Soul Binder (Soul Saga (Book #2))

by Todd, E. L.

  The soldier gasped at the sight of his face. “M’lord—I—I didn’t realize you were coming.”

  “Obviously not,” he spat. “Retrieve your men from the rooms.” Aleco could barely contain his fiery wrath. “Now.”

  “Yes sir,” he said quickly. He dashed from the counter and pulled the remaining soldiers from the rooms, who walked from the brothel area half naked. After a minute, they stumbled back to Aleco and flashed him looks of fear.

  “Where are the rest of you?” he asked.

  The soldier shifted his weight. “It’s just us four,” he said. “There are three more outside the doorway and a group by the main gate.”

  Aleco nodded, satisfied. He pulled out his blade and slaughtered them all, inflicting as much pain as possible before finally let them die. Their screams attracted the attention of the women, who looked out of the rooms and watched the bloodbath. When Aleco finished, he wiped his blade on a soldier’s cloak and sheathed it. It was the only time he would accept being mistaken for his brother. If he went inside the slave rooms swinging his sword, he risked injuring the innocent women being held captive. Also, he would traumatize them more than they are already were.

  When he walked down the hallway, the women screamed and started to whimper, assuming they would be killed next. Aleco held his hands up in peace. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “I’m here to help you. If you need medical treatment, please follow me.”

  The women just stared at him, unsure if they could trust him.

  Normally, Aleco would be annoyed, but since he understood just how traumatized they were, he bottled his impatience. “Please let me help you. I’m the Nature Priest of Orgoom Forest and I will not harm you. I’m bound by my oath to never speak a lie. You are safe with me.”

  After hearing his words, they started to walk down the hallway and approached him. Satisfied that he convinced them, he left the building and walked to the main road. He ran from the town and sprinted to the trees in the distance, retrieving the Naturalists he brought with him. Two female Naturalists and two males. “The town is safe. Please treat anyone that needs assistance.”

  “Yes, Father,” Merina said.

  Aleco bit back his retort. He hated being called by his title, but he knew he shouldn’t fight against it. He usually just offended his inferiors when he snapped at them, and for good reason.

  They followed him into the city and dispersed in pairs, attending to anyone that needed medical treatment. Aleco returned to the brothel house with an assortment of remedies in his pocket and searched each bedroom, making sure none of the women were hiding from him. When he heard an uncontrollable cough, he knew he wasn’t alone.

  Aleco opened the bedroom door and saw a woman lying on the bed, coughing into a handkerchief. She was completely naked and there was spot of blood on her chest. When she saw him, her eyes widened.

  “Get away from me,” she cried. She held up her hand to him, commanding him to stop in his tracks.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, raising his hands in the air. “Please let me help you. I can help you.”

  “Go away!” She pulled the sheet over her body to protect herself. Her breasts were large and rounded though her waistline was petite. She was definitely a pretty girl and Aleco pitied her. She was probably a preferred slave because of her obvious charms. He wished he could convince her that he wasn’t like them, but it was a lie. He had sex with a prostitute before. He really wasn’t much different than the soldiers. The thought constricted his heart and made him think of Accacia. He couldn’t believe that she still loved him despite that fact.

  “I know you are scared, but I’m not going to hurt you. Please let me heal you.”

  The tears fell down her face. “No.”

  Aleco sighed. The girl was just as stubborn as Accacia, refusing to accept help from anyone. He approached the bed and placed his hand in his pocket when he felt the agonizing stab of a blade. He took a sharp breath of air and looked down at his arm. She shoved a short dagger into his forearm, releasing a tide of blood. When she saw the anger in his eyes, she tried to back away.

  Aleco closed his eyes for a moment then pulled out the blade, staining the mattress with his blood. He opened a bag of herbs and wiped the plant across the opening then covered the wound with a clean cloth.

  The woman tried to rise and back away from him, but he gripped her by the arm and steadied her. “If I haven’t killed you by now, then I’m not going to,” he hissed.

  She pulled her arm away and Aleco released her. She moved to the edge of the bed and kept looking at the doorway, trying to find a way to get passed him.

  Aleco ignored her fear, too angry to care at this point. He opened his pouch of herbs and mixed it inside a pale of water. While he was waiting for the plant to dissolve, he handed her a towel and instructed her to wipe the blood from her chest.

  “I’m not going to rape you,” he said without looking at her. “I’m committed to someone. She is the only woman I will take, so you can calm down. I don’t want you.”

  She stared at him, still wary. “Are you going to kill me?”

  Aleco looked down at the bandage around his arm, which was soaked in blood. The pain was excruitiating. “No,” he said. “I would like to beat you mercilessly, but I will never do that.” He handed her the water. “Drink this. It tastes horrible, but it will stop your cough and eliminate your nausea.”

  The woman looked at him for a moment before she took the bottle and drank it. After she had a few sips, she returned it to him. “Thank you.”

  “It’s about time,” he snapped.

  “I’m sorry that I stabbed you.”

  “Save it,” Aleco snapped. “I’ll live.”

  “Why did you save me?”

  Aleco was quiet for a moment. There was no specific reason, but a cluster of them. If he chose to stay out of it, hiding in his forest, no one would have questioned him. As the Chief Nature Priest, he wasn’t responsible for saving a province from attack or battle. He was just required to heal those that needed to be healed. But he remembered why his uncle chose him as the new Nature Priest. Not only was his skill on plants unparalleled, but he was one of the strongest men on the Continent. Not only could he defend the forest with his intelligence, but with his skill with the sword. He had to come to Porman. Not to was unthinkable, even if he was stabbed through the arm with the point of the blade coming out the other side. “You deserve to be free.”

  She grabbed her clothes from the floor and started to dress herself. Aleco looked away of out of respect.

  “Do you require payment for your services?” she asked. “You just saved my life.”

  Aleco kept his gaze averted. “No.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked hesitantly. “I could never imagine a man rejecting my offer of compensation, especially when I’m standing in front of him completely naked.”

  “I’m not like other men,” he whispered.

  She was quiet for a moment. “No. You certainly aren’t.”

  The Hideaway

  25

  “His last known location was Morkarh—we haven’t seen him since.”

  “What of Accacia?” The Chief was dragging the dagger across his palm, sliding it over his dry skin. “I am certain Aleco is not far behind.”

  “She is dead.”

  The Chief steadied his hand. He looked up at Pons, his First Elite Ranger, and studied his features. Pons’s eyes sagged heavily under his hairy lids. He looked displeased. “How do you know this?”

  “The servants of Aleutian Keep informed me during my last visit. I went to notify Drake of our inability to find her when Aldo pulled me aside.” Pons crossed his arms over his chest. “He told me everything and suggested I leave. The king was struck with grief, not interested in entertaining any visitors.”

  The Chief sighed. “We’ll never find him now.”

  Pons shook his head as he stepped further into the room. He dropped his hands to his side then lo
oked over his shoulder. The Chief noticed several of the guildsmen enter the room. They had their swords unsheathed from their belts. “And who is responsible for that?” Pons asked.

  The Chief placed his dagger on the surface of the wood and rose from his seat, meeting Pons’s look of fury. He pulled his sword from his scabbard and held it at the ready. “What are you doing, Pons?”

  Pons smiled as he walked forward. His facial features were in opposition. Even though his lips smiled, his eyes still sagged under the weight of his furrow. The Chief stepped away from the desk and looked at the men before him. They were inching closer to him. “If you hadn’t granted Aleco mercy and hadn’t revealed our most prized secret to him, none of this would have transpired. You are at fault—we lost our immortality because of you.”

  The Chief stared at him. “You challenge me?” The Chief stepped further into the room, seeking adequate space to wield his sword. He was going to cut Pons into pieces. “My decisions are not questioned or disciplined—step down now, Pons.”

  Pons inched forward. The other guildsmen stared at the Chief with anger. They looked like a herd of famished dogs cornering a slab of meat. “No—you step down, Chief.”

  The Chief beckoned his First Elite Ranger towards him and held his sword aloft. “I will fight you—but you will lose, Pons.” The Chief spun his blade in his palm, displaying his dexterity. “I will kill you all.”

  “So be it.”

  Pons slammed his blade against the Chief’s, but the Chief blocked the attack with little effort. He swung his blade in a flash and cut Pons along the cheek, drawing blood from the wound. The Chief pressed his attack forward.

  “ATTACK HIM!”

  The guildsmen ran to his aid and pointed their swords at the Chief, preparing to strike him. There were at least thirty men. The Chief surveyed the mass of Brothers. “You are a coward, Pons.” He swung his sword into the closest man and sliced off his arm then aimed his blade for the neck of another. The Chief continued to whirl his blade in a dance. Pons thought the Chief’s eyes were closed. Pons aimed his sword for the Chief’s trunk, but his blade was parried by the Chief’s.

  Pons stepped back and tried to calm his rage. “I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS!” Pons directed his men to circle the Chief, surrounding him on all sides. The Chief still blocked their deadly attacks and returned with his own savage blows. Pons nodded to the Brothers forming the ring of the circle “NOW!”

  They rushed him simultaneously, attacking him from all sides. The Chief killed many of the guildsmen, but he couldn’t outnumber the remaining force. Pons held his blade to his throat while another man stripped his sword away.

  Pons stared at him with a look of hatred. “On your knees,” he commanded. “Now!”

  The Chief fell to the floor and stared at the man who hd betrayed him. He knew there was no chance of escape. The Chief met his gaze with the black irises of his eyes, threatening him with his look alone. Pons stared at him for a moment.

  The Chief displayed no fear at his impending death. “What are you waiting for?”

  Pons smiled. “You thought I was going to kill you?” He leaned his head back and laughed, finding the idea hilarious. “Death is too good for you. I have better plans for you, Chief.”

  Pons nodded to the men under his command. “Raise him to his feet.”

  They lifted the Chief’s heavy frame from the ground, forcing him to a stand. He didn’t fight their hold on his body, but he stared at Pons with his penetrating gaze. “I’m not afraid of you, Pons.” He suddenly jerked in his hold, and Pons involuntarily flinched at his movement. “But you are obviously still afraid of me. Do your worst, Pons. I will have my revenge—eventually.”

  Pons waved them away. “I look forward to it,” he said with smile. “Get this traitor out of my sight. His new home is Vast Prison.” Pons walked over to the desk next to the hearth and fell into the chair, placing his feet on the surface of the wood. The mud dripped from his boots onto the surface. “It feels good to finally be home.”

  The guildsmen threw the Chief in the cell then locked the door behind them. The Chief watched them leave down the hallway. His face was set in a stoic expression. He suspected that this punishment was a disguise for something more sinister. The true discipline would reveal itself later.

  The Chief sat in the cell for the following two days waiting for something to happen, but it never did. No one came to his quarters. They didn’t even bring him food or water. Then the Chief realized Pon’s intent. He was going to starve the Chief to death, making his demise long and painful. The Chief shook his head. He expected nothing less.

  By the fifth day, the Chief felt the dryness of his mouth and from his lack of fluids. His tongue was parched and dry, rough to the touch. The Chief hadn’t urinated in three days. He didn’t have the water to spare. He felt his body become weak without a source of energy, and his stomach rumbled in his body, demanding to be fed. The Chief knew the end was near. He could only survive a few more days without water.

  The Chief was aroused from sleep by the sound of Robinson shoving food through the crack of his cage, along with a full pale of water. The Chief watched the jailer walk down the hallway suspiciously, but his trail of thought evaporated when he smelled the food across the room. It stimulated his saliva glands with the scent of the aroma, but his mouth was still dry. They had no water to produce. The Chief couldn’t think about anything but the hunger gnawing at his belly and the feel of his dry throat. If the dinner killed him, he didn’t care. He couldn’t think clearly. The Chief shoveled the food into his mouth and felt his stomach stretching at the unexpected entrance of food. It rumbled within him with happiness. The Chief suddenly felt ill. Like a storm was forming in his stomach, about to rise up through his throat in release. He lay across the ground and closed his eyes, trying to forget about the pain exploding in his belly.

  “You are such an idiot.”

  The Chief looked over and saw Pons standing by the bars. He wore a grin that was sickening to behold. The Chief turned his gaze away and looked at the ceiling, ignoring the look of triumph on the man’s face.

  Pons kicked the empty pale further into the cell. It toppled over on its side and rolled to the Chief, stopping at his arm. “That’s what the bucket is for.” Pons walked away.

  The Chief leaned over the bucket and emptied his entire insides within the pale. The bile splashed into the bucket and covered his face, sticking to the sweat of his forehead and the curls of his hair. The pain was excruciating. Nolan swore he saw his soul floating in the tub of filth, mingled with the juice of his insides. He suspected he had vomited most of the food he had eaten, allowing only a small amount of nutrients to enter his system. The Chief decided he would rather die than experience that again.

  Five days passed and the Chief saw the tray of food slide under the door. He heard his stomach grumble within his body, begging for substance, but the Chief refrained from consuming the plate of poisoned meat. He lay in his cot and looked away.

  The Chief controlled himself for the first few hours, but his body eventually broke down in the heat of his biological needs. He couldn’t think about anything other than how hungry he was. Death had no factor in this equation. He didn’t care whether he lived or died. All he cared about was his extreme need for nourishment. The Chief crawled from his cot and feasted on the poisoned food, ashamed of his weakness, but he continued to eat the contents until his stomach stretched outwards. He lay on his back and faced the ceiling with his pale next to him, waiting for the chunks to spew from his throat.

  Pons came to the cell and laughed at him while he emptied his stomach into the pale. Pon’s laughter scraped his eardrums as he vomited the roasted chicken and potatoes he had eaten. The horrific sound only heightened his nausea. The Chief lay down and stared at the ceiling, and the truth flooded his mind. He was doomed to suffer that existence. He would be given the least amount of nourishment as possible until he died, whether by old age or starvation, and the thoug
ht choked his heart. He wanted to die, disappear from this mortal plane and enter the void where he belonged, but every the time plate of food slid under his door, he couldn’t resist the temptation.

  Time passed without any meaning. The only marking of time was the deposit of food into his cell, which arrived every five days. The Chief didn’t know how many months or weeks passed. The Chief just waited for food to arrive, his thoughts on nothing else, and waited for death to take him.

  Canu

  26

  They just returned from another forestry mission at the coast line. Zyle introduced the various types of seaweed and ocean grass and their purposes. Koku hadn’t attended the mission, choosing to sit in the trees of Canu with his kin. Accacia was completely ignorant to the life within the sea, saying she never studied it before. The ocean bordered the lands of Orgoom Forest, but she stayed on the soil beneath the trees, devoting her studies to the realm of the woodland. She told Zyle about the dolphins she saw and he laughed at her naiveness.

  Zyle enjoyed Accacia’s presence the more he was around her, despite his initial displeasure at spending all his time with her exclusively. He was responsible for teaching her the culture of their people and educating her in forestry skills, but he was learning from her as well. Despite the overwhelming events of her life, the loss of her parents, her home, and the man she loved, she was happy and joyful to be around, hiding her true depression until she was alone. Accacia was better at hiding her pain than he was. Zyle could still see the despair in her eyes when she looked out the window, staring into the forest she gazed at so many times. She poked her food at dinner, not wanting to eat its contents because her mind was recalling a distant memory. When Zyle brought up a new subject, Accacia snapped out of her reverie and suddenly found her appetite, her earlier thoughts forgotten.

  He reported the events of Accacia’s integration into their culture to Roxian, but the queen was still suspicious of Accacia even though she never explained why. Zyle thought Accacia’s intention was obvious. She just wanted to start a new life in peace. The woman experienced more pain than he could understand. When Zyle thought about the king holding her down and raping her against her will, his body flooded with anger. He cared about Accacia very much, and the idea of such a traumatic event happening to her made him sick.