The Bowl of Souls: Book 05 - Mother of the Moonrat

by Trevor H. Cooley

  “Would you like me to heat it for you?” Darlan asked.

  “No, that’s fine,” John said with a shake of his head. “Sipping tea will just slow me down and there are too many things I must see to.” He put his hands to his head and began to massage his temples. “Let’s tell this story a bit faster.”

  Justan felt a strange but familiar buzzing in his ears and he knew that everyone else in the room was feeling the same thing. His vision shifted and he saw a lush green landscape full of leafy trees and shifting waterways. The Roo people were a large and proud nation, just as Jhonate had said. They had built massive, sprawling cities within the swamplands at the end of the Wide River. They had a formidable army as well. Their warriors were strong and used light weapons and armor enchanted by binding magic.

  They eschewed elemental magic and would have nothing to do with the nations that used it, but they were not a threat to other nations either. They were a people that wanted no more than to keep to themselves. Unfortunately, this was also why they had no allies when the Troll Queen attacked.

  Hundreds of thousands of screeching trolls invaded the swamps under Mellinda’s power. The leaders of the Roo didn’t understand the threat at first, not until entire cities had been overcome. Then their most powerful spirit wizards combined in a counter attack and drove Mellinda’s power from the mind of the trolls. Without her control, the invading army lost its purpose and though the sheer number of trolls was a scourge of its own, the kingdom no longer felt itself to be under threat.

  “But while the Roo thought themselves victorious, Mellinda was hard at work on the second part of her plan,” said John. The scene shifted again. “She was hard at work changing the nature of the swamps themselves.”

  Justan saw KhanzaRoo, the capital city of the Roo people, an immense floating city made of wood and stone that covered the center of the swamps like a living blanket, moving and flowing in concert with the water itself. But something Mellinda had done changed the waterways. The entire landscape shifted as though moved from underneath. Rope bridges were tangled. Barges bottomed out. Entire warehouses sank into the water.

  A strange haze filled the air, a stinking mist that caused torches to spark and flare out of control. A thick film floated to the top of the water. Fish began to die. Their swollen and rotting bodies clogged the waterways.

  Clean water became a rarity. People got sick. They became weak with hunger as the industries they used to rely on withered and died. Then the troll army resurfaced.

  Regions of the swampland had become infested with the creatures and Mellinda took control of all of them. The people fought valiantly, but their one weapon against trolls was now their weakness. Fires swept through the swamps, carried by the pockets of flammable mist and the oily slime in the water. Though the fires killed many of the trolls too, cities burned and the Roo were forced to abandon their homeland for the dryer forest lands.

  The swamps of the Roo became known as the Troll Swamps, a vile place too dangerous to travel through. But Mellinda wasn’t satisfied with uprooting the people. She wanted the Roo destroyed and that burning vision was all that interested her. She drove them further and further to the north and east; to remote parts where only the hardiest of the Roo had chosen to live in the past.

  “That was when she became aware of the Jharro Grove,” John said and Justan’s vision shifted again.

  The Jharro Trees were enormous. Their gray trunks were as wide as four large houses stacked side-by-side. The elves that were the caretakers of the trees were short and looked like Yntri Yni, with dark brown leathery skin and stubbly hair on the top of their heads.

  “Mellinda wanted to harness the power of the Jharro trees to help her finally end the Roo, but she did not understand the way their power worked.”

  She drove her troll army to the grove, but her power was useless there. The trees rebuffed Mellinda’s mind and her army fell apart. Yntri’s people came out of the grove to fight them and the trolls scattered. Mellinda, seeing how small the elves’ numbers were, decided to defeat them all by herself.

  Sure of her god-like power, Mellinda walked into the grove and attacked. The elves fought back as did the spirit magic of the trees themselves. Their losses were high, but they managed to injure Mellinda, disrupting her power. Finally the prophet arrived.

  “When I came to the grove, I was saddened by the damage.” John’s voice was filled with sorrow as he spoke. “The Jharro Grove was a sacred place, a place I was charged with protecting. I brought the high Priestess of the Roo with me. Her name was Jeanene and she was Mellinda’s younger sister. Jeanene had been a small child when Mellinda had been expelled from her people but she had grown beautiful and strong with spirit magic.”

  Justan saw her visage raise before him then and she was the spitting image of Jhonate. She had the same hair and her striking green eyes were fiery with determination. With the power of the trees to assist her, she joined with Yntri’s people and turned the battle against Mellinda. They drove her back to the edge of the grove and when the witch saw the prophet appear by their side, she ran into the mountains to the east and crossed the border of Malaroo into the land that would become Dremaldria.

  “We followed her. Jeanene and the leader of the elves and I,” John said. “We chased her over the mountains and into the forests near the Mage School. I sent two powerful spirit wizards and one elemental wizard to join them and they finally caught up with her in the center of the forest that became the Tinny Woods.”

  Justan caught a glimpse of the epic battle in the forest that day. Much of it was only watchable with spirit sight, but even with the combined strength of the mighty heroes, Mellinda nearly won. It was a blow to the head that downed her in the end. Jeanene silenced her with a blow to the temple as Mellinda was focused on fighting the others.

  The elemental wizard unearthed a deep grave and they placed her deep within. Then the elf planted a Jharro sapling in the spot above her. With the prophet’s help, they used their combined magic to grow the tree around her, imprisoning her in its mighty roots.

  The vision faded away and everyone took a deep breath. The room was filled with silence for a few moments and the prophet took a drink from his cold tea. Jhonate was the first to speak.

  “So how do we destroy her?” she asked.

  The prophet smiled. “You are much like your ancestor, Jhonate.” He bent down and reached into a small pack sitting next to his chair. He pulled out a small velvet bundle. “It will not be easy. Her body is withered and dead, but the core of her being is very much alive. Mellinda is trapped in that place, her spirit bound to the dagger she plunged into the Dark Bowl so many years before. It is the rune that holds her there.”

  He began to unwrap the bundle. “But I fear she is close to finding a way to get free on her own. In fact I fear that we may be too late already. This will be your way to destroy the dark binding magic that keeps her there.”

  Within the bundle was the ruby dagger he had purified the day they had arrived at the Mage School. The metal of the dagger was now a pure white and the rubies in the hilt sparkled. “This dagger was once named Tulos. I have taken it to my master’s altar and sanctified it there. I have renamed it Palos. It has the power to destroy dark and foul magic.”

  He looked at Jhonate. “Though you may not have Jeanene’s power with spirit magic, you truly are the heir of her strength of will. I believe you can use it to destroy Mellinda’s dagger.” He held it out to her hilt first and when Justan saw her pick it up, a shiver went up his spine. This dagger truly belonged in her hands.

  Jhonate stared at the blade, her mouth hanging slightly open. Then she swallowed, shaking her head slightly and turned her gaze to the prophet. There was gratitude in her eyes. “Thank you.”

  He smiled at her and stood. “Listen now. Each and every one of you in this room will be needed if Mellinda is to be destroyed. If any one of you are killed in the upcoming battle we very well may fail and Mellinda will slip free.”
>
  While everyone in the room tried to digest what he had told them, he turned to Alfred. “The same goes for Latva I’m afraid. He knows things about this situation that I do not. So now that the tale is complete, we must go and see if we can’t wake him. There is so much to do and the battle starts tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” Faldon said, his brow furrowed in concern.

  “Gather the leaders of all factions within the walls. Have them meet me in the Hall of Elements in one hour.” John sighed. “Like I said, there is much to do.”

  Chapter Thirty Three

  “My queen, what are you doing?” asked the Royal Speaker, his sweating face white with panic.

  “I am joining my husband,” Elise snapped, giving the speaker a glare. She felt the twins kick in unison. The small voice inside her hummed a tuneless lullaby. Servants hustled around the royal carriage, loading Elise’s things. The royal guard spread out, clearing a wide space for them to work in and eyeing the crowd for weapons.

  The first thing Elise had done after Ewzad left was to outlaw weapons within the palace walls. She had argued for the law before, but Ewzad had resisted issuing that decree because he felt it would make him look weak. Elise’s one concern was for the babies. Someone could try to assassinate her while he was gone. In fact, with the glares that the nobles were giving her, she was sure of it. For the first time in a long while, the small voice inside of her was making sense!

  “B-but my queen, you shouldn’t be traveling in this state,” the speaker blustered.

  “He is right, my queen,” said Mereld, the head birth mage. She was a kindly old woman who had overseen the births of over a hundred noble children in her years of service. Better yet, she was from the mage school in Alberri. Elise had ordered all the Dremaldrian birth mages away from the palace in case they felt their ties to the Mage School were stronger than their loyalty to their queen. “You mustn’t leave now. You could have these children any day. Sampo is a week’s ride from here.”

  Elise growled and swung her arm, delivering a stinging slap to the gray-haired woman’s face. “That will not happen! You will see to it. I will give birth at Ewzad’s side!” She whirled back to the Royal Speaker. “I didn’t summon you here to ask for permission. I brought you here to give you instructions for handling the nobles while I’m gone.”

  The man paled but had the sense not to argue. Elise pulled him in close and began delivering her instructions in his ear. She had to force herself not to gag on his odor. She had ordered the man bathed daily and his clothes cleaned and, from the disgusted looks of the maids that had to bathe him, it had been getting done. Still, the man reeked from whatever Ewzad had put in him and all the powders and scented oils in the palace wouldn’t keep the smell away.

  As she was issuing her final instructions, a wave of pain rippled across her swollen belly. Elise doubled over, gasping, and Mereld placed her hands on her stomach, sending cooling tingles of magic to soothe the pain away.

  Get that old woman away! No magic near the babies! shouted the voice inside her.

  “That was a contraction, my queen,” said the mage, her voice composed despite the red handprint on her cheek. “It doesn’t mean your labor is starting now, but it does mean that you are close.”

  Elise forced a smile on her face. She reached up and grasped the woman by the back of the neck. “This is why I am glad you’re here, Mereld. I am sure that you and your excellent staff will make sure my babies and I arrive safely at my husband’s side.”

  “That is our duty, my queen. For you or for anyone,” Mereld said with a short bow of her head.

  “I am not just anyone,” Elise reminded gritting her teeth. “I am queen and if anything should happen to us, I will have my husband turn you inside out! Understand?”

  Yes. She must die! Kill her now. We must protect them! The voice broke down into sobs.

  The woman’s composure didn’t alter one bit. She bowed her head again. “I understand, my queen.”

  The servants finished loading the carriage and the royal guard mounted horses to escort her. Elise rested inside on a dozen pillows embroidered with runes and fashioned in various shapes to alleviate soreness in her back and legs. As she rode, five birth mages and her personal maid sat on the other plush benches around her. The royal carriage made it all the way to the outer gates of Dremald before the Dark Voice let its displeasure known.

  “Elise, what are you planning?”

  She didn’t answer. Dread boiled in her stomach. The Dark Voice so rarely spoke to her anymore. Maybe it was growing weak? She refused to listen. Run! Get away!

  “I will not be ignored.” A bolt of pain stabbed through her brain.

  She cried out and Mereld was there, placing her hands on Elise’s head, easing the pain.

  “I am . . . joining my husband,” Elise gasped.

  “I know, dear,” the old mage said. She glared across the carriage and two other birth mages joined her around Elise, sending cooling and soothing tingles through her body.

  “You are not needed there. Turn around. Return to the palace,” the Dark Voice commanded.

  “I will not,” she growled.

  “She’s delirious,” said one of the birth mages with concern. “We should go back. This is a bad idea.”

  “You will do nothing of the sort!” Elise shouted. She clawed at the woman, but her hands fell short.

  “We will follow the queen’s commands,” Mereld said coolly. The red print was no longer on her face. One of the other mages must have healed it. She looked at the others. “The queen has conversations we cannot understand at times. Do not be frightened. Like King Vriil, she has sensitivities to other worlds.”

  The mages went slightly pale and nodded.

  Elise wondered what the old woman was doing. Was this a code of some kind? Was she implying that Elise was crazy? She had half a mind to slit the woman’s throat. Yes, we must kill her. Protect the babies! But perhaps not. The woman may have just been easing the others’ distress. She would wait and see.

  “Turn around now,” the voice commanded. Another bolt of pain seared her mind.

  “I refuse,” she snarled, shoving the pain away.

  “The heir is mine,” the Dark Voice said.

  No! They’re ours!

  “You will have it,” she said. “But the other is mine.”

  “Your journey puts the heir in danger. If I must, I will continue to punish you until you return.”

  “You won’t!” she shouted, startling the other women. “Hurting me could hurt the heir and you can’t have that.” She laughed. “I tell you now I will not back down no matter how much you torture me. I will reach Ewzad’s side, so hear me now and LEAVE ME ALONE.”

  “Punishment can take many forms, Elise,” the Dark Voice said. There was no anger in the voice. Just certainty. “Your insolence will not be forgotten.”

  “Leave me then. Remember what you wish,” Elise said.

  Amazing. We won, said the voice inside her.

  Elise smiled. Yes she had won a small victory against her master. But she had no doubt he would remember.

  It wouldn’t matter, though. Once the babies were born, Ewzad would see them and fall in love with them and then she could tell him her plans. She could tell him she had discovered a way they could keep both babies.

  No. He mustn’t know. Him least of all! The voice began singing again.

  Elise shoved the voice aside. Ewzad would understand. With the Mage School and academy gone and no one to oppose him, he wouldn’t need the Dark Voice anymore. She would convince him and he would agree. Both babies would be theirs. Theirs alone.

  * * *

  “While I have been away from you, I saw many things,” John said, his voice carrying clearly throughout the domed Hall of Elements. He had changed from his travel attire and now wore a set of white robes with silver trim. “I traveled first to the Palace of the Dark Prophet. It had been blasted to ruins at the end of the war two hundred years ago, yet I saw
signs of life. Goblinoids have been clearing the place of rubble and I saw repairs being made. Excavations have been underway for some time I’m afraid, and I saw something even more troubling. One of the Dark Prophets’ weapons had been unearthed. They found a crysalisk.”

  Justan had no idea what the prophet was speaking about, but there were a few murmurs among the leaders assembled at that statement.

  Faldon spoke up. “For those of us who don’t know, what is a crysa- . . ?”

  “A crysalisk was a defensive weapon of great power,” said a shaky voice.

  Everyone turned to listen to Master Latva, looking pale and weak, who sat in a chair not far away from where the prophet stood. Alfred stood behind him, one hand on Latva’s shoulder, the other grasping his cane. Justan had been relieved when the prophet had brought the man out of his sick bed. The healing wizards were calling it a major miracle. Most of them had felt he was too old to recover. They had expected his heart to give out after all the strain the poison had put him through.

  The master cleared his throat. “It has the ability to throw up a barrier that can deflect both physical projectiles and elemental spells. I believe that is what the enemy used to foil our attack on the road to Sampo.”

  “The Dark Prophet had intended to use them against the Mage School two hundred years ago, but we took the battle to him before he had the chance.” John shook his head. “I had hoped them all destroyed. Nevertheless, preparations must be made. They will be able to attack you from within the barrier, but your attacks will be useless unless you can get inside it first.”

  “I suppose the real question, if I may ask, is can it be destroyed?” asked Wizard Randolf with an irritated air. He had been the council head while Latva was down and he wasn’t quite happy about relinquishing the role. Justan wished the man would let go of his attitude until the siege was over.

  “It can,” said the prophet. “We shattered two of them during the war. The key is getting close enough to smash through the metal casing.”