Soulstone (Eligium Series Book 4)

by Jake Allen Coleman

  Seated himself at the writing desk, he put the King’s fiance out of his mind and turned to his study of the Chronicles. The leather-bound tome sat in front of him now, opened to a treatise on the origins of the office of the Arch-mage. He deemed it prudent to understand the full scope of the power he was to assume.

  A dark, obsidian stone lay beside the book. Light reflected off its glassy surface, catching the old sorcerer’s eye. Closing the Chronicles, he shifted in his chair to consider the stone itself. How fortunate it was that this fourth Elgium, the Soulstone, had fallen into his possession.

  Stretching his mind out through the stone, he sensed the rhythms of the countryside pulse. In his mind’s eye, he saw the growing network of threads connecting him to an ever increasing number of the kingdom's populace. Most he needed to influence rather than control. Through that influence he would sow chaos and destruction, keeping those opposed to him off balance and susceptible to his machinations.

  Turning his attention north, he tapped into the solid black thread connecting him to the dwarven leader, Finnguala. Her mind had not been an easy one to influence and he doubted he could manipulate her in the way he had without the Soulstone. As it was, he sensed she was under his control. The Krenon, fools that they were, had this power for so long and never used it to its fullest.

  A rapping at the door brought his head up and he swept the stone into it’s pouch, hiding it from view. There were those in the palace who would recognize the Soulstone by sight and he did not wish its presence known. “Yes, who is it?” he called. The door to the chamber creaked open and King Ercanbald swept through. “My Lord,” he said, rising from his chair.

  The king shut the door behind him and motioned for Lex to stay in his seat. “Sit, Iacchus. We are not in Court now. We are just men who need to talk.” Strolling to the armchair, Ercanbald collapsed into it.

  With his recent study of the Soulstone, the tendrils connecting him to the King were clear to Sterling Lex. He was pleased they showed no sign of weakening. “What brings you here at this late hour?” he said.

  Peering into the fire, the king did not answer for a long moment. Glancing over at Lex where he sat, the king pointed at the book resting on the wooden writing table. “What is that?” asked Ercanbald.

  Looking at the book, Lex felt the time ripe. The suggestions he had been placing in the king’s mind were coming to fruition. “Those are the Chronicles,” he said. “I recovered them during my recent travels.”

  “The Chronicles. I would not have thought to find them here. There is a question I must ask you Iacchus. It has been growing in my mind and, seeing that book there, I do not expect I can bear to hold it inside any longer.”

  “My Liege, you can ask me anything.”

  “Anything?” the king raised an eyebrow. “I wonder.”

  “Do you doubt my loyalty?”

  The king laughed, “Your loyalty? No. Never that. But I wonder about you sometimes.”

  “Then ask your question,” said Lex, knowing what the question must be.

  “Iacchus, are you a wizard?”

  There it was. Ercanbald was ready. Lex turned to face him, “I am.”

  The king nodded, “I thought as much. Tell me, why would Uriasz send a spy to my court.”

  Lex shook his head, “I am a wizard, but I hold no loyalty to Uriasz.”

  Ercanbald shrank back, “Then who?”

  Smiling, Lex reached out through the Soulstone, “My only loyalty is to Cynneweald, my king. You have taken a risk asking me this in private. Were I of Uriasz, I would wipe your mind, leaving you with no memory of this conversation.”

  “I had considered that,” said Ercanbald. “But it seemed worth the risk. If we are to face Uriasz and Gabirel, we will need wizards of our own. It gladdens my heart you are here.”

  “Wizards you will have, that I can guarantee. With the Chronicles in our possession, an opportunity presents itself.”

  “Opportunity? What do you mean, Iacchus?”

  Sterling Lex laid his hand on the leather-bound book, “Within these pages are the rites and ceremonies required to anoint the Arch-mage. Perhaps it is time to wrest control of the Kingdom’s magic from Uriasz and restore it to those loyal to the crown.”

  Ercanbald settled back in his chair, “Is such a thing possible? I had thought there already was an Arch-mage resident in the Dazhberg.”

  “There was an Arch-mage. Philon was killed during the Krenon assault and Uriasz had not appointed the next when I recovered the Chronicles.”

  “I wonder how you managed that. Better not to know, I suppose. What are you saying? That we can anoint the Arch-mage of our choosing here?”

  “Just that, my king.”

  “And I suppose you have an idea who that should be?”

  Lex reached out through his connection to the king sending a pulse of energy and opening Ercanbald’s mind to the idea. “Besides myself there are several candidates I can bring before you for your consideration. Those that I know we can trust.”

  The king waved his hand, “There is no need for other candidates. You have proven yourself loyal. When can it be done?”

  Sterling Lex smiled, he could have performed the rites on his own, but having the king’s blessing at the outset would add to the authority and power he would gain through his ascendancy. At long last that which was stolen from him would be restored. “I have studied the requirements and am prepared,” he said. “We can perform the ceremonies tonight. Tomorrow I will send to Gabirel demanding the return of the Eligium with the authority of the Arch-mage behind my request.”

  “Make it so,” said the king.

  CHAPTER SIX

  It felt to Sebastian that he barely closed his eyes when Jarmo Dale’s voice yanked him back to consciousness to begin the new day. Sitting up, he groaned, every muscle in his body screaming from the previous day’s exertions. Looking over to the next bunk where Martino was rousing himself. His friend stretched and winced at his own aches. Martino caught his eye, “No more dreams?”

  “None. Once it's done, it's done for the night.” The two hauled themselves out of their bunks and pulled on their tunics, preparing for the day ahead. “Wonder what torture they have for us today?”

  Martino considered the question for a moment, “As long as it’s not archery. I don’t think I’ve got the strength to draw a bow.”

  Following morning mess, the cohort assembled in the bailey awaiting their orders. They did not have long to wait before Jarmo arrived to bark out their assignments. “First Squad…to the stables. There’s a need for you to brush up your riding. Second Squad is on hand-to-hand, and I’ll not want a repeat of the last session.” Sebastian braced himself, sure that their squad would be assigned to archery. “Third Squad is to report to the Maw. You’ve drawn gate duty today.”

  Sebastian and Martino had a bounce in their step as they made their way to the main gate. “Real gate duty!” said Martino once they were out of Jarmo Dale’s earshot. “Only the Squads ready for advancement draw duty.”

  “I’d not get my hopes up if I were you. As the Drill-master reminds us we’re ‘a bunch of snot-nosed recruits’ and it’ll be lucky if a one of us even passes the challenge.”

  “Be that as it may, we’re still drawing a real duty assignment today. And did you not recognize they form the squad based on more than just luck of the draw? I reckon ours is marked out.”

  Before Sebastian could respond, they found themselves at the main gates. They earned their nickname from the red stone used in their construction, which gave them the appearance of a gaping mouth. The gates had been one of the first sections repaired, which made little sense to Sebastian. Why fix the gates with those huge holes in the walls themselves? He’d heard an explanation, but he still did not understand.

  Assigned stations along the wall, Sebastian and Martino were far enough apart to prevent further conversation. That left Sebastian mulling over what Martino said about the squadron assignments. Now that he pu
t thought to it, each group had its own set of strengths and weaknesses. For instance, most of second squad came from farms and ranches; whereas Sebastian’s own squad primarily consisted of recruits that had been attached to one lord or another in their youth and some modicum of experience in warfare. He supposed his own training with Quiren Adelwolf, along with his participation in the recovery of three of the Eligium, qualified him for inclusion in the third.

  After his first hour on the wall, Sebastian began to fidget. The more he found out about soldiering, the less glamorous it seemed. He had nothing to do, except stand waiting for something—anything—to happen. To make matters worse, a cold wind blew from the north, chilling him to the bone. Fighting to keep his mind from wandering, he surveyed the distant opening where the road to the Dazhberg came into view. Nothing. Not that he expected any different.

  The second hour was more excruciating. The breeze died away, allowing the air to warm somewhat. He yawned, now fighting drowsiness and boredom. Sneaking a peak, he saw that Martino’s eyes were half closed, and he swayed on his feet., Sebastian knelt to grab a small pebble and tossed it at his friend. The rock struck true and Martino started back to wakefulness. Shaking his head to clear it, he shot Sebastian a look of thanks.

  It would have been a black mark on the entire squad had Martino been discovered sleeping on watch, and might even have earned the boy a flogging and dismissal from the Squires. Sebastian resumed scanning the countryside, passing his eyes back over the distant road. It was no longer empty. A train of horses and mules, along with several carts passed into view. The alarm bell began singing out before Sebastian could open his mouth to shout a warning. Someone else had already spotted them.

  A pair of riders sallied to intercept the newcomers, although they did not look much of a threat to Sebastian. These days no one approached the Dazhberg without being challenged. Sebastian watched as they approached the small group and, a few moments later, moved into an escort formation. Friends then. Foes would have stimulated a different response.

  As they neared the gates, Sebastian took stock of the new arrivals. A dozen men and women, with a handful of children who looked to be servants rather than kin. Every one of them was road-worn. Tunics and boots frayed, with a morose and defeated expression on their faces. Sebastian was too distant to hear the exchange.

  It was not long though before word came, passing along the guard. Uriasz had arrived. Of the once-mighty order of Wizards, this was all that survived the devastation wrought by Radomil and Cenric at the Cale. All of these had been absent from when Radomil attacked with his tame dragon. More would trickle in over the coming days. Watching them ride in, Sebastian searched for Gerhard’s familiar face. There had been no word of the wizard’s fate since the Grey Gull sank and Sebastian wondered if he rested in a watery grave with the rest of the Gull’s crew.

  Around noon, the scullery brought a stew and hot spiced ale to warm up the guard for their luncheon. Sebastian polished his away and prepared to settle in for a long afternoon. He actually looked forward to their lecture that night, and to getting back to real training tomorrow.

  “Are you Squire Sebastian?” the squeaky voice came from nowhere and he turned around to find a scraggly-looking page staring at him. “Squire Sebastian?” the boy repeated.

  “Aye. Who’s asking?”

  “Squire, you are wanted in the Aodhan Bret to give a report to the council. I can escort you there if you like.”

  “I know the way. What about my duty here?”

  “I’ve let the Captain of the Guard know you’ve been summoned.”

  Sebastian leaned over the parapet to find the Guard Captain looking up at him. The Captain raised his hand in dismissal and then returned Sebastian’s salute. Wondering what the council wanted of him, he made his way off the wall.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Sebastian had not been back to the Aodhan Bret since returning with the Dragonstone and was struck with the richness of light within the chamber. Three of the four alcoves along the perimeter glowed with the light of an Eligium. To the east the Eligius Siothrun glowed a bright yellow while the Eligius Ealadha resided to the west with its cold blue light. To the north, the Eligius Muliach sat resplendent in a fiery red. An empty alcove waited in darkness to the south, as did the short pillar in the heart of the chamber, surrounded by the stone table where the High Council met and the ring of pillars supporting the domed ceiling.

  Seated round the table were the familiar faces of the High Council, and two that Sebastian had not seen before. The first was a woman, her smooth face contrasted with the grey in her braid and made Sebastian doubt her age. She wore a flowing dark blue robe, tied at the waist with a simple cord. Even without finery indicating rank or position, he instinctively felt a need to show great deference. She would command any room she walked into.

  Next to her sat the other face unfamiliar to Sebastian. Even though he was seated, Sebastian could tell he was not a tall man. His dark hair had been slicked back, revealing sharp widow’s peaks. He had an oily mustache and deep set wrinkles about his eyes. His robe was similar in cut to the one the woman wore, but shone with a brilliant red color and was made of a finer cloth. Rather than a cord at his waist, a fine leather belt secured his robe. In that red cloak, he reminded Sebastian of the Krenon.

  Seeing Sebastian arrive in the chamber, High Councilor Damianus called the group to order. “Master Breandan, Mistress Valeria,” he began, addressing the two newcomers. “On behalf of the High Council, I bid you both welcome to the Dazhberg.” Damianus had aged much since the last time Sebastian had seen him. His hair, already thinning, had mostly disappeared and deep crevasses were etched into his forehead. Around his neck he wore the symbol of his office, a long chain suspending the keys to the Vaults.

  “Our thanks High Councilor,” said Valeria, her voice ringing a clear alto.

  Breandan inclined his own head in acknowledgment, but his eyes locked on Sebastian. “We are told you have news of what happened at Cale Uriasz,” his voice felt as oily as his hair and mustache when he spoke. “When our ship arrived at the Cale we found only destruction.” His voice raised, “We would know what you know!” Valeria laid a hand on his arm and caught his eye. He puffed out a breath and continued with a more measured tone, “But of course, we are grateful to Gabirel for offering sanctuary.” Sebastian was convinced the man was not grateful at all.

  Master Darden, chief wizard at the Dazhberg and envoy to Gabriel from Uriasz, beckoned Sebastian to a seat next to him at the table. “This is Sebastian Pwyll, Squire. He and his companion arrived to Cale Uriasz following the attack and can give you much…” He trailed off as was his habit, still waiting for Gerhard to complete his sentence. The two had worked in tandem for so many years they seemed to be sides of the same coin.

  Valeria fixed Sebastian with an eagle stare, “Pwyll?”

  Lord Commander Teoma interjected before the woman went further. “The boy is Gerlach Pwyll’s son, as I’m sure you surmised. Raised by distant relations, he did not even know who his father was until after the man was dead.” Sebastian did not like to think about his father and was glad that Teoma did not go further into the details of the man’s passing.

  Valeria pursed her lips, “I expect there is more to this story than you are saying, Lord Commander. Since you obviously don’t want to reveal more, I will leave it there. Now Sebastian Pwyll, tell us what you found when you arrived at Cale Uriasz.”

  For what seemed like the hundredth time, Sebastian recounted the story of how Radomil had deceived both Krystelle Mora and himself, tricking them into handing over the Chronicles. He related to them everything the Radomil had told them about the attack on Uriasz in his guise as Drealan. He had no reason to suppose the actual attack had been any different from what the sorcerer had told them. Glossing over his own battle with Cenric, he focused instead on Krystelle’s own skirmish with the four guards.

  “And where is this Cenric now?” Breandan’s oily voice caused Seb
astian to shiver.

  Lord Marcello, having authority over the hospital at Dazhberg, he responded to the wizard. “Cenric is here in the fortress, recovering. The boy has been through an ordeal and we have yet to unwind the poison Sterling Lex placed in his mind. Mistress Valeria, your faculties in healing such afflictions are legendary. Perhaps you would care to examine the boy?” She inclined her head in acquiescence.

  Breandan scowled at the suggestion. “I would not interfere in your work Valeria, but I think it prudent we interrogate the boy.”

  “Perhaps,” said Valeria. “I will know more once I have examined him.”

  Breandan pressed his companion, “Very well, then. In the meantime, I am not satisfied with the tale this boy has spun. We shall want to hear from Krystelle Mora. There is also the matter of how this one, who is not in training as a wizard, could defeat young Cenric who held the Eligius Muliach in his hands. This should not have been possible. All of that begs the question why the Dragonstone is sitting in the Aodhan Bret and not on its way back to Hallvard where it belongs. Does Gabirel intend to break the Ban, I wonder?”

  “Of course, Uriasz is not accusing Gabirel of standing in defiance of the Ban,” said Valeria, “But I too wonder that three of the Eligium are back in the Aodhan Bret. Two more and the Ban will end whether we wish it or not. I fear, however, there are other matters we must address first. I’m speaking of the condition of the countryside and the towns around the realm. Since the Ban was enacted the lands have been in a drought. Not a physical one, but a mystical one. It was an unintended side-effect of the Ban itself.”

  Breandan could not contain himself any longer, “and one reason the Ban should be ended, but by Uriasz itself and the Arch-mage, not Gabirel.”

  “That is a debate for another time, and one that requires our other allies' participation,” continued Valeria. “Regardless the effects are plain to see if one knows what to look for. However, as we made our way to the Dazhberg, I saw something that concerned me. Above and beyond the greying of things brought on by the Ban. There is a malaise over the people and the land I’ve not seen before. In every town we passed through there was talk of murders and dying crops and bouts of insanity. Something foul and evil is gripping the land.”