Soul Seeking

by R. Michael Card

She looked at him oddly. “Who be you?” Her use of the northern tongue was a little rough and stilted. “I’ve not seen any man with skin like yours before.”

  He almost laughed. He was quite certain that his dark skin would be an anomaly where she was from, just as her paleness would be out of place where he was from.

  “Where come you from?” she asked.

  That would be hard to answer. He went with something vague, “The south.”

  “Why are you here?”

  Also hard to explain. Especially if her question wasn’t ‘why are you here in the north’ so much as ‘why are you here spying on me bathing’?

  Again an ingenious answer came to him just as he was running out of options. “The work of the gods.”

  She seemed to relax somewhat at that. Apparently it had been the right thing to say.

  “You a god?” she asked, looking him over with newly appraising eyes.

  “Me? No.” So, what was he? “I’m… a… messenger?” He probably shouldn’t have made that sound so much like a question. “I was sent by a god to this spot for some reason I’m not yet clear on.”

  “Send by the gods?”

  “Yes.”

  She let her axe fall away to her side as she relaxed. “Join me?” She waved an arm behind her at the bubbling pool.

  As much as that idea appealed to him given how cold he was, he wasn’t sure what to say to her new hospitality. “Thank you, but no. You go back in. I don’t know how long I can stay…” He sort of lingered on the ‘y’ of ‘stay’ as he realized he was back in the cavern with Jais and Caerwyn. Sometime around the “I don’t know” of his sentence he’d returned. He caught himself and cleared his throat, stepping back from the statue.

  “What did you see? Who did you see?” Caerwyn seemed eager to learn about his ‘adventure’. Yet before he could speak she went on in a rush. “How long did it feel for you? We saw you walk up then step back. It was nearly instantaneous.”

  He cleared his throat again, then realized he’d already done that. “Ah, it wasn’t long.” Before she could ask who he saw again he pushed on. “Who did you see when you touched it?”

  “My parents,” Caerwyn answered, her demeanor changing from excited to somber. “My birth parents. They were just as I remembered them.”

  She hadn’t talked much of her birth parents, and he’d never asked. All he’d ever gleaned was that she’d had a normal life, until some point when they had died and she’d gone on the run.

  “I haven’t tried that statue yet,” Jais said. “But when I touched Asavi I saw Alnia and she gave me this sword, which was my father’s apparently. As I was saying just after you arrived, I have my own theory on what is happening, but first, I’d like to know what you saw. Was it someone from your past, someone who died?”

  “No. It was a person I’d never met before. I don’t know if it was past, present, or future.”

  Jais grimaced. “That doesn’t help much. My theory was that the statue of Asavi shows us someone we know well, a friend or loved one and… I think it grants us a gift, a boon. It gave me the sword and gave Caerwyn… you. But as for what the others do, I’m still uncertain.”

  Barami shrugged. “I could use a boon.” He stepped over to the statue of Asavi and touched one of her up-stretched arms.

  Again he was transported. Only this time it was to the past… a day he would never forget.

  He stood, tall and proud, washed and scented, on a dais raised high above a great crowd. He wore the native garb of his people: a soft leather skirt to the knees, no shirt, but a sash of bundled oil-cloth over one shoulder and tied off at the opposite hip. His dark skin gleamed in the southern sun and he knew, though he could not see it, his hair was thick and dark atop his head. This was before he’d begun shaving it, long before he’d needed to shave it.

  But it wasn’t himself he was focused on, but the woman before him: Caerwyn. He swallowed a lump at the sight of her. She was younger, though in truth that was hard to tell. It was mostly around the eyes that she’d aged. The woman before him made his heart thunder in his chest, her skin a beautiful — well-tanned — bronze and long black-brown hair, free from its usual braid, flowing down in waves to her shoulders. Her face was serene with a faint smile as she approached him. She spoke in Afgenni, the language of the south, criers in the crowd below echoed her words out farther and farther so the crowd could hear all that transpired.

  “Barami of the Noa Oki Kigasi. You are here to swear an oath of servitude; an oath which shall bind you to me as guard and friend. Do you accept this service?”

  “I do,” he responded. He remembered at the time feeling less like he was swearing himself as her bodyguard and more like he was speaking the words of bonding to tie himself to her for life.

  “Do you know the oath?”

  “I do.”

  “Then speak it and forever be bound.”

  Only three days before this, Caerwyn — then a captain in her adopted father’s armies — had been leading his unit out to deal with some raiders who’d been threatening cities in the east of Afgenni, but they’d been ambushed. Nearly his entire unit had perished dealing with the raiders. Caer had saved his life, killing one of the last raiders, who’d been attacking Barami from behind. He’d sworn there and then this same oath, but now would repeat it for all those assembled here in the capital today.

  “I, Barami of the Noa Oki Kigasi, swear that my life shall, from this day forth, be bound to you, Caerwyn Afgenni, Captain of the Afgenni armies and daughter of Prince Ahslam Afgenni, Governor of Rahan Province. My sword is yours to command. My shield will always protect you. My life is yours to sacrifice as you will. I will gladly take any wound meant for you. As you live, I live and as you die, I die.”

  The words echoed out in the voices of the criers below among the crowd. A great cheer went up. As it did, Caerwyn leaned in with a mischievous grin and whispered. “I think I’ll be saving you more often than not.” Then shrugged and returned to her serene pose.

  Once the noise from the crowd had died down she spoke again. “Then accept these gifts from the Empire and myself.” An attendant handed her the items as she spoke of them. “A sword, as great as you are.” Another cheer as he accepted his sword. The sword he would come to call Oken-adi, which meant a most stalwart friend. “And a shield of Mathran Steel, strong and light, to keep us safe.” He took the shield as well.

  Once again as the crowd cheered she whispered, “That’s expensive, don’t get it banged up too much.” He had to work to keep from smiling, this was a serious occasion.

  Finally she turned to the crowd and proclaimed. “See, my first and only Bond-guard. I thank him for his lifelong commitment!”

  The vision faded, and Barami sighed as it did. That had been a proud moment in his life, one he’d not ever hoped to relive, and yet he had. He stepped back with a smile.

  “I was right!” Jais said behind him.

  His mind worked for a moment to think of what point the boy had been trying to prove. It had been something about…

  …boons.

  He only then realized the weight in his hands. His sword and shield. He knew them by feel, even without looking. When he did look down at them he smiled. They were the same as they had been those years ago, fresh and new, no scars or dents. He smiled wider.

  “I think I like this place,” he said with a nod.

  27

  Jais felt his spirits lifting.

  He was still far from what he might call happy or satisfied. His failure was too fresh and near in his memory, and he still badgered himself about his cowardice. But amidst the berating he was also feeling a small hope. Perhaps with his friends, with these new weapons and boons, they might have a chance to undo his mistake and kill the krolloc.

  Yet before they did Jais was curious. As Barami and Caerwyn argued over who would touch the statue of Thadros first to see what he might grant them, Jais approached Berem and reached for the broken glass orb.

  H
e found himself back at his house, but instead of being burned and destroyed, it was whole and undamaged. Inside he could hear his aunt singing a pleasant tune.

  “Aunt Sarelle?” he called out as he entered.

  She smiled up at him. “Hello, Jais.”

  He beamed, but almost instantly felt that pang of fear and regret. He had failed her, despite her direct command and her sacrifice. “I’m sorry, Aunt Sarelle. I failed you.”

  She swept out from behind their kitchen table and caught him up in a hug. “You were brave, my son. You hurt it dearly. Do not regret your choices. Had you stayed you may or may not have defeated it, but you would most certainly not be as hale and uninjured as you are now. Call it not cowardice, but prudence. You needed assistance and now you have it.”

  Her words soothed him.

  She was not a large woman and with his broad shoulders he was easily able to fold his arms around her. “Thank you.” He felt tears come to his eyes. “And I’m sorry.”

  She tisked. “I made my choice too.”

  “Yours was far braver than mine.”

  “That was only because I knew you were there. I had no chance against that thing. My best choice was to help you against it. I am no warrior, Jais.” She sighed heavily. “And I have finally accepted you are far more your parent’s child than mine, as much as I consider you my own son.”

  He felt more tears brewing at the edges of his eyes. He let her go and stepped back from the embrace. “I have my father’s sword now…” He wasn’t sure why he’d said that. It wasn’t what he wanted to say. He finally asked what he’d wanted to ask for years. “What were they like?”

  There were tears in her eyes as well. “You are so much like them. They were strong like you with the hearts of warriors. My sister was a better soul-weaver than I ever was and your father was a swordsman of incredible skill with abilities to channel energy through his blade. You look a lot like him, though, to be honest you’re built more like my father, who was a great farmer with powers tied to the land.”

  Even this limited knowledge was more than his aunt had ever told him in life.

  As if reading his thoughts she said, “I’m sorry I never spoke of them. It was always so hard.”

  He stepped in to embrace her again. “It’s well, I understand.”

  This time it was her who broke away first. “Our time is limited, and there is so much I want to say. I hope I was like a mother to you. For you were the son I was never able to have.”

  He smiled sadly. “Yes, you were.”

  Tears were welling again as she waved slowly and vanished.

  He stepped back from the statue in time to hear Barami laughing at something. He sniffed away his tears and looked over to where the tall, dark skinned man was stepping back from the statue of Thadros.

  “You two are definitely going to want to try that.” Barami couldn’t seem to stop grinning.

  “What happened?” Caerwyn asked stepping up beside Barami.

  “No visions, nothing except a great feeling of relief and… It’s hard to explain. I feel like I could take on anything at the moment.

  “Seems worth a try,” Caerwyn said stepping closer.

  Jais was drawing near and watched as she touched the statue of the god of inspiration and music. She seemed to sigh out a great burden before drawing a great and easy breath. She stood taller, drawing herself up, and blinked; a look of awe on her face as she stepped back.

  Before Jais could do anything Caerwyn was scrabbling at her shirt, lifting it to pull away a bandage around her midsection. There was a lot of red soaked into the pale cloth. It wasn’t a wound she’d had when he’d seen her yesterday. So Jais wondered if such a wound should have the bandage removed so soon. But when she pulled away the last of the bindings there was nothing but unblemished flesh underneath. Jais stepped in closer and could see a faint pale line, like an old scar across her belly.

  “Even the stitches,” she breathed. “Amazing!”

  “Was it that bad?” Jais asked.

  She laughed. “Bad enough, and it’s gone.”

  Jais’ thoughts turned to himself. His back was still raw from the wounds he’d taken yesterday morning fighting the krolls. In addition he’d taken any number of cuts and scrapes as he’d moved through the caves.

  He turned away from Caerwyn saying, “My turn.” He stepped up to the statue and touched the flank of the god of muses.

  He felt all his cares and worries lifted from him: his failure, the deaths of his aunt and uncle, Alnia’s passing, the inexplicable turning of the village against him. All of it was gone. The memories were still there and their mark on him had not vanished. There was pain, certainly, and it would return, but for now all of the heaviness which weighed him down was lifted. It felt like the weight of the world had been taken from him. Yes, he still had a task ahead of him and people depending on him, but he no longer felt that pressure. Then a wave washed over him, filling him with hope and encouragement. It was like he was breathing in the god’s own divine breath. He felt his physical pains vanish and was left with only a sense of serenity and exaltation. It was a rush like nothing he’d ever felt before.

  “Oh,” he whispered as he stepped back.

  The expressions of awe and joy he had seen on the faces of his companions suddenly made sense. “Oh,” he said again.

  He turned to the other two who were grinning at each other. He joined them in their silly expression.

  “I shouldn’t feel this happy that I’m about to go face a krolloc and his horde,” Jais said.

  “A krolloc!” Barami’s expression stayed jovial but became a bit wild. “That’s what we’re up against? And a horde of krolls?” He laughed for a moment, then kept laughing as he said, “Why am I laughing?”

  Caerwyn joined him. “Because we can do anything. That’s how I feel. As crazy as our task may be, it certainly seems a lot more possible now.”

  Jais drew out his father’s sword and looked at the gleaming blade.

  I am with you, my son.

  He nearly dropped the sword at the words. His surprise and amazement must have been visible to the others as Caerwyn asked, “What happened?”

  He gazed for a moment longer at the sword, and nothing happened. “I don’t really know. It’s probably nothing, a side effect of all these visions we’re having.”

  She shrugged and nodded.

  Jais turned to the entrance to the temple. “I know where the krolloc is. Shall we go, before this inspiration wears off and we realize how bad an idea this really is.”

  “Lead the way,” Barami said and Caerwyn nodded again.

  Jais strode purposefully out of the Festorium and back into the dark caverns leading back to the cave where the krolloc had his lair.

  One thing was certain in his mind this time. He would not run, he would not flee. Either the krolloc would fall or he would, and feeling as he did at the moment, there seemed like nothing that could stop him.

  “Ah, friends?” Barami’s tone was hesitant. Jais and Caerwyn turned back to him, already well into the cavern leading away from the Festorium. Barami was silhouetted by the light of the room behind him. He was just standing there. “You two remember I can’t see in the dark right?”

  28

  Torchlight flickered over the faces of Jais and Caer. They’d found the torches just outside the strange temple area, and Barami had lit one. It seemed the other two didn’t need light even in purest darkness.

  “The krolloc will know we’re coming,” Jais said. “It can smell drahksani, so we won’t be able to surprise it. At least Caerwyn and I won’t.”

  Barami had a suspicion he knew what was about to come. “But I can, is that where you were going?” he asked Jais.

  The other man nodded. It was odd that in the span of a few days he’d gone from thinking of Jais as a boy, to now thinking of him as a man.

  Despite their task, no one looked concerned. Even Barami himself felt a sense of excitement and exhilaration. He was n
ot a headlong, headstrong warrior. He didn’t seek out fights, didn’t rush into anything and he wouldn’t now either, but still something of his caution had been tempered. He realized it was his fear. He wasn’t afraid of what was to come, but his natural level-headedness remained.

  Jais spoke again after the silence that hung between them. “Are you good with leaving us here and sneaking around to come in behind the krolloc?”

  Barami sighed. He didn’t want to leave either of them, especially Caerwyn. The desire was partially to protect her — as he’d devoted his life to do — and partially for his own safety. But he knew the benefits to splitting up. He’d be a wild card, able to surprise the krolls who would be ready for Jais and Caerwyn. It was a sound plan.

  “Yes. Where do I go?”

  Jais pointed toward a tunnel. “Follow that fissure as far as it will go. There are a few side tunnels, but they are all small, keep only to the main one, in which you should be able to keep upright, most of the time. The end of that will be at the far side of the kroll’s cave. Put out your torch there and let your eyes become accustomed to the light in that cave. It shouldn’t take you too long to get there. You should be able to creep through the back part of that cave with no one spotting you… unless my use of that route earlier alerted them to the entrance. So be ready for anything. The closer you can get to the main part of the cave the better, so you don’t have as far to go when Caerwyn and I show up. Got all that?”

  Barami nodded. “See you two in battle.”

  They both nodded to him and he left.

  The caves were cool given how warm the days had been recently. Barami, in a light shirt, had been ill prepared for the chill and felt a shiver trace his spine then echo out through his arms and legs. His torch gave off a little heat, but not enough to warm him. He kept his sword and shield close — shield strapped to his arm and sword in that same hand, held in front of him — so they wouldn’t be scarred by the stone walls. He wondered idly if these were his actual sword and shield. Certainly they looked newer, no nicks or scratches. Had these been created by the gods just for him, or had some miracle taken the existing items — confiscated by the villagers — and restored them somehow? It didn’t matter truly. He had them now, and that was all he cared about.