The Soul Sphere: Book 02 - The Final Shard

by David Adams

  In answer, Rowan ordered the army to move out.

  They turned off the road the next day, as planned, before they reached Humbold. Rowan had no desire to see the ruins of the once great city, nor to allow his forces to be reminded of earlier failure. They had enough doubt already.

  The passage cross-country was less conspicuous than traveling by road, but the army naturally became more strung out and their progress slowed. Of greater concern to Rowan was fording the rivers. They often ran high in the spring, and it would split his meager forces while they crossed, making them even more vulnerable to an assault. At least the recent trip to the Eastern Forest and back let him know the rivers could be forded at this time of year.

  It took them a week to reach the Little River, and a day to get everyone safely across. As the last of the army crossed, Rowan let out a long sigh of relief. “One down, one to go.”

  “Three days to the Crystal,” Tala estimated.

  Rowan agreed. “And then two or less to the forest once we’re across. This was a lot faster on horse.”

  “True. But we are making good time.”

  “As long as Solek lets us march unhindered, this will be easy.” His smile was rueful. “Wouldn’t count on it much longer, though.”

  The next day they had been moving less than an hour when Tala spied something to the west. “What do you make of that?”

  Rowan followed her gaze, squinting to make out anything in the early morning light. Finally something came into view, at the edge of his range of vision. “Fog?”

  “Seems it,” Tala said. Her eyes, sharper than any human’s, allowed her to observe the phenomena without strain. “The edges of it are roiling, like it is a storm cloud on the ground. It also seems to be moving this way.”

  Rowan watched for a half-minute more, and agreed with his elven companion’s assessment. The “cloud” stretched for miles north and south, out of even Tala’s sight range. “We can hustle east and hope to outrun it.”

  “If that thing is a creation of Solek’s magic…”

  “I think it is.”

  “Then it could do us harm, or it might be meant to drive us east recklessly. We would be pinned between the two rivers, and if we fly at top speed our army will have no chance of quickly assuming battle formations if attacked.”

  “Any other good news?” he asked.

  “I am fresh out.”

  As if summoned by Rowan’s question, a young rider raced up from the rear of the army, a boy of no more than fifteen. “Sir!” he shouted upon spotting Rowan.

  “What is it?”

  “The cloud—” he sputtered. He was out of breath and struggled to speak.

  “Calm down, son. I see it.”

  “No. Well, what I mean is, there is another cloud, coming up on our rear from the south. That’s why I was sent up here. Didn’t expect to see that other one to the west.”

  “How close?”

  “A mile, maybe less. The men were starting to panic. My father is trying to calm them, but—”

  “Okay. We march to the northeast, at double time. Pass the word back.”

  “Yes, sir,” said the young soldier, his face pale with fear.

  “I will go with him,” Tala said.

  “Hurry back,” Rowan replied. He ordered the lead group to speed along the new heading, positioning himself between them and the approaching cloud like a mother hen, herding everyone in the right direction. He did his best to be a model of calm composure, and for a time he was able to resist the urge to look back. Finally the wide eyes of the men and women and the pressing weight of some unseen force were too much for him. He turned his horse, and had to soothe it to keep it from bolting. It was coming, and swiftly. The horse might be able to outrun it, but those on foot had little chance of doing so.

  “Move!” he shouted, returning his attention to his forces. They did not need to be told twice.

  * * *

  Lucien and Alexis reached the lead elements of the goblin army when they were still two days’ march from the wall. Durst and the Kabrinda were in front, and he listened impassively to the bad news of Duke Fallo’s stubbornness. “So we turn north, to Lorgras,” he said when they were done.

  “Yes,” Alexis replied. “But it will cost us precious time.”

  “No choice, but best let all leaders have say before we change direction. Nightfall comes soon. We camp here and I send messengers to bring other chiefs forward.”

  While they waited, Durst gave them what news he had. “All packs are on move, and Allagon as well. I think we bring 8,000 to field.”

  Alexis brightened at this. “Far more than I hoped for.”

  “What of Lorgras?”

  “6,000, if things go well. I was praying for the same from the Westerland.”

  Durst brushed the comment aside. “I hoped for 15,000 goblins, but Solek and this internal strife have depleted our strength, and some do not come that could. Still might have chance if your other friends come through.”

  The other goblin leaders were disappointed but not surprised by the news from the Westerland. The idea of storming the wall was briefly entertained, but the risk was too great, and a northward passage was soon agreed to. Durst fed his guests and bade them stay the night and take what rest they could. As the army passed in the morning they could each join with their own packs again.

  Dawn brought a new surprise—riders approaching from the east. Their banners were black and orange, the colors of the Westerland. A few hundred yards from the goblin camp the main host stopped, and three riders advanced the rest of the way, each holding up an open hand in greeting.

  “Speak to them,” Durst whispered to Alexis.

  She stepped forward and greeted the riders. “Hail, men of the Westerland!”

  “Hail, Alexis of Lorgras,” the lead rider replied. He removed his helm and leapt from his horse. He was a young man, perhaps twenty years of age, with a handsome face and a noble bearing. He bowed low to those assembled before him. “I come to beg forgiveness for the rash words of the duke, and to give aid, if it is acceptable to you.”

  Alexis was taken aback by his words. “It will be gladly taken. But tell me, has the duke changed his mind? We were just about to turn aside, so that we might pass around the wall to the north.”

  The young man’s expression darkened. “No, the duke’s heart is set like stone. He will not fight, nor will he allow this army passage through his lands.”

  Durst spoke up. “Then who are you to ride forth? Have you broken fealty with your lord?”

  “No, I come with the duke’s permission, if not his blessing. As to your first question, I am Zald, the duke’s son and heir.”

  “Be welcome, Zald,” Durst said. “Your arms will be joined with ours in battle, as brothers.”

  “Thank you. We are honored.”

  “You seem to have a good number of followers,” Alexis noted.

  Zald glanced back at his men and smiled. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking most of them are here because of me. They, like me, don’t like the idea of waiting around to see whether we die under Solek’s heel or simply starve to death.”

  “I’m surprised your father let all of you go.”

  “Once he realized he would have that many fewer men and horses to feed, he was more agreeable. Regardless, many would have come even if he had ordered us to stay, and that might have led to some nasty business. I’m glad it did not come to that.”

  “As are we. Will you ride with us?”

  “In time, but I have another plan for now. Am I right in assuming the Wandering River can only be forded easily far to the north?”

  “Yes,” Alexis replied.

  “Then we will ride ahead, and see if we can’t ease a crossing further south. It would save us a great deal of time.”

  “Excellent idea,” Durst said.

  “I have only one request. Would you ride with us, Alexis? I cannot say what border guards Lorgras may have in place. They may not take kindly to
men of the Westerland building a path into Lorgras for a goblin army. Perhaps you might keep Lorgrasian spears from targeting my men.”

  “Fair enough. I wish to return to my people as soon as I can anyway, to see how the war preparations go.”

  “Take Lucien as well,” said Durst, “in case any messages need to be sent back. Unless you tire of his company.”

  “I enjoy it.”

  “Odd creatures, you humans,” Durst said with that leering goblin smile that would unnerve anyone who had not come to know it as well as Alexis had. “Lucien,” he said simply, with a quick thrust of his chin in Alexis’ direction.

  “My honor to serve,” he replied to his pack chief. Then he nodded to Alexis, as if to say the same thing.

  Soon the riders of the Westerland and their new escorts were thundering ahead, while the goblin army resumed its march, turning north.

  Even riding hard, it would take them six days to reach the Wandering River beyond the Watchtowers. Zald mingled freely and comfortably among his men, and they acted as friends might, speaking easily with one another, sharing jokes and stories. But there was an unmistakable respect he commanded when he was among them. A respect only earned through deeds, Alexis was certain, not through empty words or by the iron fist he could wield due to his birthright had he so desired. As often as he could Zald rode with Alexis and Lucien, eager to learn all he could about what they had been through and their plans for defeating Solek. “My father keeps many things close,” he explained, “even where I am concerned.”

  They were happy to share what they could with him, and soon were as glad for his companionship as for the thousand men he had brought with him.

  Their journey to the river was interrupted only once. Zald saw it first, pointing it out without even stopping his horse. “Is that a Mist?”

  As Alexis’ eyes shifted to follow the line drawn by his extended finger, several arrows were loosed. She smiled as they passed through the creature and fell harmlessly to the ground. “It is,” she answered.

  “You described it well. Why the smile?”

  “Your men react quickly and with deadly accuracy, if a bit rashly. Earthly weapons will do it no harm.”

  Now Zald appeared concerned. “Then what hope do we have of defeating it?”

  “None in direct combat. But it’s only a shadow itself, and can do no physical harm. They act as spies, so Solek will know we move. So be it.”

  The riders began to slow, their focus now on the Mist. They stayed their hands, now understanding arrows to be of little use against it, but murmurs of concern began to ripple through the group. Having seen what it could, the Mist darted off south.

  “It will find the goblins, most likely,” said Alexis, “then it will surely report back to its dark master.”

  Zald marveled at Alexis and Lucien. “Your stories must be true. How else could one look on such an otherworldly creature in such a casual manner?”

  “We will see enough of things with sharp teeth and claws, or sharp steel in hands,” said Lucien. “Save worry for them.”

  “That I’ll do,” said Zald. “But I better spread the word about what that was. We’re losing time to uncertainty and fear.”

  “Two of Solek’s favorite weapons,” Alexis said in agreement.

  When they reached the Wandering River, they found it not as deep as it could have been, but running swiftly. Zald rode in the lead now, his eyes alert as they worked their way up the western bank of the river. Ahead he spotted something, then said, “There!” triumphantly. Before they could inquire as to what had inspired him, he charged off. Several of his men followed, calling for him to wait and not do anything rash. He turned once, only for an instant, flashing a playful, boyish grin.

  Here the river was nearly a quarter-mile across, but a third of the way over a small island jutted out of the water, covered with thick grass and three large trees. Zald rushed his horse into the strong current, and the beast had no difficulty reaching the island. The water had soaked Zald’s boots and his pants up to mid-calf, but reached no further.

  “Bring some rope,” he called to his men. In reply, several riders splashed across to the island, then pulled long coils of rope from their packs. Several cords were then bound together at his command, and then fastened tight to the trees. Zald then had one of the riders return bearing a coil of rope, which he slowly let out behind him as he returned. Once safely on the near bank again, the man dismounted, took the rope to a sturdy tree, and confirmed there was sufficient length to tie it there.

  “Excellent!” Zald cried. “Those on foot can use the rope to deal with the current. They’ll be wet and a bit chilled, but it will save many days march further north and then back.” Before anyone could point out that reaching the island was not the same as crossing the river, Zald hoisted a second coil of rope that was fastened to a tree, tied the other end to his mount’s saddle, and then dashed into the wider section of the river. The horse struggled at times as the water rushed over his back, soaking Zald past the waist in the process, but eventually he reached the far shore, and Zald held up the rope triumphantly before tying it off.

  “Some of us better go across, too,” one of the Westerlanders said. “Otherwise he might try to ride back and risk his neck again.” One of Zald’s lieutenants heard this and agreed, ordering half the men across and the other half to remain on this side.

  Alexis moved close to Lucien. “I should go ahead. That’s Lorgras over there.”

  “And I should wait here for goblins,” Lucien replied.

  “I won’t argue that,” Alexis said. “But you’ll have to cross eventually. Is this going to be a problem? I mean, is it common for goblins to—”

  He stopped her with a raised hand, even as his eyes fell. “My issue. Bad experience when young. Goblins have no more fear of water than any other race. We will cross here.”

  “All of you?”

  “I as well. Mounted and with eyes shut if I must, and clinging tight to rope.”

  “Come now. Come across with me.”

  “So goblins do not see me hesitate? Thank you for concern, but no. It is proper that I wait. I will cross when it is time.”

  “Then I’ll stay too.”

  “You must go, as you said. Lorgrasian patrol passing would be reason enough for you to be on other side. It is why you came.”

  She nodded, reluctantly. “I’ll see you in a week or so.”

  “Or sooner. Goblins march swiftly at need.”

  On all counts, Lucien was correct. Mounted Lorgrasians spied the activity at the river within two days and made contact, happily surprised to find their High Queen among those gathered there. The patrol was wary, at first speaking to her as a commoner. She smiled and assured them they were among friends, and it was then revealed to the men of the Westerland who she really was. Many knelt before her to do her honor, including Zald. Embarrassed, she bid them rise, and found Zald beaming at her. “You knew,” she said.

  He admitted it was so. “But it was your secret to reveal as you chose.”

  The patrol was ordered back to the main Lorgrasian force to spread word that the queen had returned with an army of mounted men, and that they would soon be joined by a force of goblins. On the seventh day since crossing the river the goblin column arrived, and lost no time in starting across themselves. Lucien was good to his word, using his horse to take him through the river’s rushing water, and doing so without incident or hesitation. Even though he would not admit relief at having the passage behind him, Alexis was pleased for him.

  The goblin army was safely across the river in less than a day. As evening fell, the pack leaders, Zald, and Alexis gathered to make further plans.

  Grosh surveyed the Lorgrasian landscape, sniffing the air as if a hint of something foul lingered there. “If my memory is correct, the only way into Veldoon is through the Saber Pass, and the fastest way for us to get there is to pass along the southern edge of the Great Northern Forest.”

  “You
memory serves you well,” Alexis said.

  “And you,” said Grosh, adding a bow, “were as good as your word. We crossed with no opposition. Will the journey through Lorgras be unhindered?”

  “I sent a patrol with word of your coming. The main Lorgrasian army has several weeks head start on the remaining march, but I am impressed by the speed with which goblins cover ground.”

  “We are not as swift as those mounted,” said Grosh, “but perhaps fast enough to reach Veldoon on the heels of your army.”

  “I must now go ahead, to reach my own people as soon as I may. I want to be at the front of the column if Solek decides to strike a blow before we reach him.”

  “You are warrior at heart,” Durst said, “but I sense you wish to be at front for another reason.”

  Alexis nodded. “I am Alexandra, High Queen of Lorgras.”

  Durst bowed, and the other goblins present followed his lead. “So we now know why you spoke so confidently about how Lorgras would act.”

  Ast rubbed his chin, and brushed some saliva off the corner of his lip. “Why the deception?”

  “There was no deception,” she replied. “A ruler may wish to travel anonymously in other lands. The other companions we have spoken of—Rowan, Tala, Demetrius, and Corson—did not know of my title until it came time for us to part.”

  “A leader has that right,” Durst said. He quickly shifted subjects. “It is understandable that you wish to join main body of your army, but you should not travel without escort. High Queen would be great prize for Solek if taken.”

  “I will link up with a patrol soon enough,” she answered. “They will ride with me.”

  “Until then, a dozen of my men will,” said Zald emphatically. Seeing she was a bit surprised by his tone, he added. “If you will allow it.”

  “Certainly.”

  Zald dipped his head once in thanks, and then went on. “The rest of my men should ride before and at the flanks of the goblins, acting as scouts and a screen, in case an assault comes while we move.”

  “That would be wise,” said Durst. “With your men doing this, we’ll be able to move with all possible speed, rather than moving in tight formations for defense.”