Soul Forge Saga Box Set

by Richard Stephens

  “Oh, oh.”

  Her smile faded. “I believe I know a place we can go to see about enchanting your sword.”

  Silurian sat up. “Where?”

  “Grimward.”

  Silurian mouthed the word.

  “It’s not a place, really. It’s more of a spirit.”

  “A spirit?”

  “Yes. Phazarus often spoke of the Grimward. He promised to introduce me to it, but never did.”

  “He was going to introduce you? To a spirit?”

  “Not just any spirit. The Grimward was the head wizard during the Arcanium trials.”

  Silurian looked confused. “Arcanium trials?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “They always are with you wizard types.”

  She ignored him. “Suffice it to say, the Grimward is the spirit of the original Wizard of the North. I forget his real name. I think Phazarus mentioned it once.”

  “I’m confused. If the Grimward, or the person he used to be, was slain along with the other magic users of his time, how does this illustrious position still exist? Wait, don’t tell me. Another long story?”

  Melody spat out a laugh. “I’m afraid so, but listen to this. Phazarus claimed the Grimward watches over an ancient source of arcane magic. One stemming from the earth itself.”

  “If that’s true, why hasn’t anyone ever heard of it before?”

  Melody stood up and walked around the fire. She paused to feed a couple chunks of wood into it, and then stood with her back to him, staring out across the expansive lake. Her words, when they came, gave the impression that what she imparted was done so hesitantly. “Being a fellow wizard, the Grimward will only make itself visible to another gifted person. Being the Grimward, his spirit is said to be, how should I say this—not happy. Only a wizard of pure heart may seek out the Grimward and hope to live another day.”

  Silurian waited for her to expand on her revelation, but she remained quiet. Framed in the moonlight, her robe covered body appeared stiff. He got up and walked to her side. Her expressionless face told him she was scared. “What are you saying?”

  She turned to gaze into his ice-blue eyes. She reached out and pulled a stray lock of his hair from his cheek. “Many benevolent wizards have attempted contact with the Grimward. Of them all, only one person has survived the ordeal.” She swallowed and looked away, her next words but a whisper. “Marble Eyes.”

  Helleden’s Order

  Karvus was of two minds after his meeting with Helleden. The sorcerer had marched into the imperial pavilion and put in place the terms of the Kraidic Empire’s involvement with Zephyr’s occupation. It was all Karvus could do not to march his army back up the Slither.

  Karvus feared no one. Not even the sorcerer. But, neither was he naive. Were he to countermand Helleden’s orders, he knew he could, at the very least, expect a visit from the Sentinel. That wasn’t a prospect he cared to entertain. With Krakus’ murder, Karvus was elevated to the exalted position of Emperor of the Kraidic Empire. He owed it to the empire to remain alive.

  Several days had passed since the sorcerer’s gruesome demonstration with his father, and Karvus hadn’t received any further instruction from Helleden. His troop commanders were at their wit’s end trying to maintain order and discipline within the ranks.

  The gods, how he hated sorcerers—magic users of any kind if truth be told. It was no wonder his ancestors had eradicated their ilk from the living. Well most of them. Obviously, they never completed the job.

  He paced about his palatial tent, absently throwing curses at his hounds, their presence the only comfort he derived from life on the march. Unlike his father, he was a faithful husband to his three wives back home at Kraken Reach. As emperor, he would be required to move to Kraken Castle far to the south of the Reach. How he hated that stuffy tomb.

  He picked up an empty flagon and threw it across the tent. It struck the wall beside the door and fell to the ground where it broke at the feet of a startled Kraidic warrior who had just pushed through the entrance flap.

  “My Emperor.”

  Karvus glared at the black-bearded man swaddled in leather and furs, a black warhammer strapped across his back. “What is it, Tygra?”

  “The sorcerer is on the move.”

  Karvus bit back the angry retort he wanted to blurt out. Tygra Keen was his personal aide, and in no way deserved his wrath. The man had served faithfully for years. He had also been the first into the fray when the Sentinel had attacked Krakus. How he escaped that confrontation with only a few scratches and a nasty bite to his forearm was a mystery.

  “Where is he now?”

  “The latest report has him speaking with his commanders. From the looks of it, my emperor, all signs point to him mobilizing the demon horde.”

  “What of the Sentinel?”

  Karvus noted the nervous twitch pass across Tygra’s face. The man was used to being beaten by Krakus for not knowing the answer to a question.

  “We don’t know, my emperor. There is no sign of the beast.”

  With great restraint evident in his reddening face, Karvus said, “Very well. Keep me informed. I want to know where Helleden is at any given time. Everything the man does. If he so much as sneezes, I’m to hear of it. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, my emperor.”

  “Then get out.”

  Tygra stood up straighter, pulled back the tent flap, and disappeared.

  Karvus stared at the spot his aide had just occupied, a gust of cold air marking his departure. The jagged shards of glass from the shattered flagon mocked him. He was becoming his father. Something he vowed he would never let happen. All because of that damned finger-wagger. In his entire life, only one person had ever vexed him so, and he’d slit her throat a long time ago. It was apparent he’d have to take matters into his own hands again.

  “My emperor?” a female voice sounded from outside. “May I enter?”

  Karvus frowned. He recognized the voice. What now? “What is it, Faux?”

  The tent flap parted. One of his father’s concubines poked her pretty face into the pavilion. “Commander Keen asked me to attend to a broken…oh, it’s right here.”

  She was dressed in heavy grey furs. A lined hood draped across the back of her shoulders flopped forward to cover her long, blonde tresses as she knelt and carefully deposited the glass shards into a worn, leather bag. She had taken up a position between the tent flaps, allowing cold air to waft in.

  Karvus waited, the little patience remaining in his possession strained. He silently willed her to be quick about it, but she was meticulous. “For the love of the serpent, don’t hover between the flaps, woman. Get inside before you freeze my arse.”

  Faux stood and closed the flap, her eyes downcast, awaiting the inevitable. “My apologies, my emperor.”

  Karvus sighed and strode over to his favourite chair—the one he had sat in when the sorcerer had made his first appearance before his father.

  Faux grabbed the last piece of glass and stood, her head lowered. She glanced at Karvus from behind long lashes, a sultry pout on her lips. She turned to face him full on, allowing her unclasped cloak to fall open, exposing her otherwise unclad body. “Is there anything else my emperor wishes of me?”

  Karvus took a prolonged look at her nakedness before he turned his head and grumbled. “No, and for the love of hell, cover yourself up. You’ll catch your death.”

  Faux lifted her head and gave him a confused stare. She wasn’t used to being treated so. She was either beaten for her transgressions, whatever they might be, or ordered to perform whatever whim suited Krakus. Never had anyone worried about her catching cold. “I’m sorry, my emperor,” she stuttered. “I’m not sure what you—”

  “Oh, just get out,” Karvus barked at her.

  Faux bowed her head and made to leave. “At once, my emperor.”

  “And stop saying, my emperor! It’s annoying.”

  She stopped with her hand on the ten
t flap. “I’m sorry, my…” She gaped at him, not knowing what to say.

  “Hold,” he snarled. He wanted to beat the woman to vent his frustration. He was in a miserable mood. Perhaps a bit of company would pull him out of the funk he had fallen into. Yesterday he had given the eulogy over his father’s makeshift funeral pyre. He had never been overly fond of the man, so it had been a short ceremony. Even so, his father’s death had shaken him more than he cared to admit.

  “M’lord?” Faux’s faint voice brought his attention back to her.

  Perhaps the innocent company of someone not directly involved with the warring side of the campaign would ease his tension. “I’ve changed my mind. Come on in and make yourself comfortable.”

  A smile of relief softened her expression. She turned and went to shrug out of the heavy furs.

  “And for the love of hell, keep your clothes on!”

  “My emperor?” She was clearly confused. “Oh, sorry, m-my lord?”

  “Karvus, dammit. The name is Karvus. Use it.”

  “Um, y-yes, m…Karvus.” She cowered inside the tent flap at a loss for what to do next.

  Karvus sighed. Maybe company wasn’t such a great idea after all.

  The tent flap opened, admitting Tygra Keen. He quickly noted the two occupants in the pavilion; the woman on the bed and Emperor Karvus sitting in his chair, beside it. Tygra dropped to a knee on the black throw rug, his eyes downcast. “My emperor. Helleden approaches with the Sentinel.”

  The Sentinel? “I thought you said the creature wasn’t with the sorcerer?”

  “It wasn’t, my emperor. And then suddenly, it was.”

  Karvus glowered at the top of Tygra’s head for a moment, incensed that the man had disturbed the relaxing conversation he was having with Faux. He couldn’t remember a time he had actually just sat and talked with a beautiful woman, casually getting to know about her. He didn’t think he had even afforded his first wife that courtesy. The kneeling presence of his aide had shattered the glamour. The time had come. “Wait for me outside.”

  Without glancing at the woman on the bed, Tygra stood up, nodded his head, and departed.

  With a sigh, Karvus stood, retrieved his battle-axe, and stormed from the tent, not sparing Faux even a sideways glance.

  Four squads of Karvus’ crack troops had already taken up position around the pavilion. Dozens of hounds stood alert, ears poised, sensing the approach of the sorcerer and his beast.

  “No one is to make a move on them unless I give the order,” Karvus said to Tygra.

  The aide nodded and hurriedly informed the squad commanders. When he returned to Karvus’ side, the emperor said, “Wait for me inside.”

  Tygra nodded and slipped through the tent flap.

  The hounds began snarling. The dark form of the Sentinel could be seen lumbering toward Karvus’ central pavilion through the makeshift city of dun-coloured tents. Two squads of Kraidic warriors formed up around the beast. Somewhere in the writhing mass, Helleden Misenthorpe nonchalantly followed along, as if he was partaking of a carefree stroll. The sorcerer’s flippant behaviour rotted Karvus to the core.

  By the time the spectacle stopped in front of the emperor, the hounds were pulling on their leads, their teeth gnashing at the air and barking furiously. A dozen wary Kraidic warriors stood guard between Karvus and Helleden, poised to attack.

  “Let him through,” Karvus ordered, indicating Helleden, “but that thing remains outside.”

  Helleden stared at Karvus. His bloodshot eyes flicked to the Sentinel. He spoke something unintelligible to the monstrosity, and then nodded to Karvus. The ranks of Kraidic warriors parted to allow him passage, their eyes panning between the sorcerer and the Sentinel.

  Karvus turned and ducked back into his tent, not bothering to hold the flap open. He walked several paces into the pavilion’s warm interior and spun around next to his hounds. Both dogs strained at the end of their chain, frothing at the mouth as Helleden entered. Karvus shouted a command and they obediently stopped barking and sat, a low menacing growl sounding through bared teeth.

  Tygra stood inside the entrance, heavy maul in hand.

  Faux stood behind the emperor’s pallet, against the far side of the tent, trying to blend into the scenery.

  “What do you want?” Karvus demanded. “Why are the armies still sitting here?”

  The sorcerer regarded him quietly. He had to have been aware of Tygra’s presence, but he never gave the man a second glance. Instead, he walked over to Karvus’ chair and sat down.

  Karvus’ lips twitched, but he bit back the words his mind screamed at him to say. Just.

  Helleden’s expressionless face looked up. “I have changed my mind.”

  Karvus tensed, frowning at the implications of that statement.

  Tygra took a step toward them, but Karvus gave him a subtle head shake.

  “Changed your mind? You mean you don’t want my army anymore?”

  “Oh, I still need your army. In fact, my scouts inform me that more of Zephyr’s forces survived than I believed possible.”

  “You mean you made a mistake? I find that hard to believe.” Karvus’ words dripped with sarcasm.

  Helleden tilted his head to one side. “Don’t fret, emperor. I never make the same mistake twice.”

  Karvus fumed. Was that a threat?

  “I told your father, before his,” Helleden paused as if lost for a way to say what he was thinking, “unfortunate decision, if you will, that I no longer required his service.”

  “Unfortunate decision! You had him killed. Why, I ought to—”

  “Not follow in your father’s footsteps.” Helleden interrupted. “His dogs attacked my pet. The Sentinel defended itself. Your men’s hounds are responsible for the death of Krakus the Kraken. In fact, there are many who can bear witness that it was actually your axe that finished the job. It would be interesting to hear how the rest of the Kraken family receives that information, hmm?”

  Karvus’ hands clenched and unclenched the haft of his battle-axe. One fell swoop of his weapon and he’d be rid of the troublesome little man. The thought of the Sentinel wandering about on the other side of the tent walls stayed his hand. Was it fear he felt? He fumed even more at that thought. It was his perceived image of his father’s weakness that had prompted him to engage himself into the dybbuk hound frenzy and deliver the stroke that had indeed killed the Emperor of the Kraidic Empire. None of the warriors present would dare say Karvus’ actions were anything but an attempt to save his dying father, but anyone present would have clearly seen Karvus’ renowned battle-axe bury itself in Krakus’ thick skull.

  Helleden lifted his eyebrows twice. “Fear not. One would have to be insane to question the motives of an emperor. In fact, it’s because of your actions that I have reconsidered my position regarding your usefulness.”

  Tygra Keen started toward them.

  Helleden’s eyes flicked to Tygra, but his calm demeanour remained focused on Karvus. “If your lackey comes any closer, you’ll find yourself in need of a new aide.”

  Tygra stopped, awaiting his emperor’s command.

  Karvus glared at Tygra. He was of a mind to call Helleden’s bluff. As dangerous as everyone thought the sorcerer was, Karvus knew without a doubt that Tygra Keen would engage Helleden without hesitation should he be ordered to do so. Karvus loathed the thought of playing with Tygra’s life. The man provided an invaluable service.

  “Stand down, Keen,” Karvus snarled.

  Tygra didn’t advance any farther, but neither did he back off.

  Helleden turned his attention back to Karvus. “I have a special plan for you.”

  Karvus’ chest falls became more exaggerated.

  “I’m sure you’re familiar with the Wizard of the North.”

  Karvus wasn’t sure whether that was meant as a statement or a question, but he refused to respond either way.

  “Of course, you are,” Helleden continued. “Your people persecuted the W
izard Order at Arcanium. By doing so, the Kraidic Empire effectively exterminated all forms of magic on this side of the world. Unfortunately, your people never finished the job. They allowed one to slip into the wilderness, all those years ago.”

  “What’s that got to do with me?”

  “Everything. You are now the emperor. It has come to my attention that the Wizard of the North has come down from Dragon’s Tooth.”

  “So?”

  “So? The Wizard of the North never leaves his aerie. It is his bastion. Only upon the summit of Dragon’s Tooth is he able to defend himself from lecherous tyrants like your father.” Helleden paused, but Karvus refused to be goaded.

  “If the Wizard of the North feels the need to abandon his sanctuary, it can only mean one thing.” Helleden stood up and stared into Karvus’ green eyes. “He’s coming for me.”

  “Excellent. As emperor of the Kraidic Empire, I grant him amnesty, and wish him well in his endeavour.” Karvus had had enough of the vile sorcerer’s smugness. He gained a slight sense of satisfaction seeing his words affect the unflappable man.

  Helleden’s eyes hardened. His many rings sparkled in the torchlight as his fingers twitched. He pursed his lips, as if about to offer a cutting retort, but he remained quiet.

  Karvus stared into Helleden’s eyes, not blinking. It was all he could do not to swallow.

  Helleden broke the silence. “Those are strange words coming from the man who is going to kill him.”

  Karvus laughed. “Me? Kill the Wizard of the North? I find that highly unlikely.”

  “Nonetheless,” Helleden said, as he walked past the flabbergasted emperor, “that is my order. My commanders will take control of your army. All you need to concern yourself with are your preparations to leave on the morrow.”

  Helleden didn’t even look at Tygra as he passed the man. He stopped at the tent flap and turned to the red-faced emperor. “Do not fail me in this, Karvus the Kraken. Bring me the wizard’s staff.”