Soul Survivor (Spirit Shield Saga Book 0)

by Susan Faw

  “Wonderful!” Artio clapped her hands together, celebrating the healing of the workers, who surged forward to show her that their fingers had regrown straight and youthful, that their scars had vanished, and eyesight had strengthened. “Go share your joy with your families. Remember that the medicine wheel will only work during this moon cycle each year with the alignment of the spring solstice. Remember the gods and honour their spirits for giving you this great gift!”

  The workers bowed and scraped and then vanished out of the glade, eager to return to their kin to share the joyous news.

  Artio turned back to the circle of rock eyes running over their towering forms. They were quiet and still, as they had been when erected “Now the real work begins, Genii. Help me fine tune the alignment. We have a week before the full moon arrives. We must be ready by then, if we hope to capture this phase of it.” She gathered his hands in hers, running her thumbs over his calloused palms, and then peered up into the warm depths of his eyes. “Then and only then can we truly be one for all eternity.”

  Genii kissed her, a gentle kiss full of shared hope and longing, mixed with awe and trepidation. Although Artio acted as any normal human female, she was not a human, or at least fully human. That fact alone would have terrified any normal mortal, but Genii wasn't a normal human male. He was a bastard who happened to be a wizard.

  Chapter 5

  Caerwyn

  Mordecai sat munching on a ham and cheese sandwich from a rapidly emptying tray brought in by a servant. He alternated bites between a tottering stack of sandwiches and an equally large pile of crunchy pickles, fresh from the pickle vat of the kitchens. Caerwyn pulled Hud to the side of the room by his shirt sleeve while Alfreda distracted the child with tales of the woods that were her home when she lived amongst the Primordials. Occasionally, she snuck a pickle from Mordecai’s stack. Mordecai’s eyes followed the stolen pickle, as though missing one would cause him to go hungry.

  Across the room, an argument in hushed tones was being carried out.

  “...You suggest that we give control of this box to a child? Hud, even a full grown wizard would struggle to control the danger of this box,” muttered Caerwyn. “It contains a great evil. If it were to be activated or even worse seized by the wrong company, they could destroy the world. There is no room for failure in this. He is too young!”

  “Sire, you speak as if magic is something that is learned. I assure you, it is not. You are either gifted with it by the gods or you are not. Did you have to learn to be a godling? No. You simply are a godling. It is a part of your very being, the fabric of your existence. He is the same. Mordecai could do things before he could speak. He does not need to be taught how to control the box. He is controlling it right now.”

  Caerwyn looked over at the box and the boy, alarmed, and Hud grinned. “It has been part of him since birth. No one understands its working better than Mordecai. If there is a great evil to be fought, he is the boy for the job.”

  “He is but a child!” Caerwyn protested. “He cannot go to battle!”

  His father shook his head. “He may be a child in years, but there is an old man tucked away inside, at times I see it in his eyes, a wisdom and experience far beyond his years. I believe he was put here to help you.” Hud’s eyes glazed over as he thought about his words.

  Caerwyn sighed and turned back to Alfreda, who was now laughing at something the child had said, her eyes sparkling. Mordecai met Caerwyn’s eyes and his eyes beckoned to Caerwyn in invitation. He slowly walked back to the table, studying the child as he drew closer then knelt down next to Mordecai’s chair, bringing his eyes on level with the boy. Mordecai’s sparkling blue eyes twinkled, and he placed his hand on Caerwyn’s shoulder.

  “Do not be afraid, sire. I understand the box. I know how it works. I can help you.” Mordecai picked up the box and wrapped it back up in the soft cloth hiding it from view. It did not seem to affect him as it did them. Mordecai looked up and smiled at the bemusement in their gazes as he handled the box without harm.

  Caerwyn smiled back at him and patted his knee. “Thank you, Mordecai, I accept your offer of assistance. Mind if I steal one of those sandwiches?”

  Chapter 6

  Alfreda

  The casualties from the bombardment were not as severe as originally thought. Two dead, their souls passing into Caerwyn’s care, and fifteen injured and now being treated in the hospital wing of the castle.

  Alfreda visited each Kingsmen or Primordial in the infirmary, murmuring a kind word of thanks for their service.

  On exiting the infirmary, she joined Caerwyn and they climbed to the outer wall to examine the massive stone still sitting on the wall where it had landed. They were surrounded by guards, which made the upper wall extremely crowded and, to Caerwyn’s mind, advertised their presence to the enemy if indeed the attack had been targeted.

  The massive stone was as polar opposite to the limestone blocks forming the castle walls as it was possible to be. It was roughly a comet in shape, as though it had been formed by the wind passing over it. The surface was greyed and bubbled. Small fissures and craters pockmarked the surface. Alfreda bent down and picked up a chunk of stone that had fractured off the main rock with the impact. Inside, a smooth, tar-coloured glass was revealed. She turned it over in her hands, frowning.

  She turned back to Caerwyn and handed him the chunk. “This is the evidence we needed. Look at the composition of this rock. This is obsidian, part of a lava flow. This was not an attack but an eruption.”

  She walked over to the wall and gazed down at the approach. Great stones dotted the hillside, some large enough to leave large gouges of overturned earth as they skidded and bounced to their final resting places. The sizes ranged from massive rocks like the one beside them to stones no bigger than a human head.

  “But the question is what is causing the eruptions? And where are they coming from? What do you think of the angle of the impacts?” She lifted her arm and pointed in a northwesterly direction. “I think they have come from there.”

  Caerwyn followed the line of sight produced by her outstretched arm. “That would put it in the Highland Needle, near the pass, possibly just above the ford of the River Erinn.”

  “Yes, that is what I was thinking too, very near to Helga’s home at the edge of her domain, her protected domain.” Alfreda leaned on the wall, studying the patterns. “What could she possibly be up to that would cause breaches in the mountain? Or is this a natural phenomenon of some sort? Do you think Artio is visiting her right now?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “Then I will return and see if I can talk to Helga. She is on my doorstep. Perhaps she does not know of the eruption,” Alfreda shook her head slowly from side to side, “but I do not see how that is possible. The mountain must rumble with the building pressure. Earthquakes would be a natural side effect of such a breach.”

  “I do not like the idea of you confronting her alone.” Caerwyn took his sister’s elbow and steered her toward a door set in the wall that lead to an interior corridor of the castle. The sweep of guards followed. “If you will give me a few days, I will gather my Kingsmen and then we can present a unified front to Helga. The last visit to her realm did not go well and several of my Kingsmen were injured trying to reach Helga to chat. She has put up defences against unwanted visitors and it seems we head that list. It would have been nice if she had warned us and the fact she did not,” he grimaced, “means she did not care who came to visit. That, of and by itself, is alarming. She has become reclusive as of late.”

  “Agreed.” Alfreda paused just inside as she crossed the threshold into the castle’s interior, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dim interior. “All right, I will stay until you are prepared and we will leave together. We will make her see reason. I would like a word with my clansmen, so that we may prepare a plan of action.”

  “Your normal suites have been prepared for you and your chiefs. I will leave you to your discussions and
we can meet again for dinner in the grand hall.”

  Alfreda hugged Caerwyn and with a smile, she walked off down the right hallway, gathering her guard as she disappeared down the tiled floor, her steps sure and confident, a queen amongst her people.

  Chapter 7

  Hud

  Mordecai skipped along beside his father, holding his hand and chatting about how nice the king and the Primordial queen were and that they made about the best sandwiches in the world. Hud carried the blanket-wrapped balance box under his arm and matched his steps to his son’s as he retraced the familiar path back to their lodgings, tucked into a corner of the castle wall part way between the door to the kitchens and the large stable that housed the horses.

  Reaching the front door, Mordecai waved his hand and the door swung open on silent hinges before he could place a hand on the latch. For Mordecai, the things he could do were as natural as breathing, things that made others stop and stare.

  The box had been handed down to his family for safekeeping longer than anyone could remember. Hud had no magical ability, but his mother had been a witch of immeasurable ability. Somehow it had skipped him, though. When she died, he had despaired that the ability had been lost. It was after her death that he and his wife conceived and gave birth to Mordecai, who was now the end of the line.

  Hud’s wife had died giving Mordecai life, as was often the case where magic was involved. The birth of magic often demanded a life for a life. It was a reason that magic was dying out in the realm, and matches were hard to find, as no one would consciously give their daughter’s hand only to find that they died due to the magic coursing through the child’s veins. Consequently, the few wizards to exist in the world were often born to whores and lived a rough life on the streets, often falling to a knife or to disease before reaching an age where they could take conscious control of their magic. They were a dying breed on the cusp of extinction.

  Mordecai, on the other hand, flourished within the castle walls. Protected physically by their impenetrability, his mind nourished by the best library in the kingdom, he studied the history of the lands and people, both mortal and mythical that abided within it. By the tender age of five, he had mastered the ancient language of the gods and could read the ancient texts without assistance. Now, at the age of seven, he carried the knowledge of a man ten times as his years. What he lacked was experience.

  Yet that lack of experience did not hold him back, just as Hud had told Caerwyn. Hud stopped in front of the cabinet built into the wall of the kitchen beside the fireplace and reaching around the side of it, found the hidden latch and pulled. There was a click and he tugged on the front of the cabinet, which swung open on giant hinge, revealing a hidden closet. It was here that the box had been stored for millennia, safe and secure within the stone wall. At the back of the closet was a trap door embedded into the floor that led to a set of tunnels running under the castle.

  Hud placed the box on a shelf and then pushed the cabinet door closed. Once it clicked into place, there was no telling that it was anything other than what it appeared to be, a functional kitchen cupboard.

  Mordecai was still chattering away but as his father stopped in front of him, he paused long enough to look up at his whiskered face.

  “I know. It’s time for me to study...uh, father?” Mordecai asked his face hopeful.

  “What is it?”

  “Can I go with you this time? When the king goes to meet his other sisters?”

  Hud studied his son for a moment and then nodded.

  “Yippee!” shouted Mordecai, and he clambered onto his chair and pulled the books forward. “This time, I get to see the real thing. This time I get to see the gods up close.”

  “And why are you so anxious to see them up close?” asked his father.

  “Because of this!” Mordecai pulled a skinny book from the pile and shoved it at his father. It was entitled Prophetic Musings: The War of the Gods. He did not need to read further to know who had written it. The last witch or wizard with prophetic ability had died years ago. It was written by Hud’s mother.

  Chapter 8

  Artio

  The following morning dawned grey and overcast. The rain, hinted at by the pink clouds of the previous evening’s setting sun, had settled in, obscuring the top of the ash-filled clouds ringing the peak of the smoking mountain. Fog had sunk onto the clearing floor, so that the monolithic stones appeared to be floating in the sky. Only erected for a day, they nevertheless gave an impression of great age and exuded air of mystery.

  Artio witnessed none of these things as she’d left the meadow in the predawn hours, travelling deep into the Primordial forest, Genii at her side. In order for the bonding of the moon to work, there were certain elements that had to be gathered from the misty woods, elements only found there.

  The plan had been Genii’s from the beginning. Of course, Artio had agreed to the plan as soon as he had proposed it. They were in love, weren’t they? The only thing keeping them from being together was his mortality. He had lived longer than most humans due to the magic coursing through his veins, but he would still succumb to old age in time and die, something Artio could not fathom or accept.

  So they’d hatched the plan and what could be more eternal than the moon? Tying his life force to the celestial would ensure that his aging was tied directly to the moon’s aging and would be so slow as to be unnoticeable. Still not immortal in the true sense, but close enough as to not matter.

  Locating the binding agents, now that was the true challenge. For the magic to work, Genii’s blood must be bound to the light cast on a full moon, and not just any full moon, but the master moon of the spring equinox. The equinox was the time for rebirth when the sun and moon are equal partners in the sky. The balance of the celestial bodies of moon and world, mimicking the relationship between lovers, would make the magic possible.

  Artio pushed through the dense underbrush, the wet leaves slapping against her legs. The object of their search was not far ahead. They had watched the trajectory carefully and had set out as soon as it hit the atmosphere.

  The chunk of moon rock came into view, the crush of vegetation an arrow pointing to its final resting place.

  “Finally, we have found it! It tumbled further than we figured.” Genii took the cape from around his shoulders and gave it a shake to dislodge the moisture dripping from its oiled surface.

  “But we have found it, finally,” said Artio, quickening her steps. “Please let there be enough,” she prayed out loud.

  Genii took her hand and knelt on the ground beside a tree trunk with scorch marks on its bark. He parted the ferns and there it was a chunk of moon rock the size of his fist. The colour of ash, it was jagged on all exposures, some protrusions sharp and spiky and some smoothed. To Artio, it looked more like a cockle burr than a rock.

  She dropped Genii’s hand then pulled out a cloth from her satchel, draping it over the stone. She picked it up and wrapped the cloth securely around the moon rock, careful not to touch it with her bare flesh and then tucked it away deep in her satchel.

  Artio stood up, beaming. “We’ve got it!” She flung her arms around him and kissed him full on the lips, and he snugged her close, kissing her back.

  “You are my joy, shade of my heart. Whatever did I do to deserve you for eternity?” he rumbled against her hair. “The day you found me on the streets my life changed. I can never repay you for your love, for your kindness. I love you, Artio, and will love you till the moon crashes into the sea.”

  “As street urchins go, you were adorable.” Drawing back, she swept the fringe of hair off his forehead and smiled, remembering the small boy. “My heart was lost the moment I saw you.” She stroked his cheek, eyes alive with the tenderness of love returned. “But the adult man is so much more. You are worthy of a goddess’s love.”

  “You saved me.” His eyes darkened slightly with memory. “I would be dead by now, if you had not taken me in.”

  “Yes, but eve
n then I knew you were special,” she said, “that you were unique. We were meant to be together. It is a blessing of the gods.”

  “And so we shall be together forever.” He lowered his forehead to touch hers and kissed the bridge of her nose. “Together...always.”

  Chapter 9

  Caerwyn

  The Kingsmen barracks were located on the western side of Cathair, outside the castle walls and tucked up tight against the outer ring wall where it joined with the castle itself. A postern gate allowed for the pasturing of the horse herds in a Y formed by the tributary of Cathair Lake to the south and the crumbling ancient stone wall of the old town pastures. They were overgrown with grasses and lichen, the roots sinking deep into the dirt of time’s passing. These walls remembered when the god, Morpheus had made Cathair his home, not just his descendants.

  Morpheus’ creation of humanity was initially considered trivial, a curiosity to the other Gods. Almost on a dare, he formed the people of the world from the native elements: purest air provided by the abundant plant life, virginal waters of mountain streams fed from the snow-capped mountain tops, and the physical essence of the planet – soils so fertile that the planet exploded with life. Morpheus mixed fire and spirit into this raw mould and then breathed the breath of a God into his creation.

  The result was miraculous.

  He’d created not one, but two unique life forms and then watched as the first people multiplied until they filled every corner of the world. The other Gods applauded his ingenuity, smiling down on the little planet. Amused with the scurrying creatures, they indulged Morpheus, congratulating him on creating a new life form that thrived in the primitive climate. The Gods began to visit the planet and played with the people, as though they were pets. They set up palaces in the most beautiful of locations and the world became a vacation paradise for the bored immortals.