Soul of Power

by G David Walker

  Still no sign of Reyga. He stepped to another location, and almost immediately he could feel his power calling to him. It was faint, like it was coming from a distance, but he had the strangest sensation that it was somewhere nearby. It was as if something was restraining it, dampening it. He took a moment to determine which direction the sensation was coming from, and then began walking through the trees toward its source.

  He came to an abrupt stop a few moments later as the trees opened up to reveal a village. He frowned as he looked at the buildings. Although he was probing the structures with his Altered senses, nothing registered. If his eyes hadn’t told a different story, he would have thought this to be an empty clearing. His reserve of power was here, inside one of these phantom structures, but he sensed nothing else. He moved over to one of the buildings, and raised his hand to touch it, to verify its existence. Just before his fingers brushed the rough wood, he stopped, his eyes widening. When his shadowy guise touched the wood, his power recoiled, leaving his fingers exposed. What is this? What kind of wood was proof against the power of an Altered? Against his power?

  He looked up as the quiet sound of voices came to him, carried on the slight evening breeze. There were people here too? And yet he could not sense them any more than he could sense this building right beside him. Something was very, very wrong here. He moved back into the woods and circled toward the voices. He stopped as a low hanging branch blocked his way, and slowly raised his hand to it. If it was the wood itself that could nullify his power, he was in a very precarious spot. He sighed as his black aura caressed the rough wood with no apparent ill effects. He quietly pushed his way around the branch and resumed his slow movement toward the unseen speakers. If the people here had the same effect on his powers as the structures, he would have to be very careful.

  A few moments later, he saw the source of the voices. Two men stood speaking softly, just outside the door to a medium-sized hut. Regor’s senses told him that this was where he would find Reyga. Watching to make sure he didn’t run into any other inhabitants, he made his way to the back of the structure holding the Loremaster, and moved so that he could just see the two men around the corner of the building. He stepped back and studied the hut. There was a small window in the end, although he couldn’t imagine what such a small opening would be good for. He peered inside and saw Reyga asleep on a rough cot, with a pair of shackles hanging from his wrists. Were the shackles impeding his dimsai? If so, he would have to get them off the old man somehow. But first, he had to deal with the two sentries. If they were also impervious to his power, something his lack of ability to sense them seemed to imply, his normal means of dealing with humans would not work. He thought for a moment, and then moved back to the edge of the woods. Dark tendrils of force severed two branches the thickness of his wrist from a nearby tree and began shaping them. Once he was satisfied with the results, he cloaked them within his shadows and made his way back to the hut.

  He could hear the men quietly arguing.

  “I tell you, he has no place being here,” one said. “We should just kill him and be done with it.”

  “I agree that he does not belong here,” the other replied, “but he is a Loremaster. A member of the Circle itself. There is no telling what the Circle will agree to in order to get him back safely.”

  “Aye, no telling. What if they just send their army in to get him? Their power may not be able to touch us, but the same cannot be said about their blades.”

  “They will not ri—”

  “Greetings, gentlemen,” Regor said, as he stepped into the open still wearing his Altered disguise. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

  Both men grabbed for the swords hanging at their sides. “Who are you? What are you doing here?” one asked.

  “He is an Altered,” said the other. “I have heard the descriptions. This one is called Regor.”

  “I am flattered that you have heard of me,” Regor said.

  “There is nothing to be flattered about,” the man said. “Your power is useless here, Altered. Begone!”

  “I thought as much,” Regor answered. “So, I brought you gifts instead.”

  “We do not need your gifts.”

  “Oh, but I insist.”

  A moment later, both men lay dead on the ground, impaled by the thick spears Regor had created and hurled at them with his power. Carefully stepping around their bodies, he entered the hut and stood over Reyga’s sleeping form, studying the manacles on his wrist.

  Just to see what would happen, he probed at the metal with his power. As he expected, there was no immediate reaction. He increased his power, and focused it, testing the metal. Still nothing. He released his dimsai, and then did a double take. Just at the end, just before he pulled his power back, he’d felt something. For the barest instant, he could sense the shackles.

  He attacked the metal again, concentrating on pouring as much dimsai as he could into it. Let’s just see how strong you really are, he thought. There! He was beginning to sense the shackles. He could feel weaknesses beginning to form. He forced more power into them, almost more than he could summon. Just as he was beginning to think he didn’t have enough, the shackles cracked into small pieces and fell to the ground.

  As the metal fell from his wrists, Reyga awoke. When he saw Regor, he jumped up from the cot, raising his hands in front of his face to stare wide-eyed at his wrists.

  “No!” he said. “What have you—” Then he fell to his knees, clutching at his head. After a moment, he looked up again. Regor was gratified to see that Reyga’s eyes were now solid black.

  “Loremaster Reyga,” he said, “isn’t there something you’re supposed to be doing?”

  Reyga smiled and nodded, his black eyes sparkling. “Oh yes. Yes, there is indeed.”

  *****

  Tal hurried down the passage, trying to smooth down sleep-rumpled hair and fasten his robe of office about himself at the same time. He had been awakened in the middle of the night more in the past cycle than in his entire tenure as High One. His apprentice, Radyn, followed close behind, having been the one to drag Tal from his slumber yet again. They finally made it to the healing area, and Tal pushed into the room. Seryn and a couple of her students were already present. He noted that Seryn appeared to be in as much disarray as he was. She was examining some puncture wounds on Borin’s back, while simultaneously trying to keep loose strands of hair out of her face. Delani and Brin were there as well, but Tal did not see any of the Warders that had accompanied the party. He went over to where the Loremasters not currently being treated were seated on a pair of examining tables.

  “Loremaster Brin, Loremaster Delani. What has happened?”

  “We were taken captive by the Manarach,” Delani said.

  “What? Are you injured?”

  “We are well, High One,” she said. “However, our escort was not so fortunate. They were slain by the creatures.”

  More dead because of my decisions. Tal pushed the thought away. There would be enough time for recrimination later. “How did they capture you?” he asked. “Did they take you by surprise, or with a trap?”

  “Not precisely,” Brin said.

  “Not precisely? What do you mean?”

  “We did not anticipate, with the Blood Iron having the properties it does, that it would also render our power useless,” Brin said.

  Of course! Tal wanted to kick himself for his short-sightedness. Looking back, it was obvious that if they were seeking the Blood Iron for its ability to absorb dimsai, the party themselves would also be affected. His heart sank at the thought that he had ordered his people to go into an extremely dangerous situation essentially defenseless. And now four good men had paid the ultimate price for his mistake. How many more would there be before this was over?

  “Additionally,” Delani continued, “the Manarach are clearly more intelligent than we believed. They used the Blood Iron against us.”

  “They used it against you? Tell me everything,
” Tal said. He listened as they relayed the events of their time in Manarach territory. His eyes widened when they told him how the queen had used the Blood Iron to nullify their power, but he remained silent until they finished their tale. When they were done, he did not say anything at first, as he absorbed what he had been told. Even realizing how dangerous the creatures could be, they had clearly underestimated their abilities. It had apparently taken the queen only moments to realize what effect the Blood Iron would have on the Loremasters, and she had used that information to deadly advantage. Only the arrival of the outcast Manarach had saved their lives. He looked at Brin and Delani, keenly aware that his lack of foresight was the reason they were here in the healing area.

  Delani shook her head. “High One, do not.”

  “Do not what?”

  “You are blaming yourself for what happened to us and to the escort. You should not. What was done was necessary. If the Blood Iron staff works as designed, it may be our only defense should Regor and Airam return.”

  He gave her a weak smile. “And is reading others’ thoughts also part of the Amethyst Order’s abilities now?”

  “No, but I know you have ever been too ready to accept blame when something goes wrong, and too reluctant to accept credit when it is due.”

  “A hazard of my position, I suppose.”

  “High One,” Brin said, “none of us anticipated the effect the Blood Iron would have on our powers. If there is any blame to be given, it is shared equally. In truth, with our knowledge of stone and metal lore, Borin and I should shoulder the larger share. We should have realized what would happen.”

  “I appreciate your words, both of you, but I am the High One of the Circle,” Tal said. “Although we are all entrusted with the safety of Teleria and her people, I have the greater responsibility. The burden is mine to bear.” Before any of them could speak, he went on. “So this other Manarach is bringing the Blood Iron here?”

  Delani frowned at his change of topic, but nodded. “He said he would have it here in three days, perhaps four.”

  “I must confess,” Tal said, “of all of the unlikely allies I could imagine, a Manarach would not be on that list.”

  “You are not alone in that,” Brin said. “I doubt any of us expected help from that quarter. I only hope the staff can do what the papers say.”

  “Forgive me for interrupting,” Seryn said, as she joined them, “but I still need to see to Brin and Delani’s wounds, and they need rest.”

  “Of course,” Tal said. He turned to Brin and Delani. “We can discuss this further tomorrow. I suppose, for now, all we can do is wait for our new Manarach friend to arrive with the ore.”

  “And hope that he arrives as quickly as he said,” Delani added.

  Ishadon

  Jason felt like hundreds of pairs of eyes were watching him through the empty windows of Ishadon as they made their way into the city. Lenai’s description of the strange creatures did nothing to allay those feelings, and the fact that his dimsai wouldn’t work in Ishadon only made things worse. Gatlor and the others had put together a sketchy plan, but it was based only upon what Lenai had told them and what Meryl and Calador had been able to deduce, or assume, after examining the poison quill. If anything unexpected happened, they might all end up fighting for their lives. Plus, the feathered wolf creatures were only what Lenai had seen. What else might be lurking in the shadows of these buildings that she hadn’t seen? Without his power ready and waiting, Jason couldn’t shake the thought that he might be walking toward his own doom. Wow, try to be a little more melodramatic, why don’t you? He mentally rolled his eyes at himself and tried to stay focused. After all, he was surrounded by trained warriors that didn’t rely solely on dimsai to defend themselves. That had to count for something.

  In the growing light of early morning, nothing could be seen moving in the dirt-covered streets of the city. Although the air was cool, the rising sun hinted at a sweltering day soon to come as it forced the shadows into retreat. As they made their way along the thoroughfares, a stubborn breeze tried to kick dust on them from time to time, petulantly throwing clouds of fine grit at their eyes when they ignored it. In spite of the breeze, Jason thought the air smelled stale, like a trunk full of old, moth-eaten clothing that no one had opened in years. He couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose at the odor. Even with the sky peeking through the distant tops of the buildings overhead, the ever-present facades surrounding them, coupled with the fetid odor hanging on the breeze, made it feel like they were walking into a giant tomb.

  Moving as quickly and quietly as possible, they made their way through the streets without incident. Then they turned a corner and saw their destination. Although it looked no different than any of the other buildings around it, Jason knew they were all thinking about what awaited them inside. When they were a block from the entrance, they stopped to make their final preparations. Jason glanced over to the side and saw a number of poison quills littering the ground, probably belonging to the thing Lenai had killed the night before. A trail of dark streaks that must have been the creature’s blood stained the gritty pavement from the discarded feathers up to the entrance. The other creatures apparently dragged their fallen comrade inside, either to try to heal it, bury it, or maybe eat it. As long as it was dead, Jason didn’t care what they did with it. It was one less of the things they had to worry about.

  Gatlor looked at Calador. “Are you certain you wish to do this?”

  “Have you devised a different plan?” Calador asked.

  As Gatlor shook his head, Calador shrugged. “Then this one must suffice.”

  “Very well,” Gatlor said. He turned to the rest of them. “We all know what to do.”

  As they moved to conceal themselves behind the corner of a nearby building, Calador walked toward the entrance to the creatures’ lair. Watching from their hiding place, Jason saw the warrior stop a few yards from the building, glance around, and then pick up two pieces of rubble about the size of his very large fists. Calador turned back to them, gave one nod, and then walked the final few steps to the entrance. After an instant’s hesitation, he stepped inside and sent a roaring challenge into the depths of the structure, followed by the first of the chunks of stone he was carrying. Jason heard a screech from inside, and saw Calador throw the other piece of rubble before grabbing his maul and axe. He stepped forward, just out of Jason’s view, and Jason saw the head of the maul flash in and out of sight as it traveled in its deadly arc. Another screech sounded as the maul disappeared, and then Calador backed out of the building with a number of the poison barbs hanging from his clothing and flesh.

  One of the creatures followed him out and lunged toward Calador’s leg. Jason watched as the axe came down in a crushing blow. But instead of splitting the beast in two, as Jason expected, it merely smashed the creature into the ground. As it struggled back to its feet, it was clear that the quills also served as a natural defense for the creatures, and a strong one at that, considering the blow it had been able to absorb. Calador continued backing away from the building as several more quills took their places alongside the ones already impaling the behemoth warrior’s body. Jason gasped as he got his first good look at the animals. Although Lenai’s description had been accurate, it still hadn’t prepared Jason for the reality of the creatures. The mandibles snapping from the jaws were the most disconcerting. They were jointed, and looked incredibly strong, apparently used to grasp and pull prey toward the black teeth Jason could see in the gaping maws. He hoped the plating underneath Calador’s skin was enough to protect him.

  Calador continued backing away from the creatures, their angry shrieks filling the air. Occasionally, a well-timed swing sent another of his attackers flying away. In each instance, however, unless his blow landed on an unprotected underside, the creature got back to its feet, shook its head, and then resumed its pursuit. Jason watched more and more of them emerge from the building. He counted twenty before giving up trying to figure out ho
w many of them there were. For his part, Calador was starting to look like he had as many quills on his body as the creatures did. Jason saw him pull his arm back for another swing, but the axe slipped from his grasp as he started pulling it forward. The huge warrior shook several feathers loose from his hand before retrieving the axe. He looked over to where they were hiding, and then turned his back on the creatures, and began jogging up the street, the screeching, snarling horde following close behind.

  When the last of the monstrosities had disappeared up the avenue, the group ran toward the building, Gatlor in the lead, with the three Warders guarding their rear quarter. Jason hoped they didn’t run into anything the others couldn’t handle, since he wouldn’t be any help without his power. Everyone except him, Meryl, and Seerka had their weapons at the ready, even though it was doubtful they would be of any use should they run into any more of the creatures, considering how ineffective Calador’s battle axe had been. After instructing the Warders to guard the entrance, Gatlor led the rest of the party inside.

  Nyala had given them the layout of the building, and they followed her instructions closely, making their way through the maze of hallways and corridors. Jason stifled a cough at the putrid smell of decay that permeated the air, growing stronger the further they went into the structure. The interior didn’t look much different from office buildings Jason had seen back on Earth. The walls were composed of metal panels, with hollow rectangles exposing wires and conduits here and there where the panels had been dislodged. The fallen panels still lay underneath where they had been mounted, a thick layer of dust covering their once shiny surfaces. Although the light diminished somewhat the further into the building they went, the walls, floors, and ceilings were reflective enough to allow the sunlight to penetrate into the deeper reaches of the building. Calador’s plan appeared to have worked; they didn’t see any more of the creatures as they moved into the depths of the building, but a scattering of gnawed bones attested to the beasts’ occupancy. They stopped at the top of a long staircase that led down into the gloom of a lower floor. According to Nyala, once they went down the stairs, two more turns should bring them to the main hall of the lower level. Her lab was at the far end of that hall, and they would find the Red Diamond on a counter directly across from the door to her workspace.