The Soul Sphere: Book 01 - The Shattered Sphere (27 page)

“We would be most grateful,” Alexis said.

“Perhaps while we dine, you can tell me how you came to be together, and what has brought you here.” Despite the duke’s attempt to be more polite, the words held a certain challenge.

Alexis knew better than to rise to the bait. “We would be happy to tell you all you wish to know.”

The duke’s table might have been lacking by his own standards, but it was far from bare, and the travelers ate well. The duke mellowed through the meal, strong wine and the tale of their adventure softening him. They asked for little—a bed for a night and replenished supplies, specifically food and water, warm cloaks, and long lengths of rope—and the duke gave it willingly. Near the end of the meal a guard reported that Lorgrasian horses had approached the city, some saddled but none with riders. Learning they belonged to the party dining with him, he ordered the steeds brought in, cared for, and fed. After inquiring how the work of disabling the dead went and being told the progress was slow but that the workers were un-harassed, he ordered half his available men to the task. He refused to look at any of his guests as he did so, simply grumbling under his breath about the weeks of work they would then have burying those bodies.

“Better your men bury them than fight them,” said Alexis.

The duke nodded his agreement, almost reluctantly.

After they had thanked the duke for his hospitality and been shown to their chambers, Tala, with her companions around her, cast the finding spell to determine where they needed to go next. She sat still on the edge of her bed, breathing deeply with her eyes closed while she flew over Arkania in her mind to some unknown destination. Suddenly her eyes flew open and she uttered a small gasp.

Rowan took her arm. “What’s wrong?”

Tala shook her head to clear it. “I am okay,” she said, avoiding his question just as she avoided his eyes. She worked the Sphere around in her hands as if trying to warm it, blew out a long stream of air, then repeated “I am okay,” before re-casting the spell.

The second casting took longer than usual, and Rowan was almost certain he saw a flash of fear cross Tala’s delicate features despite her best efforts to hide it, but in the end she was successful. “We need to head toward Ludroe’s Keep,” she announced.

“Ludroe’s Keep!” Demetrius exclaimed. “That’s on the far side of Ridonia.”

“So it is,” Tala answered evenly. “And it is where we need to go.”

“Thank the Savior for the horses,” Rowan whispered. “It will be a long journey even with them.”

“What is best path to take?” asked Lucien.

Demetrius collected himself and put his mind to the question. “The swiftest way would be the road from here to Arna’s Forge, then across country south of the Aetos Mountains and the Eastern Forest. Of course, the swiftest route will be the most watched as well.”

“It can’t be helped,” said Alexis. “And even if we take a slower path the enemy will likely be able to find us.”

“Why bother looking for us?” asked Corson. “He knows our destination. He can have his forces meet us there if he so chooses.”

“That is so,” said Tala, “but it would mean diverting his strength from the conquest of Arkania. I think he will be aware of us, but will count on the protections already provided for the remaining shards to stop us.”

“Who can know what’s in such a twisted mind?” Rowan said with a shrug. “We know where we must go. Our choice is simple: go or not. I trust there is no need to even discuss it.”

There wasn’t. They slept and were riding out of Western City before the sun was up.

*          *          *

The road between Western City and Arna’s Forge was one of the best in Arkania, paved with stones over most of its nearly 500 mile length. But once the winter snow arrived the road was no more than a depression in the white blanket that covered the world. A traveler wouldn’t see even a single stone unless he got down on hands and knees and worked the snow aside, but the road still marked a path showing the quickest route between the two great cities.

Alexis set the pace, knowing the horses as well as she did, often speaking to them in the evening to understand how well they were holding up under the rigors they were being asked to endure. The riders made it a habit to change horses during small breaks for the noon meal, and they never traveled much once the sun set. It became apparent that a large portion of the Dead Legion had passed this way as they moved to assault Western City, the homes near the road without fail being abandoned, and many were burned to the ground. It was usually simple enough to find shelter for the night, and often some meager portions of food had been left by the occupants in their haste to leave. The party took as little as they could, knowing the owners might return with the danger apparently past, and Rowan always left a gold coin behind worth far more than what they took. Still, some guilt lingered. “One cannot eat gold,” he said. “And this winter may give way to a grim spring.”

“We do what we must,” Tala said, and to that Rowan could only agree.

Early on the twelfth day of their journey they approached Arna’s Forge, debating all the while whether they should stop for rest and supplies or steer clear. They decided to draw near but with caution, to see if they might find better forage for the horses than the grass the steeds had been pawing from under the snow. The discussion turned to who might move close to the city safely—Alexis had stayed away before, and none of the others felt their return would be a welcome one.

“It looks like it won’t matter,” Corson announced. He had been looking ahead rather than focusing on the debate, and at his words everyone’s attention turned to the mighty city which rose up from the plain along with the first mountain of the Aetos range.

From a distance, the Great Hall built into the mountain looked wrong, different than before, cold and dead. As they drew closer they could see the damage, the walls chipped, cracked and broken, the statues of dwarven kings that had stood for centuries now shattered where they stood or toppled to the ground below. The city wall came into view, a sad imitation of what it once was, the iron gate open and bent on its hinges. No movement inside these fractured walls could be seen.

The company approached and entered the city, no one speaking. The dead were few, and those who had yielded their lives were badly maimed or beheaded, the bodies those of men and dwarves. Demetrius had little doubt they would find no one alive within Arna’s Forge and that back at Western City, as the gruesome work continued, dwarves would be found among the assembled host of the Dead Legion.

Alexis dismounted and entered the Great Hall, the mighty stone doors that had once guarded the entrance now smashed to rubble. More dead littered the main hall, the gold in the carpet stained dark with blood, the banners that had once adorned the walls now in tatters on the ground. More dead were on the stairs leading to the levels above, their bows and axes at their feet or still clasped in frozen hands.

Alexis heard the footfalls of her companions behind her as she crossed the hall-turned-tomb and walked into the throne room. Signs of spilled blood were apparent throughout the room, and everything was a shambles save the throne, upon which sat the lone body in the room. King Meldros wore mail plated with gold, and in his lap he held his own head in his gauntleted hands, the helm askew and the eyes staring blindly forward. Alexis closed her eyes and turned away. “There were times I wanted to slay him with my own hands, but now I feel nothing for him but pity. He has lost everything. It is better he is dead, rather than having to look upon his great fallen city.”

“He trust too much in walls,” said Lucien. “What hold back living not stop dead.”

“This city is now a foul place,” said Rowan. “We cannot rest here. I would prefer to take my chances on the open land.”

All agreed, and soon they rode back out of the city’s destroyed gates. Alexis started to turn her mount south, but Tala said in a hushed tone, “Turn north. Our friend is watching.”

The group dutifully followed Tala’s lead without question or comment, each fighting the urge to steal furtive glances at the dark spy. Eventually Tala called them to a halt and motioned back toward the upper reaches of the Great Hall of Arna’s Forge. “It was perched up in one of the upper windows. It has fled to the east. If we are fortunate, it will give whatever awaits it there a misleading report.”

“It will be simple enough to see that our tracks stop and turn back,” Demetrius pointed out.

“But if they move to intercept us further north we have gained an advantage,” Corson said.

“Let’s pray that Mist does what we hope,” said Rowan, “and that there are no others watching us for now.”

By the time they were ready to find refuge that evening, the tracks they might leave in the snow became a non-concern. A storm that had begun gently enough in mid-afternoon now raged, a screaming wind driving the snow that fell from black clouds above. It was all they could do to stay together and keep moving in what they hoped to be the right direction. Visibility was so poor that even the mountains in whose foothills they planned to travel were temporarily lost from sight.

They braved a fire that evening in a ramshackle barn, shaking off the snow and cold and allowing their clothes and skin to dry out. They were lucky to find a stable that provided some shelter for the horses—the doors were broken and part of the roof was gone, but the horses huddled together under what roof there was and shared the warmth of their own bodies.

Alexis had taken the first watch, and so had gained a relatively long, uninterrupted sleep until dawn when her duty had ended. She peered out through the opening where the barn doors came together and let out a long sigh. The snow continued to fall at a prodigious rate, and, if anything, the wind howled with even greater fury. She looked skyward and saw nothing in the low, heavy clouds to indicate the storm might pass soon.

Rowan stepped up beside her. “I take from your expression that the weather will not be our ally today.”

“It will hide us from distant eyes and cover our tracks, but it will slow us greatly. I would prefer speed to stealth right now. The journey is still a long one.”

“As it was when we both set out from opposite ends of Arkania. We’ve come a long way already.”

She nodded but there was no smile on her lips. “We have lost much as well.”

“But not all.”

“No,” she was forced to agree. “Not all. That is why we press on. But the longer the quest takes, the more I fear we will save little even if we defeat Solek. He has fouled the very land and killed the people of our world in numbers beyond counting.” She glanced at Rowan, studying him, looking for the strength that she felt waning in herself, then looked away, ashamed of her own words and feelings. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I think we may have already lost and we simply fight on out of stubborn pride.”

“If that is a reason to keep on, it is good enough. Fighting evil is always a worthy cause, no matter the destruction already sewn.” He touched her gently on the shoulder. “And I don’t believe that there is so little of the life we have known left that we fight for a lost cause. It may take years to restore the land and rebuild the cities, but it can be done. It will be done.”

“How can you be so certain?”

He touched the cross that adorned his shirt.

Alexis smiled softly. “A vision, Rowan?”

“Hardly that, my lady. Faith.”

She squeezed his hand and said, “Have enough for both of us.” With an effort she forced the door open, the drifting snow resisting her. “I need to see to the horses.”

Rowan followed silently to help.

*          *          *

Corson was the first to cross the line and actually utter the word “blizzard.” By the time he did, there was no point in arguing whether that was the case or not. Progress now became painfully slow, and more and more they used Tala’s spell to make sure they moved in the right direction. As strong and smart as the horses were, there was no road here to give guidance or some semblance of solid footing beneath the snow that piled ever deeper. Like their riders the mounts pressed on with bowed heads, trying to slice through the storm and keep the driven snow out of their eyes.