The Soul Sphere: Book 02 - The Final Shard (6 page)

Chapter 3: Shadows and Shadowlands

Lucien and Alexis traveled most of the night to put as much distance between themselves and the goblin battle as possible before they rested. A little before dawn they came to a rocky overhang, not quite a cave, but enough to shelter them from wandering eyes. To the west they could see other small formations of rock, and hills were apparent in the distance. They had reached the edge of the Great Plain. They rested for a while, dozing a bit but not really sleeping, then, seeing the sun rising in the sky, took a small bite of food and pressed on.

They moved southwest, and as they did so the ground grew rocky and the soil more coarse. Whereas the Westerland was fertile, the goblin lands were more difficult to work for raising crops or animals. It was done, to be sure, but the goblins as a whole were hunters and warriors, and parties often traveled well south, north, or west to hunt game. To the east the land of men seemed a paradise, and in the past there had been open war between goblins and men, but now each kept mostly to their own lands and lived with an uneasy, informal peace. There was little trust, but at least there was no longer open aggression. Lucien often wondered what would happen when the game became scarcer, and hungry goblin eyes turned east once again. He could picture scenarios where he would have met Alexis or any of the others on a field of battle, and where the struggle to the death would have been against them rather than with them.

They found a dirt path that had not been used for some time. Sparse vegetation had started to cover it up, but it was still easy enough to track and it went in the right direction, and as tired as the riders were, it gave the horses a simple line to follow so their riders could let their thoughts drift elsewhere.

They plodded on past noon, a hot sun rising in the cloudless sky and making them drowsy in the saddle. Every so often a light breeze gently wafted by, pushing aside the closeness of a warm afternoon and teasing them with the subtle fragrance of newly blossoming spring flowers. But underneath there was a dark, wet smell, as of a deep, forgotten dwelling that had known death, a smell no flower’s scent could mask.

A distant rumble sounded, just on the threshold of perception. Lucien had closed his eyes, the swaying of his horse hypnotic. He had shaken sleep off several times already, but now he was falling deeper, deeper. The thunder in the distance sounded soothing, making him think of rain pattering off the roof while he dozed snug under a pile of blankets. Thunder…

Lucien’s eyes shot open and he was alert instantly. He scanned the horizon and saw what he expected—no sign of clouds at all. “Riders,” he said, swiveling his head, looking for a place they could go to ground. A small copse of trees several hundred yards to the right was not dense enough to hide them, and the hills here were shallow.

Alexis drew herself up tall in the saddle. If she was afraid, she did not show it. “Should we stay on as we are? Those trees will not hide us, and even if we want to flee, we cannot do so until we know what direction they come from.” The Plain was still visible to the east and clearly the riders were not there, but north, south, and west were all still possibilities.

“We stop and listen.”

They waited while the distant hooves grew louder. Finally, from the west, they saw the riders outlined against the horizon as they crested a hill. They rode swiftly, and more or less directly at them.

“If we run, must be east,” said Lucien.

Alexis shook her head. “It’s the wrong direction, and we will be easy to spot.”

“We go on. If they see us and want talk, we talk.”

“It might even be your pack.”

Lucien smiled his eerie goblin smile. “Our luck not that good.”

“Hasn’t been that bad either, all things considered.”

They rode on, casually, as if oblivious to the approaching riders. As they moved south, the riders continued for a time in a straight line, such that the intersection of the two groups’ paths would be well behind where Alexis and Lucien currently were. But just as they began to hope they would be missed, the riders turned and moved at them with renewed vigor.

Lucien reined in his horse. “Wait now.”

Alexis nodded and studied the approaching group. They numbered thirty or more, and they wore purple and green, rather than the black and red Lucien donned. “Do you recognize them?”

“Yes. They are Salesh.”

Alexis waited a time for more, but Lucien was unwilling to comment further without prodding. “Is that good or bad?”

“Not as good as hoped for. Maybe not as bad as I fear.” He turned to look at her. “If not want to give extra horses as gifts, send home now.”

“They are not mine to give.”

“Then send away, or they be taken. Horses we ride we might keep. Excess easier to take.”

Alexis whispered a few words to the four horses that were currently without riders. They paused for a second, looking from Alexis to the goblins riding toward them. Alexis spoke again, her tone more stern. The horses pivoted and raced away to the northeast. She had to check her own horse to keep him from following.

The riders were upon them two minutes later, encircling them despite the fact they had shown no interest in fleeing. Several goblins had warblades drawn, but most did not. Lucien took this as a good sign, but he noted several archers in the group as well. Even if he believed the Lorgrasian horses superior to those of the goblins—and he did—he knew if they tried to race away they would likely earn arrows in their backs for the attempt.

Lucien’s eyes settled quickly on the largest of the goblins. This one was nearly his size, but not quite. He could tell the goblin measured him as well. This large goblin finally spoke a few words to him in their own tongue.

“I am Lucien in common tongue,” Lucien said. “This Alexis.”

The large goblin smiled. “You speak common language for guest? I will also. Are you lost?”

“Travel to find pack.”

“Is woman hostage?”

“No. Sister-in-arms.”

The goblin studied Alexis. “Lorgrasian?”

“Yes,” Alexis replied.

“I wonder if you prisoner, and he say not to speak. We do you no harm here. I not interested in trouble with humans. You go if you want.”

“I travel with Lucien freely,” Alexis replied. “I will stay.”

The goblin shrugged. “You spy, Lucien?”

“I have been many things, but never spy.”

“Then why out here, so far from pack, traveling with Lorgrasian female?”

“Was sent to treat with humans, to join forces against Dark One.”

“Who sent you to do this?”

“Durst. My chief.”

“He presumes to speak for all goblins?”

“He speaks for own pack.”

“And what of others with you?”

“There were no others.”

The big goblin turned to one of his bowmen. “Horses riderless,” the bowman confirmed.

They looked back at Lucien. “Six Lorgrasian horses? You travel well, or others were unseated. Perhaps in battle?”

“Saw signs of battle to north. Delosh and Omwee. Did not see it happen.”

The goblin thought for a moment. “So you sent to make alliances. Is this female your lone success?”

“All Arkania prepares for war. Lorgras, Delving, and Corindor will be readied by others met on journey. I hope to muster our people.”

“To what end?”

“Assault on Veldoon, and on Solek.”

“Your journey has been long?”

“Almost six months.”

“Things change much since then. Dead Legion had their time, but now take war somewhere else. But our land now worse than ever, and game scarce.”

“War has begun between packs,” Lucien stated.

The large goblin nodded. “I speak no more. Grosh will decide what to do with you. I hope I not need to make you walk. Journey swifter on horse.”

“I not doubt accuracy of your bowmen,” Lucien replied. “We ride with you as unbound prisoners.”

The lead goblin smiled. “Excellent. Kabrinda do show some intelligence from time to time. Keep weapons as they are and you keep them. Touch them and you die.” Before Lucien could reply he kicked his horse and started away to the east. Lucien and Alexis followed, and soon found themselves riding in the center of the group. The eyes of the goblins never left them, giving them no opportunity to consider escape.

*          *          *

Corson woke to find the dwarf camp alive with activity. A small breakfast had been laid beside his mat, which he dug into and enjoyed. As he was finishing, he saw Demetrius speaking with Gellan, and the two of them overlooking some sort of excavation work several hundred yards from the camp. As Corson approached, he saw the shovels of the dwarves rising and falling with well-honed precision. They worked in teams of four, and the earth and stone gave way quickly before them

Demetrius turned at the sound of his friend’s footsteps. “Good morning,” he said. The words and the tone were pleasant enough, but his face was somber.

“I must have been more tired than I knew,” Corson said. “I didn’t mean to let so much of the day slip by. You should have dumped some water on my head.”

“Tomorrow, perhaps,” Demetrius said. “I’ve just risen myself.”

“Your trip has been long and hard,” Gellan said. “A few hours of sleep while others keep watch is to be treasured, I would think. Trouble yourself no more with this.”

“My thanks, Gellan,” Corson answered. “For you kind words, the food and drink, and the sleep.”

“It was good to host friends again, even if the surroundings are not the fine carved halls dwarves prefer. With such grim work, it was good to talk of other things, if only for one evening.”

“ ‘Grim work’?”

Gellan gestured at the digging dwarves.

Corson looked a second time, and noticed now another tool being used—dwarven axes. And once an axe fell, the shovels returned dirt and stone to the hole they had made.

“We must deprive Solek of his resources,” Gellan said, “though it pains me to do so foul a deed.”

“You’re digging up graves and…”

Demetrius laid a hand gently on Corson’s shoulder and said simply, “Yes.”

Corson tried to untangle his tongue. “We have found need to do similar deeds. Dark though they seem, they are necessary.”

“I know,” said Gellan. “And I appreciate your words, though they cannot remove the stain I feel on my soul from ordering such a thing. Worse, these are dwarves who fell in battle and were buried in this open field by men. They meant well, and honored the dead I am sure, but these should rest in the halls of their ancestors. Not only do we abuse the bodies, we must rebury them in this place.”

“Someday you will return,” Demetrius said, “after Arkania has been purged of the Dark One, and will give these a proper dwarven funeral.”

Gellan forced a weak smile. “It is my fondest wish to do all you have said. My axe hungers to taste Solek’s blood, foul and black though it will likely be.” He fell silent for a moment, then shook himself back to the present. “Come, my friends. The sun is up and the day is brisk. I wish to have you depart upon more pleasant thoughts.”

They readied their horses and supplies, accepting only fresh water for their skins. They thanked Gellan for his hospitality and departed, promising to return or send messengers when plans were made to march to Veldoon.