Soul Forge Saga Box Set

by Richard Stephens

  Already, riders had been dispatched to every major settlement in Zephyr with news of the king’s survival, commandeering many of the precious horses still left alive.

  A haggard lady, her clothes tattered and stained with soot, approached King Malcolm with a bundle clutched tightly within her shaking arms. She stopped and dropped onto the bench beside him, her scattered demeanour causing Pollard and the king’s guard angst, but the king merely watched as the distraught woman shoved the bundle into his arms. Pollard restrained himself from leaning over the bench and ripping the bundle from the king’s grasp. She might be handing him a nest of snakes.

  Malcolm looked questioningly at the woman. She sniffed loudly, wiping a filthy cuff across her runny nose, and nodded for him to see for himself.

  The king offered her a patient smile and pulled aside the bunting to reveal the remains of a baby girl, her cherub-like face slightly charred.

  Pollard gaped. His heart broke at the sight, but his warrior’s sense of protectionism had him wondering why someone would thrust a dead child into the king’s lap. The poor woman wasn’t in her right mind, and who could blame her, but that gave further rise to his anxiety. Who knew what the woman was capable of? He stepped around the bench to take the child from the king’s arms.

  Malcolm held up a hand, his attention never leaving the grieving mother. “Nobody knows where the love of God goes,” the king said softly. He pulled a lock of the woman’s greasy hair from the front of her reddened eyes. “But know your sweet child has been spared what is surely to come. She has been blessed by your love and is doubly blessed to sit with the Creator. Mourn hard for her loss, m’lady, for that is your due. I pray there’ll come a time that you’ll be able to see beyond the darkness and rejoice in the fact that she has passed unto a life greater than our own. Rest assured, your sweet child peacefully awaits the day you’re united again.”

  The woman sniffed loudly and stared blankly into Malcolm’s warm eyes. Just when Pollard feared she would lash out or say something out of line, she nodded and accepted her tiny bundle back from the king. Without a word, she shuffled into the night.

  “I believe that is the last of them, Sire,” the captain announced.

  “Very well, Captain Pik. See that your people have secured the perimeter of the inner bailey at least, and then get some rest. Tomorrow will be the beginning of many things.”

  “Aye, m’liege. The perimeter is secure. Watches have been posted along the outskirts of Carillon, and scouts patrol the roads. Tomorrow I will show you what we spoke of earlier.”

  “Excellent. Until then, go find some rest.”

  “Sire?” Captain Pik asked.

  The king rose wearily to his feet. “Not to worry, captain.” He indicated with a nod to Pollard and Rook. “I’m in good hands, wouldn’t you agree?”

  The captain seemed hesitant, but when the king raised his eyebrows, Captain Pik bowed and took his leave.

  “A good man,” Malcolm said. “With Captain Pik on duty, we’ll all be safe. He’ll not sleep tonight. I doubt he’s slept more than ten hours since the castle fell.” Malcolm walked amongst the dying campfires crackling near the moat, nodding and offering reassuring smiles to any still awake.

  Pollard had no idea where they were going so he merely followed, watching the backs of Malcolm and Rook, listening to their conversation. Yarstaff, quiet as usual, loped along in his wake.

  “So, what now?” Rook asked.

  Pollard observed how casually Rook spoke with the monarch. The two had obviously shared a history.

  The king stopped and shrugged, facing the demolished palace. “I wish I knew. We can’t stay here. Helleden’s forces drove us back to the castle before it fell. On the night of the firestorm, rumour reached us of a sizeable Kraidic army coming down through North Gate along the Slither. I fear they mean to join with Helleden. I’ve dispatched runners to my bannermen to see what forces are left to us.” His voice dropped away, “If any.”

  A cold chill tingled Pollard’s skin.

  “And no one’s heard from Gritian?” Rook asked.

  “Nay. You three know more than I. If the firestorm reached Madrigail Bay, it stands to reason Gritian wasn’t spared.”

  Rook glanced back at Pollard and Yarstaff, worry etched across his features.

  It wasn’t lost on Pollard that the king said, ‘you three.’ He had included Yarstaff in his observations. In the king’s eyes, the small creature had earned the right to be included in the proceedings. Time would tell whether the rest of the kingdom shared the king’s sentiments.

  Malcolm continued, “As bad as that seems, something even more profound has grabbed the attention of the Ivory Throne during the weeks leading up to Helleden’s attack. One that will carry more dire consequences than the sorcerer’s war.”

  Pollard frowned. What could be worse than the scourge of Helleden?

  Rook echoed Pollard’s misgivings. “Surely nothing can be worse than Helleden aligning with the Kraidic Empire.”

  Pollard noted Malcolm’s face portrayed something not present while he handled his subjects. Fear.

  “With the destruction of the Forbidden Swamp, the creatures of the Wilds are now free to wander,” the king explained. “Even if we’re able to muster a defense against the sorcerer, only God knows how we’re to deal with the menace the Wilds present.”

  Pollard swallowed. He hadn’t thought about the ramifications the destruction of the Forbidden Swamp might have on the western kingdoms. The swamp had acted as a buffer of protection from the unspeakable beasts inhabiting the wilds. If what the king feared came to pass, the Ivory Throne would remain nothing more than a throne of ash.

  Wizard’s Gibbet

  Silurian stumbled, almost falling face first to the canyon floor. A sizzling whoosh of air swept by him, impacting the panther-like creature creeping toward them and slamming it hard against the cliff wall. He ran toward it to take advantage of its vulnerability, but slid to an abrupt halt.

  Getting up from the base of the cliff was not one, but two giant panthers.

  “Shit!” his sister swore, very much out of character.

  Silurian recovered and stepped backward. “What did you do?”

  Melody held a hand over her gaping mouth. “I’m not sure.”

  “One not enough for you?”

  Melody glared at him but didn’t respond. She intoned more words Silurian had never heard before.

  “Um, please don’t make them any larger,” he said as he tried to gauge the two panthers’ intentions. As skeptical as he was about Melody’s next spell, he needed to keep their attention on himself to give a chance to cast it.

  The panther nearest him charged, covering the ground in three rapid bounds.

  He had been ready for the attack, but the panther’s speed left him reeling. He spun away from its headlong lunge and swung his sword at a lightning-quick paw that struck out at him on its way past. In his peripheral vision, the second cat had gone after his sister.

  Melody’s voice increased in pitch. Fearing she was being mauled by the second panther, he took his eyes off his attacker. Curiously, the second cat was nowhere to be seen.

  His momentary inattention prompted the panther to spring at him again. Hundreds of pounds of muscled fur, raking claws and flesh-ripping fangs flew through the air so fast he was powerless to avoid its path. He tried to raise his sword to intercept it but he wasn’t fast enough.

  A ball of fur whapped into his chest, knocking him back a couple of steps. Blinking rapidly, he tried to make sense of what had just happened. He should’ve been knocked to the canyon floor, fighting for his life.

  A black kitten with long upper fangs mewled on the ground at his feet, hissing and swiping a tiny paw at the air before it.

  “Aren’t they cute?” Melody asked.

  “What just happened?”

  “You asked me not to make them bigger and that gave me an idea.”

  “What if you hit me?”

 
; Melody shrugged. She patted her leather bag and raised her eyebrows. “I guess you’d be riding in here from now on.”

  The untravelled path rose steeply southward out of the Gap. Melody started doubting the route, but eventually it turned back upon itself and carried on into the western fissure.

  Before the trail climbed halfway up the wall, they came across a slight depression in the cliff face and called a halt to their hike before the sun lost its grip on the land altogether.

  There wasn’t any wood to be had so they sat side by side, shivering in the growing darkness.

  Melody invoked a small spell on the staff. The hidden runes glowed softly, providing them with a faint, welcome heat.

  “What was that spell you cast back there? The first one that nearly got us killed?” Silurian asked as he tried to chew on a small piece of wizard’s bread.

  “It was supposed to incinerate it.”

  Silurian laughed. “I think I soiled myself when I saw the second cat.”

  “You and me both. I don’t know what went wrong. I used the right spell but I must’ve enunciated the words wrong.”

  “You did what?”

  “Enunciated the words wrong. I must’ve placed emphasis in the wrong place, or slurred one of the words.”

  “Perhaps you should leave the sorcelling to the experts,” Silurian muttered.

  Melody frowned. “Sorcelling? Is that even a word?”

  “Beats me. Sounded good though, huh?”

  Melody didn’t answer. She was doubting her decision to leave her wizard’s cave. A cold that had nothing to do with the night air made her shiver. I can’t believe I destroyed those priceless books. Phazarus will have a fit if he’s still alive. She smiled ruefully. If only he were here now. It would be worth facing his wrath to have his comforting manner watch over them. She didn’t think herself worthy enough to live up to the expectations the old wizard had placed upon her. Her strength lay in divination and seeing, not in employing standard magic.

  Sure, she could use unguents to blow things up, or heal wounds, or poison people. Her staff provided her a semblance of protection with the various charges Phazarus had instilled within its runes, but when it came to combat, her skills sorely lacked the understanding required. If she were to be of any help to her brother when he faced Helleden, she needed to be better.

  She began second-guessing her actions against the panther. She had almost gotten them killed. Thinking back on it she knew what she should’ve used. Fire.

  Silurian’s hand startled her as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “I’m sorry. You did good. You stopped the threat and found the path out of here.”

  “Ya, but it shouldn’t have been so hard. I don’t think I’m cut out for this wizard stuff.”

  He hugged her closer. “Bah. I don’t know anyone else who is half as adept as you at blowing things up.”

  She gave him an incredulous look, but he smiled and hugged her closer.

  They sat silent for a long time, staring into the star-filled sky beyond the lip of the fissure at an odd wispy cloud scudding about, and listening to their soft breathing and stomachs growling.

  A lone cricket chirped somewhere close by.

  Cresting the end of the path leading out of the Gap, Silurian took in the desolate landscape. Off to the west, a line of trees dominated the horizon. Spectre Wood. Even from this distance, the dark treeline had a haunting effect on his senses. Perhaps due to the rumours Melody had instilled.

  The land between the Gap and the woodland lay windswept and barren—the hard, scrub-covered earth dotted by dead trees.

  He vaguely remembered the bleak fields north of the abandoned city known as Wizard’s Gibbet, but he had certainly never forgotten the ruins themselves. The Group of Five had almost lost Alcyonne and Javen during their misguided trek through the abandoned city.

  In the distance the skyline of Wizard’s Gibbet rose stark in the fading daylight.

  “Can’t we travel around that?” Silurian asked.

  Melody followed his gaze. “I’m not keen on travelling east of the city—the Wilds touch upon its walls. If I remember correctly, the west side is made impassable by a chasm that runs along the outer wall.”

  “If the Wilds are that close, what difference will it make if we skirt around it to the east?”

  Melody shrugged. “Phazarus claimed the creatures are afraid to pass beyond the city walls.”

  “Sounds like a good reason to walk around. If creatures bent on killing us are afraid to go near the ruins, doesn’t that scream at you that we shouldn’t go near them either?”

  “I don’t know,” Melody said, squinting at the vine-covered wall surrounding Wizard’s Gibbet. A layer of fog carpeted its base and extended through the open gatehouse into the town. “Phazarus always came this way.”

  “He was the Wizard of the North,” Silurian said without thinking. He gave Melody an apologetic look. “And now you are the Wizard of the North.”

  She flashed an ingenuous smile. “Ya, right.”

  The sun had set by the time they approached the imposing northern gates. Almost every building visible inside the city had suffered from some ancient cataclysm and yet, the stone block wall, coated in thorny ivy, appeared like it hadn’t weathered a bit.

  Silurian unsheathed his sword and stepped up to the raised barbican. He pulled back instantly, rubbing his neck. “Ow!” The sudden pain ceased. “What was that? Did you feel anything?”

  Melody frowned and shook her head. She scanned the walls and cobblestone path meandering between the first set of decrepit buildings to where it twisted out of sight into the gloom beyond.

  Irked by the unexplained, stabbing pain, Silurian muttered, “Why does it appear darker in there?”

  Melody considered the question. “Wizard’s Gibbet has always lain under an ethereal shroud. Phazarus attributed the unearthly pall to the disembodied spirits of the community of wizards who used to call this place home. They were persecuted and hung for their pursuit of magic by the first Emperor of the Kraidic Empire. The Kraken himself. I say we go in.”

  Silurian put a hand out for her to lead the way. “Since you are the Wizard of the North, I respectfully defer to you, oh mighty spellcaster.”

  She shot him a stern look and entered the town.

  Silurian waited for her to react to the same jolt he had experienced, but she wasn’t fazed at all. Strange. He hadn’t imagined the pain. He gave the gateway a leery once over before hesitantly stepping over the threshold into Wizard’s Gibbet. His body tensed, absorbing another shock. “What the…?” he exclaimed, leaping free of the barbican’s shadow. The shock dissipated as quickly as it had come.

  Melody held up her staff. Its hidden runes flared to life momentarily, but their orangey glow faded until the runes were no longer distinguishable. “The gatehouse must be warded,” she said, and walked up the brick paved road. “Funny, you would think I would remember something like that.”

  “Ya, real funny,” Silurian muttered, quick stepping to catch up with her. “You know the way through here, right?”

  Melody considered the question. The town walls surrounded the broken outer buildings, stretching off to either side and out of sight. A narrow walkway ran along the base of the wall, while the main road ran into the heart of the desolate town.

  “It can’t be too hard. I imagine we just follow this road to its end.”

  “You imagine?”

  “Or, we could follow one of the walls. If they do surround the town we will come across another gate at some point,” she answered. “If there are holes in the wall though, I’m afraid of what might lurk on the other side. I say we follow the central roadway.”

  Silurian scuffed along beside her, his eyes darting from blackened doorway to shattered window, from a gaping hole in the nearest building to the collapsed stone roof of a building across the road. As they stepped between the remains of the first two structures, the light of the world perceptibly
darkened.

  Silurian searched the sky for the reason behind the change in light. “So, tell me again. What’s the significance of this place?”

  Melody didn’t respond at first. She leaned into the gaping doorway of a two-story, stone building on their right. She recoiled at once, gagging. She coughed and waved a hand in front of her nose. “Ew, that’s awful.”

  The smell of rotting death made Silurian reconsider his curiosity. He scrunched his nose and gave the doorway a wide berth.

  Composing herself, Melody left the pungent entranceway behind. “According to Phazarus, this settlement was once known as Arcanium. Not that stinky building, the city itself.”

  Silurian mouthed the word as he inspected an alleyway between the first two buildings on his left.

  “Before the rise of the Kraidic Empire, this area was the home of the Wizard of the North. All of these buildings belonged to the resident wizard. That was over four centuries ago.”

  “Four centuries ago? This place was destroyed that long ago? What would one person want with a city full of buildings?”

  “Beats me. I’m just telling you what Phazarus told me. Apparently, Arcanium was a place where all types of magic users like enchanters, diviners, augurers, spellcasters, those with an inherent gift and even necromancers and their ilk, well, they all came here to better understand their craft.” Her voice dropped off. “They have all been pretty much exterminated now.”

  “A type of school then, huh? The walls look as if they are freshly built. Who cares for this place now?” Silurian asked, his anxiety rising.

  “The ghosts of wizards’ past.” Melody said it so casually it was as if what she imparted was common knowledge.

  Silurian stopped and frowned at her. “Don’t tell me things like that.”

  “You asked,” Melody replied and continued walking. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing more than superstitious rhetoric.

  They jumped. A rock caromed off the cobblestones in the shadows ahead of them.