King Of Souls (Book 2) (3 page)

“Or you can just do that,” Keely said.

Near the cavern’s far wall, a small circle of blackened ashes surrounded half burned chunks of scorched timber. A glass container, a frayed piece of burned rope, and piles of shriveled palm leaves scattered the cave floor.

A rusty oil lamp lay knocked on its side beside a broken crate. Cracked fish bones blended with the dead fire’s charred embers. Behind the fire, a soiled pair of dirty trousers and ripped tunic lay in a heap. Beside the clothing, a pair of scuffed leather boots lay half buried in the leaf pile.

“Whoever was here ate fresh fish.” Keely kicked sand over the dried bones and campfire ashes. “I wish they’d left us some.”

Danielle picked up the lamp. “Keely, look at this. It came from Meranthia. I’ve seen ones like this for sale in Freehold’s Market District.”

“So someone at some point in the past came here from Meranthia. What good does that do us now?” Keely said.

Danielle stared at Keely with her mouth agape. “We find signs of someone from Meranthia inside a remote cave in an unexplored oasis deep inside a desert so inhospitable to human life that even those trained in magic won’t go more than a few hours into it for fear of death, and you don’t find that curious?”

Keely shrugged. “I’m not paid to think. That’s your department.”

“What about the floating ice chunks, the melted sand, and the child’s footprints?” Danielle said.

“I wish I could help you Danielle.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe whoever wore these dirty old clothes has the answer,” she knelt and picked up the stained tunic. “But that person’s not me.” As she spread out the dirty, tattered tunic, a small book slid from its right sleeve and tumbled onto the cave’s sandy floor.

Keely and Danielle stood frozen with eyes glued to the little book with its worn red cover and tattered spine, but neither moved.

A smile tugged at Danielle’s lips, and she let out a short hard laugh. “Keely you’re a genius.”

Keely blushed. “You don’t expect me to read it, do you?”

Danielle knelt, scooped up the book, and blew loose sand from its soft cover. She paused, recalling the last time she’d opened a strange book. It had ended two lives.

“It’s not going to bite. Go ahead,” Keely said as if reading Danielle’s mind.

Danielle’s eyes flickered toward Keely, and she flashed a nervous smile. She flipped open the book’s cover and leafed through the first few pages.

Danielle’s hands trembled, and her head swam. She shook her head in disbelief. “I recognize this handwriting, but this can’t really be his. Can it?”

“You do?” Keely’s brow furrowed “Whose is it?”

“It’s Arber’s handwriting.” Danielle stared into Keely’s stunned face. “This is his journal.”

Porthleven

Tara followed General Demos across Porthleven’s still sleeping village square. She paused when a strange building caught her eye.

A dull bronze statue stood outside a white circular gathering hall adorned with a golden domed roof. The statue depicted a lean man wearing long flowing robes staring upward at a globe resting in the palm of his outstretched arm.

Tara knew, without a doubt, the statue depicted Elan. Had these people raised him as their God?

Ahead, the squeaking sound of a door opening came from the harbor master’s office.

Tara’s head turned following the noise.

General Demos’s silhouette appeared in the doorway, highlighted by soft lamplight spilling from behind. She took a long last look at the statue and hurried toward the weathered office building.

An ashen-faced Fitzgerald Montgomery staggered through the door, followed by Tara and General Demos.

A young close-shaven blond haired man, no older than twenty seasons, sat behind a shabby ink-stained desk. A tarnished brass oil lamp shone a soft yellow light across the cramped office.

His eyes widened as he tracked Montgomery’s slapdash path into the office. The young man flung back a rickety wooden chair and sprang to his feet. He knocked over a half-filled ink bottle beside the desk lamp and dashed around the desk. He lunged toward the distraught harbor master almost crashing into a dented pewter spittoon. “Fitz. What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

Tara stepped into the small office followed by General Demos, Sergeant Reed, and Corporal Oliver. “An interesting choice of words.”

Terror shone in the blond man’s eyes as his gaze locked on General Demos. A low groan rolled from his gaping mouth, and he stumbled backward, crashing his rear end into the desk. Without taking his eyes from General Demos, he pitched to the side while the desk tipped upward teetering on two legs.

Inkwell, pen, and paper slid along the desk’s surface and smashed against the salt-crusted floor. The desk groaned a final gasp before overturning.

The young man’s legs wobbled, and he fell backward, crashing into the desk chair splintering it beneath his lower back. He took little notice of the wreckage beneath him and scooted toward the rear wall. His eyes, wild and desperate, scanned the cluttered office.

“Easy Zack. Don’t do anything stupid,” Montgomery said.

Montgomery’s assistant, Zack, snapped his neck toward the sound of his master’s voice. “Fitz, what happened to Reed and Oliver?” He looked between Montgomery and General Demos. “And, who is he Fitz?”

General Demos remained silent and stone-faced with his arms folded.

Tara lifted the hem of her white silk skirt easing over the spilled ink puddle spreading outward from the piled desk clutter. She stopped before Zack and soaked in the fear radiating from his body.

Despite the man’s dim gray aura, Tara felt his life force full and vibrant, shining like a beacon in the dead of night. She took Zack’s warm, rough callused hands into her own. Her white gloves disappeared under his palms. Heat, like an inferno, boiled from his skin and sent a shiver racing along her spine. She hadn’t felt a human touch in centuries. Not since Elan.

The tainted memory, sudden and strong, left Tara’s head reeling. She closed her eyes and forced those ancient thoughts from her head. She could feel a man’s touch without bitterness and pain. Couldn’t she? Tara opened her eyes and smiled. She ran her fingers through Zack’s tousled hair. “Now, what’s there to be afraid of?”

Zack edged backward, pressing his back against the far wall. On trembling legs, he stood, sliding upward as his eyes flickered between Montgomery and Tara. “Fitz?”

Montgomery’s head drooped as if unable to meet his assistant’s gaze.

Tara eased forward until her body hovered inches from Zack’s. The heat and fear melted off his body like a baker’s oven firing at full capacity. Her stomach fluttered, and a ripple of craving flashed through her head, leaving her off-balance. She needed him and found little reason to resist her urge.

With her heart pounding, Tara craned her neck upward and stared into Zack’s cool blue eyes while lifting her arm to meet his face. Her index finger grazed his cheek's stubble and desire tore through her body in waves leaving her near breathless. As her finger scraped along his jaw line, she touched the dark energy pulsing inside her. She recalled Elan’s words. He’d judged her brand of magic forbidden.

With a physical link established, Tara released the energy through the connection. She felt it surge, strong and unfettered, through Zack’s bloodstream.

Zack’s body stiffened as Tara’s eyes drew half-closed, and her ruby lips parted.

“Please.” His plea came out in the barest whisper as his eyes widened.

Even if she’d wanted to, Tara couldn’t reverse the energy flows, and she wanted nothing more than this young man body and soul. She’d waited too long and needed the restoration his energy would provide.

With her magic spread across Zack’s body like a million tiny anchors, Tara pulled on the current of dark energy. She shuddered pitching her head back in ecstasy as the young man’s life force filled her empty coffers. Tara closed her eyes and gasped, savoring the raw intensity of the human soul filling her body. She’d grown used to the bitter, biting, foreign tang of the strange Baerinese souls. She’d forgotten the human soul’s pure sweet taste.

Her body quaked while a low groan escaped her lips, and she tossed her head back and forth. Riding halfway down her back, Tara’s wavy auburn hair flowed in time swaying side to side.

Zack’s face drained of color, and his cheeks slackened before collapsing. His his skin hung like a loose sickening bag of flesh draped over a skeleton’s frame.

She moaned louder as energy poured into her body sharpening her senses in a way nothing else could. That fleeting sensation of human existence she’d long ago given away sparked a passion and desire inside her. The human soul had no rival on earth. Tara drained the last drops of life force through the link and released her touch before her eyes fluttered open.

General Demos’s gaze found the office floor as if unwilling to watch the act’s culminating moment.

The assistant harbor master’s skeletal remains held motionless for a long moment. His clothing hung loose from his grotesque body, giving him the cruel appearance of a sideshow absurdity. Zack’s lifeless remains crumpled collapsing into a bloody heap atop the office floor.

Montgomery’s face, a mix of horror and rage, trembled as he watched his friend’s last moments of life fade from existence. “In the name of Elan, why? That boy’s done nothing to you.”

“It’s not what he’s done to me. It’s what he’s given me. I’m sorry for your loss, but I won’t use his gift in vain. Besides, the pleasure he felt during the act made his last moments of life his best.” Tara tipped her head toward a chair placed beside the dented spittoon. “Please sit down Master Montgomery.”

Montgomery struggled to his feet and staggered into the chair.

“I need you to supply me with information, and if I’m happy with your responses, you may live.”

Montgomery stared ahead wearing a blank expression. He looked like he’d aged a dozen years since Tara had first seen him so haughty on the pier.

“I’ll need you to focus Master Montgomery. Can you do that?”

Montgomery nodded, staring ahead into nothingness.

“Good. My first question involves that peculiar statue and building right outside in the square. Who is the man depicted?” Tara said.

Montgomery’s head turned to meet her gaze. He looked as if she’d ask him to grow wings and fly. “The statue m’lady?”

“Yes, the statue,” Tara said.

Montgomery’s brow furrowed, and he shook his head. “That’s Elan.”

Tara nodded. “Why have the townspeople erected a statue of Elan in the town square?”

“Why?” Montgomery looked between Tara and General Demos. “Elan’s the Lord.”

Tara stiffened and balled her hands into fists. They worshiped Elan? He’d stood out as a leading scholar and minor celebrity of his time, but she knew him as a man not some twisted god. “That’s what I thought.” She forced a short nod and a weak smile. “Thank you.”

General Demos stood and crossed the room until he loomed over Montgomery’s shoulder.

Montgomery cast an uneasy glance behind him before turning back to face Tara.

“Tell me about the king you mentioned earlier. You called him Ronan?” She imagined the simpleton who’d crowned himself king dispensing inane wisdom. Fat, pompous, and full of guile.

Montgomery’s expression softened. “King Ronan? He’s a good man m’lady.”

Tara needed to know about the soul knights. Did they still reign in Meranthia, or had magic died with the barrier’s collapse? But, how could a simple harbor master understand the complexities involving Elan’s life magic? “Where does he live?”

“He lives in Freehold m’lady. In the royal palace.”

“Does he travel to your village often?”

Montgomery shook his head. “Our village hasn’t seen a member of the royal family in the better part of a century let alone the king. We don’t see many visitors to speak of.”

Relief washed through Tara’s body. She couldn’t have chosen a better landing port. She gave silent thanks to the Baerinese scouts. Tara glanced toward General Demos, and he offered the barest nod. “Master Montgomery, you’ve been cooperative with your answers.”

Montgomery tipped his head. “I don’t want any trouble m’lady, and I don’t want any trouble for my family either.”

“Then, we might find a suitable arrangement.”

Montgomery raised an eyebrow. “M’lady?”

“General Demos and I would like to remain anonymous during our stay in your village.” Tara moved behind Montgomery and placed her gloved hands on his shoulders.

Montgomery stiffened beneath her touch, but made no attempt to escape.

“If your village receives any visitors, I’d like you to receive them, and make no mention of our presence.”

Montgomery sat motionless. A bead of sweat started from his balding scalp and rolled down his temple before disappearing into his bushy gray beard.

“In return, you and your family can enjoy peace of mind. How does that sound?” Tara said.

Montgomery nodded. “Yes.” His voice raspy, he cleared his throat. “Yes. I think that sounds fine.”

The King Comes Calling