Soul Siphon: Set includes four books: Midnight Blade, Kingsbane, Ash and Steel, Sentinels of the Stone (Soul Stones)

by T. L. Branson

  “I thought you said it couldn’t be harmed,” Khate remarked.

  “It can’t, but I feel better with my weapon drawn,” Ocken said.

  Khate released his arm and put both hands on her own weapon, holding it out in front of her in a defensive posture.

  The screech sounded again. This time it sounded right on top of them. A guttural growl came next, followed by a scream behind them. Ocken turned. More men shouted. One of them appeared in the fog, running toward them.

  Darkness descended upon him in a flash, knocking him to the ground. A great beast—Ocken couldn’t even call it a beast—of darkness and shadow opened its huge maw and devoured the man. He flailed and screamed.

  One of the guards slashed at the beast with his sword, but it went right through.

  “Run!” Ocken shouted.

  In a heartbeat, the man was no longer visible. Only his continued screams told Ocken the man was still alive. Then even those fell silent. The soulfiend howled in victory.

  Ahead of him, another man screamed, his voice fading away into nothing.

  Another one?

  “Watch where you’re going!” the king called out from the front. “But hurry!”

  Ocken’s heart pounded in his chest, its beat, mixed with heavy breaths, filled his ears. He chanced a glance to the side and saw Khate keeping pace with him. It gave him comfort knowing she was safe.

  The road ended in front of him and made a sharp right turn. He fell backward to prevent himself from falling over. Khate steadied him.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  He nodded and they resumed running. The howls and screeches of the soulfiend drew closer with each passing second.

  Then the fog came to an abrupt end. Ocken found himself at the edge of an enormous forest the likes of which he’d never seen before. Drygo and Callum had stopped running, somehow deeming the area safe.

  Two more guards emerged from the heavy fog.

  “Where’s Stevens?” Callum asked.

  At that moment, Stevens appeared, desperately crawling on the ground. The soulfiend shrieked and leapt upon the part of him still in the fog. Stevens cried out in pain.

  Ocken was the closest to him. Some part of him screamed to save the man and pull him free, but the other part held him paralyzed. Fear and shock took hold of him.

  Someone was screaming Ocken’s name, but the sound was distant. Ocken stood there and watched as Stevens was pulled into the fog. He faded back into nothing, his screams falling silent.

  CHAPTER 6

  Ocken collapsed on the ground at the edge of the wood. He lay there for a long while, staring up at the dark gray sky. His chest heaved up and down with each breath.

  Nobody said a word, each taking a moment to mourn the loss of the three who had fallen: Odum, Doyle, and Stevens. He hadn’t known any of the men well; they covered opposite shifts. Odum and Stevens lost their lives to the soulfiend, while Doyle had taken a tumble into the canyon during their flight.

  Climbing to his feet, Ocken retrieved his weapon and straightened his pack. The party approached the tree line, but none dared cross it.

  “So this is the Wandering Wood, eh?” Tulias asked. “Anyone ever been inside?”

  No one responded.

  “Well, might as well be first,” he said, and he took one step into the wood. “There. No harm done.” He turned, waiting for the others to follow. Geoffreys stepped forward next, followed by Drygo and Callum. Khate and Lind, the last of Callum’s men, went in after them.

  Khate turned back to see Ocken still standing outside the wood. “What’s your problem?”

  The trees were daunting, at least three hundred feet tall, and so tightly packed together they blotted out the light of the sun or moon. The immense darkness before his eyes turned Ocken’s feet to iron.

  “I just need a minute,” he said.

  “My wife doesn’t have all day,” the king said as he began to walk off deeper into the wood.

  “You either come forward or go back,” Khate said. “Would you rather take your chances with the soulfiend again?”

  That got him moving. As soon as he entered the trees, something odd happened. The lighting switched. The outside world darkened considerably while the Wood took on an eerie, dully luminescent appearance.

  Ocken had no sensible explanation outside of it being some odd magic. The hum in the air seemed to accentuate this point. It left a constant tingle on the exposed parts of his skin.

  “This forest isn’t natural,” Geoffreys said, voicing what Ocken had been thinking.

  “Nothing natural about a wood that wanders,” Tulias commented.

  Lind scoffed. “You believe that, do you? ’Tis only a story meant to scare the litt’lins.”

  “Well, we’re about to find out,” Callum said. “Let’s get moving.”

  They followed after their king, who’d gotten a sizable lead.

  When they caught up with him, Callum said, “Might be best to stay together. In case the rumors are true. Even if it’s an exaggeration, we’re liable to get turned around in here.”

  And get turned around they did. Ocken was positive they’d not turned at all, but after an hour of walking, they ended up back at the entrance to Frostpeak Pass.

  “Someone doesn’t want us in here,” Khate said.

  “Or something,” Ocken remarked.

  They turned around and marched back into the Wandering Wood.

  “Mark the trees as you go,” Callum ordered.

  “With what?” Ocken asked. “My people are a rather superstitious lot and cutting into one of these trees doesn’t sound like the brightest of ideas.”

  Drygo answered instead. “Stack a pile of rocks, make an arrow out of twigs, cut a groove in the ground,” he said. “I don’t care what you do just keep our direction straight.”

  Ocken was beginning to question whether this quest was worth it. Would the queen want everyone to die for her? They’d already lost four to bandit and beast, not to mention Thren and his comrades. Yet the king showed no sense.

  At the same time, she was the queen. She was just as much a leader of their country as the man before him. Should Ocken not be willing to do anything for her? Is that not the oath he pledged to uphold?

  This line of thought scared Ocken. His convictions had never been shaken before. Perhaps it was Thren’s death. Somewhere deep within himself he admitted that, while he knew death was a possibility in military service, he didn’t truly believe it would ever befall them. At least not in the way that Thren died. Not to backstabbing traitors. If he expected to die, he expected it to be in battle. Yet, was Thren’s death any less honorable? If he gave his life without a second thought, why was Ocken now having doubts?

  He shook the thoughts from his head and kept his focus on the task at hand. His convictions mattered little if he didn’t survive the day. He would reevaluate his beliefs if they got through this.

  When we get through this, he told himself.

  The forest was eerily quiet. Eyes poked out of branches hundreds of feet into the air and the underbrush rustled when they drew too close, but the sounds he expected to hear were absent. There was no wind, no chittering or chirping animals, and no creaking or groaning branches. The evidence of life was there, but not the noises he typically associated with them.

  They climbed over roots as thick around as he was and walked through hollows between two trees that grew together. Their progress was slow and daunting.

  A few times they happened back upon their markers, losing even more precious time, but steadily they progressed deeper and deeper into the forest. They wandered for hours, but nothing changed. It did not grow darker. Not for the depth of their journey or the lateness of the hour. The sun did not shine here, yet the soft, dull light persisted.

  When they decided to stop, Ocken was only too happy to agree. He hadn’t slept in forty hours at least.

  They found a wider area of forest floor where all seven of them could lay their bedro
lls. They avoided lighting a fire, not wanting to draw undue attention to themselves. It was unnecessary in any case. In addition to the creepy lighting and unearthly silence, a strange warmth permeated the forest, regulating the temperature.

  Ocken found himself tossing and turning. Sleep should have greeted him the moment he pillowed his head, but it did not. If talking about Thren didn’t help Ocken, perhaps Khate’s method would work better.

  Long after everyone else had fallen asleep, Ocken stood, gathered his belongings, and began to walk into the forest. A hand reached out and grabbed his arm.

  “Where are you going?” Khate said, stopping him in his tracks. He had forgotten she was on sentry duty.

  “I just need to clear my head,” he said.

  “With all of your things?” she asked, crossing her arms and raising her eyebrows.

  Ocken didn’t have the patience for this. He was tired and on edge.

  “What difference does it make?”

  “What difference does it—Callum said we need to stick together,” she said, trying to reason with him.

  “Just leave me alone,” he said, pushing past her.

  Khate threw her hands out wide in frustration then ran ahead of him and poked a finger into his chest. “This is all because of Thren, isn’t it? I told you, you need to talk about it. I know what you’re going through.”

  “You can’t possibly know what I’m going through,” Ocken said, taken aback.

  “My sister is dying,” she said, raising her voice.

  “Your sister still lives!” he yelled. “Have you lost everything? Have you lost everyone you ever cared about? Are you all alone? No! You’ve had a privileged life, growing up in some nobleman’s posh home, now sister-in-law to the king. You’ve never known a day of hardship in your life!

  Khate’s mouth dropped open and she took a step back. A tear welled up in the corner of her eye.

  Ocken cringed, regret filling his heart in an instant. Then he said, “Look. I’m sorry, okay? I’m tired. The camp is too stifling. I need some space. I’ll be fine. You can stop worrying about me.”

  Khate scoffed. “I’m not worried. I couldn’t ever be concerned about you,” she spat.

  The regret washed away, replaced only by pain. “Good, then leave me alone,” he huffed.

  “Fine,” she said.

  As Ocken stomped away he heard Callum say, “That could have gone better.”

  He wandered about fifty paces away, marking his path as he went. When he was satisfied no one had followed him, he sat down and leaned against a tree. The moment his head came to rest, sleep greeted him with its warm embrace.

  ***

  When Ocken awoke the next morning, he climbed to his feet. His knuckles popped as he placed his hands on his neck and stretched. He took a deep breath and let out a long exhale. He felt refreshed.

  Guilt washed over him as he thought about the way he treated Khate last night. He gathered his belongings once again and made his way back to the camp. He would apologize first thing.

  He looked for one of his stone markers, but it was gone. He shrugged. No matter. The camp was straight ahead from where he sat against the tree. He’d wanted to keep an eye out in case Khate came after him.

  He traced back the fifty paces, but the camp wasn’t there. Had he taken a wrong turn? No, he’d walked in a straight line, this morning and the night before. He decided he must have miscounted. A few more steps and he’d be back in the camp. They were probably watching him, laughing at him right now.

  After another fifty paces, he started to worry. If he got himself lost, Khate would never let him live it down.

  Then another thought entered his mind. What if he was lost—permanently? What if he had fallen pray to the legends of the Wandering Wood?

  His breathing grew heavier. He turned his head, looking from side to side. All the trees looked the same, none of the paths looked familiar. He spun in a circle and ran back the way he’d come. Once he made it back to the tree he’d slept against he could find his way back to camp.

  Except he never found that tree again, or rather he didn’t know if he did. It could have been any of them or none of them. He’d only been lost for a matter of minutes and already he felt himself going mad with confusion and terror. A deeper understanding of the myths and legends surrounding this forest settled upon him.

  All pride went out the window in that moment.

  “Khate!” he yelled.

  Nothing.

  “Callum! Your Majesty! Anyone!”

  Still, the forest lay silent.

  Wisdom told him to stay put, that they’d find him. They couldn’t be far. Perhaps they were still sleeping and couldn’t hear him.

  But his gut told him if he stayed there, he’d eventually die. In the end, Ocken figured it was better to keep looking than give up hope. At the very least the effort would distract him from his demons.

  ***

  “Khate!” someone said. “Wake up! Ocken’s missing.”

  Blinking, Khate opened her eyes to find Drygo a foot from her face. She placed her palm on his forehead and pushed him away. She sat up and yawned. The others were still sleeping.

  “Did you hear what I said?” Drygo pressed her. “Did you see Ocken last night? You were on duty.”

  “Relax, Alexander,” she said, unconcerned. She pointed and said, “He’s just over there somewhere. Went to mope and feel sorry for himself.”

  The memory of their encounter the night before pained her. She knew how he was feeling. Yet that didn’t give him the right to yell at her. His duty was more important than his feelings. Didn’t he realize that they depended on him? Didn’t he realize they’d lost too many people already? They couldn’t afford to lose him. Khate couldn’t afford to lose him.

  “No, he’s not,” the king said. “Callum told me about last night. We already went out to look for him, but he wasn’t there.”

  “What do you mean he wasn’t there?” she said, sitting up straighter.

  “We’ve circled this entire camp,” Drygo said. “He isn’t here. He isn’t anywhere. We don’t know where he is.”

  Khate cursed under her breath. She knew this would happen. She shouldn’t have let him go. She should have let him stew and fuss, but held her ground.

  “What do we do?” she asked him.

  The king stood silent for a moment then said, “The only thing we can do. We stick to our mission. We find the stone and we get out of here. If we find him, we find him. If not…”

  “You aren’t honestly considering leaving him behind, are you?” she pressed, standing to her feet now.

  “He knew the risks. Better than anyone here, he understood the legends surrounding this place,” he said.

  “He’s your friend!” Khate shouted. The others began to stir as she raised her voice.

  “And Evangeline is my wife!” Drygo shouted back. “And your sister! Who is more important to you?”

  Khate stepped back, reeling. That should have been an easy question. But by all accounts, Evangeline was lost. Drygo had tried everything, but with no success.

  And now they were out chasing a legend on a fool’s hope? That hope had shone brighter than the sun when Drygo first asked her to come. She would do anything to save her sister, but at what cost? How many people had to die?

  She had half a mind to leave and go off on her own to find Ocken, but what if she ended up just as lost as him? In the end, she felt she had little choice. She would follow her brother-in-law. She would see this through, but she wouldn’t stop looking for Ocken every moment they were in this forest.

  “Let’s just go, all right?” she said, stepping around the king.

  By now, everyone was awake and packing their things.

  As they set out, Khate kept a wide berth from the king. She walked at the farthest point away from the group that she dared walk, always keeping them in sight, but never rejoining them.

  Sometimes she ran ahead and fell back. Other times she walke
d parallel to them on the left and right. All the while she kept a look out for Ocken, listening for any unusual sounds or for him to call her name.

  What was that phrase he said? She thought. Eyes open and ears on the wind?

  Only there was no wind in this godsforsaken place.

  Khate had a lot to think about herself. She wasn’t sure she wanted to think about them, though. Yet it kept running through her brain. Ocken, Alexander, Evangeline, Thren, the soulfiend, Bigsby, Odum, Doyle, Stevens, Antony, Stratton. It was all a jumbled mess, twisting and turning. She wished she could make sense of it all.

  She was so lost in thought that she almost didn’t see it.

  There, in the middle of the Wandering Wood, was a village.

  CHAPTER 7

  Khate held up a hand, stopping the entourage. She ducked behind the nearest tree, drew her sword, and held it loose at her side. Peering around the tree, she took a better look at the village.

  Houses and buildings were littered among the forest floor. A small bridge spanned a rent in the ground. This struck her as odd because they’d encountered no other distinguishing features anywhere else in the Wandering Wood.

  The houses rose and fell with the terrain. The most prominent and largest of the buildings was built on the highest point in the clearing at the back of the village. It was three times larger than all the other houses.

  She waited for a while, watching the village, looking for any signs of life. When there was no movement, she eased away from the tree, but did not sheathe her weapon.

  “What do you see?” Callum said, just loud enough for her to hear.

  She retreated back to the group and said, “There’s a village.”

  “A village?” Tulias asked. “In here? You’re joking?”

  She snorted and said, “Go. See for yourself.”

  “I believe you, girl,” Tulias said, holding his hands up. “ ’Twas a rhetorical question.”

  Khate described it to them. “The big house in the back looks like it serves as some type of palace or meeting hall.”

  “Do you think this is where the stone is?” Callum asked.