The Third Soul Omnibus One

by Jonathan Moeller

  “You saved my life, you know.”

  Rachaelis blinked, looked up. Thalia stood next to her. For once she did not look cheerful.

  “If you hadn’t acted…” Thalia took a deep breath. “If you hadn’t acted, the Jurgurs would have killed us all.”

  “Not all of us,” said Rachaelis, voice bitter. “They only wanted me. You were just…obstacles.”

  “How did you fight off the spell?” said Thalia. “The physical pain was bad enough…but the despair was worse. I knew it was magically induced, but I couldn’t fight through it. It was the worst I ever felt in my life. All I could do was lie back and wait for the pain to end, for those Jurgurs to cut my throat.”

  “I didn’t fight anything off,” said Rachaelis, tapping her mother’s brooch. “Remember this? Your father said it would shield my mind from magical attack. Lucky for us, I guess.”

  Thalia snorted. “And lucky for us that you decided to wear it. Still, the physical pain was bad enough. And you fought through it, and you saved our lives. Thank you.”

  “I didn’t fight fast enough,” said Rachaelis. “Not enough to save Marvane and those other Swords.”

  “But if you had given up, if you had done nothing at all, then I would be dead,” said Thalia. “We all would be dead.”

  “No,” said Rachaelis. “Not me. That woman…that blood sorceress, she told those men to take me alive. She didn’t care about the rest of you. She wanted me. Mabignon…Mabignon must have been working for her.” She stared at Thalia. “But why? I can’t make sense of it.”

  “Neither can I,” said Thalia. “But we’ll get to the bottom of this.” She looked at the charred patch on the floor where the blood shaman had died. “First that slave attacked you, and now a Jurgur blood shaman? In Araspan? That shouldn’t be possible. A blood sorcerer should not be able to operate here, of all places.”

  “Apparently, they can,” said Rachaelis.

  “And suppose there is more than one?” said Thalia. “Rachaelis, First Magister Talvin wants to meet with us. Nothing like this has happened in Araspan since Paulus. The First Magister wants to get to the bottom of this.”

  “So do I,” said Rachaelis. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 6 - Possession

  First Magister Talvin collected fossils.

  The First Magister’s study was as large as Rachaelis's new apartment, and had a panoramic view of the Ring and Araspan beyond. Shelves lined the walls, holding books and scrolls, with the fossilized bones of long-dead creatures acting as bookends. Rachaelis saw the skeletons of fish preserved in slabs of sandstone, shells frozen in limestone, and even the skull of some monstrous fanged creature half-buried in gray rock. Display cases held the fossilized fangs of long-dead beasts. A table against one wall held three fist-sized chunks of cloudy gray crystal. Two of them glowed with a pale blue light, while the third remained dark.

  Talvin himself sat at his desk, fingering a piece of petrified wood as Rachaelis told him what had happened. Magister Arthain and Magister Nazim stood behind the First Magister. Nazim looked concerned, while Arthain, as ever, looked grim.

  “And then Thalia hit the Jurgur woman with astralfire,” said Rachaelis, “and it was over.”

  “A pity you left none of them alive,” said Arthain. “It would have been useful to question them.”

  “The blood shaman was too dangerous to be left alive,” said Thalia, “and the Swords were wroth. I doubt I could have restrained them.”

  Arthain grunted.

  “This is tragic news about Sword-Captain Marvane,” said Talvin. “He served the Conclave honorably and with distinction for many years.”

  “He died in the execution of duty,” said Arthain. “No man could ask for a better death.”

  Rachaelis shuddered. She remembered the way the blood had erupted from Marvane’s face.

  No, that had not been a good way to die.

  “You have done well, Rachaelis,” said Talvin. He set the piece of stone aside, rose from his desk, and walked to the windows. “Both of you. Many other Adepts would have been quickly overwhelmed and slain, when confronted by a blood sorcerer of such power.”

  Nazim stirred. “They did not want to kill Rachaelis.”

  “No?” said Talvin.

  “It seems clear that Mabignon’s attack and this blood shaman are connected,” said Nazim. “When Mabignon failed to capture Rachaelis, the blood shaman came to do it herself.”

  “Undoubtedly this treacherous slave served the blood shaman,” said Arthain. “The question is, then, whether or not the blood shaman was the master, or if she in turn served another.”

  Now that was an unpleasant thought. The Jurgur woman had been able to incapacitate two Adepts and nearly twenty Swords. Such a powerful blood sorceress would only serve someone even more powerful.

  Talvin turned to Rachaelis. “Do you have any idea why the Jurgurs would wish to capture you?”

  “None,” said Rachaelis. “Jurgur slaves and refugees have only been in Araspan for a few years. And in that time I think I’ve maybe seen a few dozen Jurgur slaves, maybe spoken to a half-dozen. I…disapprove of slavery, First Magister, and avoid relying upon slaves whenever possible.”

  Arthain’s eyes narrowed, but Nazim nodded in approval.

  Talvin ignored that. “But why you? I can see why the Jurgurs might to attack an Adept. Revenge for Dark River and so forth. But you weren’t even at Dark River. Nor was your father, for that matter. So why you? It makes no sense.”

  “Whatever the reason,” said Nazim, “we shall get to the bottom of it.”

  “Will you?” said Talvin. He shook his head, and for a moment the old man seemed bone-weary. “First Paulus, and now this. An Adept turns to forbidden arts and a blood sorceress appear in Araspan within a single generation. And now we cannot even guarantee the safety of our Adepts in our own city. What has our Conclave come to, that this might happen?”

  “Safety cannot ever be guaranteed,” said Nazim. “That is simply the nature of life, First Magister.”

  “Perhaps,” said Talvin. “But the Conclave should be able to keep blood shamans out of our own city. But we cannot!” He sighed. “The truth is that our Conclave has become corrupt. Decadent, even.”

  Rachaelis blinked. Her own thoughts ran in that direction. But to hear the First Magister himself say them was…unexpected.

  “The Conclave is supposed to guard the world of men from the demons of the astral realm,” said Talvin, “and to stop the use of blood spells. But what occupies our time instead? Some of our Magisters devote all their time to enchanting baubles for trade, filling up their coffers with gold and their rooms with luxuries. Others waste their time with politics, or meddling in the affairs of our neighbors.” His mouth twisted in disgust. “And some do nothing but sit at ease, bed their slaves, stuff themselves, and waste their talents. The Conclave is corrupt. Little wonder that such things have happened.”

  “The Conclave has always held high ideals,” said Arthain. “High ideals, and noble ones. It is deplorable that some Adepts fail to uphold these ideals, but hardly surprising.”

  “It should be better,” said Talvin. “It was better, once. In the days of the Old Empire, the world was united and at peace. And the mages of the Old Empire upheld the common good. In those days a virgin girl could travel from one end of the continent to another in twenty days, on roads spell-wrought by the mages, and no harm would befall her. It was the mages who ensured peace and prosperity, and the those mages took their powers and responsibilities seriously.”

  “I fear that picture is too rosy,” said Nazim. “Those same mages turned to blood spells and necromancy, and shredded the barrier between our world and the astral realm. Those mages made it possible for demons to possess the corpses of the dead. The Old Empire had no crematoriums, after all. As hidebound and corrupt as the Conclave is, I sometimes think this is for the best. An Adept devoted to personal profit or pleasure is not an Adept who will unleash horrors upon the worl
d in the name of the greater good.”

  “Perhaps,” said Talvin. “We have had this discussion many times before, after all. But the Conclave could do so much more than simply policing the use of magic. We could be a strong force for stability and order in the world.”

  “I certainly agree with that,” said Nazim. “And the Conclave should begin by ending its shameful reliance upon slavery.”

  “Enough,” said Arthain, irritated. “These philosophical discussions have a time and a place, but this is not it. Two Adepts were nearly murdered today. What do we intend to do about this?”

  “It seems clear,” said Thalia, “that their target was Rachaelis, not me. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Furthermore, both attacks were carried out by Jurgurs. The first by a Jurgur slave, and the second by free Jurgurs. So it seems clear that we can draw two conclusions from this.”

  Arthain lifted his eyebrows. “Oh? And those are?”

  Thalia gave her father a cool smile. “One, that the Jurgurs want to take Rachaelis alive for some religious or cultural reason. Only Jurgurs have attacked her. And, two, that it isn’t a slave rebellion. I agree with Magister Nazim that slavery is a blight upon the Conclave. But if the slaves wished to take revenge, they would attack indiscriminately. They certainly would not attack one new-made Adept.” She smiled at Rachaelis. “Even one of unusual power and mettle.”

  “But why?” said Rachaelis. “I can see no reason why the Jurgurs would want me, specifically.” Not that she knew very much about Jurgurs. But she couldn't imagine why they wanted to kidnap her.

  “Perhaps something your father did?” said Arthain. “Or mayhap your mother? Aramane Morulan was a worthy Adept, but most…outspoken in his radical opinions. He made quite a few enemies.”

  “I doubt he made enemies among the Jurgurs,” said Talvin, walking to the table with the glowing crystals. “Magister Aramane has been incapacitated for twelve years. Twelve years ago no one in the West had ever heard of the Jurgurs, and the Jurgur horde had not yet even crossed the mountains from the East. And no Jurgur ever set foot in Araspan until after the Battle of Dark River. Caecilia Morulan has been dead for seventeen years. I cannot see how any of them might have made enemies among the Jurgurs.”

  “Then,” said Nazim, “we must first find out why the Jurgurs want Rachaelis. We would be fools to assume that this plot was limited to one blood shaman and a few freemen.”

  “Agreed,” said Arthain. “I shall speak to Salorin. There are a number of Jurgur slaves within the Ring. I will have them gathered and put to the question. If they know anything, they will tell me.”

  “You…aren’t going to torture them, are you?” said Rachaelis.

  “Torture?” said Arthain. He seemed surprised. “Of course not. As Adepts, we have far more useful methods of obtaining the truth than crude instruments of torture.” He turned to Talvin. “I have your permission to enter their minds, First Magister?”

  According to Conclave law, an Adept could only violate the bounds of another’s mind with permission from the First Magister, or the Council of Magisters, or during specific circumstances, such as the screenings or the Testing. In practice, Rachaelis noticed, the Adepts did not bother about that restriction. But Arthain was ever a stickler for tradition.

  “Very well,” said Talvin. “Question the slaves. Use whatever methods you think best.”

  “I shall begin at once,” said Arthain. He bowed and vanished in the silver flash of an astraljump.

  “Rachaelis,” said Talvin. “It would be best if you were to stay at the Ring for now. We may have some Jurgur slaves here, but it is unlikely that any of them are blood sorcerers. And were you to come under attack here, aid will be readily at hand. I shall assign an escort of Swords to you at all times.”

  “I…would prefer not,” said Rachaelis. “Marvane and those Swords were killed because of me, and I almost got Thalia killed. I don’t want anyone else to die on my account.”

  “You have shown yourself quite capable of defending yourself,” said Talvin. “But it is the Swords’ sworn duty to defend the Adepts.”

  “I, also, shall be watching over you,” said Nazim, “whether you like it or not.”

  “And I as well,” said Thalia. “I take it rather poorly when someone attempts to kill me and kidnap my friend.”

  “Ah,” said Talvin. He stared at the two glowing crystals for a moment, and then picked up the dark one. “Well, Adept, it seems that you shall be guarded whether you wish it or not.”

  ###

  Night had fallen by the time Rachaelis returned to her rooms.

  “I spoke with Father,” said Thalia. “According to Salorin, the Ring only has thirty-seven Jurgur slaves. Apparently they're too truculent to make good workers.”

  “Did he question them?” said Rachaelis. Two black-armored Swords stood guard at either side of her door. Rachaelis wondered what they could do if a blood shaman summoned more of that pain-inducing light.

  “Not yet,” said Thalia. “Half of them are working at the Conclave’s various properties in the city. Salorin sent out word. They’ll all be gathered here tomorrow, and Father will question them.”

  “I want to be there for it,” said Rachaelis.

  Thalia blinked. “Are you sure that’s wise? Suppose they try to attack you?”

  Rachaelis shrugged. “I’ll be with you, Magister Arthain, Magister Nazim, and thirty Swords. If I’m not safe with two Magisters of the Conclave, then I’m not safe anywhere, am I? Besides, people are putting their lives at risk on account of me. I’ll not…I can’t sit idly by while they do. Could you?”

  “I suppose not,” said Thalia. She clapped Rachaelis on the shoulder. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  It had been a long and exhausting day, even before the attack, and Rachaelis sank into bed.

  ###

  A scratching noise awoke her.

  Rachaelis awoke, confused. Pale light poured through the window’s open shutters, the sky over the ocean brightening as dawn approached. The strange scratching got louder. Rachaelis frowned. Was a bird clawing at the wall?

  Rachaelis sat up just in time to see a woman haul herself onto the sill.

  The woman was no more than thirty, with greasy red hair and ritually scarred cheeks. A Jurgur. She wore only a dirty shift, revealing arms and legs tight with sinewy muscle.

  Impossible. It was sixty feet straight down from Rachaelis’s window. No one could have climbed that, not without the Swords noticing.

  Or without magical aid.

  “Good morning,” hissed the Jurgur woman.

  Her voice…echoed.

  It was if two voices spoke through the same mouth at once. One sounded like a normal human woman. The other…did not. Like tearing metal, or the shriek of a dying animal.

  Rachaelis lifted her hand and began a spell.

  The Jurgur woman was faster. She leapt from the windowsill, striking the wall. And then she climbed up the wall with superhuman speed, clinging to the stone like a spider. The Jurgur woman scrambled onto the ceiling, and Rachaelis twisted to follow her.

  Then the Jurgur woman let go.

  She fell upon Rachaelis like an avalanche, her knees pinning Rachaelis's shoulder, her hand clamping around Rachaelis's face.

  “Cast a spell,” hissed the woman, her voice still carrying that inhuman echo, “and we’ll rip your jaw off.” She giggled. “We’re to take you alive. But you can live without a jaw.”

  A harsh, hellish glow flared behind the Jurgur woman's blue eyes, as if hot coals burned within her skull. Rachaelis had seen that kind of light before, during the Testing.

  “You’re possessed,” whispered Rachaelis.

  The woman licked her lips. “You say that as if it is a bad thing.” Her fingers felt fever hot against Rachaelis’s face. “This one invited a demon into her flesh. Now together we are stronger than she ever was alone. We are stronger than you shall ever be, mighty Adept of the Conclave. And we shall
be as a goddess when the new order arises!” She leaned closer and sniffed. “Though we can see why the master wants you. We can smell the power within you. Yes.”

  Rachaelis strained, trying to rise, but the possessed woman hardly seemed to notice.

  “Sleep now,” murmured the woman, reaching into her shift. She pulled out a sponge, and Rachaelis recognized the odor. More of the sleeping draft Mabignon had planned to use on her. “Sleep now. Then we’ll listen to you scream.”

  If she got that sponge to Rachaelis’s face it was all over. There was no time for focus, no time to concentrate, no time for a spell. Rachaelis summoned power and lashed out in all directions. White astralfire exploded, sheathed the bed in pale flames. It wasn’t enough to harm the demon, not by a long shot, but the possessed woman screamed in sudden pain.

  And that gave Rachaelis enough time to focus.

  Her thoughts became fists, and she struck out. The spell caught the Jurgur woman in the chest and hurled her off the bed. But even as the woman fell, she regained her balance and landed in a crouch, lips peeled back from her teeth in a wolfish snarl. Rachaelis surged to her feet and loosed white astralfire. The possessed woman twisted with unnatural speed and leapt upon the wall once more, clinging to it like an insect.

  The door to her apartment banged open, and the Swords stormed into the sitting room, blades drawn. Magister Nazim stalked after them, face hard with wrath, and astralfire crackled around his fingers. The possessed woman twisted around to look at them, snarling as she regarded this new threat.

  And that gave Rachaelis all the time she needed to strike.

  White astralfire burst from both of her fists and slammed into the woman’s chest, passing through her to lick against the wall. The woman shrieked in agony, the inhuman buzz in her voice growing louder, and an instant later Nazim’s white astralfire struck.

  The demon burst from the woman's body, a wraith of fiery light and smoke, and the astralfire shredded it. The woman slumped to the ground, twitching, and did not move.