King Of Souls (Book 2) (43 page)

Dangling from its thin limbs, tiny pieces of fruit no larger than a newborn’s fist hung purple and juicy.

The sorcerer placed the sapling at Trace’s feet and resumed his place behind the emperor’s crystal throne.

Trace plucked a dainty piece of fruit and held it between his thumb and index finger. He held it high overhead and every eye locked on the priceless food.

Waves of fresh cinnamon rolled off the tree’s broad leaves filling the air with the sweet aroma unique to the Heartwood.

Danielle looked on like a trapped feral cat and desperation hardened in the pit of her stomach. A plant integral to the Ayralen way of life horded like a prized possession and doled out for his amusement. She wanted to wring his neck until he dropped dead and rotted beneath this Godforsaken desert’s relentless sun.

A smirk curled his lips upward, and he bit into the ripe fruit letting its juices trickle down his chin and drip onto the ornate rug. “Unless you want me to kill this tree along with your rather foul smelling friend, you’d best start talking.”

Danielle’s gaze flickered to Arber’s, and she pursed her lips.

Sweat rolled down his face and nose falling in a near constant stream. He shook his head, and his eyes pleaded for her to keep quiet.

She held Arber’s gaze for a long moment begging his forgiveness with her eyes. She couldn’t risk the sapling’s fragile life, and if she broke free for even a moment she could grow it thick and strong.

Danielle caught herself before she uttered another lie. She’d proved a disastrous liar. “Freehold. The king in Freehold holds Elan’s Heart in the royal palace.”

“Elan’s Heart?” Trace spit out the words as if they’d made him sick. “Why would your people name the soul sphere after that bumbling fool?” He narrowed his brow. “I’ve been gone far too long.” He muttered the words and shook his head.

A tall broad shouldered shaman appeared in the doorway, and Aren turned to intercept him. The shaman knelt and whispered words too low to hear. Aren nodded, and the burly shaman disappeared slinking back toward the war camp.

“My Lord, it’s ready,” Aren said.

“Very good Master Aren.” A broad smile stretched across Trace’s face, and he clapped his hands together. “I thought this might take more time. I should still have time for a late dinner.” He flicked his wrist and turned his back on Danielle as if her mere presence annoyed him. “Be gone with her.”

Two heavyset guards appeared from behind the sorcerers surrounding the crystal throne. Jeweled arm bracelets circled each guards' bulging biceps while intricate tattoos adorned their chest. Black obsidian swords hung from burlap scabbards secured around their waists. They stopped beside Arber and yanked him to his feet tossing him like a toy.

The chamber surrounding Danielle crackled with a fresh layer of electrical power. Aren stood near her with his finger pointed and ring glowing bright blue. Beside him, a shaman pulled back his hood revealing a full head of curly dark hair. The talisman dangling from his neck glowed white. He raised his palm and directed Aren’s energy flows into the charged walls surrounding Danielle.

Danielle’s gaze followed Arber as the guards dragged him from the emperor’s quarters. Returning to the crystal prison’s stifling confines left her feeling nauseated. But, it seemed a better alternative than spending another moment in Trace’s presence.

Aren cocked his head upward and turned an unsettling childlike glare on Danielle. The ring adorning his index finger sparkled, and he pointed toward the chamber’s open doorway. “Go.”

Danielle moved beneath the open curved archway until she stood under the war camp’s cool blue canopy.

Overhead, the stars appeared blurry through the shaman’s filter. Although night had fallen on the desert, the shaman's blue canopy kept the camp warm air under its translucent dome.

Around the camp, strange artificial fires built atop piles of dirty crystal scarred the camp with dim patchy light. But, the evening meal and conversation that might take place around them wouldn't happen tonight. They all stood empty of people.

Danielle’s brow furrowed, and her gaze wandered over camp. Where had Trace’s followers gone?

Near the camp’s center, a small horde of robed figures mingled. The Obsith pushed forward jockeying for position in a large circle straining to see something.

A dozen feet beyond Danielle, the mass of sorcerers and shaman parted. The guards shoved Arber forward before he disappeared inside the cheering throng.

Fear, heavy and thick, swept over Danielle. She staggered forward following Arber away from their crystal prison. The heavy murmurs and hushed conversation intensified as she approached the group of onlookers.

As the gathered crowd parted for Danielle, the object they’d gathered around came into view. A six-foot long chamber made from pure transparent atter crystal sat empty and unused. Open archways stood on either end of the affinity chamber. A person half of Danielle’s height could pass through unimpeded.

Adrenaline spiked in Danielle’s body, and her chest tightened with fear. She shook her head and recoiled from the chamber’s seemingly innocent appearance. “No. I won’t.” Her words came out raw and raspy.

A look of pure joy spread across Aren’s face. “You’re familiar with the affinity chamber? How wonderful!”

Danielle froze refusing to step an inch nearer the monstrosity. “You can’t make me walk through it. I won’t do it.”

“That’s your choice,” Aren said. “It’s what I hoped you’d say. That way, we get to make you suffer for a lot longer.”

Beside Danielle, the burly shaman leaned into Danielle and lowered his voice. “Miss, if you display an aptitude inside the affinity chamber, there’s a chance the emperor will let you to live.”

Danielle drew in a sharp breath and backed away from the chamber shaking her head. “I can’t.” Her left shoulder blade nicked the rear wall of her electrical prison and sparks leaped from the contact point.

Danielle shrieked and jumped forward jerking from the energy buzzing around her. Fresh coils of smoke lifted from her singed clothing and collected near her prison’s ceiling.

The guards stopped Arber near the chamber’s opening, and turned awaiting Danielle’s approach. They slipped free their ebony blades and raised them to a point near Arber’s chest where they touched with a loud clatter.

A gleam of hope lit in Aren’s eye as he stood waiting Danielle’s next move.

A quiet hush fell over the gathered crowd as Danielle took a tentative step forward. Could she shift into an animal form and escape? She dismissed the thought. They’d strike her dead in seconds.

Danielle’s throat tightened, and she swallowed finding only dryness in her throat. She tried to remain brave, but hot silent tears welled in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

Arber’s face contorted with fury, and he turned a stony glare on Aren. “How could you slaughter a defenseless woman? I hope the plague strikes you dead where you stand!” He glared across the silent Obsith looking on. “I hope you are all stricken dead!”

Arber’s objections went unheard. Aren and the gathered crowd ignored his furious rant and kept their attention focused on Danielle.

Danielle stepped forward and paused at the affinity chamber’s crystal opening. Her chin quivered, and she turned to face the closest person she had to family within a hundred miles. She swallowed willing her voice to remain steady. “If you live, tell my brother and father I love them, and I’ll carry them with me always.”

“You’ll tell them yourself.” Unabated tears rolled down Arber’s face leaving rivulets of dirt and grime in their wake. “I’ll not hear your goodbyes.” He shook his head, and his voice trembled as he spoke. “Not today.” He reached beneath the guards’ outstretched swords and squeezed Danielle’s hand. “Stand strong Danielle Deveaux. You’re an Ayralen.” He straightened his posture and held her gaze through tear filled eyes.

Danielle stood on her tiptoes and kissed Arber on his dirt streaked cheek. “I’m sorry for not trusting you.” She placed her palm flat against his warm cheek and managed a weak smile.

“Enough with the teary goodbyes,” Aren said. “Let’s get on with it.”

Danielle took a long breath and forced calm through her mind.

Ahead, the six-foot crystal passageway loomed still and silent.

Danielle filled her thoughts with happy childhood memories. She remembered the way her father smiled and laughed the morning he’d learned of Ronan’s survival.

As Danielle stepped into the chamber, she remembered her brother and the instant bond they’d formed six months ago. She closed her eyes and took another step. She loved them both.

Raw heat flared, and the world turned black.

War Camp

The snow’s first flakes started hours earlier with the dawn. Tara and General Demos continued up the canyon road leading from Ripool. The snowfall had intensified while the wind gusted, blowing drifts across the narrowing pass.

The road ahead, wide enough for a single wagon under ideal conditions, narrowed. Ahead, it wound past a grove of twenty foot pines topped with ankle-deep snow.

Tara hoped the road’s continuous upslope might soon end. Though they’d left Ripool a few hours ago, she’d grown weary of traveling across the unforgiving terrain. “General Demos, the village you mentioned yesterday. It’s within a day’s walk?”

“Yes mistress. My first scout said it’s a half-day’s journey,” General Demos said. “But, if the snow worsens, it could take longer.”

“How many people live in the village?”

General Demos rubbed his chin and gazed into the looming gray clouds hanging above the peaks ahead. “I believe he said as many as fifty.”

Tara nodded. Fifty minions would prove a welcome addition to her growing army.

“My scout suggested a handful might be soldiers. There’s a small garrison just west of the village.”

“That’s excellent news,” Tara said.

Stretched out on the path ahead, scores of dark soldiers and souleaters walked three abreast in formation. Tara’s minions paid no heed to the quickening snowfall. They felt neither hot nor cold, and they never tired. Needing neither food nor rest meant they always performed at peak efficiency.

Tara closed her eyes and listened to the rhythmic clip-clop of her mare’s horseshoes falling on the frozen earth. She focused on the peaceful silence of the mountain snowfall. Weeks of pent up tension in her neck and shoulder muscles eased. Had they put the worst behind them?

The moment of peace evaporated, split by the nerve-wracking sound of ringing steel. General Demos slipped his sword free of its scabbard and peered through the snowfall.

Tara’s eyes flashed open, and she snapped her head toward General Demos. “What’s wrong?”

General Demos, seated high atop a brown draft horse, pointed toward the horizon.

Further up the steepening slope, blue light flickered against the dark clouds fifty-feet skyward.

Tara pulled in a sharp breath and reached for the cache of souls fueling her undead army. She readied dark magic and centered her focus on a half-dozen souleaters near the front of the advancing pack.

“Mistress, wait!” General Demos squinted into the driving snowstorm as the blue light bounced off the canyon walls.

“Wait? Why?” Tara said.

“It might be a trap. We can’t afford to stretch our limited forces along the path,” General Demos said. “The knight has the advantage of position, and we don't know how many are with him.”

Tara’s skin crawled. Why had she assumed the soul knight wouldn’t track them from Ripool?

The snow’s intensity worsened dropping visibility to twenty-yards.

Tara felt her pets in the road ahead, though she couldn’t see them. She squinted and caught their faint outlines less than fifty feet ahead. “The storm’s worsening Gregor. Hurry!” Tara dug her heels into the old mare’s rib cage. “If the snow traps us in this pass, we’re done for.” She pushed commands into her army ordering them to move ahead at double time.

Tara’s mare galloped ahead but skittered and snorted as she drew near the undead soldiers.

General Demos stood in the draft horse’s stirrups and lumbered past Tara. The animal showed no hesitation around Tara’s army and moved along the right hand column hugging the canyon wall.

Danielle cursed her choice of horses. She could’ve picked a larger war horse but feared her ability to keep the beast under control. She’d never felt an affinity toward living creatures even before she’d unlocked dark magic.

The blue light flickered and rose skyward set on a collision course with the storm’s dark center. In the next moment, the soul knight shot ahead. He moved in a southwest direction before disappearing over the dark canyon walls.

The winds picked up to gale force bringing a wall of blinding stinging snow flying into Tara’s face.

“Gregor!” Tara’s mare whinnied and bucked twisting in circles. She slid from the horse’s saddle and sank into a waist-deep snowdrift, and the snow’s icy cold burned her soft exposed skin. Much like the horse, Tara drifted in circles unsure of her direction. She groped outward with her mind and found her army further up slope near the spot where they’d first seen the knight’s shield.

Freezing snow pelted Tara’s eyes and lips. The gusting wind whipped the edges of her auburn hair leaving a tangled weave over her eyes.