Finding The Soul Bridge (The Soul Fire Saga Book 1) (28 page)

“Sure we are,” said Thist, “or at least I am. Then I will present them with gifts of liquid refreshment and in the morning they will either be happy that they cooperated or sorry that they didn’t. What are you guys going to contribute to the siege?”

Jem nodded as they walked. “I will build the trebuchet from hell, if it comes to that.”

Kelvin stared at the castle in the distance. “Do you think that a couple of rocks will scare them off?”

“Who says I’m going to sling rocks at them?” said Jem, “Besides, its early days. Let’s see what happens with the tea and step up the attack slowly.”

“Agreed.” said Thist. “Let’s get the wine. I’ll imbue it and the tea before we send it.”

The hair on Jem’s neck rose as a chill ran down his spine and gave him goose bumps on his arms. “Sheesh, imbue the berry wine? Why? That stuff is potent already. It will be like adding fire to flames.”

The crowd of wisps followed them like puffs of fog with eyes. They had become curious, like children trying to glimpse their hero. They jostled for position bumping each other this way and that and flowing over each other like smoke in the wind. Jem occasionally peered back at the wisps, and each time he did they would dart away behind the trees as they tried to hide. It wasn’t long before Jem started to test them by turning and making a surprise face like a father playing peekaboo with his baby.

“Jem, stop that.” said Kelvin.

“Why?” asked Jem.

“You’re being an imbecile.” said Kelvin.

“Don’t be silly,” said Jem, “I think they like us.”

Thist stopped and took a gulp of water from his bottle. “Maybe we can use the wisps to our advantage.”

“We have to get them to be on our side if there is a fight in the forest.” said Jem.

“How do we do that?” asked Kelvin “None of us speak wisp.”

“I have an idea.” said Thist, “but we will have to get some help from the tent villagers on the hill.”

“Well good luck with that.” said Jem, “Those people don’t want to help. They just want the results. And I don’t think you are going to get anything out of the wisps either.”

“My idea will work,” said Thist “I just need three tatty robes.”

“Okay.” said Kelvin “let’s see if we can get through this forest and up the other side before the next thunderstorm.”

The three men picked up the pace. After all their travelling, they had become fit and had built up impressive stamina. The climb up and through the forest was testing their limits again as their breath became laboured. On the distant mountain horizon thick grey clouds could be glimpsed through gaps in the trees. Dark plumes boiled over the peeks while crisp white fog crept down the mountain to the valley.

Jem clicked his tongue in frustrated resignation. “Stupid thunderstorm is dead on time isn’t it?”

“We’re going to be wet again tonight.” said Thist, “I’m getting sick of it.”

Kelvin chuckled, “Would you prefer the musty caddels?”

“No!” protested Thist. “I am never going back to that infernal place. Bring on the rain, it’s just water anyway.”

Jem plodded forward, step after step trying to make good time by keeping on and not stopping. “You know, it’s funny how people often hate the situation that they are in, no matter what situation they are in.” said Jem “Maybe we should just camp out in the rain and pretend that we have found heaven.”

Kelvin shook his head. “You idiots are either hungry, dehydrated or just going mad.”

“Madder!” corrected Thist. “A voice told me once that the definition of crazy is simply doing what other people normally don’t do.”

“And what is the definition of ‘normal’?” asked Jem. “Doing the same thing over and over again even if it’s wrong, just because everyone else is also doing it?”

“Sounds about right.” said Kelvin.

The thunder rumbled in the distance as the sky grew darker. The first drops hit them as they stepped out of the forest and entered the shrubby parts higher on the mountain. The rain drops were large but were not hitting hard. They were more like giant spit than wet missiles. Nothing seemed right at that moment, as if the rules of nature had been tampered with.

“Thunderstorm and fog at the same time.” said Jem, “That’s the second time I see that.”

Thist crouched down with his feet on the ground, his hands on his knees and his head down in a lightning-safe pose. Jem walked ten paces forward and crouched in the same way. Kelvin took a place ten paces to the right, making a perfect triangle. The lightning storm crept toward them striking the shrubs ahead of them closer and closer.

Thist knew that if ever there was a chance that one or even all of them would perish at the hand of a lightning strike it would be today. They were in the wrong place at the wrong time. The lightning bolts were massive and lasting longer than they were used to. First a loud hiss, like the sudden ripping of a bed sheet, followed the whooshing of an arrow and a long winded and deafening blast. “Rip! Zip! POW!” The thunder spoke, “Rip! Zip! POW!”

Thist took off his coat and folded it into a tight bundle around his right hand. He took the stone of power that he had burnt his hand on in the forest and put it into his makeshift-glove. He stood up in the thunderstorm and raised the stone above his head.

“Thist what are doing?” shouted Jem “Get down!”

Thist held his hand high and shouted at the lightning storm. “Come and get me!”

At his command the lightning obeyed and singled Thist out as the only target on the mountainside. It struck the stone in Thist’s hand again and again and again. Each time it struck it lingered longer than before. Thist clenched his jaws as he strained to keep his balance. His lips pulled tight over his teeth as the fifth lightning strike took hold of the stone, then the sixth, then the seventh. “Rip! Zip! POW!”

“Give me everything.” shouted Thist as his folded coat started to smoulder, a cloud of smoke forming around his hand. The rain drops hissed as they struck the stone, sending up a plume of steam.

Thist opened his eyes. They glowed like furnaces. With his hand outstretched to the thunderclouds he commanded: “Your power is my power. I command you as my servant.”

The thunderstorm obeyed. Its dark clouds gathered in, twisted and darkened as a deep rumble of thunder sounded from far and high. Thin fingers of lightning crept up from all the edges to the centre of the storm cloud right above the trio. The thunderstorm unleashed all of its power and fury in one last lightning bolt down to Thist’s hand. The longest and brightest bolt of lightning that the world had ever known struck Thist’s stone of power. All the fury and power of one thunderstorm funnelled into it.

Kelvin turned and sat on the wet ground in the middle of the wild shrub field. “It’s not natural what you have just done.” said Kelvin, “Jem, is it natural what Thist has just done?”

Jem was gaping in disbelief as Thist lowered his hand and placed the white hot stone of power on the ground. “I’ve always wondered how these things are created.” said Thist.

“Well now you know.” said Jem “A freak like you makes them while meandering through a forest one day.”

“I’m not a freak.” said Thist. “I’m just a little different.”

“Yes,” said Kelvin, “you are just a normal, normal person who does freaky stuff at will.”

“That’s worse,” said Thist. “If I had to choose between being called a normal person and being called a freak, I think I should choose freak.”

“Why?” asked Jem

“Nobody gets immortalized in tales of history for being normal.”

Jem and Kelvin came closer to Thist. The rain was pelting them from one side and they huddled together like cold travellers around a fire. Only their fire was a white hot glowing orb of power. And it was warmer than a fire. Plumes of steam rose from it as the rain tried to soak it. “Yes.” said Thist as he felt the cold rain water run through his hair and down his neck. “This is much nicer than the cold dark caddels. I will never go back to that stupid place.”

The lightning had stopped.

52

Jem rummaged through the large pile of items from the tavern basement. “There’s a lot of stuff here, more than I can remember.” said Jem.

Uncle Tarn had given the three men a disused tent where they could sleep and stash their wares. Kelvin was out hunting fowl and Thist was stoking a fire just outside the tent. “Are you looking for something specific?” asked Thist.

“No, just trying to get a picture of what we have so that I can piece together a plan. You should come and look at this stuff for yourself.”

Thist left the fire to burn itself in. He entered the tent and waved off some flies only to have them bother him again. He went down on his knees and started choosing things out of the pile of salvaged jewellery; a silver locket, a collection of golden bracelets, some gemstone earrings and a handful of gold buttons that still had some pieces of ripped cloth sewn to them. “There’s some nice stuff here. I’m glad you brought it all.”

“What are you going to do with all that jewellery, Thist?”

Thist looked at his handful of treasures. “I think they will make nice arrow points for Kelvin. Then I will imbue them with crazy stuff. Maybe give us a fighting chance at whatever is in the castle.”

Jem nodded in approval. “Can you imbue me some shots for my trebuchet?”

Thist gave Jem a wry smile. “Can I?”

“Would you please?” asked Jem.

Thist gave Jem a friendly slap behind the head. “Idiot…hardly have to ask…I love imbuing better than breathing.”

“Doesn’t it scare you?” asked Jem.

“What? Imbuing items with magic?” said Thist. “No! I love it.”

“Aren’t you scared that one of your items will fall into the wrong hands and cause havoc, adversity or even suffering?”

“No.” said Thist.

“How can you know for sure?”

“I cannot know for sure,” said Thist, “I am hoping.”

“Which of your imbued items do you think could cause the worst problems if you lost them?”

“The rage stone and the stone of power.” said Thist.

“Well then.” said Jem as he waved his finger in front of his face. “Never lose those stones.”

A chill ran down Thist’s spine as he considered the whereabouts of the rage stone. It was still on the beach and it probably glowed at night, if it was still there.

“Don’t you think it would be wise to consider what you imbue with magic before you do?” said Jem. “What is the stone of power anyway, what does it do and can anybody use it?”

“I don’t think anybody can use it,” said Thist “but I would be sad if I lost it. As for what it does, it gives me more power.”

“That is scary.” said Jem. “You don’t need more power. You’re not turning into a monster are you?”

“I’m not turning into a monster, but if I was? What would we do?” asked Thist.

“Thist, you have to think about what you do with your power from now on.” implored Jem. “And please, don’t become evil.”

“Sure.” said Thist. “I will, and thank you for the good advice.”

Thist toed
the pile of items on the floor and picked up a beautifully crafted dagger. He looked it over, nodded and left the tent.

Jem watched Thist the whole time. An ominous chill came over him as he thought about his most dear friend.

Thist took the small bundle of items and laid them by the fire. He walked over to the edge of the canyon where they had crossed some days ago and stared at the profound distance. He longed for home and for his own carefree solitude that he had enjoyed there. He longed for the company of Tayah, Kaylah, Jem and the friends that made up the small community. He longed for the jokes that they had made of him and with him when he was a ‘nobody’. He longed for his lorikeets and the unique sounds that they made but most of all he longed for Tayah. “How are you Tayah?” he said as if she were there by his side. “Look at this beautiful canyon.”

There was no response, she wasn’t there. She wasn’t in a soul stone and she wasn’t a voice in his head. “How are my lorikeets?”

It was just a few days ago when one of his lorikeets had been there at the canyon and kept him company but it had flown away. Thist wondered where it had gone after finding him in such an unlikely place.
“How did it know to come here? And where did it go when it left?”

Thist abandoned his daydreaming and focused on the task at hand. He returned to his small fire. It wasn’t hot enough to melt silver or gold but it would soften a little. Using a small hammer from the tavern shed, he fashioned some of the items into arrow heads.  Thist held each completed item onto the stone of power while it was still hot and enchanted them while drawing power from the stone.

Normally Thist would have been exhausted from imbuing one item or nearly comatose from doing two, but he had adapted. Instead of using his own life essence as magical energy, he drew energy from the stone of power, now cold and throbbing with the anger of a thousand bolts of lightning.

Thist sat by the fire. He considered the folly of the world as it was and yearned for understanding. He crossed his legs and closed his eyes. “Why do I have to fight a dragon for some kind of thing?” he said.

“We all have our dragons.” said a voice, “You just have a real one.”

“It’s not my dragon.” said Thist “It’s everyone’s dragon. Why must I slay it?”

“I cannot say, when you face it you will know what to do.”

“I feel unprepared, what must I do to prepare?”

“You must slay your own dragons first.”

“What?” asked Thist.

“Your own dragons!” said the voice, “They eat at your soul. You cannot go into battle against the dragons of this world if you have un-slain dragons in your heart.”

“Who are you?” said Thist, “show yourself!”

Thist was tiring of the voices that used his mind as a conduit. He wanted to ask their advice without soliciting riddles. “What un-slain dragons in my heart? What do you speak of?”

“There are things in this world that hold you back, because you are scared. You are scared that someone will see you and you are scared that someone will expose you or point you out for something. There are things that you have done or wished that you had not done, or finished or never started. Those unfinished things and those unchangeable actions are like dragons in your soul that hold you back and prevent you from becoming the greatest person that ever lived. You have to vanquish those dragons by either fixing the things that you can fix or accepting the things that you cannot fix to the point of indifference.”

“To the point of indifference.” said Thist exasperated. “What does that mean?”

“To accept something so completely that you could not even care to dwell on it ever again,” said the voice, “then you forget that the problem ever existed.”

“What do you know of my soul dragons?”

“Your dragons are in your dreams. If something is so big and so important in your life that it scares you, or if you long for it so completely, then you dream about it. And if you dream about it then it will wake you and you will cry about it. That is a soul dragon.”

“How will I know if I have vanquished all my dragons?”

“Only when you sleep without dreaming will you know that you have vanquished your soul dragons.”

“How can I tell the difference between a soul dragon and a real dragon?”

“Thist.” said the voice with emphasis. “When you see a real dragon, you will know.”

“Go.” said Thist. “I need to be alone and free of your nagging for now.”

The voices were still and he daydreamed back to the tranquil village where he and Jem had grown up. He couldn’t remember how long ago it was when they left; a month, six weeks. It seemed that he had lived and grown more since he had been travelling than the rest of his life together. He felt different and strong. He looked at the swinging rope over the canyon. “You nearly had me.” said Thist.

He packed up the items in a small sack and put a pot of water on the campfire for tea and cooking. No sooner had he done it when he saw Kelvin carrying in some half plucked fowl. “Good hunting Kelvin?”

“Yes.” said Kelvin “What have you been doing?”

“Preparing for a fight.” said Thist. “Here I made some special things for you. They are imbued.”

Thist handed Kelvin the small sack of arrow heads, crafted from silver and gold. Kelvin scooped a handful and looked at the shiny arrow heads. “You imbued them all?” said Kelvin.

“Sure.” said Thist.

“What with?” said Kelvin.

“Super magic,” said Thist, “you will like them.”

“Why did you make them out of our silver and gold?”

“Simple,” said Thist with a broad grin. “It’s only the heads that are imbued and they are made of silver and gold.”

Kelvin shook his head. “So?”

“So.” said Thist. “The enemy soldiers will only fire them back after they have removed the heads. Only the three of us know that the heads are the magic part.”

Kelvin pursed his lips and nodded as he looked at the arrow heads. “That’s clever Thist. A greedy adversary will cripple himself, but what about a loyal adversary?”

“I think that the guards in the castle are either mercenaries or pressed.” said Thist.

“What makes you think that?”

“Simple, if they knew the truth and cared about what they were guarding, then they would not guard it.” said Thist. “They either don’t know or don’t care. It’s a dragon’s lair guarded by mercenaries.”

“That is a bold assumption,” said Kelvin as he shouldered the sack of arrow heads, “but if it is correct then we have a better chance.”

“Why?” asked Thist.

“Mercenaries are easy to scare off.” said Kelvin, “Let’s go and talk to Jem.”

Jem was standing on the far side of the old tent with a horrid look on his face.

“What’s wrong with you?” asked Thist as he and Kelvin approached.

“It’s the smell.” said Jem “I cannot take it anymore. It’s that ghastly dead fall cheese these people eat. What is wrong with them?”

Thist nodded his head. “Yes, it is rank. But less of them, what is your plan for the first attack tomorrow?”

“With your help.” said Jem. “They will never see it coming”

“Sure I will help.” said Thist as he slapped his friend on the shoulder. “What are you doing?”

Jem looked at Thist as if he was a moron. “I’m building a massive trebuchet in the forest of wisps.”

Thist leaned back and glanced into the small tent were a few metal items were lying on the floor of the tent. Not more than a single man can carry. “No.” said Thist. “It’s not obvious that you are doing that.”

“Oh, ye of little faith!” said Jem.

Thist recalled the last time that Jem had said that to him, back in the forest in their home town, when they were out collecting hum.

“Then what do you need help with?” said Thist.

Kelvin excused himself. “I have arrows to fletch.” and disappeared into the shrubs beyond the camp perimeter. He had left the plucked fowls to boil.

Jem took Thist into the old tent and showed him the items on the floor. “Just imbue this one item for me if you can. Then I can do the trebuchet on my own in half a day.”

Thist agreed to do what Jem had requested. “You know what I think I should do Jem?”

“Spit it out please.” said Jem.

“I should just walk into the castle and lash everyone with my whip.”

Jem laughed. “Imagine that.”

Thist picked up the item that Jem had singled out. “It’s a long coil of wire with tiny spikes.”

“Yes.” said Jem.

“What does it do?”

“It cuts wood.”

“What kind of abilities do you want me to imbue it with?”

“I will leave that to your discretion, what I need is a final outcome. I need to cut one of those massive trees as quickly as I can, in minutes not days.”

“That will be easy.” said Thist.