The Soul Sphere: Book 01 - The Shattered Sphere Read online

“Foul tidings,” said Rowan, his body sagging as if a weight had been placed on his shoulders. “When did this happen?”

  “Only yesterday.”

  Rowan and the woman faced each other. “Then it is true,” he said.

  “What is?” Demetrius asked.

  “Whiton fell only two days ago. It was said the Dark One could call his army up from the very ground if he so desired, that they are many in number and more than one force. We had thought the group that attacked Whiton had gone toward Lower Cambry, so we moved west to warn you before they turned this way. Apparently they did go south, but another force passed this way several days ago. That is the army you faced yesterday.”

  The woman spoke for the first time. “And the Dead Legion has struck in Ridonia as well, and recently. Rumor has it that they also march in Lorgras and the Westerland.”

  “Is there no land Solek’s hand does not grasp at?” asked Corson.

  The question remained unanswered, a mournful silence falling over the group.

  “I am Demetrius, of the King’s Guard, and this is Corson. The king has sent us to find Prince Kalan. He departed several weeks ago to offer our help—” He paused, seeing another knowing glance being exchanged by the riders.

  “I’m sorry,” said the woman. “He was with us at Whiton. We had been forced to abandon the castle at Humbold, and had fallen back to Whiton to try another defense. The prince stood with us there, until he was felled by a battle axe. Many of the Legion were destroyed by his hand, but our numbers were too small to hold for long.”

  “Then all our quests have met with failure,” said Corson.

  Silence again fell about them, more ominous due to the surroundings—fire, death, destruction, the bleak land.

  “Are you a servant of Delving as well, lady?” Demetrius asked, less for an answer than for the reassurance of his own voice.

  She smiled and pulled back her hood. “No, I am Tala, of the elves of the Eastern Forest. Like your prince I had come to offer aid to our friends in Delving.”

  “I did not know elves cared about the lives of men.”

  “As far as the Dark One is concerned, men and elves are one—simply beings to destroy and rule over, cattle to feed his endless need to spread fear and hate.”

  “ ‘Fear and hate’?” Corson repeated.

  “And death. The Dark One grows stronger through these things. That is why he brings suffering to all the lands. The more his evil spreads, the stronger he grows.”

  “Is there nothing left for us but death and despair?”

  Rowan answered. “As long as there are those who are good and true to oppose him, there is hope.”

  Demetrius now noticed the cross on the right breast of Rowan’s uniform, and thought back to Rowan’s comment that he was “servant first of the Savior.” “Are you a priest-warrior then, Rowan? Or a paladin?”

  He smiled softly. “I am no priest, but I know a little of the healing art. Paladin might be a fair term, if you choose to use it. I prefer to be known simply as ‘Rowan’.”

  “The more important question,” said Tala, “is ‘What do we do now?’ ”

  “If the Prince has fallen,” said Corson, “we must return to our people.” He looked at the two travelers. “You would be welcome to come with us. We could surely use your sword and bow.”

  “As could my own people,” answered Rowan. “Perhaps it is best if we all tend to our own affairs. I fear it will go well for none of us, though. Solek’s forces have laid waste to all our lands.

  “We cannot give in,” said Tala.

  “No,” Rowan agreed. “But we need to find a way to strike at Solek. Until then, we can only defend what little we have left.”

  Tala nodded, then addressing Corson and Demetrius, she said, “If you men fought yesterday and traveled this far since, you have not eaten. We do not have much, but we will share what we have before we part.”

  Demetrius thought to protest, then realizing they would find nothing to eat on their return journey, simply said, “Thank you, lady.”

  The riders dismounted and the group moved off the road and away from the smell of death that clung to the area around the destroyed farmhouse. They sat and ate quietly, sharing a bit of dried meat and cheese, washing it down with most of the water they carried.

  “We should get moving,” Rowan said to Tala as soon as they had finished eating.

  The four rose, but as Tala and Rowan turned to claim their horses, Demetrius said “Wait.”

  As they gave him their attention, he reached into his shirt and pulled out the vial the king had given him. Corson had seen it before, and simply looked on with a puzzled expression, but Rowan’s eyes widened and Tala gasped.

  Reaching a tentative finger toward the dull glow that emanated from the crystal’s enclosure, she said in a whisper. “I almost feared to hope we might find a portion of it.”

  “Then it is true, the stories…” said Rowan.

  “What’s true? What stories?” demanded Corson.

  “The Soul Sphere,” said Tala, her gray eyes never leaving the object.

  “I thought that was only a tale,” Corson said. “You are saying it’s real, and that we hold a piece?”

  “It is very real,” said Tala, “though hidden for so long that many believed it to be no more than a wish, a myth to give hope when there was none”

  “Then King Rodaan…” Corson turned his gaze to Demetrius.

  The bigger man nodded. “Was there with the other rulers of Arkania when Solek shattered the Sphere, releasing the Dark One. He escaped with the others as the Dark One took possession of Solek’s body, and he took a piece of the Sphere with him as he fled.”

  “And what of the rest of the tale? That Solek has had the other pieces of the shattered Sphere hidden away, and that they are guarded by demons and other foul creatures?”

  “It is as you say,” said Tala. “Elven spies have confirmed the act, even if we do not know the locations.” She shook her head and smiled grimly. “The advantage of our proximity to Solek’s soiled lands, Veldoon in your tongue.”

  Corson rubbed his chin. “The rest of the legend says if the Sphere is re-assembled the Dark One’s soul would be drawn in and imprisoned once again.”

  Tala nodded. “And Solek might then be vulnerable.”

  “So with this small shard, we have a beginning,” said Demetrius. “But it is useless without the other pieces.”

  “We must try to retrieve them,” Rowan stated.

  “The four of us?” asked Corson. “Against Solek’s armies.”

  “We can’t retrieve the pieces with an army of our own,” Rowan replied. “It would draw his attention. The four of us might move unseen where a large force could not.”

  “I agree,” said Demetrius. “But where do we begin? Arkania is a large world.”

  Rowan smiled and turned to Tala. “Lady?”

  “May I?” she asked, reaching for the vial.

  Demetrius handed it to her.

  Carefully, Tala undid the clasp and opened the small container. As she slid the shard into her hand, the crystal piece seemed to be highlighted, shimmering with tints of green and yellow against her pale skin. She sat on the ground with crossed legs and closed her eyes. She spoke in hushed tones, in words that sounded to the others like some arcane tribal chant, or perhaps nothing more than the incoherent mumbling of a mad woman.

  Corson leaned close to speak to Rowan. “She is a sorceress?”

  “She has some power,” Rowan confirmed. Demetrius and Corson exchanged hopeful looks.

  They waited in silence for several minutes, allowing Tala to do her work. Finally she opened her eyes and arose slowly, her legs uncertain beneath her.

  “Are you all right?” asked Rowan as he offered his arm to steady her.

  “I’m fine. The nearest piece is northeast of here, in the swamplands. It will be several days’ hard journey once we reach the swamp.”

  “Did you see a guardian?”

&
nbsp; “No, but that means little. There are many ways to hide and guard a treasure.” She took a deep breath, and then offered Rowan a tired smile of thanks as she released his arm. She handed the shard back to Demetrius. “Perhaps it is best you carry this.”

  Demetrius took the small piece of crystal, asking, “What did you do?”

  “A seeking spell. More a deep meditation really. A useless piece of magic unless one has an object connected to that which is being sought. This shard can eventually lead us to the others.”

  “And once we have them all?” asked Corson.

  “Then we may be able to deal with the Dark One,” answered Rowan with a shrug.

  “You’re not sure,” Corson stated.

  “Who can be sure, where such evil and magic is involved?”

  “It’s more than we had an hour ago,” said Demetrius.

  “And it will have to be enough,” said Corson. “You know I will stand by your side, even in the face of death.”

  “I never doubted it, my friend.”

  “And we will stand with you as well,” said Rowan, “if you will have us.”

  “We would be honored,” Demetrius replied.

  “There is a small village a half-day’s journey to the east, abandoned but relatively unharmed,” said Tala. “We could go there, gather a few supplies, and perhaps sleep in a bed one last time before we strike out north.”

  “Does your spell guide us?” asked Corson.

  “Well enough,” Tala answered. “I may need the shard again as we get closer.”

  “We should be off,” said Rowan. “The horses are too weak to carry two, so we’ll need to travel at footspeed. If we can be off the road by dark, it would be best.”

  The others agreed and they began their journey as the fall sun warmed their backs.

  * * *

  They arrived at the village just after sunset, a few sagging structures a half-mile off the main road. The place had been abandoned quickly—animals still milled about in yards and unfinished meals sat on tables. The travelers slept well in borrowed beds, and in the morning gathered what dried food and water they could, and helped themselves to extra blankets.

  “A shame there are no horses,” said Corson.

  “It is just as well,” Tala said. “We could not use them in the swamp. I do not like to think of leaving the two we have when we get there.”

  Demetrius finished the last bit of packing and moved toward the door. “Just as well we have so little, in that case, seeing that we’ll need to carry it ourselves eventually.”

  Rowan reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold coin, which he laid on the table. Seeing Tala’s questioning look, he said, “For the food and blankets. It’s only right.”

  “Hopefully the owners may return one day to appreciate the gesture,” she said.

  Neither cared to express whether they thought that would happen.

  Chapter 2: The Swamp

  They traveled north along a dirt road that meandered through farms and small villages, each taking turns walking and riding. Tala laughed off attempts at male chivalry, claiming her legs were just fine as she took her own turns on foot. The past day she had ridden because of the energy the spellcasting had drained from her, but today she was recovered. Her step was light and sure, and the four soon settled into a steady rhythm and made good progress. The weather was kind, the sun passing unhindered by clouds through a crisp autumn sky.

  “At least the Dark One does not affect the weather” Corson said, breathing deep the clean, cool air. “At least not here…not today…not right now. You don’t suppose he can hear when someone uses his name?”

  “Not unless he’s standing within earshot,” Rowan said.

  Demetrius laughed. “Well, let’s be thankful for small favors.”

  Nothing about the land brought laughter. None of the humble dwellings they passed showed signs of human life, although farm animals were seen here and there. The leaves on the trees had faded from green, but had yet to burst into their fall splendor, the grass was a muted beige color, and even the soil had a sickly gray tinge to it. After having observed this in silence for some time, Rowan said, “It is as if the land itself is poisoned.”

  “I wish this was simply the way things were in Delving,” said Demetrius. “But I noticed the change even as the Dead Legion marched into Corindor.”

  “Do you think the crops will grow next spring?” Corson asked. When no one answered he went on. “I mean assuming we can plant, and that we have land to plant on…” He uttered a sharp bitter laugh.

  “We should focus on our own task,” said Demetrius. “Let’s hope we are fortunate enough to concern ourselves with planting when spring arrives.”

  The road continued mainly north, sometimes east, and by the fifth day had become more of a trail than a road. Around noon, as the sun peaked in another perfect sky—the weather had been all they could hope for—they came upon a small farm, different from the others only in that a woman could be seen feeding a few scrawny chickens and a man knelt repairing a worn wooden cart. As they approached, the woman sank back toward the house.

  “If you’re thinking to rob us,” said the man, “we’ve not much. But we won’t try to stop you. Just leave us in peace.”

  “ ‘Rob you’?” repeated Rowan.

  The man seemed to fully take them in now, especially Rowan. “Excuse me, your grace. I did not see your markings.” He gestured at the cross on Rowan’s chest.

  “Rowan is my name. We mean you no harm.”

  “If you say so, I believe it. Never had problems with any of you wearing the mark. Wish I could say the same for everyone in service of the king.”

  “Soldiers giving you trouble?”

  “Brigands wearing the king’s cloth, more like,” the woman barked. The man motioned at her and she went inside wearing a scowl.

  “These are hard times,” the man said. “A man can’t be sure who to trust. There have been some soldiers through, mostly south of here. Fleeing from the Dead Legion. A few helped themselves to what we had, or to that of farmers like us. Called it ‘taxes to fight the war.’ ”

  “I am sorry,” said Rowan. “You are right when you say these are hard times. For everyone, king’s servant or farmer.”

  “I don’t doubt it.”

  “The homes south of here are abandoned, it seems. Odd, given only a few hungry soldiers.”

  “Oh, that wasn’t because of the soldiers, not directly anyway. It was what the soldiers said. About the Dark One’s army coming this way. And you could see a fear in their eyes—the soldiers’, that is—that they were scared, more scared than they would have been about any living army. A man might run from a living foe, but he won’t have the desperate, hunted look these men had—like they knew there was nowhere they could go where they were really safe.”

  “You mentioned the farmers leaving…”

  “Oh, right. Folks around here know they can’t defend their homes from these Dead, so we moved to the fringes of the swamps north of here until the danger passed. For my part, I just got back a few hours ago, figuring that spy we caught must have gotten lost and that the rest of them must have already passed by.”

  “ ‘Spy’?” the travelers said as one.

  “Goblin, someone said he was. From the Shadowlands to the west, no doubt. He protested his innocence, that one. Said he’s no servant of the Dark One, but that’ll hold no sway with us. Keeps asking to see the king. Likely he’s an assassin.”

  “What have they done with him?” Rowan asked.

  “Tied him up real good, then set to arguing. Mostly Conklin and Jensen jawing at one another—string him up or keep him hostage. Me and the wife left before they could make up their minds.” He chuckled to himself. “Probably still arguing, if I know those two.”

  “How far away are they?”

  “A few hours up the path by foot.”

  Rowan turned to the others and saw by their looks they all thought the same thing: they needed to
see this “goblin” for themselves. He thanked the farmer for his time, and as they started to move away, the woman of the house called out to them. She approached, handing a small sack to Tala. “It’s not much,” she said, “but it will feed you for a few days.”

  “Thank you,” Tala said with a sincere smile. The others offered their appreciation and said their farewells, which the woman brushed aside as she returned to her chores, mumbling under her breath.

  A few miles up the road Corson and Rowan took their turns on the horses, and moved out in front of the walkers, scouting a bit more aggressively in anticipation of the collected farm folk, the lone spy, and the possibility that others of his kind might be lurking in the area.

  “Goblins are not known to come this far east, or so I have been told,” said Tala.

  “Not that I’ve heard,” Demetrius agreed. “If they cross into human lands it is usually for raids into the Westerland, and they’ve come as far as White River in Corindor, but no further.”

  “Have you ever fought goblins?”

  He smiled, thinking back. “When I was much younger, and the thought of battle seemed romantic in some strange way. Duty on the front soon cured me of such notions. We did what needed to be done, but there is no glory in slaying.” A shadow passed over his face and he fell silent for a moment. When he continued, his voice was hushed. “Goblins are fierce warriors, more so when pressed. I saw many good men fall at their hands.”

  “Have you traveled much, in the service of your king?”

  “No, lady. My duty usually kept me near to him, and he seldom strayed from his own lands. Short trips into Delving and the Westerland, but no further. I have heard tales of the elves of the wood, but I never thought to meet one.”

  “We tend to keep to ourselves, deep in the heart of the forest. It is a shame that it takes dark days such as these to stir us enough to seek the friendship of men.”

  “Solek is a man. I would think the terror he has loosed on the land would make you less inclined to leave the wood.”

  “There are some who think that way. But it is the Dark One who sends the destruction—Solek is merely his vessel. It could have been an elf-king had fate been different.” She looked away for a moment, her eyes losing focus as her mind drifted to some far away place. “There are some of my kind who still believe we can remain hidden in the woods forever. It is a foolish hope.”