Soul Forge Saga Box Set

by Richard Stephens

  “Gerrymander shall be in the capable hands of Sytesong.” The captain indicated a man with braided, waist-length, blonde hair framing a long, angular face.

  Sytesong nodded.

  “He is instructed to keep Gerrymander close in the event we need to make a rapid escape, but his ultimate responsibility is the good ship’s safekeeping. If danger presents itself, Gerrymander will make for open water where her full might can be brought to bear.”

  He paused to drain his wine. “Our journey may be filled with perils unknown, but we shall meet them the way we meet every challenge. With strong arms, and clever minds. Woe betide any who stand against us.”

  A busy morning followed a restless night for the men and women entrusted to guard the quest. At daybreak, five skiffs paddled away from Gerrymander into the crashing surf. It took three trips to ferry the landing party of sixty-six, and their gear, to the gravelly shore. Only one craft capsized during the exercise, the loss of much needed provisions the sole casualty.

  Once ashore, Thorr overheard Alhena admonishing one of the crew.

  “Nay. I shall bear my own burden, thank you. You will be sorry help to us should you exhaust yourself carrying my gear as well.”

  Alhena gave the abashed sailor a haughty, “harrumph,” and snatched his satchel from the stricken man’s hands. He struggled briefly to hoist the bulging sack over his stooped shoulder before he stormed off, giving Thorr a wink on his way past.

  Thorr smiled and shook his head as the oldest member of the quest stomped after the lead members of the company who were in turn following the direction Thetis had set out. How she knew which way to go, he had no idea. Alhena’s fortitude was the least of his worries. Indeed, Alhena continually proved to be an asset—his wisdom, their counsel, his determination, their inspiration.

  Thorr ordered the gangly Ithnan and Ithaman to scout the company’s flanks and sent the other brothers, Longsight and Blindsight ahead to search out the best route forward. Longsight was the sailor often seen perched high in the main crow’s nest—the man possessed uncanny vision.

  The large party travelled southward, making their way around jagged tors into the Under Realm’s interior. Leaving Hell’s Stew behind, the rugged terrain gave way to a rolling, lush green landscape, similar to that of the Gritian Hills.

  Longsight marked their trail with strips of cloth tied to various plants or held by rocks. Olmar and Tara tracked the scout’s progress, collecting every other marker they came across, leaving the others to assist them on their return leg. Occasionally, the bandy-legged giant and the brawny female missed one, forcing the rest of the quest to assist in the search.

  They traversed grassy knolls and descended into lush valleys bursting with exotic vegetation that were alive with alien insect life. This was the last type of environment they had expected. Their only hardships were aching feet and a nasty insect sting one sailor received while relieving himself in a thick patch of fragrant flowers; much to the delight of his peers.

  Without the aid of Olmar’s timepieces, darkness caught them unaware. They hurriedly set up camp under torch light and settled into an uneasy night. Several sentries were dispatched to ward their perimeter, but with the exception of Blindsight, no one was able to see beyond the flickering torchlight.

  Before daylight broke, Blindsight led Longsight out into the pitch to begin searching the new day’s route.

  Near the end of the third day since disembarking Gerrymander, the quest halted. Longsight and Blindsight ran toward them, bearing the cloths they had previously set out.

  Blindsight rarely spoke, so Longsight addressed the captain, “Our path ahead is blocked by a gorge.”

  “What lies beyond?”

  Longsight hesitated. He glanced at his brother, but Blindsight’s impassive face didn’t help. “A river, of sorts.”

  Captain Thorr furrowed his brow.

  “The river appeared as, um…the best way to describe it would be, uh, flowing milk.”

  “Flowing milk?”

  “Aye sir, and smelly.”

  “Seems bizarre.”

  “Aye sir, but wait, it gets better.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Well sir, I’m not sure how to describe what we heard.”

  “Heard?”

  “Aye sir.” Longsight paused, but the captain said nothing, awaiting his next words. “Well, we, Blindsight and myself, we heard voices. Many voices.”

  All gathered looked around, remembering the story from days earlier when three of their shipmates were lost at the great waterfall.

  Thorr frowned deeper. “Voices?”

  “Aye sir. And peculiar sounding too, eh Blind?”

  Blindsight nodded slightly, biting his lower lip, staring at the ground.

  “What did they say, these voices? Where did they come from?”

  “Well that’s the rub, isn’t it? We don’t rightly know. We looked everywhere.”

  “And?”

  “That’s just it. They came from everywhere.”

  “I believe you. Pray, do go on.”

  “That’s about all, sir. We searched for over an hour. Nothing.”

  “What did they say? Did they speak an alien tongue?”

  “No, sir,” Longsight answered slowly. “That’s the weirdest part. They spoke our language. It’s strange, but…I can’t explain it. Eerie like.”

  The captain raised his eyebrows. He was about to confer with Thetis, who had slipped in beside him.

  Longsight’s voice stopped him. “By the urgency in their voices, I believe they’re trying to warn us of something.” He grimaced. “Actually, we did make out one phrase.”

  Everybody pressed closer.

  “’Ware the Sentinel.”

  Blindsight nodded vigorously.

  Alhena clutched at Thorr’s shoulder in an effort to remain standing.

  Myth?

  Seated around the perimeter of the central campfire, Alhena and Thorr ate in silence. Silurian, Pollard, Avarick and Sadyra sat with them, engrossed in their own thoughts.

  Alhena was troubled. Longsight’s message bothered him more than it should have.

  Thorr looked up from his wooden bowl. “What are you thinking?”

  Alhena ignored the question and continued to gaze into the fire.

  Longsight and his twin appeared out of the darkness from the direction of the distant bluff where they had encountered the strange voices, and joined the group, nodding to everyone in turn.

  Sadyra shuffled over to make room on the fallen tree trunk she shared with Pollard.

  Rook appeared shortly afterward. Everyone looked behind him, expecting to see his shadow, but Thetis wasn’t there.

  Avarick gestured for Rook to join him on the large rock he sat upon.

  Rook nodded at the group and took a place beside the Enervator. He removed the awkward sword given to him by the Gerrymander’s stores master and placed it next to Avarick’s crossbow before turning his attention to polishing his bow.

  The evening grew late as the group discussed the recent turn of events. They spoke of old yarns and myths, trying to unearth the significance of the warning, ‘’ware the Sentinel.’

  Rook and Avarick spoke quietly beside Longsight and Pollard who were engaged in an animated discussion with Sadyra.

  Everyone stopped in midsentence to stare at Alhena—a stunned revelation had twisted his features.

  “What is it?” Thorr asked.

  “Hell. The Under Realm. They are the same thing.”

  Thorr frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “I know where it comes from,” Alhena whispered.

  “Where what comes from?”

  Alhena shot back a frown of his own. The captain wasn’t usually this daft. “The warning, ‘’ware the Sentinel.’”

  Everyone leaned closer.

  “I knew I had heard that phrase at some time in my life but I could not place it.” His voice dropped off as he thought about what he said.


  “And?” Thorr prodded.

  A lengthy silence ensued before Alhena nodded to himself. “A long time ago, long before I started running for the Chamber, I was an archivist in the royal library under Castle Svelte.” He drifted off.

  Suddenly he pointed at no one in particular. “Yes. Yes! That is it!” He carried on a private conversation with himself. “The scroll. That is where I have seen it before.”

  “The scroll? What scroll?”

  Alhena gazed into Thorr’s eyes, but his focus lay elsewhere, far beyond.

  When he spoke, his words came in spurts as memories slammed into him. “It was an old scroll. Ancient. Brittle. We almost were not able to preserve it long enough to read it…Yes. Carmichael’s scroll. That is it!” He laughed a little insanely. “That is what we called it, anyway.”

  No one knew who we were.

  “Saint Carmichael’s scroll, actually. At least we believe he wrote it.” Alhena sat back on the rock, pleased with himself.

  When he didn’t offer anything further, those around him looked at one another, rolling their eyes.

  Thorr spoke through clenched teeth, “And what, pray tell, did this scroll say?”

  “Huh? Oh. Well, it is more of a song than a story. Do not expect me to sing it, though. Hmm? Let me see…if I remember…”

  Just when the group believed he wasn’t going to say anything more, he did, “To the best of my recollection, mind you it has been fifty odd years at least, the scroll read something like this:

  When the shadow stabs,

  the life-giving sun,

  forth shall he ride,

  leaving nothing but ruin.”

  He paused, staring vacantly past all those watching him, trying to recall the verse correctly.

  “Freedom will be denied,

  to those who fall,

  within his shadow;

  death dealt to all.

  Upon naive waves,

  he unfurls his sail.

  Fear ye who live,

  for only he shall prevail.

  We live now only to await,

  our life blood courses nigh.

  The Stygian Lord comes again,

  blighting the land, razing the sky.

  Only one hope remains,

  for those foolish enough to pursue.

  Onto the Under Realm,

  into hell, but never through.

  Venture forth to unknown power,

  a cradle of evil disgorge.

  A quest of unspeakable terror,

  at journey’s end, Soul Forge.

  For those who search,

  death shall follow.

  For those who persist,

  shall be riven hollow.

  As does the Innerworld,

  also does hell.

  A drinker of souls,

  'ware the Sentinel!”

  An eerie silence gripped the group. Everyone attempted to peer beyond the reach of the fire’s glow, half expecting this ‘Sentinel’ to claim them right then and there.

  They waited for him to elaborate.

  Alhena looked directly at each member of the quest seated about the fire. To a person, their eyes displayed a wariness not present before.

  “Perhaps I should not have mentioned it.” He dropped his gaze to the flames, his voice falling to a whisper. “Probably has nothing to do with us.”

  After everyone left for their tents, Thorr requested Thetis’ presence within his own.

  She shrugged when he mentioned Alhena’s story, feigning indifference. She was adamant they continue their present course. If the members of the quest were uneasy about continuing toward the gorge, she suggested they skirt around it, eastward.

  “You believe that will keep us from harm?” Thorr asked.

  “I don’t, but it might allay their fear.”

  “What if that is the river we seek?”

  “It’s not.”

  “And our destiny lies this way?”

  “I am certain of it, good captain.”

  “For someone who has never been here before, you know a fair bit about this land. I’m thinking you know more than you let on.”

  Thetis smiled sweetly and disappeared into the night.

  With Ithnan and Ithaman scouting their northern flank, and Longsight and Blindsight searching out the best route southeastward, all with the purpose of avoiding the canyon and whatever this Sentinel thing was, the quest trudged onward. Two brawny sailors were sent south to further investigate the voices.

  As the day wore on, the trees gave way to barren rock, and before night fell, to hard-packed, hot sand. Thanks to good planning, camp was set up before darkness dropped upon them like a cudgel.

  Alhena made his way to the captain’s fire and sat down to eat. As he dug into his meagre fare, Longsight stopped by to report there was nothing but sand to the north as far as he could see.

  After Longsight left, Ithaman and his brother strolled into the firelight to report the same held true in the east, where the sand became softer, making it harder to walk. The land reportedly rolled with small dunes that grew to greater heights farther east.

  Of the brawny sailors who had ventured south, there was no word.

  Pollard, Sadyra and Avarick followed on Rook and Silurian’s heels to join the captain’s campfire with meals in hand. To everyone’s surprise, Thetis accompanied them.

  Alhena studied her as she engaged the captain in private conversation. She hadn’t brought along anything to eat. There was something strange about that one, but he couldn’t put a name to his misgivings. Saros had appointed her to guide them, and she hadn’t led them astray yet. She had led them to the portal, and successfully guided them through it. She had navigated Hell’s Stew and brought them to what she claimed was the Under Realm. Yet, she hadn’t prevented the loss of three crewmen at the waterfalls she referred to as, Debacle Lurch. How she knew the falls’ name was a mystery.

  Thorr’s gruff voice cut through his reverie, “We are faced with an unfavourable decision. Turn back and head toward the cliffs with the voices or continue along our present course and brave an increasingly inhospitable landscape.” He nodded toward Thetis. “Thetis claims either route leads us to where we need to go.”

  Everyone stopped eating, but no one responded.

  “Our southernmost scouts have yet to return, and that concerns me. It is my humble opinion that we turn back and brave whatever creatures inhabit the canyon region, if for no other reason than to locate our men. I’m thinking that if these creatures meant us harm, they would’ve done so by now. To forge deeper into the desert screams to me of disaster, but I will defer the decision to Rook and Silurian.”

  Silurian, staring off into some other world, became aware the attention had swung his way. He shrugged indifference. “Unless the creatures are protecting something and have left us alone because we no longer prove to be a threat.”

  Thorr nodded.

  “I don’t relish walking through this desert any longer than I have to. If it is a river we seek, the cliffs seem like the place to start,” Rook offered. “Not a desert.”

  Silurian put his meal aside. “That makes sense. As the captain said, there is also the matter of the missing scouts. We cannot carry on east until we know that they are safe. I say we head to the cliffs.” He got up and stepped into the night, his supper abandoned.

  The following morning passed quietly as the contingent from Gerrymander reversed their route out of the desert. The rocky, windswept terrain, devoid of all but the hardiest scraps of scraggy vegetation, began wearing at the group’s demeanour.

  After the midday meal, Alhena walked alongside Thorr. “I should not have mentioned that story the other night.”

  Thorr frowned.

  “Look at them.” Alhena indicated the men and women trudging along in silence and glancing over their shoulders as if something followed in their wake.

  “Fear not. We all bear the burden of the task before us. Aye, they don’t relish the mystery of
what lies ahead, but know for certain that when the time comes, my people will account for themselves admirably.” The captain slapped him on the shoulder. “And if what you said is but a child’s tale, then all’s the better, eh? If nothing else, you have them considering worst-case scenarios. I’m sure you’ll agree, most of our darkest fears ferment in the unspoken parts of our mind. Rarely do they match our anxiety.”

  Alhena offered a half-hearted smile. “Aye, but do your people journey willingly, or do they simply respect your command?”

  “Bah. Their spirits will lift again, you watch. I know them well. Handpicked each one. You’ll see.” Thorr stopped and grabbed Alhena by the wrists, causing those behind to shuffle around them. He stared into Alhena’s colourless eyes. “Forth we go toward an unknown destiny. We travel as one, mighty and strong. Woe betide any who hinder us.”

  Before Alhena responded, a murmur rippled through the ranks. A lone runner had made her way back to them.

  Sadyra pulled up before Thorr, out of breath. “Sir, Olmar and I believe we’ve located the scouts’ tracks along the edge of the gorge.”

  Harbinger

  Bandy-legged Olmar fought to catch his breath. He had scouted ahead with Sadyra and dispatched her a few hours earlier to inform the quest of their discovery. While waiting for her return, he followed the tracks along the cliff’s edge, his warhammer in hand.

  The double set of prints led him eastward. Not even Longsight or Blindsight had travelled this far south. The tracks led him to a spot where the scouts’ trail descended down the faint traces of a ledge cut into the face of the sandstone cliff.

  Thorr watched the awkward, loping gait of Olmar’s approach as the quest came within sight of a colossal landfall.

  “I were to be after the lads, but I came across another set of prints an’ it be givin’ me pause,” Olmar said without preamble.

  Thorr ordered the quest to a halt. “Another set? Ours?”