King Of Souls (Book 2) (39 page)

Melted snow hissed from the red-hot beams and wooden struts supporting Bawold’s barracks. In the courtyard, shadowy forms shifted and moved under the moonlit night. Tara’s minions shuttled water from Bawold's large central well. They splattered bucket after bucket against the remaining pockets of burning wood.

Tara leaned against the cold stone parapet and wiped frozen tears from her cheeks. Her gaze drifted to Ripool’s lone light source on this cold midwinter’s night.

Thin wispy clouds drifted across the full moon spilling crisp shadows across Ripool’s streets.

Should she end it now? She could relieve centuries of suffering. What did she hope to achieve here anyway? She’d helped the Baerinese become the most powerful civilization on earth. They didn’t need her to conquer Meranthia, did they? She had a personal reason for crossing the sea. A reason so secret she’d never told anyone. Not even General Demos.

Could this young king help her? His soul had burned with an intensity she’d never seen. Even Elan’s soul hadn’t caused her such panic, but did he have power enough to lift her curse?

In Ripool’s night sky, the moonlight revealed a flickering shadow above Bawold’s courtyard.

Tara’s heart slammed against her chest, and she leaped to her feet. She channeled weaves of dark magic calling forward a dozen of her nearby creatures. Had the day’s events left her spooked, or had she seen something? The soul knight and his wretched guardian pet had means to attack, but how many others lurked in the shadows with him? She spun in quick circles craning her neck upward searching the sky around her. Steam clouds, coming in short quick bursts, puffed from her open mouth.

A heavy scratching noise came from the parapet six-feet behind Tara followed by a low steady hissing sound.

Tara whirled as a pair of dark soldiers appeared at her side drawing heavy swords from scabbards strapped to their belt.

“Mistress! Please!” The towering figure of General Gregor Demos sat atop a thin polished saddle strapped to the back of a leathery draco.

The draco opened its mouth revealing a long thin yellow tongue and a set of short razor sharp teeth. It hissed and beat its bony wings preparing for flight.

A wave of instant relief washed over Tara, and her previous doubts and fears vanished. She dismissed her dark soldiers, and they retreated into the shadows leaving Tara alone with General Demos. “Gregor!” A wide smile broke over her face and she stepped back allowing General Demos room to dismount.

The frail appearing draco leaped ahead as quickly as a summer sparrow. Its sharp talons skittered and slipped across the ice covered stone.

General Demos slid his leg over the draco’s back and hopped from the leather saddle.

The draco glanced back at General Demos, bared its short jagged teeth, and screeched. Flapping its wings, it leaped from the stronghold’s wall taking flight. The draco climbed surveying the courtyard below before passing above Bawold’s highest scout tower.

With outstretched talons it descended, settling atop the tower’s wooden roof. The spindly draco turned in a tight half-circle, tucked in its bony wings, and curled into a ball. It settled its long snout atop its hindquarters and dozed.

Tara leaped forward and wrapped her arms around General Demos. She pressed her cheek against his cold steel breastplate and smiled.

General Demos stiffened at Tara’s touch. “Mistress, I was never in real danger although many of our soldiers did sacrifice their lives.” He settled his hand over Tara’s long auburn hair and ran his hand downward smoothing away bits of gray ash and loose snow.

“I was so worried Gregor. Why didn’t you come sooner?” Tara stepped away from General Demos and gazed into his yellow and black eyes.

“I seized the opportunity and followed the soul knight,” General Demos said. “I’m sorry for abandoning you, but I couldn’t rest without knowing where he went.”

Tara found herself nodding. “Yes, of course. That makes perfect sense. You’ll have to excuse me Gregor. The day proved more challenging than I’d bargained for, and I’m not quite feeling myself.”

General Demos bowed. “It’s understandable mistress.”

“What have you discovered?”

“We lost track of the soul knight over the valley beyond the mountain range. He and the guardian traveled further inland, and our draco could no longer keep pace.”

“Did you find the soldiers who fled the city?”

“I haven’t received reports on their movement. But, they followed the only road leading from Ripool. It shouldn’t be hard to track them in the daylight.”

“I don’t want you going after them without me Gregor. It’s too dangerous.”

“There were only a few dozen soldiers mistress. I don’t see an advantage chasing them down.” General Demos’s gaze flickered outward over the sea. “And we face a much larger problem than the one presented by a few fleeing soldiers.”

“What do you mean?”

“This port provides an excellent landing point for our fleet, but we can’t stay here.”

“Can’t stay? Do you fear retaliation? I’ve captured enough creatures to face a much larger foe,” Tara said. “Maybe even the king himself.”

General Demos’s gaze flickered downward, and he held still a moment before continuing. “If the soul knights return with an army including those aligned with the Earth Mother, we face a foe with great strength. We lost a hundred and fifty warriors aboard the Damocles, and this city offers no escape. We’ve no way out by sea, and, with only a single road leading from Ripool, we’re trapped.”

Tara felt her shoulders tighten. “What do you propose? Our fleet needs this port.”

General Demos nodded. “I saw lights coming from several villages along the road leading from the mountain pass. You can collect those souls and strengthen our force before returning to Ripool. I’ve sent scouts to intercept the fleet and report back their location. If we’re lucky we might trap the king’s army inside Ripool and smash him from both sides.”

Tara nodded. If Ronan led his army into Ripool they’d never expect the fleet’s arrival. They could take Meranthia far easier than she’d ever imagined.

“There’s a village a day’s march to the west just beyond the pass. We can go there first,” General Demos said.

“It’s a good plan General Demos. We should sleep. Dawn comes in a few hours and we’ll need the rest. My pets will stand guard.”

***

Black smoke billowed thousands of feet above the Heartwood’s center hanging like a tumor. Smoke mingled with low-hanging clouds creating a horrific shroud on the dead forest canopy.

Seated atop the dragon’s saddle, Danielle turned her gaze away. She stared at the approaching ground her face numb with shock. She knew in her gut the smoke came from the first tree.

The dragon carrying Aren, Danielle, and Arber touched down outside a sprawling desert camp. Scores of dragons and their sorcerer handlers landed beside them along a long thin strip on the camp's perimeter.

A pair of gray-haired shaman lingered near a crackling fire where a whole boar roasted, rotating on a crystalline spit. The shorter round-faced shaman laughed holding his stomach. His taller counterpart nodded and grinned before sipping from a wooden mug. Each man showed little concern for the dead forest lying a half-mile away.

Without asking permission, Danielle slid from the jeweled saddle. Arber sat watching her, his face awash with concern.

Danielle faced the dead Heartwood and sank to her knees. She opened her mouth wide but couldn’t take a breath as a cold numb washed across her body. She shook her head and felt her loose blond ringlets tickle her tear-stained cheeks. A low soul-wrenching groan came from deep inside her body, and she tried to force air into her lungs. A pool of adrenaline raced through Danielle’s arms and legs, and she felt her muscles turn to jelly. “No!” She spoke the word, but it sounded like a garbled, disjointed grunt as it crossed her lips.

Arber slid from the saddle and knelt beside Danielle sliding his arm around her waist. He whispered soft, tender words in her ear. “I’m sorry Danielle.”

Rage roared like hot steam from a boiling teakettle as Danielle turned a smoldering glare on Arber. Using a tone oozing with calculated restraint she spoke words soft and low as she clung to the edge of murder. “Get your hands off me you murderous bastard.” Her gaze bored a hole through Arber’s bald head. “You killed my father.” Her voice trembled and her body shook as she spoke words no child should ever utter about a parent.

Arber removed his hand, nodded, and stood, his gaze lingering over the devastated forest. Tears rolled down his bronze skin, but his expression remained firm and stiff. “There’s so much you don’t understand Danielle.”

Aren appeared behind Danielle and gripped her arm yanking her to her feet. “I’ll not having you milling about unguarded. The emperor will want to speak with you.” He moved in front of Danielle and led her through camp.

Danielle offered no resistance. All her fight had died with the forest. Her thoughts turned to her father who’d faced down his enemies and lost everything. Then to Brees who believed he could make a difference for his people. Her head drifted up and her gaze locked on the back of Aren’s close-cropped hair. The sorcerer’s brother died trying to save his own people from certain extinction yet Aren knew nothing. Would he even care?

Arber stumbled beside Danielle as a meaty hand shoved his shoulder from behind. “You’ve played your part Ayralen,” a deep rough voice said. “Maybe the emperor will spare your life, but I doubt it.” Deep baritone laughter came from behind Arber. But, former guardian ignored the taunt showing no emotion.

Aren walked past crude crystalline huts serving as tents would in an Ayralen camp. Overhead, a thin barrier of blue light filtered the southern sun’s brutal onslaught. The shaman’s magical construction performed its job well. It lowered the temperature beneath the canopy by twenty-five degrees.

A dozen sorcerers and shaman followed Danielle and Arber’s march through camp. They took up positions to their left and right guiding them toward a building on the camp’s far southern edge.

The Obsith’s treatment of Arber both confused and surprised Danielle. Why would they treat an ally like a prisoner? He’d helped them steal Lora’s Sphere and destroy the forest. He’d even admitted his treachery in his journal.

Aren stopped before a crystalline building like others they’d passed but smaller. The odd hut also lacked two key features present in the camp’s other buildings.

The camp’s workers had built the prison’s walls using thick clear crystal.

Above the crystal building, a square hole appeared in the shaman’s sun filter matching the roof’s outline. The clear crystal would focus the sun’s heat like a magnifying glass broiling the prisoners inside.

Danielle could shift forms and escape this place in an instant, but she couldn’t leave Lora’s Sphere with these madmen.

A pair of beefy shaman pried loose a heavy crystal block serving as a prison door. Searing heat spilled from the room’s interior like a baker’s oven on a hot midsummer afternoon.

Aren craned his neck upward and glared at Arber. “She’s alive just as we promised,” Aren folded his arms. “Now that the emperor has the sphere, you’ve nothing left to bargain.” A crooked smile twisted his face. “I can’t wait to watch you hang.” His appraising gaze moved over Arber’s body while a look of pure disgust settled over his features. “Get in.” Aren glanced toward Danielle. “Both of you. The emperor will summon you when it suits his mood.”

Danielle followed Arber into the empty prison building. The crystal door snapped into place behind them.

A heavy thud shook the building’s thick walls as the shaman outside secured the door.

Clear crystal outcroppings jutted outward on each of the room’s four walls. Keeping silent, Arber plodded across a sandy floor hot enough to melt exposed flesh. He sat on the crystal bench and leaned forward wiping droplets of sweat from his glistening bald head.

The room’s stagnant air and broiling temperature drained Danielle’s last drops of strength. She stumbled across the burning sand and collapsed onto the bench opposite Arber.

Taking deep breaths in the superheated air burned Danielle’s lungs, and she fought a growing surge of panic. Despite her exhaustion and bodies demand for cool air, she forced short even breaths and willed herself to stay calm.

Arber remained still seemingly unaffected by the prison’s overwhelming conditions.

Danielle had traveled thousands of miles to pry answers from the disgraced guardian. Now that she sat across from him, she no longer wanted answers. Would his explanations matter now? But, his rough treatment and Aren’s final words piqued her curiosity. “What did Aren mean a minute ago? And why are you locked in here at all? For everything you’ve done, they should be giving you a hero’s welcome.”

Sweat streamed down Arber’s head and face, and he cocked his head toward Danielle. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” His perspiration soaked tunic clung to his body highlighting a score of rips and cuts mixed with layers of filth. Dirt and moisture streaked his stained pants that appeared every bit as worn and shredded as the rest of his outfit.

Danielle pushed away a swath of her soaked blond ringlets sticking to her cheeks and forehead. Arber looked like he’d climbed a mountain and crossed the desert in the same shirt and pants he’d worn last summer. That struck her as odd. He could’ve changed clothing a hundred times in Obsith’s capital. She leaned forward and took a good long look in his direction.