyes lingering at the Bowl of Souls on its pedestal. The prophet placed his hand around the guard’s shoulder and talked to the two men together.

  Professor Beehn set the carpet down gently next to the rest of them and looked at Justan. “I’d like to speak with you later, Sir Edge.”

  “Of course,” Justan replied and watched as Alfred wheeled the wizard back out of the hall. He turned to Latva, who was kneeling at the head of Master Coal, looking d
own on him sadly. “Master Latva, Coal said that you would know what to do to save his bonded.”

  The wizard blinked and looked up at him. “I am sorry, Edge. That is the prophet’s realm, not mine.”

  “But he said to come to you and mentioned something about the bond being passed on,” Justan said.

  “I suppose I can see why he might think that,” Latva said hesitantly.