The Third Soul Omnibus One

by Jonathan Moeller

  “Is she here, Sister?” said Corthain.

  “The Seeress is forever with her faithful,” said Maria, “watching over them, and…”

  Corthain lifted a hand. “Your discretion does you honor, Sister, but there’s no need for it. We haven’t come to stop Rachaelis. She’s in the back room with the boy, isn’t she?”

  Maria sighed. “And your wisdom, Lord Corthain, does you honor. You are correct. She began the thoughtmeld with the Jurgur boy only moments ago. I told her I would keep watch until the process was done, or…”

  “Or,” said Thalia, voice sharp, “you kill her if the demon takes her.”

  Corthain saw Sister Maria’s hand resting on the handle of her aurelium mace. He had seen her wield that mace with remarkable skill and vigor for a woman of her age. For a moment he saw the mace descending, saw it crushing Rachaelis’s skull like an egg…

  He pushed aside the grim thought.

  “That is,” said Maria, “what she asked of me. Could you aid her, Lady Thalia?”

  Thalia shook her head. “Not now. If I tried to join her thoughtmeld, it might throw her off balance. Or the demon could take me before I gathered my defenses.” She sighed. “I fear Rachaelis is better off without my aid. Her courage is a potent weapon against the demon’s will. I could not risk myself for a stranger as she does.”

  “Frankly,” said Luthair, “you’re all mad. I would rather be drunk and at home right now.”

  “Drunkenness,” said Maria, her voice arch, “is a sin, Master Luthair.”

  Luthair grinned. “Only until you pass out. A man cannot sin when he is unconscious, or so I have heard. Therefore I have an obligation to drink as much as I can as quickly as I can. No pious man could do otherwise.”

  “That…”

  “Enough,” said Corthain. “There is nothing to be done. We will wait to see if Rachaelis awakens or not.”

  Maria nodded and pushed the open the door beside the dais. Beyond Corthain saw a row of narrow beds. Rachaelis sat on one and Sigaric on another, facing each other. Both their eyes were closed, their faces tight with strain. Rachaelis’s eyes darted back and forth behind closed lids, and from time to time her lips moved in silent words.

  He remembered his confrontation with Talvin’s high demon, a battle that had taken place entirely within his own mind, and wondered what sort of horrors Rachaelis now faced.

  “I will watch over her,” said Thalia. “If…it comes to it, she has a better chance of surviving a blast of white astralfire than a mace to the head.”

  “Thank you,” said Maria. “We…”

  Silver light flashed in the sanctuary.

  A thin man in the red robe of an Adept and the black stole of a Magister appeared on the dais, his mouth and chin hidden behind an elaborate, pointed black beard.

  Magister Orain.

  “Ah,” he said, smiling. “I was right.”

  “Welcome to the Temple, Magister,” said Maria, cool and polite. “Have you come to offer devotions to the Seeress and the Divine?”

  Orain waved a hand. “I haven’t the time for your absurd superstitions, woman.” His eyes fixed on Thalia. “Rachaelis Morulan is here, isn’t she? Trying to save that wretched little boy from the demon?”

  “She is, Magister,” said Thalia, “but I will not permit you to interfere.”

  Corthain expected him to fly into a rage. The Conclave possessed a complex and rigid hierarchy, and the Magisters did not suffer impudence from their subordinates. Yet Orain did not look angry. If anything, he seemed intrigued.

  Like a man who saw a sudden opportunity.

  "So you came here to assist her," said Orain. "In her noble quest to save the slave boy." He shook his head. "You of the College Liberia so love your little crusades."

  "Have you come to assist, Magister?" said Corthain. Why had Orain come here without the other Magisters? Did he think to destroy the demon on his own?

  No. He had wanted to take Sigaric back to the Ring for study. Perhaps he could aid Rachaelis against the demon...

  "So," said Orain. "You are alone?"

  The question sent a chill down Corthain's spine.

  "Why do you wish to know?" said Corthain.

  Orain made a dismissive gesture and took a step closer. "Mere curiosity, that's all." His dark eyes glittered as he looked into the back room. "I heard these Temples were usually crowded with rabble. Slaves, laborers, prostitutes, the usual sort of vermin. Fools neither strong enough nor bold enough to seize power for themselves."

  "The Divine commands us to look after the weak and downtrodden," said Maria. "Something your Conclave manifestly fails to do."

  Orain ignored the Sister and took another step towards the back room, gazing at Rachaelis and Sigaric.

  Corthain found his hand twitching towards his sword hilt.

  "It occurs to me," said Orain, "that Aramane's daughter places herself at unnecessary risk."

  Corthain shrugged. "Perhaps. But it is her risk to take."

  "No other member of your Conclave," said Maria, "would dare to take it."

  "But there may be a better way," said Orain, turning to face them, "a way to defeat the demon and save the child."

  "What is it?" said Thalia.

  Corthain frowned. "If you know of a better way, why didn't you tell it to the First Magister?"

  Orain ignored him. "How much do we really know about the demons?"

  "If you will forgive my impertinence, Magister," said Luthair, "I don't know very much about wolves, but I know enough to stay away from them."

  "A useful enough attitude for a peasant," said Orain, "but not one for an Adept, who must have the knowledge necessary to guide the kingdoms of men. And we know precious little about the demons. Even in the secret lore of the College Excorisia there are more questions than answers."

  "Why would we want to know more about the demons?" said Thalia. "We know how to fight them, how to destroy them when they enter into our world. Surely that is enough."

  "It is not!" said Orain, scowling. "And that is a foolish attitude. Though I should expect little else from the daughter of a rigid fossil like our First Magister."

  Thalia started to protest, but Corthain lifted his hand.

  "Perhaps you should tell us," said Corthain, "what a better attitude would be."

  "We don't even know what the demons really are," said Orain.

  "They are demons," said Maria in the tone of one instructing an idiot.

  "We call them that," said Orain, "but that word is derived from the High Imperial term for a fallen angel. The demons are clearly not the fallen servants of the gods. They are another order of life entirely. Immaterial life, to be sure, and of a higher, more advanced degree than us."

  A dark suspicion formed in Corthain's mind.

  "Superior to men, you mean?" he said.

  "Exactly!" said Orain, shaking a finger at him. "Exactly right. The demons are to us as we are to mice. If we are not to be enslaved we must study them, learn from them. The demons are immortal, and they would have seen the Old Empire from its rise to its fall. Think of the secrets they know, the knowledge we could glean from them!"

  "With their knowledge," said Corthain, "we could transform mortal men into a race of living gods."

  "Yes!" said Orain, face flushed with emotion. "We could learn to harness the demons as we harness horses and oxen. Think of what enslaved demons could do. We could create engines of tremendous power. We could build wonders and splendors to surpass the glories of the Old Empire itself. Perhaps we could even open pathways to new worlds for men to conquer. Both Talvin and Paulus understood what we must do, that..."

  "What?" said Thalia, eyes narrowed.

  Orain flinched and stopped talking, and a threatening silence fell over the Temple.

  "What did you say?" said Thalia.

  Orain sighed. "Well done, Lord Corthain. I see that the stories of your cleverness were not exaggerated. Certainly you are smarter than your rigid fool of a father."
/>
  "You worked with Talvin and Paulus," said Corthain, "didn't you?"

  The Magister snorted. "Paulus was our first great experiment, but you and your brother and Magister Aramane put a premature end to that. Then the high demon passed to Talvin. Do you really think he managed to conceal his possession for twelve years solely through his own efforts? We aided him and learned a great deal about demons in the process."

  "We?" said Corthain.

  Orain smiled. "The secret College, my lord Corthain. There are Colleges for the study of the High Art and the sciences." He looked at Thalia. "Even your own useless College Liberia, so concerned with the miserable slaves. Why not a College for the study of demons? A College that seeks to harness their power to benefit mankind?"

  "Because," said Thalia, "the Conclave has banned consorting with demons. And for good reason. Trying to harness the power of a demon...one might as well try to put a saddle on a volcano. Such folly leads only to death and ruin."

  "And a blasphemous folly, as well," said Maria.

  Orain shook his head. "Those are the words of a superstitious peasant, not an Adept. Perhaps I should not be surprised. The Conclave is retrograde and fearful. Men of vision and courage are needed, men with the boldness to tame the demons and reshape the world in a glorious new form." His dark eyes turned to Corthain. "You, my lord Corthain. You understand, do you not?"

  "What do you mean?" said Corthain.

  "You have seen more of the world than anyone here," said Orain. "You've seen the dire condition of humanity. The poverty, the hunger, the ignorance, the endless futile warfare. The Conclave could do so much better the lot of mankind, but instead we do nothing, content to play our little political games and to destroy any demons that happen to appear. Think of what we could do if we tamed the power of the demons. We could end hunger, end war. We could turn this world into a paradise."

  There was silence for a moment.

  "Magister Orain," said Corthain, "I think that is the stupidest thing I have ever heard."

  Orain's face darkened, and Luthair snickered.

  "You sound like every other petty tyrant in history," said Corthain. "Killing and butchering in the name of the greater good. Or you sound like Maerwulf himself, for that matter. Demons twist the thinking of their hosts. I'm sure Paulus and Talvin had noble motives at the beginning, but at the end, they were monsters. We are not going to let you interfere with Rachaelis, and we are not going to let you claim that demon for study."

  Orain raised his eyebrows. "Let me?"

  "As you said, I'm not a fool," said Corthain. "If I told my father even half of what you've just said, he would have you beheaded by sundown. You only told us so much because you're planning to kill us all."

  "True enough," said Orain, grinning. "I..."

  Corthain yanked his sword from its scabbard and charged. Luthair snatched a throwing knife from his belt, Maria raised her aurelium mace, and Thalia began casting a spell.

  Orain was faster.

  The Magister flung out his hands and a blast of invisible force exploded in all directions. The benches lifted up from the floor and slammed against the walls. The blast struck Corthain and Luthair and sent them sprawling to the floor. Thalia staggered, losing her spell. Only Sister Maria remained unaffected, the bands of aurelium on her armor glowing.

  She ran at Orain, bringing the mace around for a blow.

  Orain pointed at her, and a dozen benches hurtled from the floor. They slammed into the Sister, knocking her over and pinning her in place. Corthain tried to rise, only to find that he could not. The Magister's will pressed upon him like an iron weight. Turning his head, he saw that Luthair and Thalia were similarly pinned. A silver halo glimmered around Thalia, a ward to prevent her from working any spells.

  "Ah," said Orain, face tight with strain. "You put up more of a fight than I expected. No matter." He stepped over Corthain and stopped in the doorway. "I need only hold you for a few moments, until Rachaelis weakens the demon. Then I'll kill her, bind the demon, and take the boy back to the Ring."

  "There's a flaw in that plan," said Thalia through gritted teeth.

  "Oh?"

  "You haven't killed us."

  Orain laughed. "A simple precaution, my dear. Something might go amiss, and Rachaelis and the boy might wind up killing each other. If that happens, I'll need a new host for the demon. But, fear not. Once I have secured the demon, I will kill you all and make it look as if you met your end at the claws of the Urvuulfs."

  With that, he turned to watch Rachaelis, hand raised for a spell.

  Chapter 9 - Guises

  Rachaelis blinked.

  She stood in the docks of Araspan, but not the Araspan she knew.

  The buildings were twisted, distorted, resembling the work of a demented sculptor. The sky burned with crimson flame. Whispering shadows lurked in the alleys, watching her with cruel eyes, chains and whips glinting in their hands.

  This was Araspan. But it was Araspan as Sigaric saw it. A place of cruelty and torment, a hell of suffering.

  She wondered how many other slaves saw the city like this.

  But this was Sigaric's mind, and she would battle the demon here.

  Rachaelis set into the distorted city, seeking for the demon.

  "You failed, child."

  She spun. Sword-Captain Marvane, who had died protecting her from one of Maerwulf's disciples, stood in an alley. Blood covered his face in a crimson sheet, pouring from his eyes and nose.

  "You let me die," hissed Marvane, "you cowered in a corner while I..."

  Rachaelis loosed a blast of white astralfire. It struck Marvane, and the Sword-Captain shattered into a thousand shards of glittering silver light.

  An illusion. The demon would try to wear her down, attack through her fears and regrets. Or it might try to force its way through her defenses with sheer power, as the high demon had done.

  Either way, Rachaelis would be ready for it.

  She strode deeper into the city, heart hammering against her ribs. The shadows lurked in the alleyways, whispering and hissing. There was no sign of the demon. Or of Sigaric, for that matter. But this was his mind, and he would manifest sooner or later...

  "Help me!"

  Sigaric's voice, ringing over the rooftops.

  "Help me!"

  It was coming from the slave market. Rachaelis broke into a run.

  She arrived a few moments later. The market was deserted, with no trace of the battle that had taken place there in the waking world. A single wooden stake rose from the center of the square, and Sigaric sagged against it, bound to it by chains of crimson fire that pierced his flesh. He struggled to stand, yet Rachaelis saw the utter exhaustion on his face. Every time he slumped, the chains bit deeper into him...

  Aramane Morulan stood next to the stake, grinning at Sigaric. His red robes blew in the hot, dry wind from the burning sky, and his gray eyes glimmered with crimson fire.

  The demon.

  "Let him go," said Rachaelis. "Leave now, and I'll let you return to the astral world. Linger and I will destroy you utterly."

  Aramane sneered. "You don't have the strength."

  "Care to find out?" said Rachaelis, taking a step closer.

  Aramane circled to her left. "Why should we be enemies? I want the same things that you want."

  Rachaelis laughed. "I doubt that."

  "Your father is going to get himself killed, trying to save you," murmured the demon through Aramane's voice. "He spent twelve years imprisoned within Talvin's crystal, but worse could befall him. Perhaps much worse will befall him. But you can save him, Rachaelis. Take my power, and you can protect him from all dangers..."

  "Silence," said Rachaelis, and flung a blast of white astralfire. Aramane lifted his hands, and a shield of crimson light appeared around him. The astralfire dissipated against it, but the fire struck with enough force to knock Aramane back a step. The demon snarled, Aramane's face twisting with rage, and cast a spell of its own. Crimson as
tralfire ripped at Rachaelis, and she conjured a ward of silver light to deflect it. The demon's attack staggered her...but her ward held.

  Talvin's high demon had been able to overwhelm her, but this demon lacked the high demon's overwhelming might.

  A flicker of fear crossed Aramane's face.

  He gestured, his fingers hooked into claws, and the world dissolved into crimson fire.

  When it cleared, Rachaelis found herself standing in the Ring's courtyard, the massive outer wall of the Adepts' citadel rising behind her. The Ring's lush gardens and lawns had died, the green grass and the flowering trees replaced by blasted stone and crumbling boulders. Sigaric sat on a stone throne a dozen yards away, bound by the chains of fire.

  Corthain Kalarien stood next to the throne, his green eyes glazed with red flame.

  Rachaelis sucked in a breath. He looked...good. Very good. In the waking world, she had always been attracted to him, to his strength, his confidence, the calm clarity of his thought. Here in this twisted reflection of the waking world, that attraction had been amplified into a blazing river of lust. She wanted him to seize her, to kiss her hard upon the lips, to crush her body against his.

  But that was not Corthain. That was only the demon wearing his guise.

  "You can have him," said Corthain.

  Rachaelis licked her lips, trying to work moisture into her dry throat.

  "Sigaric?" she said. "I'm glad you've seen reason. Release him and I'll let you return to the astral world."

  A hint of irritation flashed over Corthain's face. Demons did not like to be mocked.

  "No, not him," said Corthain. "Let me enter into you, and will I give you both Sigaric...and Corthain Kalarien."

  "Or I could destroy you and free the boy," said Rachaelis, lifting her hand.

  "And then you shall never have Corthain," said the demon, voice silken. "Do you think he will look at you again? He is a domn of Callia and you are an Adept. A cold, proud, haughty Adept. So many women would give themselves willingly, even eagerly, to the hero of Dark River. Why should he even look at you?"

  Rachaelis said nothing. She was drawn to Corthain, and she knew that he was drawn to her. But what did that matter? He was a lord of Callia, and would need to marry for political advantage. He could claim almost any woman he wanted. What did she have to offer him?