Soul Forge Saga Box Set

by Richard Stephens

  “Strike the ‘ead off the serpent, I say. That’ll stop ‘em good.” Olmar grumbled and spat into the same bush.

  “Olmar!”

  “Sorry, cap’n. Gots me dander up ‘n all.”

  Alhena started to speak but the garden gate squeaked, admitting a serious looking Larina, Rook, and Samuel Io—the deceased Vice Chambermaster Solomon’s twin brother. The first time he had laid eyes on Samuel, Alhena was taken aback. Had he not witnessed Solomon’s body lying dead in the Chamber complex he wouldn’t believe Samuel was not him.

  An increase in activity rose beyond the gate—the chinking of armoured men marching along the cobblestone street.

  Samuel strode up to the bench, his face haggard.

  Sadyra held out a hand to help Alhena stand in the presence of the baron.

  “Gentlemen. Sadyra. Please, no formalities here. Alhena, sit.” Samuel motioned to the bench and assumed Sadyra’s spot next to Alhena.

  The baron clutched Alhena’s hands, peering deep into his eyes. “A scout has just come in bearing grave news. Helleden’s forces will be on us by the morrow!”

  Mase’s Legacy

  Melody shivered in the biting wind sweeping down from the heights of Mount Cinder. No matter how she adjusted her cloak, the cold found a way inside.

  Darkness caught them still around the oak tree, leaving them no chance to safely walk the horses back to Redfire Path—the drifting snow had erased all signs of their passing.

  The flames of their small campfire jumped in the wind, but there was no fear of setting anything else ablaze—there was nothing left to burn. How Silurian rustled up a pile of useable branches, she had no idea.

  Silurian erected a tattered tarp acquired in Cliff Face to cut the wind but it didn’t make much difference. If not for the extra heat radiating from her staff, they would surely freeze to death before morning. As it was, they would be lucky to get any sleep.

  Sitting close together, they hung onto her staff with one hand. She frowned and searched the darkness beyond the fire’s glow. Something deep inside her felt strange. At first, she put it down to hunger, but she wasn’t convinced. Perhaps a malaise coming on. They had travelled through the mountains without adequate clothing. Even with the rags they were given at the baron’s residence, their journey out of the mountains had been in the face of an ever-present, winter wind.

  She shivered. Silurian must’ve felt it. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. She gave him an appreciative smile but his eyes were closed.

  A peculiar red spark, emanating from the usual orange-hued runes at the base of her staff, caught her attention. It had never done that before. Depending on the spell, the staff shone orange or light blue. Orange meant heat, blue signified cold.

  Tilting her head, she reached out a finger to the ruby glow. Before coming into contact with the rune, the sensation bothering her stomach intensified. She jerked away, breaking Silurian’s hold.

  His eyes popped open. “What happened?”

  She didn’t respond.

  Silurian grabbed her shoulders. “Mel, what’s going on? You in pain?”

  Melody shook her head, looking at Silurian as if just realizing he was there. The feeling lessened. The red rune had reverted to a soft orange. “Um, nothing. I-I’m fine. Just a shiver, I guess.”

  “You guess? Come on, I know you. Something worries you.”

  She didn’t want to tell him she was having some sort of intuitive premonition—at least that’s what she believed had happened. He would tell her she was being silly. Instead, she said, “Let’s see. We’re sitting beneath a dead tree, in the middle of the winter, hungry and freezing in the middle of the night, hoping the weather gets bad enough to thwart the neighbourhood trolls from coming around. What could possibly be bothering me?”

  Silurian’s expression said he wasn’t buying her sarcasm.

  “It’s nothing, really. Here, grab the staff and keep warm. It’s going to be a long night.”

  Silurian stared at her a while longer, but said no more. He pulled her in close and reached out to clutch the staff.

  The moment he wrapped his fingers around the wood, Melody doubled over in pain—the individual rune shone bright red.

  “What the…?” Silurian jumped to his feet, searching the darkness. He crouched down, looking her straight in the eyes. “What is it?”

  Melody struggled to her feet—one hand on the staff, the other holding her stomach. She glanced at the bottom of the staff, turning it in her grasp—every rune orange.

  “What’re you looking at?”

  “I’m not sure.” She held the staff out to him. “Here. Touch it.”

  Silurian stepped back. “Huh?”

  “Touch the staff.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it.”

  He placed the tip of his finger on the dark wood.

  Melody flinched and he pulled away.

  “What did I do?”

  The reaction had been instinctive. She hadn’t felt anything. “Nothing. Try it again, but get a good hold on it.”

  He swallowed and reached forward, wrapping his fingers around the shaft.

  The pain was instantaneous. Her face scrunched up, causing Silurian to relinquish his grip. Immediately, the sensation abated.

  Silurian unsheathed his sword and peered into the darkness.

  The sensation was actually more bizarre than painful. Strange enough to make her react like she was being attacked. It felt like something moved inside her.

  Silurian glanced at her. “I’m going to look around. You stay here.”

  “Wait. I don’t think it’s anything out there. It has something to do with both of us touching the staff.” She walked over to him. “Here, grab it again but don’t let go. It’s not really hurting me, it’s just…I can’t explain it.” She thrust the staff at him. “It’s never done this before. It doesn’t make sense.”

  He reluctantly grabbed hold.

  Nothing happened.

  “That’s odd. Try your other hand.”

  Silurian sheathed his sword and did as she asked.

  Still nothing.

  “Hmm. Whatever it was, it’s gone.” She studied the rune in question. It didn’t look right but it wasn’t glaring red.

  The cold air whipped up her robes. She shivered. “Let’s get back to the fire.”

  Silurian released the staff, allowing her to walk uninhibited. He waited until she settled at the base of the oak tree behind the tattered tarp, surveying the immediate area before joining her.

  He eased himself to the ground and sat with his legs crossed, his attention still on the countryside.

  “Here, grab the staff and keep warm.”

  He scanned the area twice more before moving closer to her. As soon as his hand touched the staff, Melody’s eyes went wide. He let go but she shook her head and motioned for him to grip it. Silurian’s touch sparked the bottom rune to life—the ancient etching glowing bright red.

  Nausea besieged her, more acutely than before, but she maintained her grip.

  Silurian looked questioningly at the rune.

  “Ya, I know. It’s never done that before. I have no idea what it means.”

  “But it didn’t bother you over there. Strange.” He lifted the staff off the ground and brushed away the snow beneath it. “It’s hard to tell, but I think we’re sitting right on top of mom and dad.”

  Melody frowned.

  “Do you think they’re trying to tell us something?”

  Melody’s eyes went wide.

  Silurian nodded. “If this happened a few months ago, I would never have thought of suggesting it, but after fighting the Soul and dealing with the Grimward, I’m willing to believe anything.”

  Her brother’s words sunk in. Of course! Their mother had been gifted. Their lives had been so very different from everyone else’s. They had been running away from their legacy all these years and hadn’t known it. But what did the strange rune signify?

/>   “I think you’re right.”

  Silurian gave her a nervous laugh. He glanced over his shoulder as if he expected their parents to materialize from out of the darkness. Melody followed his gaze, not doubting for a second that they might indeed do so.

  She swallowed. That was silly. Mase Storms End and Zorn Mintaka were dead. If they wished to speak to them from beyond the grave, Melody was sure they would’ve tried before now.

  A wind kicked up. The diminishing flames flared and the rune’s light jumped into the fire.

  Goosebumps riddled Melody’s skin. The vision within the flames took her breath away. Silurian wasn’t kidding when he’d said she looked exactly like their mother. It was like staring at a fiery reflection of herself.

  The apparition’s mouth moved and their mother’s voice crackled, “My children. Since you are seeing this it can only mean Phazarus’ prophecy has come to pass and I have left your world. For that, I’m truly sorry.”

  Melody chanced a glance at her brother. He stared open-mouthed at the image, tears dripping off his cheeks.

  “My heart is gladdened by the knowledge Phazarus has done what he promised and watched over you. Bear that staff proudly, my love. Ward it well. I hope it serves you as well as it did me.”

  Melody looked in awe at the staff clasped in her and Silurian’s hands. Her mother’s staff!

  “My soul can rest content with the knowledge you are with your brother.”

  Melody frowned. How does she know that?

  “If things have come to pass as Phazarus has foreseen, you, my gentle son, will have in your possession an ancient sword. One that will speak to you if you follow your heart. The key to Helleden’s demise lies within you, and through him, the Soul.”

  Silurian’s grip on the staff wavered. The vision in the flames shimmered.

  “Don’t let go!” Melody said in a panic. “We’re losing her,”

  Silurian tightened his hold and the image solidified. The flames made Mase’s hair appear like it was buffeted by the wind.

  “There is one thing left to be done before the Storms End duty is complete. Travel east, up the Slither, and descend into the bowels of the earth. Seek out the Gimcrack. At its bottom lies the Tang Stone. It may be the key to your salvation.”

  The siblings looked at each other, mouthing, “Gimcrack?”

  “Be warned. Since you have made it this far, you are most likely in grave danger. Trust only in each other. Your father and I love you.”

  A gust tore the tarp from its makeshift frame and sent it flying into the night. The campfire flared suddenly and went out, leaving Melody staring at Silurian, confusion and fear twisting her features.

  Without the fire to keep them warm, they leaned into each other, clasping the glowing staff for warmth.

  The peculiar rune neither glowed red nor orange. It had gone black.

  Assassins

  Sadyra clasped Pollard’s bicep with both hands. They strolled along the shoreline of Apexceal, admiring the fiery ocean waves ignited by the sun sinking below the horizon. A cacophony of chaos sounded behind them—hundreds of ship hands worked feverishly, loading whatever provisions the townspeople had scrounged together. She felt him try to pull away.

  “I don’t like this. We should be helping clear the city.”

  She released him. “You heard the baron. They have more than enough help. The last thing they want is a big oaf lumbering about, getting in the way.”

  “What about Olmar? He’s helping.”

  “Lunkheads are different.”

  Pollard glared at her.

  She smiled and patted his muscled forearm. “He’s Gerrymander’s helmsman. His place is aboard the ship.”

  Pollard broke her grasp and put his hands on his hips. “Then I should be guarding the perimeter in case the scouts’ assessment of Helleden’s troop movements aren’t accurate. You saw how fast that Sentinel thing moved. They could be on us at any moment.”

  “Why can’t you just enjoy the day? With me. Vice Chambermistress Gruss asked us to get some rest. I imagine there’ll be plenty of need for your derring-do shortly.”

  “Pfft. Please. You trust her?”

  “Hardly, but she is the crown regent.”

  Pollard frowned.

  Sadyra shrugged. “It’s not up to me. If it were, I’d be up a tree overlooking the Forbidden Pass, biding my time until I put an arrow between Helleden’s eyes.”

  “Gruss says Helleden’s not with the army. Claims he’s still in Gritian.”

  “Typical. Let his troops do the dirty work…” She paused.

  Pollard’s brows scrunched up even farther. “What?”

  “If Helleden’s army is on the march and yet he remains in Gritian…”

  Pollard raised his eyebrows and nodded. “I like your thinking. A couple of well-placed arrows and a sudden thrust of a mighty two-bladed sword and Zephyr’s troubles are over.”

  “What are you two on about?” Larina called out from a large rock she shared with Rook Bowman, higher up the sandy beach.

  Sadyra clasped Pollard’s hand and steered him toward the rock. She hopped onto the perch, forcing herself between Rook and Larina and placed her arms around their shoulders. Looking from one to the other, she raised her eyebrows up and down. “The lummox and I were discussing an ulterior plot to deal with the threat.”

  Larina glanced at Rook, rolling her eyes. “You were, were you? Care to share it with us?”

  Sadyra’s face beamed. “What do you think, lummox? Think we can trust them?”

  Pollard glowered at her. “Depends if Rina can keep a secret better than her friend.”

  Sadyra thought about that for a moment. Her smile broadened. “Ha ha.”

  Ignoring Pollard, Sadyra pulled Rook and Larina in closer. “What would you say if I told you the big oaf and I are going to sneak into Gritian and assassinate Helleden?”

  Larina leaned sideways. “I would say you’ve been into Olmar’s grog.”

  “So, you’re in?”

  Rook slid from the rock and stood beside Pollard. “You two serious?”

  Sadyra jumped down and faced Rook. “Don’t ask him. I’m the brains of this partnership.”

  Pollard raised his eyebrows.

  She punched Pollard in the stomach. “I’m also the tough one.”

  Larina glared at Alhena later that evening. She hated it when the wizard laid his silent treatment on her. She had just finished informing him about Sadyra and Pollard’s plan to slip behind enemy lines in hopes of catching Helleden off guard. “Well? You gonna sleep on it or what?”

  She had miraculously convinced Sadyra and Pollard not to be present when she broached the subject with Alhena in the baron’s private garden. At the first sign of Alhena balking at the idea, Pollard would become haughty and arrogant about how he could take on half of Helleden’s army singlehandedly. Sadyra, on the other hand, would sling wisecracks on how the aged shouldn’t be entrusted to make decisions on important matters of state and say the old days were long gone and the younger generation was responsible for the kingdom now.

  Larina wasn’t much older than Sadyra but even she saw the shortcomings of Sadyra’s rashness. If a situation came to blows, there weren’t two other people Larina would rather have at her side than Sadyra and Pollard, but when tact and diplomacy were required, Olmar would be better suited than those two.

  “What is so funny?” Alhena asked.

  Larina hadn’t realized she’d laughed out loud at the thought of Olmar playing the diplomat. She wiped the grin from her face and bent down to stare into Alhena’s bewitching eyes. “Did you hear a word I said?”

  Alhena nodded.

  She watched him fiddling with his walking stick. His staff, she corrected herself. Alhena was a wizard now. Had been for a century and a half if she believed what he claimed—and she did. That was why she insisted on running the covert plan by him in the first place. Of all the people in Zephyr, Alhena’s council was the only one she accep
ted above her own. She had no intention of following the directions of that traitorous witch, Arzachel Gruss.

  “Aye, Larina. I heard every word. You must admit it is quite a bit to gnaw on, let alone digest. What you suggest is nothing short of ludicrous.”

  Larina’ facial features hardened. She’d hoped for a different response. As far as she was concerned, Zephyr was already lost. What harm could come from them trying to pull off something totally unexpected—other than their lives, of course.

  “Ah, ah.” Alhena held up a wrinkled hand.

  He must have picked up on her mood. She wondered if the old wizard possessed the ability to read her thoughts.

  “The course of action you suggest cannot end well… But, given our present situation, perhaps there is merit in the idea.” He nodded and fell silent.

  Larina put her hands on her hips, staring at him, subconsciously willing him to keep speaking. She threw her hands up and paced amongst the shrubbery under the light of the full moon. When he spoke again, she stopped and spun to face him from across the pathway—the torches burning along its edges cast his sunken features in an eerie light.

  “We will be hard put to slip away unnoticed.”

  “We? Who said anything about we?”

  Alhena gave her a condescending look making her feel six years old.

  “Surely you do not think Helleden will allow you to just walk up from behind and slay him? He is a sorcerer. The magic he commands exceeds Thunor Carmichael’s at the height of his mastery.”

  Larina had no idea who Thunor Carmichael was. Nor did she care. She swallowed as Alhena’s words sunk in. It made her mad that he was able to state exactly how she envisioned Helleden’s assassination playing out. Hearing Alhena rebuke their folly made her clench her teeth together. The worst part about it—he was right.

  “Well, we hadn’t really thought about how we’re actually going to pull it off. We figured the solution would present itself in due time. We need to get there first.”