The Third Soul Omnibus One

by Jonathan Moeller

  Rachaelis thought it over. They called Corthain the Hammer of Dark River. He had defeated the Jurgur horde. And you couldn’t defeat an enemy unless you knew him well.

  Which meant that Corthain was her best chance of figuring this out.

  “All right,” said Rachaelis.

  Corthain nodded. “Good. The others are waiting for us in the First Magister's study. But I wanted to speak to you first.”

  “Why?”

  “The first attack, it took place here,” said Corthain. Rachaelis nodded. “Tell me what happened.”

  “I was alone, visiting my father,” said Rachaelis. “A Jurgur slave came in. Mabignon, his name was. He grabbed me, and I was so surprised that I didn’t know what to do. He had a rag soaked in a sleeping draught, and tried to put it over my face. I wound up killing him with astralfire.”

  “His face,” said Corthain. “Was it scarred?”

  Rachaelis nodded. “Two inverted triangles, on both of his cheeks.”

  “Thrall caste,” said Corthain. “He was probably captured and sold into slavery after Dark River. What about his jaw? Were their any scars or cuts on his jaw?”

  “There…were,” said Rachaelis, surprised. “Two fresh cuts. He must have done them himself before he attacked me.”

  “Ritual scars,” said Corthain. “Jurgurs sometimes scar themselves that way, when they take an oath to accomplish a task or die in the effort. This Mabignon swore to capture you or die trying.”

  “Swear to whom?” said Rachaelis.

  “I don’t know,” said Corthain. “Usually, that kind of oath is given to the chieftain of a tribe, a blood shaman, or demon.”

  “A demon?” said Rachaelis.

  “The Jurgurs do not worship the Divine, or the avatars of the Khauldish, or the old gods from before the Seeress founded the Temple,” said Corthain. “They worship demons. Each tribe has its own chosen demon, and each clan and family. They give the demons sacrifices and blood, and help pull them into the mortal world. And in exchange, the demons give them power.”

  Rachaelis nodded. This was more than anyone else in the Conclave had known about the Jurgurs.

  “The second attack,” said Corthain. “The one at the basilica. What happened?”

  “Thalia and I were doing screenings,” said Rachaelis. “After were done, some Jurgurs forced their way into the basilica, demanded to be tested. Some men, and one woman.”

  “The blood shaman,” said Corthain. “The scars on her face. What did they look like?”

  “Like…rings, on her eyebrows and below her eyes,” said Rachaelis. “They kind of looked like a mask. And more scars on her jaw.”

  “But no tattoos?” said Corthain. “And her head wasn’t shaved?”

  “No,” said Rachaelis. “And no. What does that have to with anything?”

  “You and Thalia were lucky,” said Corthain. “She was only an apprentice.”

  “An apprentice?” said Rachaelis, incredulous. “She almost killed us and a score of Swords!”

  “She hadn’t yet gone on her spirit quest,” said Corthain. “When a Jurgur shaman goes on her spirit quest, he or she gains the command of one or more demons. They shave their heads after that, and tattoo themselves heavily, in addition to the scars. If she had been a full shaman, you would have had demons to contend with, probably ghouls, in addition to the blood spells.”

  “You’ve killed blood shamans?” said Rachaelis.

  Corthain nodded.

  “How?”

  “An Adept can face a blood shaman in a straight fight,” said Corthain. “A normal man cannot. So you either shoot them from a distance before they can cast a spell, or stab them in the back before they can cast a spell. Anything else is folly. But that is besides the point, for now. How did you survive the shaman’s attack?”

  “This,” said Rachaelis, tapping the brooch on her shoulder. “My mother made it. It protects the mind from magical attack. The blood spell still inflicted pain, but I managed to fight through it and cast a spell of my own.”

  Corthain seemed surprised, and looked at her with his head titled for a moment, as if reevaluating her. “And the third attack?”

  “This morning,” said Rachaelis. “My bedchamber. A demon-possessed Jurgur woman. She scaled the wall and tried to drug me. I managed to hit her with enough white astralfire to destroy the demon, but it was a close thing.”

  “Scars on her cheeks?” said Corthain.

  Rachaelis nodded. “Inverted triangles. So…thrall caste, like you said. What does that even mean?”

  “The Jurgurs organize themselves into tribes and clans,” said Corthain. “And within those tribes they have castes. Men and women are born thralls, or warriors, or craftsmen. Did she have any other scars? On her forehead, perhaps?”

  “She…did,” said Rachaelis, remembering the woman’s maddened face and burning eyes. “It looked…it looked like a third eye, cut into her forehead.”

  “Urthaag,” said Corthain.

  “A…what?” said Rachaelis. “What is that?”

  “A Jurgur who voluntarily takes a demon into his or her body,” said Corthain. “A Jurgur of any caste can undergo the ritual; some do it to escape a thrall's life. If the Jurgur survives the ritual, he gains superhuman speed and strength. And usually goes absolutely mad in the process.”

  “She…voluntarily allowed a demon into her?” said Rachaelis. “That’s terrible.”

  “It is,” said Corthain. “Ghouls are bad enough, and involuntary possession is worse. But Urthaags are the most dangerous of all, since they actively cooperate with their demon. Hard to kill, and if you do kill one, you have to cut off the head or cut out the heart right away, otherwise the demon raise the corpse as a ghoul. That white astralfire of yours is a far cleaner way to deal with them.”

  Rachaelis shivered. “It would seem so.”

  “You certainly have some powerful enemies,” said Corthain. “Any idea how you acquired them?”

  “No!” said Rachaelis. “I don’t. It…I had never even seen a Jurgur until a few years ago. There aren’t that many Jurgur slaves in the Ring, and I’ve only spoken to a few of them briefly.”

  “But you’ve almost been captured three times,” said Corthain.

  Rachaelis nodded.

  Corthain stared at her. Her stared at her for so long that Rachaelis started to feel uneasy.

  “How old are you?” he said at last.

  “Twenty-one,” said Rachaelis.

  “Twenty-one,” said Corthain, “and yet you were strong enough to fight off an apprentice blood shaman and an Urthaag. That’s…unusual strength for an Adept so young.”

  Rachaelis shrugged. “It wasn’t pleasant. But it wasn’t anything worse than the Testing.”

  “I think,” said Corthain, “that the Jurgurs do not want you for anything you have done. They want you because of who you are, of who you might become.”

  “What does that mean?” said Rachaelis.

  “We should tell the others,” said Corthain. “Will you come with me?”

  Rachaelis hesitated, then nodded and followed him out the door.

  ###

  The First Magister’s study was already crowded when Rachaelis entered, Corthain following her.

  Four Swords stood guard at the doors. Nazim and Thalia stood behind the desk. A small, lean man in expensive clothes examined Talvin’s collection of fossils and gemstones with an acquisitive gleam in his eye. No doubt he was one of Corthain's retainers or servants.

  First Magister Talvin himself stood in the center of the room, ceremonial staff in hand. He turned as Rachaelis approached, eyes flicking to Corthain.

  “Corthain Kalarien,” said Talvin. “As I recall, you were banished for cowardice in the line of duty.”

  “For ten years,” said Corthain. “That was twelve years ago. And I am here at the invitation of Thalia Kalarien.”

  Talvin shook his head. “Your father will be furious that you have set foot within the Ring.” />
  Corthain shrugged. “It matters little to me either way.” He glanced at Rachaelis. “I was going to leave this morning, but Thalia asked me to stay. But if you wish me to depart, then I will leave on the next ship to Callia City.”

  “Corthain is our best chance to uncover the reason for these attacks, First Magister,” said Thalia, striding around the desk. “Who knows the Jurgurs better than the Hammer of Dark River?”

  “Who indeed?” said Talvin. “Well? Have you any ideas?”

  “I do,” said Corthain. “I think I know why they wish to capture Lady Rachaelis. How much do you know of the Jurgurs, First Magister?”

  “Very little, I confess,” said Talvin. “The Conclave’s records go back to the fall of the Old Empire, yet they contain no mention of the Jurgurs. Until the horde invaded, we had never even heard of their nation.”

  “The Jurgurs worship demons,” said Corthain. “Each tribe and clan has its own specific demon. They offer sacrifices of blood and life, and in exchange the demons bestow power. And sometimes the demons give tasks to their worshippers. The invasion of the West…that was a task laid upon the blood shamans by a high demon. I think that a high demon has commanded its followers to capture Lady Rachaelis.”

  “Why?” said Thalia.

  “Urmaaghsk,” said the lean man, looking up from his examination of the two glowing crystals upon the table. His smile did not touch his eyes.

  “That word is unknown to me,” said Nazim. “What is an…Urmaaghsk?”

  “An Urthaag is what the Jurgurs call someone who voluntarily lets a demon into his or her body,” said Corthain. “You faced an Urthaag this morning. They’re dangerous, but an Urmaaghsk is…much worse. An Urmaaghsk is a sorcerer of the High Art who permits a high demon to enter into his body. They are incredibly dangerous. The high demon’s power augments the sorcerer’s, and almost invariably drives the sorcerer into a murderous madness.”

  “It’s like a prophecy for the Jurgurs,” said the lean man. “When an Urmaaghsk is created, it will lead them to glory and victory over their enemies. Or so their blood shamans claim.”

  “Paulus,” said Talvin, voice thoughtful. “The Jurgurs would have called Paulus an Urmaaghsk, would they not?”

  “Yes,” said Corthain. “And look at the harm he wreaked.”

  “So,” said Nazim. “You think an Urmaaghsk is behind these attacks?”

  “No,” said Corthain. “I think the Jurgurs want to turn Rachaelis into one.”

  “What?” said Rachaelis, shuddering

  “Is that even possible?” said Thalia.

  “I don’t know,” said Corthain. “The high demon probably wants to claim Lady Rachaelis’s powers and body for itself. She’s…unusually strong, I assume?”

  “She is,” said Talvin, voice thoughtful. “The strongest of her generation, certainly, and she has the potential to become one of the most powerful Adepts in the Conclave’s history.”

  “Could it be possible to…force her to take the demon?” said Thalia.

  The lean man shrugged. “With enough torture, you can force anyone to do anything.”

  “Enough, Luthair,” said Corthain.

  The thought sickened Rachaelis. She had resisted demons before…but that had only been for a few moments during the Testing. What if the Jurgurs took her, tortured her until she accepted the demon into her flesh? Could she withstand that?

  Rachaelis didn’t know. And she didn’t want to find out. Ever.

  “It is possible to force someone to take a demon,” said Talvin. “According to the Conclave’s records, such things have happened before. So, Lord Corthain. Your explanation seems sound. What then do you propose for a course of action?”

  “It’s simple,” said Corthain. “The high demon is probably in communion with a full blood shaman in the city’s population of free Jurgurs. We find the shaman and kill him, along with his apprentices.”

  Talvin snorted. “As simple as that?”

  “In essence,” said Corthain. “Better to strike out and overcome your enemy than to wait for him to find and destroy you. Tracking down the blood shaman will take some work. And we’ll need to find a safe place to hide Rachaelis while searching for him. But I think this plan has the best chance of success.”

  “I agree with Corthain,” said Thalia.

  “And if there is blood sorcery is the city,” said Nazim, “then we must root it out.”

  “What of you, Rachaelis?” said Talvin. “It is your life that is on the line. What do you think?”

  “I think…” said Rachaelis. She looked at Corthain, at Thalia, and back at Corthain again. Corthain was the only one who knew anything of the Jurgurs, who had an idea why this had been happening. She didn’t know him.

  But Thalia trusted him, and Rachaelis trusted Thalia.

  “I think that we should listen to Corthain,” said Rachaelis.

  “Very well,” said Talvin.

  “The first thing is to get Rachaelis out the Ring, or any building associated with the Conclave” said Corthain. “Another Urthaag could enter the Ring with ease. Best to be long gone by the time that happens.”

  “Where will you conceal her?” said Talvin.

  “Someplace in the city,” said Corthain. “The fewer people who know, the better.”

  Talvin nodded. “Wise.”

  “Once she is safe, I will begin inquiries,” said Corthain. “I still have a few acquaintances among the city’s merchants. With any luck, I’ll be able to track down this blood shaman…and then you Adepts can put an end to him.”

  “Will you require any aid from the Swords?” said Talvin.

  “No,” said Corthain. “In fact, I would prefer to avoid it. The less attention we draw, the better. I would prefer to only take myself, Luthair, and Rachaelis.”

  “And me,” said Thalia.

  Corthain nodded.

  “And you will need my assistance, as well,” said Nazim. “I promised Aramane that I would look after his daughter, should the need arise, and I am not about to abandon that promise.”

  Rachaelis blinked, surprised. Magister Nazim had always been kind to her, but she had no idea he had made that kind of promise to her father. She felt a sudden rush of affection for the old man.

  “Very well,” said Corthain. “But no more.”

  Talvin shook his head. “Arthain will be furious.”

  “My father is always furious about something,” said Thalia.

  “True enough,” said Talvin. “Then I wish you good luck. Should you require aid, any aid at all, you need only call upon the Conclave.”

  “Once we find the blood shaman,” said Corthain, “we will contact you. Then the Conclave can deal with him.”

  “It will be interesting to see,” said Talvin, “if your father was wrong about you.”

  He vanished in the silver flash of an astraljump.

  Rachaelis looked at Corthain, realizing that she had just put her life into his hands.

  She hoped he knew what he was doing.

  The Third Soul III: The Blood Shaman

  Rachaelis is in terrible danger.

  She has survived the Testing, and the efforts of the assassins to take her alive. Yet a dark priest hunts her, a wicked master of blood sorcery, an enemy who seeks to use her body as a doorway for his demon patron to enter the world of mortal men. Now Rachel must hunt down the blood shaman before he finds her.

  Before he claims her body for his dark master…

  Chapter 1 - Disguises

  Corthain waited in Rachaelis’s sitting room.

  He had put aside the clothes of a Callian domn for a mercenary's garb. Mail shirt, leather jerkin, patched trousers, old boots, and a worn brown cloak. Sword and dagger hung ready in their sheaths at his belt. He had dressed this way every day for years. First as little a caravan guard, then as a mercenary soldier, then as commander of his own company. He had traveled through every nation in the West and most of the South, wandering from one little war to another.r />
  Until the Jurgur horde had invaded. Until Dark River.

  Still, it felt oddly comfortable to be wearing his old armor again.

  Luthair lounged in a chair, cleaning his fingernails with a throwing knife. He had changed to leather and wool, preferring a steel-studded leather jerkin over any mail or armor. He bore a short sword on one hip, and a bandoleer with sheathed throwing knives. A lot of knives.

  “Just like the old days, my lord,” said Luthair.

  “Hopefully we won’t wind up sleeping in any ditches,” said Corthain.

  “I don’t miss the old days very much,” said Luthair. “Though, I still think you should be charging the Conclave for this.”

  “I’m not a mercenary any more,” said Corthain.

  “No, but the Domn of Moiria’s time is quite valuable."

  “She is my sister,” said Corthain. “I could not turn her away.”

  “True,” said Luthair, gesturing with the knife. “But she’s not the one in any danger, is she? That pretty little Adept, though…she’s in danger. Quite a lot of it. And you’re the only one who can save her, apparently. I can see how she would…appeal to you.”

  “Does this have a point?” said Corthain.

  “I always have a point,” said Luthair with a grin. “You like to protect people, my lord. That army you pulled together at Dark River. The people of Moiria. And now this pretty young thing that needs someone to save her.” He chuckled and slid his knife back into its sheath. “I think you might need protecting from her, if you don’t keep your wits about you.”

  “Thank you for that counsel,” said Corthain, voice dry. “Have you any other wisdom to share?”

  “Not yet,” said Luthair, leaning back and putting his boots on the table, “but when I do, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thanks,” said Corthain, and the door to the corridor opened.

  Magister Nazim hobbled into the room, leaning upon his cane. He had changed from the red robes of a Magister to the billowing black robes of a Brother of the Temple. A bronze medallion of a rose hung around his neck.