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

by T. L. Branson

“That’s the bird that led you to me?” Khate asked.

  Ocken nodded. “Ho, bird!” he called out. It soared around and alighted on his outstretched arm. The falcon’s talons dug into his leather gauntlet. “A little slower this time, please?”

  It bobbed its head up and down and took off again.

  “Did it just nod at you?” Khate asked in disbelief.

  Ocken shrugged.

  The journey took them two days.

  The group plodded through the forest following the falcon. Callum suggested they fan out and walk in a wide arc, always keeping each other in sight, but also watching for signs of villagers or any other enemies that might appear.

  This arrangement did not afford Ocken much opportunity to speak to Khate. Most of the time, Ocken took the lead, following his falcon friend while the others walked behind. Toward the end of the second day, Khate came up alongside him, but didn’t say anything.

  Ocken kept his eyes forward, glancing in her direction every now and again. He finally said, “I’m sorr—”

  “You know, forget it,” she said. “It’s fine. We were both wrong. It’s done.”

  “Did you just apologize?” he asked, dumbfounded.

  “What of it?” she said.

  “Just never thought I’d see the tough, mysterious assassin, warrior, courtesan, chef, pirate, spy apologize.”

  “Chef?” she said. “Have you tasted my cooking?”

  “It was only a rumor,” he said, smiling. He started laughing as he said, “A pretty bad one, too.”

  They walked in silence for a minute.

  “I made peace with what happened,” Ocken said at last. “Before our… disagreement. I was just… frustrated.”

  “Why were you frustrated?” she asked.

  Ocken glanced over at Drygo.

  “Ah,” Khate said. “He can be intense.”

  “No, it’s not that,” Ocken said, lowering his voice. “It’s… well it’s… he’s going to get us all killed.”

  Khate frowned. Ocken regretted it the moment he said it. If she told Drygo about his misgivings, he could get court marshaled for dissension.

  “I agree,” she said.

  “Please don’t tell—” he said. “You what?”

  “I agree with you,” Khate said. “He’s taken this too far, but we’re in too deep to back out now. Too many lives have been lost. It would do them a disservice to let them die for nothing.”

  Khate was right, of course. That’s why he hadn’t given up already. But he was strongly debating his continued service to the king if he survived this ordeal.

  “So what do you really do?” Ocken asked, changing the subject.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The rumors,” Ocken said. “Half the kingdom thinks you live in a cave biting off the heads of live rabbits, coming out to kill and slinking back into your hole.”

  “They do not!” she said, slapping him on the shoulder.

  “Ask anyone,” Ocken said. “Hey, Geoffreys!”

  “Yeah?” he called back from somewhere behind them.

  “Okay, okay, stop it,” she said.

  “Never mind!” Ocken called back. He looked at Khate and said, “So?”

  But before she could answer, the tall, dark trees of the Wandering Wood ended and they found themselves in a wide-open clearing in a much smaller forest.

  At the center of the clearing sat the Anima Sanctum.

  CHAPTER 9

  It was the most magnificent thing Ocken had ever seen. Stone arches the color of gold jutted high into the sky. The two at the front were nearly as tall as the forest they’d just left. Six arches behind them decreased in height, terminating at about half the size of the first. Two more sat a short distance away, a large stone wall connecting the two structures.

  Between the arches, more stone connected the two sides of the arch through a pattern that reminded Ocken of tree branches. At the front of the temple, four more arches, though significantly smaller, created a pathway leading to the temple entrance.

  The falcon flew through the arches, up a set of stairs and through the wide open doors. A tall man with short blond hair exited with the falcon on his shoulder. Beside him walked a woman wearing long, flowing white garments. Her hair was darker, a deep, rich brown that ran down to her waist.

  Ocken was taken aback. He had not expected anyone to be here. It was a long forgotten temple. Yet, he had not expected an entire village in the Wandering Wood either.

  Even so, Ocken’s grip on Melody, still resting on his shoulder, tightened.

  The group walked through the arches and drew closer to the pair. Their features became more apparent. The man’s face was sharp and angular, though his expression was soft and inviting. He had bright green eyes.

  The woman, on the other hand, was rather plain, though her garments brought out the color in her skin and hair, giving her a more vivid, luscious appearance.

  “Your mouth is hanging open,” Khate said from beside him.

  “No it’s not,” he said.

  “Made you check, though, didn’t I?” Khate said with mirth.

  The one distinguishing feature that stood out above all others were their ears.

  They were elves.

  “We mean you no harm,” Drygo called out to them as the group drew nearer.

  “I was about to say the same to you,” the male said, casting glances at Ocken and Khate, whose hands were tight on their weapons.

  “You’ll forgive me if we’re a little wary given what we’ve been through,” Ocken said.

  “I’m delighted to see you survived your encounter with Eamon,” the female said.

  “You know about that?” Drygo said.

  “I know a great many things,” the female said, “as I know what it is you seek, and I know where to find it.”

  “Tell me!” Drygo said, striding forward.

  The male held up a hand. “Where are your manners, good king of Sunbury?”

  Drygo stopped cold at his title. “How do you—?”

  “In time,” he said.

  “In time…” Drygo muttered. “I don’t have time. Why does everyone keep saying that?”

  “Your wife yet lives,” the female said.

  “How do you—?” The man moved to speak, but Drygo cut him off. “I know, I know… You know a great many things.” Drygo backed up, gave a great sweeping bow, and said, “I apologize. I would introduce myself, but you seem to already know who I am.”

  “Indulge us,” the male said, smirking.

  “I am Alexander Drygo, and with me are my men—”

  Khate coughed.

  “And lady,” Drygo said. “Callum, Geoffreys, Ocken, and Khate.”

  “It is a pleasure to meet you,” the male said, bowing in return. “My name is Evindal and milady is Allynna.”

  “I would invite you inside,” Allynna said. “However, I understand the urgency of your quest. Your wife lies at death’s insatiable door and you seek a way to save her. You seek the stone of Serith, goddess of healing, and so you’ve come to the place where the gods created the soul stones seeking knowledge of its location. Am I right?”

  “You know a great deal about us, but I’m afraid you have us at a loss,” Drygo said.

  “I apologize, this must be a lot to take in,” she said, folding her hands in front of her. “I am unaccustomed to speaking to those ignorant of my abilities.”

  “Your… abilities?” Geoffreys asked, stepping in front of the king.

  “Oh, no. Nothing like that,” she explained. “I possess the power of Ophi, goddess of knowledge. I can look anywhere in the world at this very moment and know what is happening. I have had my eye on the king for a great many years. The machinations of the land of men are fascinating to me.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Drygo said.

  She continued, “At this very moment, your wife lies in her bed, treated by the healer, Alijah. He dabs her head with a cloth and gives her another draught o
f kingsbane to ease her pain. A hundred miles away, King Fabian Rommel in Havan is preparing to strike against you, readying his armies while back in Sunbury, your foreign affairs advisor, Councilor Stratton, strives to convince the other members of your council that you are dead, the victim of a terrible tragedy at the Eastgate. Your life, as you know it, hangs in the balance, dependent upon the success of your mission.”

  Drygo looked horror-struck. “What must I do?” he asked.

  “We will tell you where to find the stone of Serith,” Evindal said, “but first, you must do something for us.”

  “Anything,” Drygo said.

  “Milady and I are trapped in this temple, on these grounds,” he explained. “Our companion betrayed us, used the power of the god Iket to imprison us here. We will help you obtain Serith’s stone if you will first obtain for us Iket’s.”

  “Done. Where is it?” an impatient Drygo said.

  “You have already encountered it,” he said with a smile. “It is in the possession of Eamon. The stone is a black diamond.”

  “I saw it,” Khate said, “hanging around his neck.”

  Evindal nodded. “Retrieve the stone. Return it to us—free us—and we will assist you in your quest.

  “I don’t know,” Geoffreys said. “I’m not too keen on going back there.”

  “Do you wish to save your queen?” Drygo asked. “Or better yet, your head?”

  Geoffreys gulped. “Yes, sire.”

  “No time to waste then,” Drygo said. “Let’s go. How do we get back?”

  “I will guide you using Astor,” Evindal said, nodding at the falcon on his shoulder.

  “You will guide us?” Khate asked.

  “Yes,” he said.

  He did not explain any further.

  “Now go,” Evindal said as the bird flew from his shoulder. “We will await your return.”

  ***

  The five of them sat inside the tree line just outside of Eamon’s property.

  “What’s the plan here?” Ocken asked.

  “We get what we came for and we get out,” Drygo said.

  “Care to be more specific?” Khate said.

  Callum said, “I say we wait until they’re all asleep, find Eamon, steal the stone, kill him if we have to, and then escape without getting caught.”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier if we all wait here while one of you goes and gets it?” Geoffreys said.

  “Not volunteering yourself there, Geoffreys?” Khate said.

  He chuckled nervously.

  “No, I’m not taking any chances,” Drygo said. “We all go in. There’s strength in numbers.”

  “We also have a greater chance of getting caught,” Ocken whispered to Khate.

  “What’s that?”

  “Nothing, sire,” he said.

  “So how do we know when they’re asleep?” Khate asked. “It’s not like it gets dark around here.”

  “Does it matter?” Ocken said. “If we’re all going to barge in there, why wait? Let’s just do it now, and get it over with.”

  No one spoke for a moment.

  “I agree,” said Drygo. “Suppose their day just started ten minutes ago. Evangeline doesn’t have another fifteen hours for us to just stand around and wait for them to sleep. And what if they don’t sleep? We don’t know anything about this place or its strange magic.”

  The others looked at one another, weighing the arguments.

  “All right,” Geoffreys said, resigned. “Let’s go then. But hurry, this place gives me the creeps.”

  Ocken agreed with Geoffreys. He was sick of this quest and was ready to be done with it, though he didn’t share Geoffreys’s desire to avoid conflict. Ocken needed to bash somebody’s head in. He wasn’t about to purposely get them caught, but he was ready if trouble came.

  Drygo nodded then crept out of the forest, Ocken and the others in his wake. They crossed the mansion grounds in silence and approached the back door. Callum opened the door, which swung wide on silent hinges, and waved everyone inside.

  They had no idea where Eamon was or if he ever took the amulet off. If he did, his bedchambers were as good a place as any to start their search. Ocken didn’t know where that was, either, but the mansion had a third floor, and based on the king’s palace in Sunbury, Ocken guessed that’s where it would be. Drygo apparently had similar thoughts as they bypassed door after door on the ground floor and went straight up a staircase to the second floor.

  “Anyone else feeling weirded out right now?” Khate whispered. “Last time, there were servants and maids everywhere, but I haven’t seen a soul.”

  “Maybe we got lucky and it is the middle of the night after all?” Ocken offered.

  “If they’re asleep, they won’t be much longer with your yacking,” Drygo chided.

  Ocken huffed. He didn’t know what happened with his king, but he wanted the old Drygo back. Ocken could only hope that healing Evangeline would bring the king back to himself.

  They reached the second floor and stepped into a wide room with couches and chairs. Ocken could just imagine Khate and the others sitting here, unwitting guests to the devices of a nefarious madman. They didn’t go out into the room, though. Drygo reached for a door a few paces away by the balcony.

  Inside was another staircase.

  “How did you know this would be here?” Khate asked.

  “Just a guess,” Drygo said. “Figured the stairs would be close by.”

  When they reached the top, Drygo opened the door and they all fanned out into another room. Long and wide like the room below it filled the length of the house. Instead of a reception room, they found themselves in an audience hall of some kind.

  The room was empty save a few paintings on the walls, some pedestals bearing flowers were dotted along the outer walls, and a singular, grand chair—a throne—at the far end of the room. It appeared to be deserted.

  Countless doors lined the walls on both sides. It would take them a while to find the right one. They walked into the room admiring the elegant simplicity of it.

  Drygo made for the throne, but before he got halfway there, Eamon stepped from behind it.

  “I see you’ve returned,” Eamon said. The pendant bearing the black diamond hung openly around his neck.

  Geoffreys stepped back and turned to go back down the stairs. Several of the villagers spilled out from behind the doors and cut off his escape.

  Ocken’s grip on Melody tightened and he brought her to a ready position. Beside him, he heard Khate drawing her own sword.

  “I knew you would, of course,” Eamon continued. “The dirty elves won’t stop until they get what they desire. That’s why I had to kill you, you understand.”

  “No. I’m afraid we don’t,” Drygo said through clenched teeth.

  A dozen villagers surrounded them now. Ocken and the others pulled in closer together, keeping each other at their backs.

  “I tried to dissuade you,” Eamon explained, drawing a sword. “Tried to get you to abandon the foolishness of seeking out that temple.” His eyes and face flickered and his voice grew much deeper as he said, “But you wouldn’t listen!” He stomped in anger causing the whole building to shake.

  Ocken stood horrified by the sight. A line of magic ran down the walls. The brilliant cherry was replaced with decaying wood. The glittering gold gave way to rusted iron. The warm, bright light darkened to a dull gray.

  As the magic reached the villagers, they too began to change. The pink in their faces fled from them, leaving an ash white. Their eyes turned black as night, webs of decay branching out from them.

  Ocken chanced a glance at Eamon. He, too, now looked dead, possessed by tainted magic, like Lind. Eamon, or something, had done this to him. They no longer looked human. They didn’t even look alive.

  For half a heartbeat, nobody breathed. Then the villagers opened their mouths, let out a guttural howl, and attacked.

  Ocken watched in horror as Drygo left the safety of their defens
ive circle and charged at Eamon with his sword raised to strike. Ocken didn’t see them clash as two of the villagers bore down on him.

  He turned his swordstaff parallel and caught both of their weapons. Twirling his weapon, he knocked one of them off balance. Grabbing hold of Melody like a spear, he thrust at the man, impaling him in the abdomen.

  The other villager swung again. With the blade still implanted in the first man, Ocken jerked the staff up, parrying. The impaled villager clawed and screamed. Ocken gripped the staff and jerked up, driving the sword into the man’s rib cage. When his heart stopped beating, the man rotted away and turned to dust.

  The sudden lack of a body sent the swordstaff up into the air and knocked Ocken off balance. The second man came at him again, but he couldn’t defend in time. The sword came down on his gauntlet, deflecting the blade, but not before slicing his elbow.

  Ocken hissed.

  A knife soared by Ocken’s head and dug into his opponent’s heart. He, too, disintegrated in a cloud of black smoke.

  Ocken turned to thank Khate, but she’d already engaged another opponent. Ocken looked to the king.

  Drygo had Eamon on the ground and was desperately clawing for the pendant around the man’s neck. Eamon elbowed him in the head and tossed him to the side.

  Ocken raced for the king, but a villager intercepted him and attacked him from his right. Ocken spun, throwing up his weapon in defense. The man compensated and turned his blade sideways.

  Ocken jerked his weapon upward on instinct, connecting with the blade and wrenching it from his opponent’s hand.

  Then he bashed Melody’s pommel into the villager’s head, knocking him back. Swinging his swordstaff around in one fluid movement, Ocken severed the man’s head from his body, turning him to dust.

  Eamon now had Drygo on the ground. Neither of them had weapons any longer.

  Ocken once again ran for his king. Eamon pummeled Drygo with abandon, but the king held his arms up in defense, protecting his head.

  Ocken was just a few steps away.

  Eamon reached back with his right hand and pulled a dagger from his waist. He grabbed it with both hands and plunged it down at the king. Drygo grabbed his arms, stopping the blade an inch from his face.