Soul Forge Saga Box Set

by Richard Stephens

  Landing on her hands and knees, she witnessed her fireball sail past a diving Tygra and explode against the tunnel wall beside Keen’s head.

  Tygra spun his body through the closing gaps of the stone teeth as they came together with a resounding boom.

  She pushed herself backward and onto her feet, her staff held before her. “Hold!”

  Tygra’s eyes were wide with confusion. By the way he scanned their living prison, it wasn’t her staff he feared. “What is this thing?”

  Melody’s concern for Silurian put an edge in her words. “Welcome to the mouth of the earth wyrm.”

  Tygra sheathed his dagger and pulled his warhammer over his shoulder to face the row of clenched teeth. He hefted the hammer behind him and crouched sideways. In one fluid motion, he sprung forward, released his hips and swung the warhammer through a great arc. The force of the weapon exploded against one of the teeth.

  A great crack shot down the tooth. In response, the tongue hurled Tygra and Melody backward.

  Tygra almost landed on Melody, but any thought he might have had about killing her was lost in his panic to free himself from the jaws of the wyrm.

  Tygra leapt to his feet, reloaded his warhammer and unleashed another resounding strike on the same tooth. A chunk the size of her forearm flew into the air.

  The tongue jumped again, curling up at the sides. Melody was tossed against the back wall near the throat.

  Tygra lost his grip on his hammer and struggled to manoeuvre across the spongy surface to retrieve it as the tongue slammed him into the roof.

  Melody arrested the bouncing flight of the black hammer. Even aware of the big man’s intent to kill her, she tried to throw it back to him to help facilitate their escape. She could deal with him afterward.

  She pulled up on the warhammer, the weapon too heavy for her to lift. Tugging on its handle, she tried to drag it to him but the lurching tongue prevented her from remaining on her feet.

  Not knowing what else to do, she jammed the bottom of her staff into the back of the Gimcrack’s throat.

  An explosive retching noise escaped the beast’s throat. Melody and Tygra were flung forward by the tongue as it worked to clear its throat.

  Melody tumbled past an upside down Tygra struggling to right himself. She flipped the handle his way. “Here!”

  The gagging stopped. The tongue settled long enough for her to get to her knees and aim her staff at the chipped tooth.

  The cave flashed bright blue, her staff blasting the chipped tooth and those around it with frost.

  Beside her, Tygra found his feet. He nodded his understanding and swung his hammer through a great sideways arc. The damaged tooth exploded into shards.

  Melody followed the cold blast with fire, barely missing Tygra as he pulled his hammer back for another swing. He glared at her but the sudden infusion of heat cracked the surrounding teeth.

  He hefted his hammer and swung. This time his strike broke through the surrounding teeth; two upper and one beside the first.

  The mouth opened wide and its tongue shot outward, taking Melody and Tygra with it.

  Melody rolled out of the Gimcrack’s mouth in a tangled heap but Tygra’s foot wedged between the gap of two unaffected bottom teeth.

  The mouth began to close, lifting Tygra’s trapped leg into the air.

  Without thinking, Melody placed herself between Tygra and the teeth, grabbed his calf and lifted his leg clear just as the mouth slammed shut.

  Tumbled to the ground in a heap, Melody pushed herself clear, concentrating on powering her staff to defend herself but Tygra looked at her with an odd expression.

  Without a word, Tygra stepped over Silurian to examine the motionless body of his companion. He withdrew a blood covered hand from behind Keen’s head, a morose look on his face. Melody’s errant fireball had pummeled Keen with shards of rock.

  Melody dropped beside Silurian. Her brother’s distant gaze watched her. His blue lips didn’t bode well.

  She glanced at Tygra. “Well?”

  Tygra’s grave expression spoke for him.

  “Like it or not, it appears you and I have just formed a strange alliance. We need to get out of here, and soon.” Her gaze encompassed Silurian and Keen. “Without my staff and your brawn, these two aren’t going anywhere.”

  Alhena’s Accord

  Rook tried to view their surroundings through the mist. Apart from a steadily darkening sky, he had no idea how long they trod the slick track through the Gulch. The bizarre animal noises, if that’s what they were, continually sounded from beyond the veil of fog. More than once they stopped to brandish their weapons at a noise but they never encountered another creature, alive or dead.

  They walked in their usual formation with Pollard and Olmar leading and Sadyra and Larina bringing up the rear. Rook wasn’t happy leaving the girls at the back but Larina unequivocally informed him they had been entrusted by the Songsbirthian council with his and Alhena’s welfare so he might as well accept it.

  He thought back to that night on the gravel beach he had shared with Larina. It had been a magical evening. One he hadn’t experienced since losing Melody. The innocent intimacy so different than the false bond he’d forged with Thetis. He shuddered.

  Since returning to Zephyr, Larina hadn’t exactly been aloof, but he sensed without a doubt that she had moved on. Probably a result of Sadyra telling Larina about his exploits with the supposed blonde-haired disciple of Saros.

  He laughed inwardly at the folly, embarrassed. What a fool he’d been, and now Silurian was gone.

  He sighed. Silurian and Melody. Brother and sister—both gone. They had been his world.

  He sensed Alhena watching him. “What?”

  Alhena offered him a rueful smile and looked ahead without answering.

  Rook wondered if the old wizard had the ability to read minds. He’d meant to ask him on several occasions, but every time the situation presented itself, he had decided not to. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Some things were better left unknown.

  They passed beneath on odd arch formed by a stand of weeping willows. Drooping fronds brushed their head and shoulders and slipped down their backs, caressing the weary travellers as if they were sentient. Everybody jumped at the odd sensation.

  Alhena raised his voice. “Pollard. Olmar.”

  “What is it, Pops?” Olmar’s large eyes examined the willow fronds.

  “Do not be alarmed. This archway is the guardian of the Crypt.”

  “Guardian of the Crypt?” Pollard stared into the misty boughs. “The trees?”

  “Of a certainty.” Alhena waited until Larina and Sadyra stood close. “They warn the denizens of the Crypt of our approach.”

  Olmar was poised to say something but Alhena’s raised hand stopped him.

  “The Aberrator gave me his word we will not be molested within the sacred halls running beneath the Spine. That being said, I cannot stress enough that whatever happens over the next couple of days, do not react in any manner to the creatures within. Even the Aberrator’s control is limited when it comes to spirits.”

  “Spirits?” Olmar mouthed, a spooked look on his face.

  “Yes, Olmar. Spirits. They are not to be trifled with, but left alone, they are not to be feared. Once upon a time they too made their way through our mortal world. They have simply passed beyond into a world loosely tied to our own. Suffice it to say, most of them wish us well on our journey through this plane.”

  “Most?” Sadyra asked.

  “Most spirits never interact. A magical presence must be involved to link them back to us.”

  “But?” Sadyra prodded.

  “There is no but. All superstitions stem from a point of fact. Wizards and witches are not the only ones able to initiate contact the next step in life’s journey. Many people experience otherworldly phenomena but do not know how to explain what is happening.”

  Sadyra stared hard at him. “What, like ghosts and stuff?”


  “Hehe, yes, Sadie. Like ghosts and stuff. My point is, do not fear what we are about to experience. The underlying magic of the Gulch feeds the Crypt, providing a strong link between our world and the next. If we wish to reach the other side of the mountain without being taken prematurely to the next world, I must insist that no one,” he turned on the giants, “meaning you two specifically, is to make a move against anything we encounter. Does everyone understand?”

  Rook’s nod echoed the others.

  “Great, Gramps. Now that you’ve spooked the pants off everyone, lead on.” Sadyra nodded up the path.

  Alhena’s new beard lifted in a great smile. He raised his eyebrows and started walking.

  Olmar and Pollard fell in beside him, the trail meandering into what Rook perceived as the eastern foothills of the Spine. They scavenged a few branches along the way and strapped them to each other’s back on Alhena’s request.

  Sadyra and Larina followed a few steps behind, making sure nothing snuck up on them unawares.

  With Helleden’s minions running rampant across Zephyr and hearing Alhena’s strange words, Rook understood the archers’ apprehension. Caught up in thought, he almost ran into Pollard’s backside.

  Rising up before them, carved into the side of a cliff, two majestic columns, etched with distorted faces, supported an ominous dark lintel—the threshold of a cavernous opening.

  A gust of cold air whistled out of the tunnel, buffeting their clothing and whipping everyone’s hair around. Wafting on the pervading breeze, the company from Apexceal detected an odour of dampness and rot coming from the darkness within.

  Alhena stepped forward on his own, his staff radiating a strong orange light. He studied the passageway before facing the others. “You are about to enter the Crypt. Many have stumbled into these hallowed halls not appreciating where they trod, but if we can believe the Aberrator, only two have ever come back out alive. Him and me.” His magnanimous voice dropped. “Whether the necromancer is alive or not, is another story.”

  Facing the prospect of something as daunting as the Crypt, Alhena’s words did little to enhance anyone’s courage.

  Sadyra and Larina walked up beside Alhena and peeked into the gloom, while Pollard and Olmar backed away.

  “You sure about this Pops? It’s a bit dark in there for me likin’. We best be campin’ ‘ere tonight and go in the morn.” Olmar’s eyes looked anywhere but into the Crypt.

  Alhena smiled. “It will not be any lighter inside the Crypt come the morrow.”

  Pollard shuffled back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Perhaps we should climb over the mountain.”

  “Climb the mountain?” Alhena eyes followed the rock face into the mist. “Do you know how high that mountain is? We would never make it. Even if we did, how would we find the pass?”

  Sadyra stepped up to the giants, pointing a finger at them. “I see what’s going on. You’re afraid.”

  When they didn’t respond, she laughed. “Hah! You are! Big and mighty Pollard and ferocious bear Olmar are afraid. Well, I’ll be a pickled badger, I never thought I’d see the day.”

  Olmar shuffled his feet, his cheeks reddening. He lowered his gaze, looking anywhere but at Sadyra. “There be ghosties in there, Sadie. I ain’t exactly carin’ for ghouls an’ there ilk.”

  “Have you ever seen one before?”

  “Aye…” He glanced at her, but turned away again. “Maybe not seen one, exactly, but sure as I’m the whelp of a tart, I’s ‘eard ‘em several times in the Under Realm. You were there.”

  “You mean the voices? Those weren’t ghosts, you big lunkhead. They were the Voil, remember?”

  Olmar swallowed. His bushy brow twitched but he remained quiet.

  “Rina, take ‘fraidy cat’s paw and I’ll grab the big oaf.” Sadyra clasped Pollard’s hand and tugged, her weight unable to move him. “Come on, you big lummox, Sadie will keep you safe.”

  Pollard’s sheepish face flushed as he followed the petite archer into the Crypt.

  Rook didn’t think Olmar would follow, but the helmsman’s eyes tracked Pollard and Sadyra and then fell on Alhena.

  “Alright, but mark me words, lassie, if’n a ghostie comes a-calling, don’t be lookin’ to Olmar to be savin’ ya.”

  “Ya, ya, ya. Let’s go. I hear ghosts like to sneak up on people from behind.” Larina winked at Rook.

  Olmar’s pace increased. He overtook Alhena and then Pollard and Sadyra.

  Larina barely managed to hang on to him.

  Curiously, the entrance to the Crypt was well lit, especially with the vast roof lost in shadow. Countless sconces flickered along the roughly hewn walls. What the flames fed on, Sadyra had no idea.

  After walking for an interminable amount of time, Alhena suggested they stop by a rivulet running along the side of the path before it dropped into a crack. “We should get some much-needed sleep.”

  To a person, everyone balked at the idea. Even the women, who had been full of bravado upon entering the warren. Their faces began to display signs of nervousness the deeper they ventured into the mountain.

  So far, nothing untoward had besieged them. Other than the peculiar breeze whistling eerily through the cavernous tunnel system, they hadn’t heard anything but their own echoing footsteps and Olmar’s constant muttering.

  “Oh my.”

  Sadyra bounded back to the group from the lead position she and Larina assumed soon after entering the Crypt. The giants had seemed content to remain close to Alhena. She stopped in front of Olmar. “If you say that one more time, I’m going to have Rook boost me up so I can bop you on the nose.”

  Olmar frowned at her.

  “That’s all Rina and I can hear up ahead. Oh my this, and oh my that. If there are any ghosts about, you’ve surely informed them of our presence.”

  Larina flashed her a dark glance. “Oh, sure, work him up.” She shook her head and led Olmar to where Rook and Alhena had stopped to prepare a fire on what appeared to be the end of the entrance tunnel as the roadway narrowed and slanted upward into the darkness beyond. Their path was about to enter an immense cavern—its walls and ceiling lost from view.

  “You aren’t helping.” Pollard glared at her and stormed off to join the others.

  Sadyra rolled her eyes and skipped over to join them. “How’re you going to—?”

  From within a circle of rocks, Alhena built a hearty fire using the branches Pollard and Olmar had carried.

  Sadyra couldn’t understand how the fire burned so well on the meagre fuel, but she appreciated the welcome relief from the bone-chilling atmosphere of the Crypt.

  Everyone sat around the fire except Olmar and Pollard. The giants couldn’t stop pacing, searching the shadows at the beginning of the cavern for things that weren’t there.

  After a scant meal of precooked meat scavenged during their trip up the Ocean Way, Sadyra snuggled next to Alhena. “So, Gramps. Tell us about this accord you have with the bone rattler. Why in the world would you come back here?”

  Alhena didn’t respond at first but Sadyra wasn’t put off. He always acted like that. She made it her job to extract the information from him.

  “Come on. You’re the old Wizard of the North. I’m sure rattle bones has no control over you. When this business is done, we’ll come back here with you and settle this. At least I will.”

  The others nodded in agreement.

  “I thank you, but that will not be necessary.” Alhena’s wet eyes met everyone in turn. They stopped on Sadyra. “And especially you. You have the heart of a lion and the tenacity of, how did you put it? A pickled badger? I am sure the Aberrator would be hard put dealing with you.”

  Sadyra became deadly serious. “Like it or not, once you become my friend, you’re stuck with me. You hear?”

  “I assure you all, I am most grateful you treated me as an equal when I was but a simple messenger. I do not doubt your sincerity, but…” Alhena paused, seemingly searching for the right way to respond.
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  “Of course we accepted you.” Olmar walked up to the fire and crouched to appreciate the heat. “You’s one of us. You went into the Under Realm and fought as ‘ard as the next person. You ‘ad our backs. We ain’t to be forgettin’ lightly.”

  “Thank you Olmar. You are all a good lot. Because of that, I will let you in on an ancient secret known only by the Wizards of the North.”

  Everyone tightened the circle around the fire. Pollard strode up to stand behind Alhena, his double-bladed sword hanging forgotten from his right hand.

  “The accord I formed with Aberrator is one of necessity. I promised him my life—”

  Olmar grunted. Pollard’s grip on his sword tightened. Sadyra grasped the sleeve of his black cloak and Rook and Larina shared a look of astonishment.

  “Let me finish. I promised the Aberrator my life in exchange for immortality.”

  “Come on Pops. I ain’t bein’ the smartest, an’ I dinnae fear anyone knowin’ it, but even I knows you ain’t makin’ a lick of sense. How can ya be livin’ forever if’n you’re dead?”

  Alhena smiled. “Olmar, you do not give yourself enough credit. Through your simple outlook on life, you are perhaps one of the smartest people I have ever met. Believe me when I say, I have encountered many highly intelligent people in a century and a half, but you have a knack of simple clarity when most of us muddy the waters by overthinking everything.”

  Alhena’s age still threw Sadyra—a century and a half? He appeared to be in his fifties, no more. She hoped she looked that good in thirty years, let alone a hundred and thirty.

  “Och, Pops, you’s jus’ bein’ nice to ol’ Olmar.”

  “Not at all, my friend. The world would be a richer place if it took its council from the likes of you.” Alhena gave Olmar a wink. “Anyway, as much as I enjoy everyone’s company, I have extended my existence in this world longer than I have a right to. If and when Helleden is dealt with, I will allow myself to succumb to nature and give my body the proper rest it desires. Do not be sad for me. The ritual the Aberrator has set out will transform me into a spectre.”

  “A ghost?” Sadyra’s storm-grey eyes grew big.