Soul Survivor (Spirit Shield Saga Book 0)

by Susan Faw

  “So you have commanded, so it shall be done!” shouted Alfreda in confirmation.

  The glow faded and Caerwyn slumped back to the ground, the spell tiring him.

  Hud and Mordecai stood and came back around in front of Caerwyn and bowed to him. Caerwyn shook his head. “You do not bow to me, my friends. We are now equals.”

  Mordecai ran up and hugged him tight and then turned away and approached the circle where Artio and Genii sat frozen in time. The moonlight swirled, wisps of fog-like trails fading into the dark. Mordecai crept up to them, careful to not touch the fingers of moonlight, slid the balance box under the orb of light until it rested directly over the heart of circle. He backed carefully away and then ran over to Alfreda and hugged her tightly. She laid her cheek against his soft brown hair, murmuring softly to him.

  Mordecai raised his head. The true moon glow increased swiftly as it slowly crested the edge of the clearing. The humming at the center of the stones rose in pitch.

  “You must go now. Hurry! Remove yourself from this area. Stay clear of the danger. The future depends on you staying safe. Go, my friends, go!” yelled Alfreda.

  Hud, with an anguished look at his former king, ran to Mordecai, grabbed his outstretched hand, and bolted for the Pegasus. They climbed onto Moonbeam’s back and launched skyward out of the clearing.

  The moon’s rays struck the stones and the humming became a roar, as the beams activated the medicine wheel. White hot light flashed around the tops of the column, faster and faster, becoming a ring of lightning, blue forks sparking out of the circle.

  The moon continued its climb and as it rose, the lightning sank lower down the column, striking runes which came alive, dancing with an inner life, as the stone changed from grey to a crystalized white. As each layer of rune activated, creatures of the forest entered the clearing, unicorns and fey folk and thunderbirds and sabretooth, every animal or being with a touch of magic in their blood. They were drawn like moths to a flame, unable to resist the pull of the moonlight.

  Alfreda watched, open-mouthed, and tried to warn the creatures away, but they could not hear her, for her spiritual connection with them had been broken by the runes and the racing fever in her blood. She could not summon the bond. They were deaf to her call.

  As the moonlight reached the bottom, the final course of runes flashed and light swept the circle, striking Caerwyn, Alfreda, Genii, and Artio. Lightning erupted in a bright white beam, which shot out from the circle and struck the moon with a thunderclap that flattened the trees on the edge of the clearing.

  Caerwyn jerked as the full force of the moonbeam’s bolt caught him full in the chest. His soul was torn from him and the agony was beyond his ability to comprehend. His mouth opened in a scream that was echoed by Alfreda’s across the circle. They thrashed in their bonds, bodies shaking and jerking in the force of the lightning. Artio also shrieked and Genii lifted bodily into the air, jerking like a piñata struck by multiple sticks.

  An earthquake rocked the ground and with the clap of a metal gong, the mountain above them exploded. The clearing shook, stones vibrating violently and suddenly a huge rent opened up directly below the white disk. The disk melted and oozed, flowing into the opening while ash and lava shot into the air.

  From the middle of the blinding inferno, a figure of lava rose, its shape molded and formed by the cooling rock spewing from the flaming sinkhole. It rose, ever higher, until it climbed from the abyss on a swell of bubbling lava that carried it to the surface of the circle. As its feet cleared the lip, it took two steps onto solid ground. Two stories tall, the beast straightened, stretching its craggy body and lifted its massive head. A flat face with a wide forehead ended in a narrow snout with flaring nostrils. It snorted and flames shot from its nose. Long curling horns of flame curved away from either side of its head. A thick mat of fur covered its upper torso, and muscular arms ended in curled human fists. The legs of the beast ended in hoofs, and rippling across its skin was an ever-present flame. Its eyes were also flame, bright pools of lava that switched from orange to yellow to red, ever-changing.

  The Daimon lifted its head and roared and then picked up a great scoop of lava and flung it into the stream of moonlight connecting the beam to the great orb of the moon, full on the horizon.

  With a howl, the moon absorbed the steady flow of lava and from one moment to the next the pearly white surface bled, streaked with angry red colour. It swelled with the flow of lava and the moonlight changed to orange and the clearing burst into flame.

  The touch of flame triggered the lid on the balance box, which sprang open with a click.

  The box hummed and a cloud of blue mist rose into the air and encircled the Daimon, ice on fire. With a hiss at their touch, the Daimon flung lava at the mist, snarling when the mist parted, unharmed. Small fires ignited as the lava lurched through the air and fell to the ground.

  With a roar, the Daimon twisted around frantic to escape the cooling touch of the spirits. Everywhere they touched the Daimon, his skin froze. The pain was so intense that it began to stamp around within the circle of stones, coming perilously close to trampling the unconscious occupants.

  At that moment, Helga appeared at the head of the path screaming in fury. She flung out her hand and pointed it at the circle. As if thrown, the swirling shadows encircling her body launched themselves into the clearing. The Charun disturbed nothing as they swept between the monoliths, encircling the blue mists now shrouding the Daimon.

  “Curse you, Caerwyn! How are you controlling the spirits yet? You cannot shield them from me, not any longer!” She stormed down to the edge of the stones, but she dared not enter the circle. The powers she had unleashed raged out of control, and Calleigh’s potion provided only so much resistance. And there was something else...something more in the circle...a discordant resonance that hummed, disrupting the rebirth, both staccato and random at the same time.

  The Daimon roared, swatting at the mists, ringing the circle with individual fires as it flung its muscular arms around and around. The Charun touched the antithesis of their being and the blue mists darkened as their souls were absorbed into the bottomless soul sucking void of darkness that is a Charun.

  Mordecai, with his eyes squeezed shut, sat cross-legged on the cool grass on the opposite side of the valley from Helga. He clutched a smooth milky crystal in his hand. The crystal glowed bright blue, the light spilling out between his fingers. It flashed and trembled in his hands. Tears slid down his cheeks as he murmured to the crystal. He was hidden from Helga’s eyes by the brush, but he sat perfectly still. His father lay flat and still by his side, his knuckles white with the tightness of his grip on his sword.

  Mordecai’s lips moved and the glow in his hand brightened to the intensity of a small sun until Hud worried that Helga would see light. Mordecai raised his head and as he gazed at the clearing, the blue mists of the spirits of the dead swirled brighter around the Daimon, spinning faster and faster, cooling its shell, freezing its hot blood. Slowly the Daimon darkened until with a final gasp, it began to shrink in size, collapsing inward smaller and smaller, drawn by the blue mists back to the balance box. With a snap, the lid sprang close. The beast vanished as though it had never existed.

  Silence descended on the clearing.

  ***

  A lone figure stirred on the ground. Genii woke, face down on the crystalized circle, rolling over and pushed up to a sitting position with one arm. The other arm was missing, and he blinked before the shock of the moment suspended, resolved into an agony of sensation. His arm was sitting a few feet from him on the ground. His scream echoed around the clearing as his body shook with reaction, the pain of severed nerves and sinews. His eyes slid away from the arm, staring around in disbelief. Artio’s broken body sat at the edge of their circle, and he could see two other bodies by the stones, slumped over and still. He crawled across the space to Artio’s side and pulled her bloody body to his with his remaining arm then collapsed down beside her, s
troking her hair with his remaining hand. Genii howled, but this pain was of the heart. He wanted nothing more than to join her in death. He would die with her in his arms.

  A foot appeared by his head and he looked up, eyes straining to focus. A shimmering form stood before him. I am dying he thought and somehow couldn’t muster the strength to care. His eyes closed and his breathing slowed.

  ***

  Helga’s face twisted with anger. She bent down and placed her hands on Genii’s head, and he howled with pain, back arching. A blue mist rose from his body which Helga ignored. When her hands lifted, he stared at her, glassy-eyed. His arm had been reattached (he did not know when). At Helga’s silent command, he lifted Artio’s broken body into his arms and silently followed his new mistress out of the clearing.

  Helga did not even glance at the corpses of her brother and other sister. As she stepped from the clearing, their bodies crumbled and turned to dust. They were no more.

  Epilogue

  Mordecai Ben-Moses was a brilliant wizard. Raised in the rich kingdom of Cathair and housed in the royal household, he had the best of everything. Fine robes and fine chambers, and an endless supply of books to study and entertain him were mere bonuses to his true purpose in life.

  Mordecai Ben-Moses was also reclusive. He was happy to spend his time studying, honing his skills and preparing for the future. He was eldest of the royal children, but as the son of the king before he was made king, he was ineligible to take the throne. Not that he had an interest in doing so.

  As a half-brother he downplayed his semi-royal heritage.

  It was also centuries ago. No one remembered those days. He was the last of that line, blessed with long life due to the magic running through his veins. Instead, he took on the role of counsellor, and prepared the later princes and kings in their duties as the royal Spirit Shields of Cathair, teaching them the sanctity of their role and its gravity.

  It did not bother Mordecai, for he had known his duty since the age of seven. Teaching the princes kept him close to the castle, permitting him free access to the most sensitive of areas. He was able to wander the castle grounds and the hidden passages below, monitoring the sacred trust placed in him by Caerwyn and Alfreda.

  Only he knew where their souls resided. His time would come. The spirits demanded it. The fate of the world hung in the balance. He would be called on, before the end of his days, to restore the true king.

  He placed his hand on the balance box, and it murmured to him...as always.

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  Seer of Souls, Book One of the Spirit Shield Saga

  PROLOGUE

  The baby gave a feeble, barely discernable kick. Its twin had ceased movement but not with the natural stillness of slumber. Poison moved through their premature bodies, oozing along their tiny veins, a burning acid in their blood.

  Mordecai lifted his hand from the woman’s sweaty forehead. Gwen’s panicked eyes locked onto his sad grey ones. She clutched her distended belly as another wave of pain ripped through her.

  “It must be poison! This is more than simple birthing pangs.” She coughed and the motion made bile rise in her throat. Gwen clutched at Mordecai’s left hand, gripping it so tight the knuckles of her hand whitened. “It’s reaching the babies! Mordecai, what do we do?”

  Straightening his lanky frame, he released her hand and wandered over to the tall mullioned window of the bartizan room. His sweeping brows pinched together in a frown as he gazed unseeingly at the silent courtyard below him. Purple wisteria climbed the ashlar walls of the castle, revealing their stark outlines. A fresh breeze stirred the heavy tapestry curtains as lightning flashed, highlighting the roiling clouds, puffing in eager anticipation of the storm breaking over the castle.

  Her seclusion was for her protection. Gwen’s grief over Prince Alexander’s failure to return from his most recent patrol with the Kingsmen twisted in her gut, accentuating the pain of the poison. The prince and all of the Kingsmen in his unit had been slaughtered by Primordials in a sudden vicious attack. This sorrowful news had arrived on the heels of the king’s death from a heart attack a week prior. The kingdom was reeling from the double disaster. And now it’s my turn. I am the target, she thought.

  Gwen coughed and froth formed in her mouth, drowning her thoughts. Her lungs attempted to fill but failed. Intense pressure gripped her chest as though a large man with a booted foot stood on it compressing it. She pushed aside her discomfort and staggered over to join the wizard at the window. She clutched a handful of his grey robe sleeve, partly to gain his attention and partly to keep from sinking to the floor.

  “Please, Mordecai, I must save my babies! What can I do? There has to be a way to help them. Between your magic and my heritage, there must be a way.”

  Mordecai’s mouth drooped beneath his long white beard. “I can only think of one solution, Gwen” he said gently. “You must pass the mother bond to me.” Tears sparked in her almond-shaped eyes as he locked his to hers. “I think we both know that you cannot survive this poison.” He squeezed her hands. “We need to convince Alcina the babes have died with you.”

  Gwen’s liquid green eyes searched and found steely resolve reflected in his grey ones. She nodded once and unconsciously rubbed one hand across her protruding belly, where the foot of the lone stirring child pushed against the thin protection of her skin.

  “We need do this quickly, Gwen. The birth will take most of your remaining strength, and they must be born alive in order to pass the bond.”

  She groaned again as a hard contraction took her. The twisting pain of a poison-filled cramp left her gasping for air as she sank to her knees beside the wizard. She raised her head, panting. “I do not think that is a problem, Mordecai.”

  Mordecai gently eased her onto her back, on the cold stone floor. Reaching inside his pocket, he took out a clear crystal stone and placed it between her cold hands, clasping them with in his own. Together, they began to chant.

  ***

  The late-day sun streamed through the garden-view windows of the bartizan room. Dust motes stirred in a breeze heavy with the smell of damp earth and wisteria. A few trailing clouds scuttled across the sky in an attempt to catch the storm moving off to the east, low rumbles fading softly into the distance.

  With a groan, Mordecai sank back to his knees on the polished floor beside the princess. Gwen's sweat-soaked brown hair curled damply over her curiously shaped ears. Dark circles shadowed her eyes; eyes that stared back at him from a deathly pale face.

  She lay on the floor, her bloodstained gown bunched to one side. Beside her, wrapped in cotton swaddling, were two newborn infants, a boy and a girl.

  Both children were dead.

  A tiny red birthmark, resembling the shape of an oak leaf, adorned the right side of each smooth cheek. The tattoos faded away before his eyes. Mordecai smiled a grim smile and trailed a thin finger down the soft cheeks where the tattoos had appeared so briefly, sensing the residue of magic under the skin.

  Gwen lifted her hand and caressed the cheeks of her two babes. A hot tear trickled out of the corner of her eye. She would never know them, nor they her.

  Mordecai lifted the children and placed them in her arms. She hugged them and wept silently, tears streaming down onto the cherubic face of the closest child.

  Gwen’s mournful eyes lifted to the man standing beside her.

  “Are they truly safe now, Mordecai?” Her weak voice shook with supressed emotion.

  “They are as safe as we can make them, Gwen.”

  She touched his sleeve. “Thank you,” she murmured weakly. “You have been a true friend.” She stiffened, sucking in a hard breath that ended abruptly. Her eyes widened as the soul in their emerald depths faded away. Her hand slipped from his sleeve and thudded to the floor.

  Mordecai gently closed her eyes, squeezing his own shut to dam the tears sliding down
his whiskered face.

  “Sleep well, Gwen, and welcome the peaceful embrace of the Mother.”

  He staggered to a chair by the open window. Leaning out over the stone ledge, he saw a dead eagle on the stones below. He dropped back into the chair beside the window and gazed out at the setting sun. The last of the storm clouds faded into the distance. Little did they know that they carried the hopes and dreams of the world in their midst.

  Pain stabbed into Mordecai’s chest and he sucked in a deep breath. If his calculations were correct, he had little more than a half hour left. The poison was completing its job.

  Well, his task was finished. What would be would be. Eyes opened wide, he watched the sun creep toward the horizon. The rays of the setting sun blazed through the retreating clouds, glowing pink and orange. His lips curved with satisfaction. It was done.

  ***

  The tall, regal woman burst into the room, cruel eyes sweeping the creeping shadows. Her contingent of guards with lanterns held aloft quickly encircled her and then spread out along the sides of the room.

  She gazed around at the scene before her. “Search the room for others. Check to see that no one is alive,” she snapped at the guards.

  She marched up to the woman lying on the floor cuddling her two babes. Frowning, she stepped around the bodies and moved over to the man in the chair.

  He sat staring glassy-eyed out the window. She felt for a pulse in his neck and located a faint pulse under the curve of his chin.