The Third Soul Omnibus One

by Jonathan Moeller

  “The ghouls after the battle…that must have been awful,” said Thalia.

  “It was,” said Corthain. “That was almost a second battle in itself. We killed most them, but quite a few got away. Eastern Rhomaria is still too ghoul-haunted to be habitable.” He shrugged. “So that was what happened. I was in the right place at the right time, so they called me a hero. The King offered me the domnium of Moiria, and I accepted. The old domn and most of his men had been slain, so my men settled on their lands. Quite a few wound up marrying widows. So now I am trying to build something stable, something prosperous, after all this death.”

  “A noble goal,” said Thalia.

  “You should visit,” said Corthain. “You would like Moiria, I think. It’s nothing like Araspan. The largest town has only three thousand people. Lots of hills and woods and creeks. Do you still hunt? The hunting is good. Pheasants and turkeys.”

  “I would go with you tomorrow,” said Thalia, “but I need to look after the Initiate I sponsored, if only for a few months. Until she gets her feet under her. She’s been a good friend to me.” She shook her head. “That, and I need to keep an eye on her. Someone tried to kill her.”

  “Really?” said Corthain.

  “A Jurgur slave,” said Thalia. “The strangest thing.”

  “The Jurgurs were always half-mad,” said Corthain, “especially the ones that worshipped demons. He might have tried to kill her simply out of spite, or to please a demon.”

  “Whatever the reason,” said Thalia, “I want to stay until she gets better used to the idea of being an Adept. And then I will visit.” She smiled. “I’m looking forward to seeing Moiria.”

  “And I look forward to seeing you there,” said Corthain.

  Thalia rose. “I have to go. I have duties soon.”

  “Of course,” said Corthain, walking her to the door.

  “Write letters,” said Thalia. “I mean it. If I have to wait another twelve years to talk to you, brother, I shall be most cross.”

  “I will,” said Corthain.

  She smiled, kissed him on the cheek, and left.

  Corthain crossed back to the table, picked up his wine, finished it. “You can come in now, you know.”

  Morwen entered from the bedroom, her expression just a touch sheepish. “I was not listening, my lord. I was tidying up.”

  Corthain snorted. “And you just happened to hear everything, yes?”

  Morwen sniffed. “I can hardly be blamed for that, my lord. Though it is good you have reconciled with your sister. Perhaps she can you to find a wife.”

  “Oh, undoubtedly,” said Corthain.

  For the first time, he did not regret returning to Araspan. Wine contracts and a reunion with Thalia. Yes, things had indeed gone well.

  Chapter 5 - Blood Acolyte

  The screenings took place in a long stone basilica, built in the style of the Old Empire.

  In other lands, Rachaelis supposed, the basilica would have been a Temple, devoted to the glory of the Divine and the Seeress. In Araspan, the basilica served as a judgment hall. Several times a year, either Arthain Kalarien or his appointed magistrates presided over criminal cases from a stone chair resting atop a dais at one end of the hall. From there Arthain issued his judgments, condemning criminals to death by hanging, beheading, or quartering, depending upon the offense.

  At the moment, the throne sat empty. Twenty of Marvane’s black-armored Swords stood in a line at the foot of the dais. A mob of people filled the rest of the basilica, craftsmen, peddlers, artisans, freeborn laborers, and slaves.

  All of them held children between six and twelve years old. Some of the children cried, others slept, and and quite a few looked terrified, as did their parents. From time to time the parents looked at Rachaelis. They could not meet her gaze, but she saw the flashes of fear in their expressions.

  And hatred.

  “They don’t like us very much, do they?” she murmured to Marvane.

  “No,” said Marvane. “Hate our guts. If they weren’t afraid of you, they’d kill us and run for it. People get jittery when you threaten to take their children away.”

  “Hard, but necessary,” said Rachaelis. “At least that’s what Magister Arthain says.”

  Marvane’s armored shoulders twitched in a tiny shrug. “Too deep for me. My job’s to bash anyone who shows you disrespect, and I will.”

  “That’s good to know,” said Rachaelis. And it did make her feel better, looking at all those angry faces. She wished they could get this over with already.

  But they couldn't start without Thalia, and Thalia wasn't here yet.

  At last boot heels clicked against the stone floor, and Thalia appeared in the magistrate's door behind the ostentatious stone chair. Rachaelis sighed in relief.

  “Good morning,” Thalia said, smiling.

  Rachaelis lifted an eyebrow. “You look…happy.”

  “And why shouldn’t I be?” said Thalia. “Corthain came back to Araspan.”

  Marvane blinked in surprise.

  “Corthain?” said Rachaelis, trying to remember the name. “You mean…that was your brother, wasn’t it? The one who was exiled.”

  “The same,” said Thalia. “But I’ll tell you about it later. We have work to do first.”

  Thalia stepped past Marvane and lifted her hand, and the crowd fell silent. “Good people, hear me! I am Thalia of House Kalarien, an Adept of the Conclave, and this is Rachaelis of House Morulan, also an Adept of the Conclave. You have been summoned here today so that your children might be tested for the gift of magical talent.” An uneasy murmur went through the crowd, but Thalia rolled right over it. “You might fear this, but I assure you that the test is harmless, even if it is a bit uncomfortable. Furthermore, it is for the good of your own children, since untrained magical talent is dangerous. Please form orderly lines, I said orderly, against either wall and we shall test you one by one.” She flashed a smile at the crowd. “The Conclave honors tradition, and as is traditional, you shall receive a silver coin for each child you bring to test. Now, cooperate, and we’ll have you home in time for supper.”

  There was some grumbling, but not very much, and the crowds sorted themselves into neat lines. Rachaelis watched with amazement. One moment the crowd had been on the edge of a riot. Now the atmosphere almost resembled a festival day, or a raucous carnival.

  Thalia crossed to the right side of the basilica, and Rachaelis to the left. The first family in the line awaited her. A man who had the look of a craftsman, his wife, and a girl of seven who stood between them. The child looked terrified.

  “Go to the Adept, honey,” said the woman.

  Rachaelis took a deep breath. “This will only take a moment.”

  The girl took a hesitant step forward.

  Rachaelis stooped, put her hands on either side of the child’s head, and summoned the power. The spell transformed her thoughts into fingers, and she reached into the child’s mind. The girl’s emotions flooded into Rachaelis, a mixture of fear and confused incomprehension. But there was no spark of power, no flare of magic.

  The girl had no magical talent.

  Rachaelis straightened up. The girl shivered, her eyes wide, her mother's face taut with strain.

  “No,” said Rachaelis. “She does not have the talent.”

  The mother wilted in sudden relief. Marvane gave them a silver coin, and bade them to go on their way. They shuffled off, the mother holding the girl tight, and another family took their place.

  And another.

  And still another.

  Some of the children stood impassive. Others wept and struggled, held in place by their parents. Marvane himself had to hold one shrieking boy in place as Rachaelis probed his mind. Again and again Rachaelis saw into the minds of the children. Some were terrified. Some were indifferent. Some secretly hoped to become Adepts and use the power to slay their parents. Another enjoyed torturing her little brother when her parents were away. Rachaelis probed child afte
r child, until her head ached with the effort.

  But she found no children with talent. Much to her relief.

  Thalia found two. She handled it with her typical aplomb. Most Adepts would have taken the child at once and astraljumped to the Ring. Thalia pulled the parents aside and spoke to them at some length, offering to find work for them in the Ring, no doubt through the College Liberia. As she talked, more of the testing load shifted to Rachaelis, but she didn’t mind, if Thalia was willing to deal with the parents.

  But in the end, two of Marvane’s Swords took the children to the Ring, the worried parents trailing after. Rachaelis watched them go, a lump in her throat. The children would no doubt become Initiates. Would they survive the Testing? Would Magister Arthain kill them, or perhaps the demon-possessed dogs? Or would the final trial's greater demon seize control of their minds and bodies?

  Rachaelis didn’t know.

  The screenings filled the morning and dragged into the afternoon. But at last the final family departed, the mother clutching her young son with relief, and the basilica was empty. Rachaelis sighed in relief, crossed to the dais, and sat upon the steps. Her head throbbed damnably.

  “You seem tired,” said Thalia with a chuckle. “It gets easier, the more you do it.”

  “I find it hard to believe the College Novitia does nothing but this,” said Rachaelis.

  Thalia shrugged. “They get more practice. They spend all their time looking for talented children in the nations where the Conclave has treaties. They even have this library of genealogies, some of them reaching back to the Old Empire, so they know which families are most likely to have children with magical talent.”

  “The very thought makes my head ache,” said Rachaelis. “Thank you for handling the families, by the way.”

  “Luck of the draw,” said Thalia. “I found two, and you found none.” She snorted. “Some of our fellow Adepts are idiots, my dear.”

  Rachaelis laughed. “Really.”

  “I’m quite serious,” said Thalia. “Once they find a talented child, they simply take the child without a word to the family. Can you expect the mother and father to react with anything but hostility? Little wonder so many people hold the Conclave in ill-will. All that is necessary is to explain that their child is in danger, but has a chance of a better life in the Conclave.”

  “And also a chance of dying during the Testing,” said Rachaelis.

  “True,” said Thalia. “But a far greater chance of hurting themselves or pulling a demon into the world if they remain untrained.” She sighed. “I don’t agree with my father about very much, but he’s right about this. This is a hard task, but a necessary one. Fortunately, it’s also a task that’s done for today. Let’s head back to the Ring and get some dinner.”

  Rachaelis nodded, got to her feet, and the basilica doors boomed open.

  Six men strode into the basilica, the rough leather of their sandals scraping against the marble floor. They wore ragged furs and leather, and sheathed daggers rested at their belts. They had red hair, bright blue eyes, and faces covered in ritual scars.

  Jurgurs.

  Rachaelis felt her heart speed up.

  Marvane stepped forward, hand on sword hilt. “What is your business here?”

  The lead Jurgur wore a hooded cloak, and drew back to the cowl to reveal a woman’s face, thin and harsh, with a wild shock of greasy gray hair. Elaborate scars marked her brow and jaw, ringed her eyes in a strange mask.

  “We heard screenings were taking place here,” she said, bloodshot eyes fixing on Rachaelis. Her thin lips twitched into a grin. “We wished to be tested for magical talent.”

  “Certainly,” said Thalia, stepping to Rachaelis’s side. “The Conclave accepts Initiates of any age, provided they have the talent. Unfortunately, we are finished for the day. Come back tomorrow, and we shall test you then.”

  The woman’s eyes flicked to Thalia, but soon returned to Rachaelis. “Perhaps that is not good enough.” She reached into her cloak and produced a small metal vial. “Perhaps we wish to be tested now.”

  “You heard the Adept,” growled Marvane, sliding his blade an inch from its scabbard. “Be on your way.”

  The woman opened the vial, spilling black powder onto her palm. She rubbed the powder against her fingers and thumb. All the time she stared at Rachaelis, that eerie smile on her lips.

  “Leave,” said Marvane. “Now, old woman. Or else we’ll throw you out.”

  The woman grinned, and began to chant in a low voice. Rachaelis felt a sudden surge of power, the hair on the back of her neck standing up. Blood. The black powder was dried blood.

  And in horrified rush, Rachaelis realized what was happening.

  “Stop her!” Rachaelis shouted. “She’s casting a blood spell, stop her now…”

  The woman, no mere old woman but a Jurgur blood shaman, let out a wild laugh and lifted her hand. Blood-colored flames blazed around her fingers, and formed the symbol of a twisted rune upon her palm. The light spilled from her fingers, panting the basilica in bloody colors. When the light touched Rachaelis, pain exploded through her in a hot wave, and she fell to one knee with a strangled shriek. Besides her Thalia screamed and collapsed, and around them the Swords toppled with the clatter of armor and groans of pain.

  All but one. Marvane staggered towards the shaman, his face a rictus of agony, sword trembling in his hand. The Jurgur woman turned towards him with a sneer, and spilled more dried blood into her free hand. The powder sizzled and boiled in her hand, and she pointed at Marvane with one finger.

  A halo of hellish light ringed Marvane, and blood erupted from his mouth, his nose, his eyes, his ears, bursting in a crimson spray. Marvane staggered, sword dropping from his hand, and fell face-first in a pool of his own blood.

  The shaman laughed again. “Take the younger Adept alive, and unharmed. Kill all the others!”

  The Jurgur men produced their daggers. One stooped and slashed the throat of the nearest Sword, blood splashing across the floor. The Swords groaned, and tried to stand, but the burning light of the shaman’s blood rune kept them prone. Rachaelis shuddered, tried to focus, tried to concentrate through the pain…

  And found that she could.

  The pain was hideous. But not incapacitating. She could still move, somewhat, could still think. But how, if the blood spell had incapacitated the others? Something burned against her shoulder. Her mother’s brooch. Magister Arthain said it protected the mind from magical intrusion.

  Evidently it helped defend from blood spells, as well.

  Two of the Jurgurs strode towards Thalia. One seized her hair and wrenched her head back, while the other lifted a dagger.

  No.

  Rachaelis cast a spell, her thoughts reshaping themselves. Before her thoughts had become searching fingers.

  This time they became a clenched fist.

  She struck with her will as the Jurgur with the dagger stooped over Thalia. Invisible force smashed into him and sent him sprawling. The other Jurgur looked at her in sudden alarm, and Rachaelis lashed out, his head snapping back.

  The blood shaman turned towards her in surprise. She spilled some more dried blood into her palm and pointed. Rachaelis began a spell of her own, forcing her tired mind to summon power. A ward of silver light sprang into existence around her, and a moment later the same fiery light that had struck down Marvane hammered against it. The ward sparked and snapped, but held.

  The pain vanished from Rachaelis’s mind, and she stood up straighter. Her ward must have turned aside the pain spell.

  “Take her!” shrieked the blood shaman, stepping back. “Take her now!”

  The Jurgur men rushed towards Rachaelis. But her mind was clear now, and she was ready. She lashed out, shoving her spell-enhanced thoughts in all directions, and the men went sprawling, knocked once more to the floor. They would only remain down for a few moments, but that was enough.

  Rachaelis lifted her fist and loosed silver astralfire. It
crashed into the blood shaman, and the burning rune upon her palm flickered and went out like a candle in the rain. The hellish light vanished, and Thalia and the Swords twitched in unison. The shaman flinched as her spell collapsed.

  “Take her now!” said the shaman. “Before she kills us all!”

  But she was too late. The Swords surged back to their feet, howling in rage, and fell upon the startled Jurgurs. In a matter of seconds two more Swords lay dead upon the bloodstained floor, but all five Jurgur men lay dead. The blood shaman stooped, raked her fingers through the pool of Marvane’s blood, and began chanting again. The blood burned around her fingers, and Rachaelis cast another ward.

  She needn’t have bothered. Azure astralfire lashed from Thalia’s fingers, drilled into the blood shaman’s chest, and hurled her to the floor.

  ###

  In the aftermath, Thalia took command. She ordered Marvane’s shocked second to summon for additional men, and to send the corpses of the slain to the Ring’s crematorium at once. Rachaelis nodded in numb agreement. To see Marvane killed so horribly had been bad enough.

  To see his corpse rise again as a demon-possessed ghoul would have been far worse.

  Magister Arthain, Magister Jonas, and several other Adepts astraljumped to the basilica, and spoke at length with Thalia. Rachaelis only listened with half an ear, watching as the Swords carried the corpses outside. Marvane had been part of the Ring, part of her life, for almost as long as she could remember. And the blood shaman had ripped his life away in the space of a heartbeat.

  He had only gotten in the way. The blood shaman had wanted Rachaelis.

  Those Swords had died because of Rachaelis.

  But…why? She could fathom no reason why. It made no sense.