King Of Souls (Book 2) (24 page)

Tara’s skin crawled as her gaze locked on the soul knight, and she forced herself to remain calm. She recognized the pattern of his blue soul thread. He’d flown over the Damocles a few hours earlier riding atop one of the Earth Mother’s creatures. He’d likely warned the city of Ripool and could end her plans within the next few minutes. But, what choice did she have? She had nowhere to run.

The warship drew thirty yards from the Arianne, and the oars fell silent. “Archers load fire shot,” the soul knight said.

Tara’s stomach lurched, and her chest tightened under panic’s full grip. Had they noticed her movement? Burning the ship now would prove disastrous.

The short stocky commander glared at the soul knight before turning his gaze on the lead archer. “Lieutenant, ignore that order.” He spun directing his wrath on the soul knight. “Commander Tyrell, when we have our feet planted on the ground you may order the troops as you see fit. But when you’re aboard my ship, I’m in charge.”

Tyrell gave the puffed-up commander a slight nod. “I apologize Captain Redford, but after what I’ve seen these past weeks, we don’t dare board that ship.”

“I see dead villagers aboard that ship, and it’s been floating out here for hours abandoned. I won’t hazard a guess about what happened aboard these ships. But, I’m not going to destroy a brand-new warship based on some absurd story about ghosts.”

Tara’s stomach fluttered, and she clung to fresh hope. How could that gray souled slug order about a soul knight?

“I can assure you captain, the stories are real, and I carry the king’s backing on this matter,” Tyrell said.

“I’ll not have a ship named after the king’s own mother burned on my watch,” Captain Redford said. “Those villagers have families that will expect their remains returned intact for burial. Burning their corpses and sending them to the bottom of a frozen harbor is heartless and unnecessary.”

“Lieutenant, arm the fire shot now,” Tyrell said ignoring the captain’s rebukes.

Tara stiffened and begged for the chubby captain’s intervention.

The lieutenant’s gaze shifted to the captain as if awaiting a response.

“Commander Tyrell, I’ll arrest you on charges of treason if that’s your wish. Your brother, may Elan rest his soul, would never have challenged my authority.”

“My brother would’ve lit the bloody ship on fire ten minutes ago,” Tyrell said.

Tara held her breath waiting for the standoff to play out.

“Commander, don’t force my hand!” Captain Redford said.

Tyrell shook his head rubbing the trimmed gray beard lining his face. “Then tow the ship back to harbor if you must, but don’t let your men touch her decks.”

“Fine, fine.” The captain turned and faced the ship’s stern. “Seaman Crowley!”

A young man wearing a simple dark-blue uniform whirled toward the captain and snapped to attention. “Yes sir.”

”Secure a line to that ship. I want her towed into dock.”

Seaman Crowley saluted. “Aye aye captain.” He scurried toward the ship’s stern bellowing a series of orders to sailors following in his wake.

Tara went limp as tension drained from her muscles, but she kept a wary eye trained on the soul knight standing aboard the warship.

Tyrell’s piercing green eyes scoured the Arianne’s decks.

Sailors tossed out lines and secured the ship with two heavy iron chains.

“Raise the main sail and turn about.” Captain Redford shouted the orders and strolled toward the warship’s bridge.

Over the next thirty minutes, Tara didn't move while the warship Glory towed the lifeless Arianne into port.

During the trip, Commander Tyrell never moved. He focused his gaze on the dead villagers scattered in haphazard piles atop the Arianne’s deck.

The warship Glory pulled the Arianne alongside Ripool's twenty-foot wide ice covered dock. Sailors clad in heavy winter uniforms scrambled along the dock tossing ropes aboard deck before pulling the ship to a stop.

Commander Tyrell made his way from the Glory’s deck, down its gangway, and paused on the dock ten-yards from Tara.

A young sailor prepared to lay a plank from the dock to Arianne’s deck when Commander Tyrell spoke. “Hold there sailor.”

Captain Redford appeared next to Tyrell and glared. “For Elan’s sake Devery, let the boy do his job.”

Devery motioned toward the harbor entrance. “Not until I’ve taken the necessary precautions.”

Tara stiffened and waited to hear the soul knight’s plan.

A Meranthian marine scrambled along the dock stopping before Tyrell. He saluted. “You wanted me sir?”

“Be at ease sergeant,” Tyrell said.

The marine relaxed spreading his legs shoulder width apart. He turned an expectant expression on Tyrell.

Commander Tyrell turned his back to Tara and murmured a few inaudible words to the marine.

The marine lowered his head and leaned inward. He nodded as Commander Tyrell continued to speak in hushed tones.

Tara strained to hear his orders, but he kept his voice too low and guarded his words. She felt exposed with her body lying open on Arianne’s ice covered decks. She didn’t know what the soul knight had planned, but a wave of tension tightened her muscles. She started to yell for General Demos and forced her mouth shut. Should she unleash her pets? No, she couldn’t. Not yet.

“Don’t you think that’s going a little overboard?” Captain Redford said overhearing Tyrell’s orders.

Tyrell shot him a look that could’ve stricken the man dead on the spot. “You’ll hold your tongue. Do you understand my order or should I have you arrested?”

Captain Redford stiffened. “There’s no call for threats commander.” He straightened his uniform jacket, spun on his heel, and strode away from Tyrell with his rigid arms planted to his sides.

The sergeant saluted before jogging along the pier toward Bawold’s open gates.

Devery Tyrell took the gangplank from the gawking sailor’s hands. “I’ll take that seaman.”

The sailor saluted. “Thank you sir.”

Tyrell set the wooden plank on the pier and dropped the opposite end against the Arianne’s deck. The shield surrounding him brightened while a bright blue energy blade appeared in his right hand.

Tara squinted as she watched the man’s blinding presence cross the gangway. She wanted the soul knight away from her, but his vitality also left her somehow inspired. How would it feel to spend just a single minute with such life flowing through your veins?

Archers armed with six-foot longbows appeared along the stronghold’s ramparts fifty yards away. They readied their weapons with fire shot before training them onto the Arianne’s decks.

Tyrell’s steel boots clanged against the icy deck as he walked among the dead surveying the littered corpses. His warm breath left pockets of steam curling through the chill air in his wake. He paused ten-feet from Tara and stooped beside the corpse of a young red-haired female villager near Tara’s age. Tyrell tugged on her shoulder, and her lifeless head rolled off the sunken chest of the man beneath her. Tyrell studied her face for a few moments and let her go.

Tara’s stomach lurched, and she stifled a scream. The soul knight sought her out among her pets, and he knew what she looked like. She pulled her hood tight and twisted her head beneath the corpse of a teenage blacksmith’s apprentice.

Tyrell strolled closer, stepping over the corpse of an old man with half his face missing. Black rot had eaten away his upper lip and gum line splitting his face with a ghoulish grin.

Tara dared not send her pets against the soul knight. Twenty archers pointed loaded longbows on her ship and could set it aflame with their accursed flaming arrows. But, he left her feeling terrified in a way she couldn’t name. She didn’t dare expose herself.

Tyrell paused beside Tara and stared at her shrouded head.

Tara felt the man’s lurking presence like a lead weight pressing against her chest while his gaze bored a hole through her brain. She thought she could feel his soul hum inches above her.

Tyrell knelt and reached for Tara’s hood preparing to expose her face.

“Commander, thank you but that will be enough.” A whiny voice came from behind Tyrell causing the soul knight to pause.

Tyrell craned his neck toward the voice and stood. “And you are?”

Four soldiers accompanied the rail-thin man. A pair of wire-framed spectacles sat perched on his hooked nose, and a thin greasy goatee sprouted from his upper lip and chin. He’d combed over his thin brown hair in a failed try at disguising a wide bald patch gleaming atop his head. “My name is Phineas Butterfield. I’m Ripool’s undertaker.”

Tyrell frowned at the man. “I ordered the city evacuated. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Yes, about that. Captain Redford mentioned that he might have need of my services this evening.” He scanned the corpses lining the deck as he donned a pair of skintight black leather gloves. “I can take it from here. Thank you Commander. You may go.” He turned his back on Tyrell and spoke sharp directions to the four soldiers standing amid the corpses.

Tara wondered if she could reach the sniveling undertaker. She could take him in a few seconds.

“I’d like to finish my inventory of the villagers first Mister Butterfield.”

“That’s Doctor Butterfield." He pushed his wire-framed spectacles up the bridge of his nose. "I really can’t have you cavorting through the dead like some sort of heroic grave robber. What would the locals say?”

“I’m looking for a particular young woman, she —”

“Commander, we will bring all the dead inside the stronghold for identification,” Butterfield said. “Can we show a modicum of respect for the dead?” His eyes slid over Tyrell as if inspecting a dirty stray dog. “Unless you insist on sifting through piles of dead women and children, I must insist you leave me to my work.”

The distant shouts of the oarsmen sounded from the harbor. A warship towed the second stranded vessel toward the dock interrupting the confrontation. Thirty feet off the Arianne’s starboard side, the Knight’s Lady appeared. Like the Arianne, its decks carried Porthleven’s dead stacked in scattered heaps.

Tyrell tipped his head toward Butterfield as if granting the undertaker’s request. He crossed the deck toward the gangway and paused. Tyrell glanced over his shoulder toward the undertaker who knelt near a pile of three corpses. “Doctor, one last piece of advice.”

Butterfield rolled his eyes and sighed. “What is it Commander Tyrell?”

“If you notice anything…extraordinary, run.”

Butterfield pursed his lips and turned back to his work without responding.

Tara thought she might float away from giddiness. Every step the soul knight took from her filled her with more relief.

“Be careful with those specimens,” Butterfield said directing the soldiers. “They’re damaged enough already.”

A few yards from Tara, the soldiers loaded a young boy’s corpse onto a stretcher.

Tara recognized the boy as belonging to Harbor Master Montgomery.

More soldiers filed beneath Bawold’s gates. They marched toward the stranded warships moored along the harbor’s dock carrying empty stretchers.

Tara tapped a fragment of power and pushed two fingers of black mist toward the soldiers carrying the boy.

The soldier nearest Tara flinched as the mist took his life. The second soldier’s eyes widened as the mist unchained his soul setting it free for capture.

Tara pulled on the free souls adding them to her reserves. She ordered the soldiers to continue working under Butterfield’s direction.

The soldiers carried the harbor master’s son across the ship's deck, down the gangway, and toward Bawold.

More soldiers came aboard and Tara took their lives in turn. When soldiers finally arrived for Tara’s body, she commanded a dozen fresh pets. As trained warriors, these men would make formidable dark soldiers.

A lean muscled soldier now under Tara’s command scooped her body from the deck and placed her atop a nearby stretcher.

Tara commanded the soldier to cover her body with a sheet. She inched the sheet aside revealing her surroundings while leaving her face hidden.

The soldier, and a second Meranthian marine, lifted the stretcher. They followed a long procession of Tara’s pets carrying the dead toward Bawold’s gate.

Tara set loose tendrils of death mist letting them linger beneath the soldier gripping the stretcher near her head.

As his life slipped away, Tara captured his soul. She commanded him forward along the pier toward the stronghold’s massive iron gate.

Blue light flickered from the Knight’s Lady. The soul knight milled about unimpeded among the Porthleven dead lying atop her frozen decks. Bright blue spirit energy flashed from his palm entering one of her pet’s decayed corpse.

Tara couldn’t imagine the knight’s intent. He couldn’t make them any more dead than she’d done on her own. Her new pets marched onward transporting her body along the pier. She sent forth tendrils of death mist into every soldier she met along the way.

The soldiers marched up a short hill following the line of stretchers carrying Porthleven’s dead. Near the stronghold’s gate, Captain Redford spoke with a chisel-faced marine. He gestured toward the harbor then pointed toward a line of empty warships moored near the shipyard a few blocks from Bawold.