The Soul Sphere: Book 02 - The Final Shard

by David Adams

  “You do not wish to be here at all. The question is, now that you are, what should be done?” He leaned back, slowly licking his lips. “At the least, you need to let Durst know of your progress against your mission, and the plans for an assault on Veldoon.”

  Lucien nodded that this was so.

  “But I’m certain both of you understand my difficulty here. There is no way to verify the truth of your tale, and relations between our packs are…strained. If it turns out you are a spy…”

  “I would think my presence would convince you otherwise,” Alexis said.

  “Who knows what alliances might have been made. You both claim you have forged one to fight Solek. Perhaps the first part is the truth, but your plan is actually to join Durst in his battle here.”

  “I tell truth as best I can,” Lucien said. “If decide I lie, there is little I can do to change mind.”

  Grosh stared at Lucien long and hard. Lucien stood perfectly still under his withering gaze, showing no sign of discomfort or any pressing need to speak further. “I will think on this,” Grosh declared. “Tonight you stay as guests, although a war camp offers few comforts. Your weapons you will leave with my guards, and you will stay wherever you are directed to eat or sleep. At the least a message will be sent to Durst, but whether it is you or your tale—or simply your head—I will let you know with the rising of the sun.” He gave a dismissive wave and turned away from them to discuss some other business.

  They were given a small square of land in the camp on which they might sleep, and provided with water in worn tins. The food they had already been given was all they were afforded, and their cloaks would be their only shelter. As night fell the campfires were extinguished, the only light provided by the pale, quarter moon. The night was cold, but still they counted their blessings—the sky was clear.

  “So, how much of Grosh’s last comment was idle threat and how much was real?” Alexis asked.

  “Most idle, at least for you. If thought we were spies, I already be dead. He would question you more, and weigh whether killing you or letting you go was larger risk.”

  “You still don’t look confident he will do as we hope.”

  “Know not what drives Grosh, or how he want to use us.”

  “ ‘Use’?”

  “He look for advantage for himself in his decision. More important to him than goblins or even world.”

  “A brutal assessment.”

  “Correct one. Only hope it serves him to help us.”

  “And if it doesn’t? It may mean your death.”

  Lucien shrugged. “Much I have done since left pack might have meant death. This not different.” He smiled at her. “I see you look death in eye and not flinch.”

  “Well, let’s hope this isn’t one of those times for either of us.” She looked about casually, counting at least four goblins watching them from the shadows. “Not that we could leave here now even if we wanted to.”

  “No,” he agreed. “Our necks extended. Tomorrow we find out if warblade falls.”

  She laughed ruefully. “Pleasant dreams to you, too.”

  Despite such grim thoughts, they slept well. Regardless of what the morning might bring, they knew they would be unharmed that night, and surrounded as they were by well-armed goblin warriors, they took their ease with no need of setting a watch. When they were roused at sunrise, they felt as rested as they had been for some time.

  “Grosh see you now,” said the goblin that had nudged them awake with his warblade.

  “He doesn’t waste any time, does he?” Alexis said.

  When they were escorted into his tent, they found Grosh alone. The guards remained behind them, their weapons held at the ready.

  The old goblin was eating a small breakfast. He took his time, savoring each bite, while his guests stood before him. “What would you say,” he asked with his mouth still full of food, “if I offered to bring the leaders of half the packs to a council to discuss your news and your proposition?”

  “I be greatly pleased,” Lucien replied.

  “Could you deliver the others?”

  “Durst, I believe. Do not know what alliances remain to speak for others.”

  “Even so, I will leave that to you. I am not wholly convinced of your story, but if what you have told me is true, it is time for the packs to act as one again.”

  “You speak wisely,” Lucien said, adding a bow.

  “Maybe not as wisely as you would think or hope. You have provided me with information. And information is power, if used properly.” He wiped a bit of grease away from his lips with the back of his hand. “I will send one of my scouts with you. He will guide you to your pack, and then to the council, which will be at noon, ten days from today. Each Chief can bring a single guard, if he so desires. You and Alexis should attend as well, so that all may hear what you’ve told me, and question you as they see fit.” Grosh took the knife he had used to cut his meat, wiped the blade on his pants, then drove the point of it into the fleshy part of the palm of his hand and gave it a quick twist. Blood welled up as he tossed the knife to Lucien. “You have my word of honor that they will be safe for one day after the council.”

  Lucien used the knife in the same way, then the two goblins slid their palms past one another’s, allowing their blood to mingle.

  Once this was done, Grosh called out and another goblin entered the tent. He was of medium build, and his uniform was unadorned beyond the standard purple and green of the pack. “This is Krast,” Grosh said, “one of our better scouts. I have explained his task to him. Take food now, and then reclaim your weapons and horses.”

  “Thank you,” Lucien and Alexis replied in unison.

  Krast led them outside and indicated two small plates of food. “Be off as soon as you ready. I get horses and weapons. I return shortly.”

  “Will the journey be long?” Alexis asked.

  “A few days or longer. War camps moving targets and we maybe run into other things.” With that he departed, leaving them to their meal.

  “What do you think?” Alexis asked between bites. “Can Grosh be trusted? It seems he has something in mind, something that might differ from what we seek.”

  “You right. But I trust him as far as council meeting and safety of guests. Goblin blood pacts have deep meaning to us.”

  They departed within the hour, and soon found Krast to be a capable guide. His horse was not as swift or strong as those from Lorgras, but he rode well, and kept them out of sight as often as possible, staying off roads and keeping to trees and spaces between hills most of the time. Every now and then they stopped, as he deciphered some hidden sign that someone had passed that way recently.

  That night they camped with no fire, but found their packs had been replenished with goblin food and fresh water, for which they were grateful. “We need to set watch,” said Krast. “Best not be surprised, though any that find us consider one friend and one enemy. I go first if you wish.”

  They agreed, and then settled under their cloaks. “He seems to trust us,” Alexis whispered.

  “As far as trust can be given at time like this. We all armed. If any wish to do harm, need not wait for darkness and sleep to act.”

  The next morning broke cold and gray, and they started off just before full light. Krast led them with a calm resolve, although he freely admitted he did not know where the Kabrinda, Lucien’s pack, was with any certainty. “Have scouted their camp several times. We find it.”

  * * *

  It was passing toward evening, the first shades of purple appearing in clouds on the eastern horizon, and while they had seen no other living goblin that day, the signs of recent passage were now as apparent to Lucien and Alexis as they were to Krast, and they all felt they had made good progress. Suddenly Krast held up a fist, calling them to a silent halt. From under the trees through which they were riding he pointed skyward, shifting in the saddle to get a view through the spring foliage. “See it?” he asked in a whisper.
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  For a time they did not, then Alexis let out a sudden gasp. She looked at Lucien, who met her gaze and nodded grimly.

  Krast sensed their recognition, although his trained eyes never left the object he was tracking. As it disappeared away to the south, the direction they were traveling, he turned to his companions. “You see it before?”

  “It is called a Mist,” Alexis answered. “They are servants of the Dark One. Spies. We have been haunted by several in our travels, but not for some time now.”

  “Does it seek you?”

  “What we once carried. But we do not have it here with us.”

  “It not know that,” Lucien said. “If it find us, Dark One act—in swift and brutal way.”

  “Then we camp here tonight, under trees,” said Krast, “and keep eyes on sky as well as ground in morning.”

  The next day they continued to work their way southeast, and the land continued to become hillier as they did so, the area known as the Great Plain now well east of their position. Their progress was slowed somewhat by the terrain, but they were now better sheltered, at least from other land-based eyes. There was no sign of the Mist, but that brought little comfort, and they kept a wary watch on the sky.

  Mid-afternoon brought the sound of approaching hooves. Krast bade them dismount in a shallow valley, and he went ahead a bit on foot, to the crest of the next hill, to see what he might. After a moment of study, he called for the others to come up and bring the horses.

  “Scouts from your pack,” Krast said to Lucien, pointing to the west. A small group clad in black and red had dismounted and was filling their water sacks in a small stream. “We ride to them, and signal wish to parlay.”

  “I ride in front,” said Lucien, “in case bowman anxious. Hopefully they see uniform and not shoot.”

  They rode forward at a slow, steady pace, doing their best to remain visible, keeping their weapons stowed and an open right hand raised. Once they were spotted the Kabrindan scouts sprang to their weapons and mounts, but they came forward to meet them rather than taking up battle positions.

  Lucien recognized none of them, but greeted them in the goblin tongue, and somewhere in the harsh-sounding syllables they heard an accent that convinced them he was one of their own. The scouts kept their weapons out, but their positions indicated they had begun to relax a bit.

  Lucien said his name and introduced his companions, switching to the common tongue. One of the scouts moved his horse forward and replied in kind.

  “I Ladok. Why you travel with such as these, Lucien?”

  “Story is long. I will share but we in hurry. Durst sent me on mission beyond our lands, and I return with news of Solek, alliances with those who fight him, and request for goblin council from Grosh of Salesh.”

  “Ride with us, servant of Kabrinda. Others our guests for now. Tell your tale, and if we deem it wise, we take you to camp.”

  “Is it near?”

  Ladok’s eyes shifted for an instant toward Krast, then back to Lucien. “Close enough. We camp in open tonight. Come, we ride in haste until we stop. You tell story at evening meal.” With that, he started away to the east. Lucien and his companions followed.

  * * *

  Lucien told the story of his mission that evening, while his fellow pack members sat around him listening intently. Krast absorbed the story as well, hearing much more than he had been told before he became a guide for Lucien and Alexis. When Lucien first mentioned the Mists there were nods of recognition, but none had been seen by any of the scouts for months. “Be wary,” Lucien warned. “We saw one going south yesterday.”

  Once the story was done Ladok exchanged a few quiet words with a small group of scouts, and then turned to the three travelers. “We reach our camp tomorrow. Durst will want to hear what you tell us. Krast may enter our camp—under your protection and under bond of blood pact with Grosh.”

  Krast inclined his head in thanks.

  “Tomorrow you eat better and know warmth of fire and shelter of tent. Tonight we do without. No choice if Mist about.”

  “It is as we have done,” Lucien said in agreement.

  * * *

  The next day they moved back onto the Great Plain, and the miles passed swiftly. Before noon they could see a large camp on the horizon, and as they approached Lucien felt a warm sensation of relief pass through him at the sight of the black and red banners of Kabrinda softly billowing in the gentle breeze. As they arrived they were hailed in friendly terms, and allowed to enter after a quick exchange between Ladok and the camp guards. Curious eyes followed them, and while Krast drew a nasty look or two, Alexis felt it was as warm a welcome as could be hoped for.

  Word of Lucien’s return quickly spread, and while Ladok went ahead to announce the trio to Durst, a group of goblins soon gathered to greet their old comrade with shouts and much pounding on the back. Alexis and Krast stood apart from the group, feeling a bit out of place and wanting to let Lucien enjoy his welcome. As Alexis watched with a faint smile, a female goblin moved toward Lucien, and the crowd parted to let her through. As she reached Lucien, they gripped one another on the arms, each placing both hands on the others’ biceps, an action Alexis took to be the goblin version of a handshake or a hug, and then the two spoke quietly for a moment. They went through this gripping action again, and as quickly as she had appeared the female departed and was soon lost amid the activity of the camp.

  Ladok returned and summoned them to Durst’s tent. As they walked, Alexis inquired as to the identity of the female goblin.

  “She is Natelle. She is my mate.”

  “ ‘Mate’!” Alexis exclaimed. “You never mentioned…”

  “No need. Not relevant to task at hand.”

  “Perhaps not, but in all those months together… Did you miss her?”

  “I did, as I longed for pack and land. I am sworn first to duty assigned. No need to dwell on things left behind.”

  Durst’s tent was a bit larger than the others near it, and a banner of black and red adorned each side of the entrance. Six guards were plainly visible, two at the tent opening and one at each corner. The guards at the opening barred their way with crossed warblades.

  “Ladok and Lucien may pass with weapons. Others disarm.”

  Krast and Alexis handed over their weapons without protest, and were subjected to a further search before being admitted. One of the guards followed them into the tent, making sure the two non-members of the pack were aware of his presence—and that of his sharpened blade.

  Durst was surrounded by a half-dozen goblins, but even the strangers could pick him out immediately. He towered over the others, and those near him spoke to and looked at him reverentially. His dress was plain, and a bandage around his head was brown with dried blood. The wound had done little to dim his spirits, and he greeted Lucien warmly. He rushed all but the newcomers out, including the guard, who was reluctant to go, even going so far as to motion toward Krast. “It will be fine,” Durst reassured him in the goblin language, his booming voice filling the tent.

  “My apologies,” he said directly to Krast. “There is little love or trust between our packs right now.”

  “No offense taken, Chief of the Kabrinda. I am Krast, currently a guide to those here gathered, at the request of Grosh.”

  “Grosh I know, perhaps too well. This little scratch came from one of your warriors, as a matter of fact.”

  “I suppose you gave as well as got,” Krast said, a faint smile curling his lip.

  “More so,” Durst replied. “But enough of this. There is another guest here.”

  “Alexis of Lorgras,” Lucien said by way of introduction. “A sister-in-arms, and an ally against Solek.”

  Durst switched to the common speech to address her. “You most welcome here, Alexis.”

  “I am honored,” she replied, in barely passable goblin.

  Durst laughed, a roar from deep in his belly. “My common need work, but not as much as your goblin. Honored you try. I
would hear all your stories, but first Lucien alone. Kaldrow!”

  The guard reappeared instantly, his expression wild with fear and blood-lust. Seeing his chief in no danger, he seemed abashed.

  “See our guests fed and given shelter. I call for them soon.”

  It was nearly two hours later when Alexis was summoned. She found Durst and Lucien seated on the ground in the chief’s tent, and was bid to join them. Her eyes wandered toward the tent opening.

  “Just us three for a time,” Durst said. “Krast safe here, but he still has eyes, ears, and mind of enemy. You, lady, much welcomed. I apologize I not give you honor due as High Queen of Lorgras.”

  “None is due but what is earned.”

  “Well said. Other than words, little I can give but food and shelter. War camps have few comforts, and you have no such luxuries in your battles with Dark One’s servants, I know. I and all Arkania owe you much already.”

  “And I you. If you had not had the foresight to send Lucien into the land of men… I fear we may not have fared so well without his warblade.”

  “Great was task he took on, and far more than I ask. But he brings you here, and speaks of others ready to stand with us against common foe. Wish I had done half so much to have goblins ready to fight. Maybe not all lost yet. Council brings hope for peace here, and war on Solek. Lucien say Lorgras prepares in your absence.”

  “They do. We will be ready.”

  “And friends try to raise armies in Delving and Corindor. But what of Westerland?”

  “I would go there next, to ask for warriors and arms, or at least passage for any goblin army that might march.”

  “You seem doubtful.”

  “Duke Fallo is content to hide behind his walls. He was delivered once.”

  “By your hand, I hear.”

  “Maybe more by good fortune. But he does not see the danger, and will not until the enemy scales the walls of Western City and dashes him to the ground. I do not put too much hope in his willingness to help.”

  “Will he let goblins pass?”

  “Old wounds can be deep. He does not trust goblins. I would guess the border forts are manned. But we will try. A march around to the north, through Lorgras, will take time. And what of your people? Will they unite? If not, will some packs march to war while others stay?”