Soul Forge Saga Box Set

by Richard Stephens

  It had been Karvus’ ambition to one day behead Zephyr’s monarch, but Helleden’s order had seen to it that that would not be happening. Instead, he was to travel back into Kraidic territory in search of the Wizard of the North. Ach, how he despised magic users. Give him an enemy with a battle-axe, any day.

  Not only was he to search for the infamous wizard, he was to do it in the company of the Sentinel—a creature that possessed a magic of its own. Karvus cursed his father for entertaining an alliance with Helleden Misenthorpe. What had the fool been thinking? Everyone knew sorcerers weren’t to be trusted. His father had paid for his lack of foresight with his life. If Karvus wasn’t careful, he might find himself doing the same.

  “Excuse me, my emperor,” Faux’s friend, Divina, said, her faint voice exotic.

  Karvus glared at the dark-skinned woman with waist length, silky black hair. His furrowed brow dared her to continue.

  Divina held up his father’s priceless, crystal wine glass. “Where should I put this?”

  Karvus wanted nothing to do with his father’s effects. “You can shove it up your…” he trailed off, mad at himself for responding so. Shaking his head, he added, “I don’t care. Keep it for all I care.”

  Divina’s mouth hung open and Faux’s blonde head whipped about.

  “Oh no. I couldn’t do that, my emperor. This was Emperor Krakus’ personal glass. It is worth more than my entire village.”

  Pfft, Karvus thought, and walked away. Your village isn’t worth the wine stain on the carpet. “Keep it, pack it, or break it, I care not. I don’t wish to see it again.”

  Divina looked to Faux and whispered, “With a possession like this, I’ll be able to feed my village for years. We’ll be able to buy livestock to till the fields. Our women won’t have to put a yoke over their shoulders anymore.”

  Faux took the cue. She discreetly withdrew a small burlap sack from the trunk nearest her and upended the contents on the bed. “What about these?”

  Karvus turned to observe several golden rings encrusted with rare stones—rescued from his father’s bloody corpse and lovingly cleaned by the two women. He knew what they were up to. He should be angry. He should discipline the impudent slaves with the toe of his boot.

  “You may each take one of them. One!” He walked over and plucked one of the larger rings from the pallet. “Except this one. The Serpent’s Eye must remain in the imperial family.”

  Why am I explaining myself to wenches? Karvus tried the ring on his right ring finger. It fit snugly. He studied the Serpent’s Eye as if hoping it would give him insight into what his life would become under the constant shadow of that horrid beast. All that he was certain of was that the journey wouldn’t end well for one of them. As confident as he was in his own abilities, he couldn’t help thinking he was the one fate didn’t favour.

  The tent flap suddenly pulled aside, admitting Tygra Keen. The black-bearded man dropped to a knee and bowed his head. “My emperor. Helleden comes.”

  Karvus glared at the top of his aide’s head, and considered the black warhammer slung over Tygra’s back. His breathing grew heavy. The time had come for Karvus Kraken, the Emperor of the Kraidic Empire, to swallow his pride and depart on what he believed could only be an ill-fated journey. He doubted even Helleden capable of killing the Wizard of the North. Why else had the sorcerer ordered him and the Sentinel to see to it? Because the sallow-faced finger-wagger was afraid to do it himself, was Karvus’ belief.

  “Is that damned creature with him?”

  “No, my emperor. It hasn’t been seen since last night.”

  Karvus sighed. He would see it soon enough. “Very well. See to it the men don’t impede him. Escort him to me and then remain with us. Understood?”

  “Yes, my emperor.” Keen stood up straight, and slipped through the flap.

  Karvus stared vacantly at the spot his aide had vacated. He spun about and took in the luxurious appointment of his great pavilion. Travelling with the Sentinel was going to prove a culture shock for him. Did the beast even sleep?

  “Clean that shit off the bed, and then leave me,” he ordered the concubines. His eyes fell on the four remaining rings as Faux’s delicate fingers plucked them from the pallet and deposited them back into the sack. Good. They had only taken one each. He would hate to kill his father’s women this soon after his death. He wasn’t sure which of the rings the women had taken for themselves, but it didn’t really matter. Each one was worth a king’s ransom. Perhaps he should offer Tygra one.

  The women had no sooner departed when the flap pushed in again. Tygra Keen held it aside as Helleden floated in, his black robes swirling around him.

  Karvus resisted the urge to pull his battle-axe from over his shoulder. He glared at the insolent sorcerer.

  Helleden gave him a hollow smile. “Are you ready to depart?”

  Karvus managed not to blurt out the retort on his lips. With great restraint, he said through clenched teeth, “As ready as anyone who is to be saddled with your hell beast.”

  “There’s been a change in plans. You will travel with a different companion.”

  Different companion? Not the Sentinel. Karvus’ head spun. As relieved as he was to be rid of the demonic creature, he couldn’t escape the fact that if Helleden expected him to kill the Wizard of the North, the Sentinel’s presence would have gone a long way to achieving that end.

  Helleden stepped into the middle of the tent, walking around Karvus, who turned with him as he went. “I have received a report from a very reliable source. It claims the Wizard of the North is now in Gritian.”

  “Gritian? How can that be? You said he just came down from Dragon’s Tooth recently.”

  Helleden stopped before Karvus’ favourite chair and ran his fingers along its mahogany armrest. “How, indeed. In fact, he was spotted a few days ago, heading south out of Wizard’s Gibbet.”

  Karvus frowned at the sorcerer’s strange words. “Well, which is it? Gritian or northeast of here? Or has he discovered a way to fly?”

  “Both.”

  “Both? There’s no way.” A vision of the Sentinel flashed through Karvus’ mind—the beast had the capacity to shift from one place to another without actually walking there.

  “It appears there are two Wizards of the North.”

  “Two? That’s impossible. There is only ever one. The title has been passed down for generations. A new one doesn’t come to light until his predecessor dies.”

  “That is my understanding as well, but my informants say otherwise. They have ways of detecting the Wizard of the North, and both sources claim to have seen the wizard within the last week…In different realms!”

  Karvus’ eyes widened.

  “One is trouble enough,” Helleden continued, “but now I must deal with two. Thus, the change in plan. My pet has already begun its trek south. It can reach Gritian faster than a man on horseback. Since that is the direction my army will take, I need that wizard detained first.”

  The use of the word, detained, wasn’t lost on Karvus. “So, I’m to head to Wizard’s Gibbet to find the second? How do you expect me to find him in that wasteland? There’s nothing up there but wilderness for days on end.”

  Helleden ignored the question and walked over to the bed. He picked up the burlap sack containing the rings and spilled them onto the top sheet, fingering each ring absently. “Your father’s.”

  Karvus glared at the sorcerer’s backside. He resisted the urge to unsling his battle-axe and imbed it into the man’s skull.

  “Three are missing.” Helleden answered for Karvus, and turned to face him. The sorcerer’s bloodshot eyes flicked to Karvus’ right hand. “I see you kept the important one. That’s good. You’ll have need of that one.”

  Karvus gave him a blank expression.

  “You don’t know of its significance?” Helleden asked, nodding at the Serpent’s Eye on the emperor’s finger.

  Karvus refused to acknowledge his ignorance.


  “Hmm. I wonder if Krakus even knew what he had? That ring, my emperor, is key to finding the Wizard of the North, especially to those who are ignorant in the use of magic.”

  Karvus held the ring up to his face and examined it, not understanding the sorcerer’s words.

  “May I?” Helleden asked, holding out a hand adorned with multiple rings of his own.

  At a loss, Karvus proffered his hand.

  Helleden’s cold fingers clasped the emperor's hand and studied the Serpent’s Eye. With the utmost reverence, he ran a long-nailed finger over the stone’s gleaming surface.

  It was all Krakus could do not to pull his hand away. His ring finger tingled and the eye came to life, looking first to the left and then to the right, before staring straight ahead. Its focus fell on Helleden until the sorcerer released Karvus’ hand and stepped back, nodding. The stone eye slowly lost the spark of life within and returned to its original state.

  “How did you do that?” Karvus asked, the usual animosity in his tone forgotten. He held his hand outstretched, far away from his body.

  “I didn’t do anything. It is as I thought, the first time I saw Krakus. I sensed the ring. It detects magic.”

  Karvus suspected the sorcerer had something to do with what just happened. “Then why hasn’t it done so before? Why isn’t it doing it now?”

  Helleden shrugged. “Perhaps it has, but nobody paid it any mind.”

  “My finger tingled like it was being pricked by the ring’s touch. I’m sure my father would have known if it acted that way.”

  Helleden shrugged again and raised his thin eyebrows. “I can only surmise that Krakus wasn’t attuned to the sentience of the ring.”

  “And I am?”

  “With a certainty.”

  The emperor scowled, repulsed by the talisman the sorcerer claimed to have a mind of its own. “Fat lot of good it’s going to do me. Do you expect me to simply walk up to everyone I meet and touch them?”

  “How’s that?” Helleden asked.

  Karvus made a meaty fist and held the ring before Helleden’s face—oh, how easy it would be to smash the sorcerer’s teeth in. Swallowing the idea, he said, “I hold it this close to you and nothing. What good is it that? I’ll pretty well have to make love to the wizard if I’m to make use of this.”

  “What you do with the wizard after you kill him is up to you.” Helleden’s dark eyes glowered. “That ring was forged during the onset of the wizard crusades to detect spellcasters. More importantly, it was used to locate the strongest wizards. It’s my understanding the Serpent’s Eye is triggered by the proximity of a notable wizard’s energy. The more adept the wizard, the easier it is for the Eye to locate them. Your ancestors used this ring to track down and eliminate the entire guild at Arcanium.”

  “Except one,” Karvus corrected him.

  “Except one.”

  “Then why doesn’t it react to your presence?”

  Helleden smirked. “Come now. You don’t honestly think I would allow a simple trinket to detect my presence.”

  The sorcerer did something with his fingers and lips so quickly that Karvus wasn’t sure he had done anything at all. The Serpent’s Eye flared to life, staring straight at Helleden.

  Pain shot through Karvus’ finger. He flailed the affected hand around to no avail. Clutching the ring, he pulled it off and threw it to the ground, its touch burning his fingertips. “For the love of hell!”

  The ring bounced and came to rest near Karvus’ feet. The eye stared up at Helleden.

  “You see? You will know when the wizard draws nigh. The closer you become, the stronger the sensation.”

  Karvus cupped his burning hand, afraid to see what the ring had done to his skin, but when he opened it and examined his finger, there were no signs that he had worn the talisman at all.

  Helleden plucked the ring from the ground. The eye had gone dormant. He wiped off the dirt it had gathered and handed it back to the reluctant emperor. “I suggest you wear it around your neck once the ring detects the wizard.”

  Karvus gaped. The sorcerer was mad if he thought he would entertain placing something as dangerous as the Serpent’s Eye around his neck.

  “Oh, not to worry, my emperor,” Helleden said, as if he had read Karvus’ thoughts.

  Karvus wasn’t certain the sorcerer hadn’t.

  “As I said, the ring’s reaction is proportionate to how adept the magic user is. I can assure you that you will not find one who is even remotely as powerful as I.”

  Karvus held the ring in his fist. The eye flared to life, for but a moment, its surface stinging his hand. He opened his fingers and jerked his hand away. The ring fell, the eye lifeless before it hit the ground.

  Helleden’s smug face spoke of mischief. “Do not forget, my emperor. Bring me back the wizard’s staff. It is the only thing that will prove you have completed your task. You are to leave at once. Horses await you.”

  “Horses?” Karvus questioned.

  “Yes. Tygra Keen has volunteered to accompany you.” Helleden turned to indicate the Kraidic warrior. “To act as insurance, if you will, in case you forget your task.”

  In case I forget my task? Tygra is to spy on me? Karvus struggled with the sorcerer’s meaning. He looked at his trustworthy aide. Surely, Tygra wouldn’t betray him.

  Tygra met Karvus' gaze for a moment before casting his eyes to the ground.

  Helleden pulled the tent flap open and left without a sound.

  Karvus bent down to poke at the Serpent’s Eye. Satisfied the ring no longer posed a danger, he picked it up and held it in an upturned palm, studying it with disgust. To his surprise, the eye flared to life, burning his palm. He pulled his hand away, and the ring dropped to the ground.

  The emperor stared at the flap as it settled in place. What had he gotten himself into?

  A Lonely Road

  Pollard cast his gaze westward. The northeastern face of the Muse rose up from the plains less than a day away. He rode at the head of the king’s vanguard as the remnants of Zephyr’s army made their way south toward Gritian, with the report of Helleden’s forces marching on their heels. The rear scouts had yet to see evidence of the sorcerer’s army, but long-range riders confirmed that a demon horde, bolstered by an even larger contingent of Kraidic warriors, had pulled up stakes in the Altirius Mountain foothills and were systematically destroying anything that hadn’t been pulverized by the firestorm.

  Also following their progress south was the oncoming cold weather. Luckily, it had been an unusually warm winter so far. The ragtag mob following the king’s flight were ill-equipped to deal with the inevitable, cold months ahead. Another good reason to get everyone below the Undying Wall.

  Pantyr Korn rode beside the Songsbirthian, his gaze darting frequently to the fringes of Redfire Path where Yarstaff jogged along, his short strides not seeming to affect his ability to keep up with their horses’ slow trot.

  As big as Pollard was, Pantyr had been able to outfit him with a mount that suited his size. With the Clydesdale between his legs, they occupied the space of two mounted men.

  Somewhere far behind, King Malcolm had insisted today that he walk with his foot soldiers, allowing someone else to ride and rest their weary legs. The procession was four days out of Carillon and thus far had maintained a rigourous pace—the threat of Helleden’s advance provided the extra incentive needed to persevere.

  In the distance ahead, the statues overlooking Alpheus’ Arch came into view. King Malcolm had sent word to the front of the procession to stop at the bridge to allow the horses to graze and drink on the banks of the Calder River.

  “Such a bizarre bridge,” Pollard commented on the towering cornerstone statues of rearing horses that were erected on both ends of the bridge.

  Pantyr followed Pollard’s gaze. “It does seem odd, doesn’t it? There isn’t a finer span anywhere in the kingdom, yet it stands here, in the middle of nowhere. You know why, don’t you?”

  Pollard
shook his head.

  “Alpheus’ Arch used to mark the crossroads of a much greater kingdom. From a time before the Kraidic Empire, the Forbidden Swamp, and the Wilds were split from the grand realm. Zephyr was but a southern duchy back then. A time when magic ruled all.”

  Pollard gave the old captain a puzzled look.

  Pantyr laughed. “Don’t be so alarmed. Those days are gone. Other than the recently deceased king’s wizard, may the gods grant him peace, and Helleden Misenthorpe, there really aren’t any magic users left. At least on this side of the world.”

  “What about the Wizard of the North? Is he dead too?”

  Pantyr frowned. “Aye, there is that one, I guess, but he’s so detached from the real world that we needn’t worry about him. He hasn’t come off his perch in over four hundred years. I doubt he’ll bother himself with the petty squabbles facing us now.”

  Petty squabbles? Perhaps in the great wizard’s eyes, they are petty. He slowed his horse’s advance, marvelling at the craftmanship of the weathered horse statues, and indeed all the others that lined the length of Alpheus’ Arch. No less than a hundred gargoyles standing three feet high filled the gap between the four cornerstones.

  Clopping along the bridge deck, Pollard stopped his horse midway to ponder the significance of the two incredibly detailed, godly sentinels facing each other from either edge of the bridge; arms folded as if passing judgment on any who dared cross. Were they depictions of long ago heroes, or did they belong to one of several religions that split the kingdom into factions? Whatever they were supposed to represent, they were intimidating in appearance and grandeur. He gave a slight shake of his head and urged his mount across the remainder of the span.

  Rook sat along the northern bank of the Calder river, basked in the stunted shadow of a great stone horse flailing its petrified hooves. His bow and Avarick’s crossbow lay beside him. It was nice to unload the Enervator’s cumbersome weapon for a short while. He had carried it so long now, that even when he took it off, it felt like it was still perched upon his back.

  King Malcolm sat beside him, taking a break from his sovereign duties—the ever-vigilant captain Pik never far from his side.