The Third Soul Omnibus One

by Jonathan Moeller

  “What are you doing?” snapped Arthain.

  “Stop her!” said Aramane. “Rachaelis, stop! This…”

  But both Rachaelis and Sigaric vanished in the silver flash of an astraljump spell.

  Chapter 7 – A Sister of the Temple

  The silver flash vanished, and the world reappeared.

  Rachaelis stood on a narrow street near the docks, squat brick warehouses rising on either side. The afternoon sun sank over the mountain to the west, throwing long shadows through the street. Sigaric fell to his knees beside Rachaelis, trembling.

  The white light of her ward flickered.

  Astraljumps sometimes played havoc with wards.

  Sigaric looked up at her, his eyes ablaze with crimson fire.

  “Foolish Adept,” the demon hissed through his lips, “you should not have…”

  Rachaelis hit him in the face with white astralfire.

  Not enough to destroy the demon, not by any measure. It was just enough to stun the demon, and for a moment it lost control over Sigaric.

  She cast another spell, renewing her ward over the boy.

  He shuddered and curled up on the ground.

  “That hurts,” he whispered.

  “I know,” said Rachaelis. “But it will help keep the demon at bay.”

  “What does it matter?” said Sigaric. “I can’t keep fighting that voice. Sooner or later it will make me do what it wants.”

  “Not if I kill it first,” said Rachaelis.

  Sigaric blinked, and for the first time he seemed to see her. "You...you can really kill it?"

  Rachaelis nodded with a confidence she did not feel.

  "Mother said that the Adepts are weak," said Sigaric, "that the demons would break them."

  "Your mother is dead," said Rachaelis. "Little good her precious demons did her when she faced the Adepts."

  She regretted the words at once. His mother was dead, slain by the Adepts, and if she was going to save Sigaric she needed him to trust him. But he showed no sign of grief, only surprise.

  "I didn't think anyone could defeat Mother," said Sigaric. "She hated me. I was happier cleaning pots in Magister Arthain's kitchens."

  Rachaelis said nothing. Even if she defeated the demon, Sigaric’s life would never be the same. With his magical ability, the Conclave would take him as an Initiate, and if he survived the Testing, he would become an Adept. Would he thank her for it? Or curse her name?

  "Did you really kill Father?" said Sigaric. "All the Jurgurs thought he was the chosen one of the gods. They said no one could kill him."

  "I defeated him," said Rachaelis. "I didn't kill him. First Magister Talvin did, and he was possessed by a high demon. The same high demon that Maerwulf worshipped. He did the high demon’s bidding...and then it cast him aside when he was no longer useful. Just like the demon in your head will do to you, if you listen to it."

  "I know," whispered Sigaric. For a moment the red haze in his eyes grew brighter, and Rachaelis's ward shuddered. "I can hear it talking to me. It says it will give me power and riches...but it hates me. I know it hates me."

  "I can get rid of it," said Rachaelis, taking a deep breath, "if you'll let me."

  "How?" said Sigaric.

  "Come with me," said Rachaelis.

  The boy got to his feet, his chain rattling against the cobblestones.

  Rachaelis crossed the street, opened a warehouse’s door, and stepped into a Temple.

  Benches faced a dais on the far wall, and banners hung from the rough brick walls, woven with an image of a silver rose. A statue of the Seeress stood on the dais, standing over a table covered with flickering candles. Hundreds of people crammed the benches, some of the orange of slaves, other in the rough clothes of freeborn laborers. All looked terrified, and a few wept with fear or grief.

  The Urvuulfs, Rachaelis realized. The people caught on the streets must have come here, hoping the Temple would provide them with protection against the rampaging demons.

  A lean old woman in a black robe strode towards Rachaelis. "Come in, quickly. Both you and the boy are welcome here, but..."

  She paused. "Rachaelis?"

  "Sister Maria," said Rachaelis.

  "What is happening?" said Maria. "People have come in from across the city, fleeing from misshapen beasts."

  "Urvuulfs," said Rachaelis. "Jurgurs possessed by bestial demons. But they've been defeated. The streets should be safe now."

  "Thank the Divine," breathed Maria. Her eyes turned to Sigaric. "And you, young man. If you fear punishment for fleeing from your master, do not let it trouble you. Fleeing from the demons is no shame, and..."

  Then she got a good look at Sigaric's eyes.

  The Sister stepped back in alarm, her black robe falling open. Beneath it she wore leather armor banded with strips of a peculiar silvery metal. A heavy mace waited in a loop at her belt. Both weapon and armor were forged from aurelium, an alloy resistant to magic. Maria had once been an Inquisitor, an agent of the Temple sent to hunt down blood sorcerers and demons.

  "He's under control," said Rachaelis. “I need your help."

  Maria gave a sharp nod and let her robe fall closed. "We can speak privately in the back room." She looked at Sigaric. "And for the love of the Divine, keep your eyes closed. If anyone sees you we shall have a riot."

  Sigaric nodded and closed his eyes, and Rachaelis took his hand. The candles put off enough light, Rachaelis hoped, to mask pale glow of her restraining ward.

  Maria led them past the crowded benches to a small door next to the dais. Inside was a long room that served as the quarters for the Brothers and Sisters of Araspan's Temple. The room held only a dozen cots, a dozen chests, and no other furniture.

  "Rachaelis," said Maria. "Tell me what is happening."

  "This is Sigaric," said Rachaelis. "Maerwulf's son. His mother Thurvalda summoned a greater demon and bound it in Sigaric's body. It summoned up the lesser demons that became the Urvuulfs."

  Maria nodded. "I assume the Adepts defeated Thurvalda and banished her demons?"

  "Yes," said Rachaelis.

  "Then," said Maria, "why is Sigaric not dead? The Adepts usually summon white astralfire when confronting possessed men and women. Such fire destroys the demon...but also shatters the mind of the one it possesses."

  Rachaelis took a deep breath. "I...took Sigaric and astraljumped here."

  "Why?" said Maria. "That makes you a fugitive from your own Conclave, that..." Her eyes widened. "You think to thoughtmeld with him and challenge the demon directly."

  "I will," said Rachaelis.

  "That is very dangerous," said Maria. The old woman had been an Inquisitor for decades, and knew as much about demons as any member of the Conclave. "If you thoughtmeld with Sigaric, you leave your mind open to the demon. It will try to possess you."

  "I know," said Rachaelis. "But I have to do this, Sister. Sigaric does not deserve this. Magister Jonas wanted to kill him and destroy the demon. First Magister Arthain was going to use white astralfire on him, leave his mind a ruin. My father...even my father agreed with him."

  "It is not hard to see why," said Maria. "If you fail, the demon will take your body and become far more dangerous."

  "But it is not worth killing Sigaric to avert that risk!" said Rachaelis. "I am tired of death, Sister. I have been an Adept for only a few months, and yet I have seen so many people die needlessly. I can save Sigaric. I will save Sigaric."

  For a moment Maria said nothing. Sigaric gazed up at Rachaelis, blinking in wonder.

  "You have a valiant and merciful heart, Rachaelis Morulan, Adept of the Conclave," said Maria. "Too few Adepts can say the same." She snorted. "Too few Brothers and Sisters of the Temple, for that matter. But you have my aid. How can I assist you?"

  "Thank you," said Rachaelis, relieved. "I need a quiet space where I can perform the thoughtmeld. Someplace where I will not be disturbed."

  "This room will suffice," said Maria. "I will tell the faithful that
the danger has passed and they may return to their homes. No one shall disturb you."

  “And…there is one other thing,” said Rachaelis. “It is difficult to ask, but…”

  “If you fail,” said Maria, voice quiet. “If the demon takes control of your body.”

  Rachaelis managed to nod.

  “If that happens,” said Maria, her hand to her heavy aurelium mace, “then I will act as I must.”

  “Thank you,” said Rachaelis.

  “Make your preparations,” said Maria, and she slipped back into the sanctuary, leaving Rachaelis alone with Sigaric.

  “Sit here,” said Rachaelis, indicating one of the beds. Sigaric sat, the links of his broken chain rasping against the floor. Rachaelis sat on the bed next to his, slowing her breathing, preparing herself to cast the spell.

  “What are you going to do to me?” said Sigaric.

  “It’s called a thoughtmeld,” said Rachaelis. “I use magic to reach into your mind and join your thoughts to mine.”

  “If you do that,” said Sigaric, “you’ll be able to hear the voice.”

  “Yes,” said Rachaelis.

  “And you’ll be able to fight it?” said Sigaric. For the first time, she saw a hint of hope in his weary face. “You can stop it?”

  “I will,” said Rachaelis.

  She hoped.

  “That…that would be wonderful,” said Sigaric. “I haven’t…”

  He flinched, his eyes widening as the crimson light burned brighter. Rachaelis poured more power into her ward, the white light brightening. Sigaric growled in fury, his voice carrying the eerie double echo of possession.

  “Foolish Adept!” he spat. “You think to challenge me? I, who lived millennia before your race crawled out of the slime? I will break you, little Adept, if you think to challenge me.” A hideous smile spread across Sigaric’s face. “Or perhaps I will take you for my own. Clothed in your flesh, wielding your power…I will make your race suffer as it has never…”

  “Stop talking,” said Rachaelis. “If you could overpower me, you would have done it already.”

  “This child has great raw potential,” said the demon, “and he cannot resist me forever. Already his will crumbles. When I add his strength to mine, you will not have the power to resist me.”

  “Then I will destroy you,” said Rachaelis, “before that happens.”

  The demon laughed. “Mortal minds are infinitely corruptible. You cannot stand against…”

  Sigaric flinched and bowed his head, trembling. When he looked up the crimson glow had faded, though terror filled his blue eyes.

  “I can’t,” he whispered, “I can’t keep fighting.”

  “You won’t have to fight,” said Rachaelis, “for much longer.”

  Her struggle with the demon would not take very long. Either she would overwhelm the demon and destroy it, or it would possess her. For a moment, Rachaelis hesitated. If the demon took her body and magical strength, it could wreak immeasurable harm. Perhaps Arthain’s plan would be better…

  No. She would not abandon Sigaric, not if she could still save him. The Conclave claimed to defend mankind from the demons, yet so many Adepts and Magisters were cruel and selfish, more interested in their own power and privileges.

  If she did not try to save Sigaric, she was no better than any of them.

  The door opened, and Sister Maria returned, her mace in hand.

  “The Temple is clear,” said Maria. “You may begin.”

  “Thank you,” said Rachaelis. “For everything.”

  “May the blessing of the Divine go with you,” said Maria.

  Rachaelis faced Sigaric. “Are you ready?”

  “I just want it to be over,” said Sigaric. “Whatever happens. I just want it to be over.”

  “It will be soon,” said Rachaelis, and she cast a thoughtmeld.

  Her thoughts became seeking fingers, and Rachaelis reached out. Her will sank into Sigaric’s mind, and she felt the boy’s exhaustion, his constant terror.

  Then her mind brushed the demon.

  Sigaric’s eyes widened, blazing with red light, and the world dissolved in crimson flame.

  Chapter 8 – The Secret College

  Corthain slipped out of Thurvalda’s room, leaving the arguing Magisters behind.

  They did not notice his departure.

  Just as well. He had a fairly good idea where Rachaelis had gone, and he doubted she would welcome interference from the Magisters.

  But she might need help nonetheless.

  He walked to the siege ladders and climbed down to the slave market. Slaves in orange tunics hurried back and forth, sweating as they dragged slain Jurgurs to waiting wagons. Those Jurgurs who still lived but had lost their minds to the white astralfire lay in rows below the ruined wall. Some of them might wake up, and would face punishment for their crimes.

  Most would never wake up again.

  “My lord,” said a Sword-Captain, bowing before Corthain. “What are your commands? The Magisters seem…occupied.”

  Even from this distance, Corthain still heard his father and Aramane shouting at each other.

  “Secure the market,” said Corthain. “Make sure the slaves find every last corpse. Otherwise we’ll have ghouls attacking the people after another sunrise and sunset. Keep an eye on the Jurgurs who are still alive. If any of them wake up, they might try to fight.”

  “My lord,” said the Sword-Captain.

  “I have a task,” said Corthain. “You’re in command until I return, or until one of the Magisters tells you otherwise.” To judge from the shouting in the warehouse, that would not be for some time.

  The Sword-Captain bowed, and Corthain strode across the market.

  Luthair appeared at his side. “My lord domn. It is good to see that you have survived.”

  “You as well,” said Corthain. Luthair looked to have seen his share of the fighting. Spots of blood dried on his leather armor, and four of his throwing knives were missing.

  “The battle is done. Can we get on to the drinking?” said Luthair.

  “Not quite,” said Corthain. “Follow me. I might need your assistance.”

  “Of course,” said Luthair, grinning, “though I wonder…”

  Silver light flashed, and Thalia Kalarien appeared before him. His sister wore the same sort of leather armor Rachaelis had chosen, though Thalia looked far more comfortable in it. Her black hair had been drawn back from her face, and her bright green eyes were tight with worry.

  “Where’s Rachaelis, Corthain?” she said. “She went into that warehouse with you, but she didn’t come out again.”

  They had been through too much together for him to lie to her now. “She ran off with a demon-possessed child.”

  Thalia blinked. “Why the devil would she do that?”

  “To save him,” said Corthain. “The Magisters found Maerwulf’s son, and decided to use white astralfire to destroy the demon Thurvalda bound within him.”

  “But that would destroy his mind,” said Thalia.

  “Rachaelis agreed,” said Corthain, “so she took him and astraljumped. She’s going to thoughtmeld with him and drive out the demon.”

  Thalia sucked in a breath. “That is extremely dangerous. I am better with mind magic than she is, and even I would not attempt that.” She grinned. “But that’s just like Rachaelis. She has this irritating habit of running off to save people.”

  “Like when she chased Maerwulf through that gate,” said Corthain.

  “Or when she crept out of the Ring to donate to the Temple,” said Thalia. “She thought I never knew. Given the number of times I covered up for her, she might have figured it out.”

  “We’re going to the Temple now,” said Corthain. “She’ll have taken Sigaric there. She trusts Sister Maria, and after her help against Maerwulf, even the First Magister would think twice about offending the Temple.”

  Thalia snorted. “Our father? Corthain, the man is as implacable as an avalanche.
He’s never thought twice about anything in his life.”

  “True,” conceded Corthain. “But he might hesitate before invading Maria’s Temple. And hesitation is all Rachaelis will need to destroy the demon.”

  “You seem confident of that,” said Thalia.

  “I am,” said Corthain. His certainty that Rachaelis would defeat the demon surprised him. But he remembered the determination he had seen in her face. “She may need help. Which is why we are going to the Temple.”

  “Not without me,” said Thalia.

  “I would never dream otherwise,” said Corthain. “Let’s go.”

  They hurried through the dockside district’s narrow alleys. The streets remained deserted, and no doubt people had retreated indoors for fear of the Urvuulfs. Yet Corthain could not shake the feeling that someone was following him. Three times he looked over his shoulder, and three times he saw no trace of any pursuers.

  “An Urvuulf, perhaps,” said Luthair. “One that survived the fighting.”

  “Maybe,” said Corthain. “But why would an Urvuulf follow us? It ought to be hiding. I could see an Urvuulf stalking a lone Adept, but…” He shook his head. “Keep an eye out. If an Urvuulf attacks, Thalia can dispatch it.”

  “Why, brother,” said Thalia. “Your confidence flatters me.”

  A short time later they came to the squat warehouse that served as Araspan’s Temple. In his travels Corthain had seen the splendors of the High Temples and the grandeur of the Great Temple in the holy city of Chyrsos itself. Yet he doubted any of those Temples had a caretaker as vigilant as Sister Maria.

  He pushed open the door. The Temple was deserted, the benches empty. The door next to the dais opened, and an old woman in a black robe emerged, striding towards them.

  “I fear you must leave,” said Sister Maria. “”But the streets are safe from the demons now, and…” She blinked. “Lord Corthain?”

  “Sister Maria,” said Corthain with a bow.

  “And Lady Thalia,” said Sister Maria. She did not deign to acknowledge Luthair, which made the little man grin with amusement.