The Souls of the Ocean (Book Two in The Tamarack Series)

by Ross Turner

  The torrents falling from the sky above them cascaded down mercilessly, drenching everything. The attacking rain however, did not touch Isabel and her loved ones. About a metre or so above them, the falling water parted as a fold in a curtain would, running harmlessly down to each side of where they stood. All around them, a perfectly rounded patch of untouched ground was clear, about three metres across, the grass and dirt sheltered by an invisible barrier.

  Isabel looked at Zanriath with a bewildered expression, hoping to find answers, but his returning look was not one of understanding. So instead, they both looked to their son, who had by now recovered from his fear, and stood alongside Rose, both looking up at the sky thoughtfully, the water parting effortlessly above them.

  “Cole?” Isabel began warily. “What’s going on?”

  He did not respond.

  The silence, besides the pounding of the droplets against the earth all about them in the still dark light of morning, remained for a few minutes. Isabel finally spoke again.

  “Cole? Are you ok?”

  “I don’t know…” He said quietly, lifting his hand up to rest on Rose’s neck and leaning his head against her also, still looking up. “I don’t know what happened…”

  “Did you do this?” Zanriath asked, indicating the parting of the rain above them.

  “Yes.” He replied, and Rose nodded also. “Yes, we did it.”

  “How?” Isabel asked. “Why?”

  “We’re not really sure how.” Cole admitted honestly, turning to face his parents now, tearing his eyes from the sky. “But we did it because of the fear.”

  “The fear?” Isabel asked confused. “What were you afraid of?”

  “Yes, the fear.” Cole confirmed, though, it seemed, he could not reveal exactly what it was he and Rose had been so afraid of. “Would you like us to stop it now?” He asked politely.

  Isabel was confused, as was her husband, but responded as best she could, though forgetting to consider the consequences of her words.

  “If you’re not afraid anymore…” She began. “Then yes…you can stop.”

  Cole nodded and in an instant the pleat in the falling droplets above them ceased to exist. As a result, within seconds, they were all four drenched in ice-cold rainwater. Their muscles shivering fiercely, and their teeth chattering uncontrollably, they all immediately dashed for the solid protection of the barn, laughing uncontrollably, the fear now completely eradicated.

  The rain hammered down on the wooden roof of the barn and the noise was almost deafening. They were all soaked through, even from their mere ten seconds of exposure to the rain, and the water ran freezing cold down their bodies. Rose shook herself free of it, spraying them all in the process, and generating yet more laughter.

  Zanriath then conjured a fire that enveloped each one of them, cloaking their skin and clothes, evaporating the water and drying and warming his family without scalding them.

  “You try Cole.” He suggested encouragingly, looking over at his son. “Open your hand and focus the fire on your palm.” Cole looked back, a little concerned. “I’ll help you. Just like you did at Still Waters.” Zanriath assured him.

  Cole did as his father asked and raised his palm to face the wooden ceiling, rafters and timbers, all too aware of what would happen if he lost control. Cole felt a tingling through his fingers as Zanriath’s elemental power surged through his skin and tickled his palm. The flames his father created were small and delicate and harmless, flickering tenderly.

  Cole examined the flames with his own thoughts, sensing their power, their hold and touch, and also their lack of searing heat. He copied their design and soon spread his own fire to his other hand and up along his arms without burning his sleeves or skin, and the warmth on his skin felt good.

  “Very good.” Zanriath complimented as he surveyed his son’s work, pleased. “Your control is improving.”

  This training continued for some time, with Zanriath creating seemingly endlessly difficult and intricate tasks for his son to accomplish, from running the flames in evermore intricate patterns along the ground, to even creating ball of fire hanging amidst the air, directed by nothing more than tiny particles of dust.

  After about an hour or so, Isabel stepped in to take her turn in tutoring. And so, Cole switched from attempting to harness his elemental power, to focusing on his demonic ability.

  They began simply by Isabel asking her son to sense her thoughts, and to expand his demonic thoughts out over the island. Then, as before, they cast their thoughts over the great waters of the ocean to detect Thorn, carefully, and without him realising.

  It was with some relief that they found him, moving seemingly randomly through the waters, still alone. It appeared he had not yet grown enough in power or ability to raise any other demons. Hopefully they still had enough time.

  However, this time around, though they took just as much care in their search for Thorn, something unexpected happened. Once they had located him, they followed his movements for some time, as focusing on such a small object so far away was still excellent practice of control.

  But a few minutes in to their exercise, something happened. Isabel felt something returning to them, something they had not instigated. Suddenly Isabel let out a cry as Thorn’s attack struck her unexpectedly, and she was flung to the ground, her focus shattered.

  “Isabel!?” Zanriath rushed to her side. “What happened!?”

  “He attacked me.” She gasped between rapid breaths, her chest heaving at the shock.

  “How?” Zanriath asked confused.

  “I…I don’t know.” Isabel replied, shaken and concerned, her head pounding heavily. “He shouldn’t have known, but even if he had, he’s so far away…how could…I don’t…?” Her words trailed off, her eyes widening as her gaze fell to her son, still in concentration, his eyes closed and his thoughts far away over the ocean. “COLE!” Isabel suddenly screamed, forcing the air from her lungs in a shrieking gasp, but her realisation was too late.

  Thorn’s strike hammered into her unprepared son with ten times the force as it had done to her, the great blow hitting him with tremendous vigour.

  For a moment nothing happened. But then, Cole was sent spiralling backwards from where he stood, hurtling to the ground with a mighty crash. Rose roared monstrously and leapt to his side, but was thrown back herself as, when Cole collided with the ground his impact was accompanied by the ear-splitting boom of a raging storm.

  His instinctive self-preservation had enabled him to throw up a hasty defence. This defence however, was not in the least bit controlled, and as Cole struck the ground, he did so with the force of an earthquake, and a sound like the thick crack of thunder. The very earth beneath him rippled out away from his body, shaking even the solid rock that made up the very island.

  Unfortunately, they were still inside the barn, sheltering them from the rain. The weak wooden frame did not stand a chance. The supporting timbers of the barn walls splintered and crumbled and the ceiling suddenly came hurtling down with a terrifying roar as Cole’s instinctive defence splashed out without control, obliterating the building’s foundations and support.

  Rose swept the barely-conscious boy onto her back and, in a single motion, darted from the collapsing ruin of the building. Isabel and Zanriath followed, barely escaping the crumbling wreck with their lives.

  Back out in the freezing fury of the storm outside, they were drenched yet again.

  Help from all around came running at the sound of the earthquake, and Isabel and Zanriath rushed to them to call for medical aid. Rose guarded over Cole’s stirring body, sheltering him as best she could from the driving rain, allowing no one near, almost killing the first two strangers who attempted to reach her Cole, baring her teeth viciously.

  It took Isabel some time to calm the frightened beast, and convince her that Cole needed help. Eventually Rose submitted and allowed them to carry Cole inside and out of the pounding rainfall, but she refused steadfast t
o leave his side.

  In his semi-conscious state, the young boy, who was the son of legends, was not the least bit aware of the panic going on around his limp body. Instead, his thoughts drifted through Tamarack and followed the pattern of his own tremors through the rock and earth, somehow sensing the past, present and even future of the ground itself.

  He saw how, over time, the world had shifted and changed and survived, adapting and changing under great forces and pressures.

  He saw the Souls of the Ocean, once alive and happy, co-existing harmoniously with their world. But then he could only watch, with a distinctive sorrow at his heart, as the ground was suddenly swallowed and engulfed by a great ocean, leaving nothing behind in its wake.

  Looking forward instead of back, it was unclear exactly what he could see. In fact, he saw several things.

  There was happiness - a repeat of that original harmonious existence.

  Then there was water still - the success of revenge and greed.

  Next there was blackness - not ocean or earth, simply nothing at all, and the world endured and adapted no more.

  And finally, his wandering thoughts sapping the last of his strength, Cole blacked out entirely, succumbing to his strange visions of the future, and of what he hoped would never come to pass.

  26

  “Is he ok?”

  “What happened?”

  “Were they attacked?”

  “Why did the barn collapse?”

  “Was it the demon?”

  Cole could hear the voices all around him murmuring, questioning, frantic, but he could not put faces to them. He did not know to whom they belonged. He had no way of telling them apart, for his thoughts were so muddled that he couldn’t focus.

  But then, after a few minutes, as he began to organise his racing mind, there were some figures amongst those surrounding him that he could recognise. It was not by their voices that he knew them, for they were not speaking, but he could sense them, feel them even, with the strange awareness that he still did not yet understand, even in his still semi-conscious state.

  With the recuperation of his strength, his mind not even requiring consciousness, Cole’s thoughts wandered freely once more.

  Rose was, as always, at his side, and he could sense her resting her head gently on his arm, casting warning glances and occasional snarls at anybody who ventured too close to her sleeping friend.

  Then there were also his parents, two of the very few people Rose would allow close to Cole. Rose’s brown eyes surveyed the mixture of concerned and curious citizens before her, and eventually, her patience worn ragged, she had had enough.

  She rose menacingly to her feet and, baring her teeth viciously, purposefully scraping her claws as she did so, chased them off. She easily scared them away from the immediate vicinity, before settling back down with Cole, much more content.

  Strangely, beside his parents, there were two more humans that Rose allowed to tend to Cole, though they were barely grown themselves. One was Kay, and the other Hale, the two strange and silent accomplices of the High Western Priest.

  As Cole sensed their presence, he touched their thoughts and, as he had done a few times now, saw their past. But what he saw shocked him, for he had not known of their extended lives before that moment, nor the turmoil that had led them to their current, semi-mortal state of being.

  He saw the beautiful faces of their young parents, brutally murdered by thieves for simple gold. Kay and Hale had escaped the massacre, but had been chased deep into the woods, lost far from home amidst the dark browns and greens, and the bizarre, terrifying sounds that echoed all around.

  They disappeared completely, hiding amongst the trees, far away from bandits and murderers. And there they had remained for many years, living off the woodland and often sneaking into smaller settlements by night and stealing all they could find. It was not that they had been raised in such a manner, but simply that their desperate situation required such action, for they needed to survive, and they trusted no one.

  That was until, one day, a strange man came across their den. They attacked him at first, but strong wooden limbs grabbed them from behind and held them back. They had never seen the trees move so before, and it frightened them deeply.

  The unknown man spoke to them in a chaotic tongue, and indeed even to the trees themselves, whispering and shouting all at once. He called himself the Watcher, and dressed entirely in leather, his clothes held together with roots and vines. His hair was long and matted and fell down before his eyes. His frame was thin and wiry, his skin was very dark, and he always held a tall wooden staff, though he needed no aid in walking.

  His words were muddled and the two orphans could barely understand him. Nevertheless, he told them that the trees had been watching the two of them, taking care of them even, protecting them, and that they had told him where to find them.

  Try as they may however, neither the Watcher nor the trees could get Kay and Hale to speak, for it seemed that their years cast alone in the woodland had, for some reason, robbed them of their speech.

  With pity in his strange heart, the Watcher took the two orphans to a tall stone tower that he knew of. There, the orphan children met yet another bizarre man, but this man was much older, and his eyes were much softer, and he did not speak anywhere near as randomly or eccentrically as the Watcher.

  This was a man that the Watcher knew to be a friend of the woodlands, but a friend of the people also, and so he entrusted him with the care of the poor, lost orphans.

  Thus, it came to be so that the High Western Priest took Kay and Hale into his home, gave them food, shelter, and, eventually, even tasks of their own. Slowly, over time, the course of many years in fact, they began to find a new purpose to their broken lives.

  Though the pain of their past would never cease to haunt them, it would at least fade and torment their waking hours no more, as the importance of their present became evermore prominent.

  Then, Cole’s vision was cut short, and he came round almost fully to consciousness. His eyes snapped open and instantly the bright light blinded him. He squinted his eyes tightly until they adjusted and the throbbing pain behind them subsided, and when his vision returned to him, he was faced immediately with Kay and Hale.

  Seeing their faces in the blinding light of midday, unchanged even after all those long years, was somewhat odd now that Cole knew the truth of their past, possibly in a much more complete way than anybody else ever would, for they had never told anybody of the extent of their troubles.

  They only smiled, still not breaking their silence of hundreds of years. Cole would wonder for a long time to come upon what the purpose was that they had found in their lives - the shred of knowledge that he had not quite discovered from his insight into their past.

  “Cole!” He heard his mother’s voice, and suddenly he was caught up in a desperate embrace. He felt a cold, wet nose nuzzle at his hand and he petted Rose affectionately whilst he returned Isabel’s strangling hold.

  “I’m ok.” He managed to gasp between breaths as her grip failed to loosen. She eventually sat back and looked at him seriously.

  “Are you alright Cole?” She asked of him. “Thorn caught us both by surprise.”

  “Yes, he did.” Cole replied nodding, remembering completely now what had happened. “But I’m ok. I think it was a defence…but I’ve not done that before from a direct attack like that…” He began, looking outside guiltily for the remains of the barn, though he could not see it through the windows of the High Priest’s cottage. “So I don’t think it was very well controlled…” He finished.

  “You must give yourself due credit young Colvan.” The High Priest’s voice suddenly sounded from the doorway to the kitchen, startling both Cole and his parents, for he had appeared without a sound. “Your control is much improved. Usually it takes years for a student to grasp what you seem to just be picking up by yourself. Just because you were caught off guard once, is certainly no reason to bera
te yourself.”

  His words were true, and Cole knew it, but, as always, he still felt disappointed. He could not think of a suitable reply, and so simply smiled and nodded his thanks. The High Priest smiled back warmly, his aged face creasing seemingly just a little less than before.

  “It’s not a fault to think in such a manner.” The old man said then reassuringly. “If that’s what drives you to success, then I do sorely hope that it drives you all the way, for Koack only knows, we will need success.” Cole nodded and the High Priest leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And I have ever faith in you boy.” He said quietly. “Even now your strength is recovering splendidly. I think we stand an excellent chance.”

  “Thank you.” Cole replied in a voice just as hushed, though he did not know why they were whispering, for everyone could still hear them.

  The High Priest nodded, stood up, smiled contentedly at them all, and returned to the kitchen in response to the whistling of a boiling kettle. Kay and Hale followed him, leaving Cole to rest.

  Rain still pounded the roof above their heads and lashed harshly at the windows, drowning out almost all other noise and making continued conversation difficult.

  Cole sat quietly for a while with his parents and with Rose, before finally rising to his feet and looking quite gloomily out of the window. He stood there for some time, partly watching the droplets of water streak down the cold glass, and partly just staring out across the forested land in the distance.

  “I suppose we should leave.” He eventually said, half-heartedly. “We’re running out of time.”

  “Are you sure you have the strength?” His concerned father asked of his young son who, only half an hour ago, was barely even conscious.

  “I don’t think we have the time to spare.” He replied quite ominously. Then, without another word, Cole stepped briskly from the room, donned a thick, blue, waterproof cloak and, followed closely by his enormous and protective demon, headed out to face the storm.