The Shepherd of Fire (The Soul Stone Trilogy Book 2)

by Matt Moss

  “I don’t know why he didn’t mention me. Perhaps he was ashamed. Or hurt.” Moses ran a hand through his hair. “I left the Grand Highlands in search of purpose — in search of the truth. I traveled the world to the ends of the outer lands and beyond.”

  “Did you find what you were searching for?” Arkin bitingly asked. He didn’t understand how a man could just abandon his family and friends.

  Moses raised an eyebrow and gave it a thought. “Yes. And no. The search is never-ending.”

  Arkin felt himself growing more frustrated with the decisions that this man had made in the past. How could he have just left everyone behind? With his powers, he could have stopped Victor at the Grand Highlands. But he left them. Now they’re gone. “How does it make you feel that by chasing your destiny, you have, in part, left the Order destroyed and everyone dead?”

  “Arkin!” Rico chided, jumping from his seat.

  Moses waved him to sit back down. “It’s a fair question, Rico, and one that deserves an honest answer.” He looked at Arkin and spoke with conviction. “I am filled with sorrow that I was not there for everything that happened. Even if I had been, it would have made no difference.”

  “It would have made all the difference in the world!” Arkin stated. “We would have won the war!”

  Moses placed a hand on his shoulder. “That may be true, but it was not in fate’s design. If it had been, I would have been there. That is why I do not regret pursuing my own personal destiny. It is in the pursuit of destiny that we are here, now. Fate has brought us together at this appointed time, seeing it appropriate to preserve us to this moment.”

  It was all too much for Arkin to take in. He felt his eyes begin to water with rage as he recalled the recent memories in the capital. He wished with his entire being that Victor was gone, and needed assurance of it now more than ever. “Tell me you finished Victor off. Please.”

  “He lives.” Moses spoke the words, impassively, as if it wasn’t important.

  Arkin’s heart sank at the words. He tore away from Moses’s hand and paced around the room. In anger, he threw a bookshelf to the floor, sending some of his father’s books to scatter. He yelled with clenched fists and fell to his knees. After his blood cooled, he felt drained of all emotion. Ashamed of his outburst, he began picking the books off the floor. The other three watched him as he raised the shelf and stacked the books with care. When finished, he turned back to Moses.

  “Can you teach me?”

  Moses nodded. “That is part of my destiny. It is why I am here. You will learn to break the agreements of the mind.”

  “Are they to train under you, too?” Arkin asked, looking to Rico and Uurs.

  “No.”

  Arkin felt a wave of sorrow wash over him. He didn’t want to leave Rico. To him, Rico was everything that the Order represented, the last surviving member of the brotherhood.

  Rico stepped in front of him. “It’s alright, Arkin. Our work in Kingsport isn’t done. Uurs and I have much to do there.” The Faceless man crossed his arms and nodded. Rico embraced Arkin. “I’ll see you again. Together, we will defeat Victor and the Religion,” he promised.

  “You bet I’ll see you again,” Arkin said. “And don’t you go off and kill Victor without me.” He shook Rico’s hand, then turned and shook Uurs’s.

  He turned to Moses and squared his shoulders. “I’m ready. Where are we going?”

  Moses reached for his staff that stood beside the fireplace. He threw a small pack around his shoulder. “We will return to nature.”

  “When do we leave?”

  Moses motioned to the door with his staff. “Now.”

  TWENTY

  A knock came at the door of one of the king’s private chambers.

  “Enter,” Victor called. A man stepped into the room and looked around with apprehension at the elaborate paintings and lavish furniture that decorated the king’s room. “Please, Vaylesh, make yourself at home. You are my guest. Wine?”

  “Wine would do well,” Vaylesh replied. He took it with thanks and drank deeply.

  Victor grinned. “I want to thank you for your service. Had you not informed me of the impending attack, things might have gone much worse than they did.”

  “I still don’t understand why you risked death. I told you of their plans. You knew that the assassination was coming.”

  “It was a bet I was willing to place,” Victor said then took a drink of wine.

  Vaylesh finished the cup and wiped his mouth. “And the stakes?”

  “I wagered my life so the people would see the power that the Almighty has given me. And, I wanted to flush our enemies out and prove that they still pose a threat.”

  Vaylesh cocked his head. “It was a spectacular show then. Very convincing. I’m sure the news has already spread to half the kingdom.”

  Victor took the empty cup from his guest. “More wine?”

  “I would be a fool to refuse the king’s wine.” Vaylesh cut a grin.

  “I am very pleased with how you conduct your guild,” Victor noted as he filled both cups.

  “The Lost Children,” Vaylesh added.

  Victor raised an eyebrow. “Yes, the Lost Children. And I am pleased that you have proven your loyalty to the crown and to the Religion.”

  “I am but a servant, your eminence,” Vaylesh said with a slight bow before taking the cup.

  “I think a new title is in order. How does Governor Vaylesh sound?”

  Vaylesh almost choked on his wine. “Governor? Of Kingsport? Why, your eminence, you bring me great honor. I would gladly receive that title.”

  Victor smiled. “That pleases me more than you know.” He walked to stand in front of a portrait of King George. He liked looking at the painting and refused to take it down, despite Sarie’s request to do so. “I need your help.”

  “Anything, your grace.”

  “I want you to be my eyes and ears in the capital. I want to be informed of anything that happens within my walls.”

  “Of course. My children know the turnings of the capital better than anyone. They are everywhere, and nowhere at the same time.”

  “I also want you to control the drudge.”

  Vaylesh sucked air through his teeth. “That’s Neptune’s playground. I got no control over the sailors and what they bring in.”

  “See that you do,” Victor said, sternly. “I want drudge to spread throughout Kingsport. I want the people to need it.”

  “Perhaps I could make a deal with the leader of the Sea Dogs,” Vaylesh said. “If he’s still alive that is. I’m sure he’s either hiding in a hole somewhere, or trying his best to get lost in the middle of the ocean since the botched attempt on your life.”

  “Find him. Make it a deal that he can’t refuse,” Victor stated, implying all means necessary.

  Vaylesh caught the king’s drift. “Why do you want everyone drudged up anyway?”

  Victor saw his guest to the door. “I’m here to give the people what they want. They just don’t know it yet. I expect a report every seven days, Governor Vaylesh.”

  Vaylesh nodded. “Thank you, your grace. I’ll see to it. Your will be done.”

  Victor closed the door behind him and walked back into the room. Sarie appeared from the other room, having listened to the conversation. “Do you trust him?”

  “I trust no one but you, my dear. These people are nothing but tools to be used by the craftsman that wields them.”

  “You use your tool well, your grace,” Sarie said, strutting towards him in a tight, white gown. “And since you’re feeling well.” She pressed her body against his and wrapped a leg around him. Their lips engaged with passion.

  “Not now,” Victor sighed, chest heaving. “It will have to wait for later. I have other matters on my mind.”

  She pulled back. “Other matters?”

  Victor stepped back. “There is someone who needs me more.”

  Sarie frowned. “Who?”

  Victor
smiled that all too familiar smile before leaving. Sarie had seen it many times before.

  It was the smile that foretold suffering.

  The steel door creaked as Victor eased it open. He peaked his head into the room, the light from outside illuminating the darkness in the cell. “My son, are you still here?”

  Cain’s head raised, and he shielded his eyes from the light that spilled into the room. Even from the door, Victor winced at the disfigurement. Cain’s long hair did a poor job of covering his swollen, purple eyes, but they still peered back at Victor as he stood in the light. “Who is it?” Cain said in a hoarse, feeble voice.

  “It is me, my son,” Victor said, entering the room. He touched his throat and looked away. “I found the sound of my voice odd after Lucian nearly strangled me to death. Though, I am thankful that the resurrection stone saved my life, I often wondered why it didn’t heal my wound.” He smiled at Cain. “Now, as you can hear, my body has been restored, though not by the power of a stone. It is by my own power that I am renewed.” He extended his hand to Cain. “Will you walk with me?”

  The gesture, and the thought of leaving the room, took Cain unawares. He had been in the chamber for so long, he had lost count of the days. To him, time only existed by the turning of the lock and the torture that soon followed. How many times had the door opened? Every time it did, he wished it would just remain shut. At first, he thought he was strong. After the first couple weeks, his resolve melted away, his spirit, gone.

  He took Victor’s hand and slowly stood.

  Victor noticed the three fingers that were no longer there. He brushed Cain’s hair to the side to see the open hole — the one that used to have an ear to cover it.

  “Dear, god,” Victor sighed. “How could that monster do this to you?”

  “He left my nose,” Cain said, shaking. “He said that he was going to take it, but I was good, so he left it. He likes it when I’m good and does what he says.”

  “He’s a monster!” Victor said. He threw his arm around Cain and helped him from the room. Cain hesitated at the door. “It’s alright, my son,” Victor comforted him. “You’ve paid your penance. There will be no more suffering.”

  Cain looked at him with tears in his eyes. A mouthful of missing teeth and a face full of broken bones showcased the hell he’d gone through. “He left my nose.”

  “Yes, and thank the Almighty that he did, because it’s a good looking nose.” Victor led him from the room.

  Cain fell in the hallway and began to sob, sorely.

  “What is it?” Victor said, crouching to comfort him.

  “He took it from me,” Cain sobbed. “He… took it.”

  “Took, what?”

  Ashamed, Cain looked down at his crotch. He felt over it with his hand.

  Victor frowned. “My son, I am truly sorry. I had no idea that he would go that far.” He helped Cain stand. “I promise that he won’t touch you again.”

  “You promise?” Cain said, looking to him in desperation.

  Victor nodded. They began to walk — Cain, holding onto Victor for support, walked bow-legged and with a limp. He cringed, stopping on more than one occasion, as the pain from his missing member struck him. By the time they reached the end of the hall, blood stained his breaches as the scabbed wound opened from the walk.

  Victor led him through the hallway that held the cells. Insults came from the prisoners as Cain hobbled between the steel cages.

  Coward. Traitor. Bastard.

  Broken.

  Victor and Cain stopped at the watchman’s quarters before emerging into the light of day. “Put this on,” Victor told Cain and handed him a black hooded robe. After doing so, Victor opened the door to the alley that led beside the palace. “I have an important task for you, my son.”

  Though the hood was pulled, Cain shielded his eyes from the light as if they had just seen the sun for the first time. He had forgotten what color looked like. What the world smelled and felt like. With closed eyes, he was thankful for experiencing it again when he thought he never would. A tear fell to the ground, and he followed. He pressed his face to the ground in appreciation. After a moment, he stood and wiped the tears from his face.

  “A traitor to the Religion was recently revealed to us. One of our own has committed this heresy,” Victor said as he aided Cain down the grass alleyway, leading him towards the front of the palace. “His name is Malik, he’s in the king’s guard, and he’s the one who assisted in the attempt on my life.”

  Cain had heard the name before, once, but it didn’t matter to him. The only thought in his mind was the chamber, and that he wasn’t there. He wasn’t with the torturer. He was with his savior.

  “Thank you,” Cain said through swollen lips.

  Victor stopped and moved to hold him at arm’s length. “For what, my son?”

  Cain swallowed and met his eye. “For delivering me,” he said, his voice shaking. His oily hair was matted to his face and he stunk beyond measure — a combination of blood, sweat, and urine.

  Victor embraced him anyway. “You’re safe now. You’re with me. I have plans for you, Cain.”

  Cain’s eyes brightened upon hearing Victor say his name. He couldn’t remember him ever saying his name before.

  “I want you to be my apprentice.” He stood back and took Cain in.

  Cain shook and looked down in shame. “I am unworthy.”

  “Don’t be afraid, my son. Or ashamed. You will rise to become greater than anything you ever thought possible.” Victor’s eyes turned white before placing both hands around Cain’s shoulders. Cain’s eyes went wide as a warm rush of energy coursed through his veins. When he was through, Victor pulled his hands back and gazed upon Cain, marveling at his own power.

  Cain felt around his torso, face, and crotch. “What is this!”

  “A gift. You are now whole again, well, almost.” Victor pointed at Cain’s hand. “I left one of your fingers removed — a reminder of this day and who it is that you serve.”

  Cain looked down and flexed his hand, amazed to be whole again. “I will never forget this day and what you’ve done for me!”

  Victor grinned and threw his hand on Cain’s shoulder like a friend. “You really are a rather good looking guy, you know that?” They began to walk again, Cain no longer limping and in pain. “Now, you must prove yourself. You must prove your faith and trust in me.” Victor took his hand before coming into view of the public. “Walk tall now. The people are waiting.”

  As they approached the street, the crowd remained hushed. They watched as the two men walked in front of the palace steps and to the executioner’s block.

  Cain saw a man, the one called Malik, chained to the block. His eyes found the large, double-sided axe that lie waiting, propped against the block.

  Victor stopped and spoke only to Cain. “You are to execute this traitor.”

  Cain hesitated. “I can’t,” he said in a shaky voice after a moment.

  “You will,” Victor gripped his arm. “Or you will spend the rest of your days in the chamber with the torturer and I will not be able to help you. Is that what you want?”

  A tear fell from Cain’s eye. He walked to the block and slowly hefted the axe.

  Pleased, Victor turned to the crowd. “Today we gather to witness the execution of a heretic traitor. He was one of our own, and a member of the king’s guard. He lived here. He worked here. He walked among us and among our families.” He turned to the block. “He conspired against the crown and against the Religion.” He raised his hand, signaling the executioner.

  Cain walked beside Malik. “I’m sorry,” he whispered and raised the axe. Malik turned his head to reply, his eyes straining to look at the man who stood beside him. With a smooth, quick motion, the axe fell. Malik’s head rolled onto the ground and blood began to spew from the sever. The urge to vomit hit Cain, but he stood tall and held it in. He looked at the crowd. Most of them were passive about the whole thing, like nothing seemed to
bother them anymore.

  Victor smiled proudly at Cain, then turned to the people. “This is just the beginning. Soon, we will defeat evil and rid this world of all heretics!”

  The crowd reacted then. Never before had Cain seen so many people rally behind one man. They believed him. They believed in him. And so did he.

  He would be the apprentice.

  And Victor would be his master.

  TWENTY ONE

  The camp was alive with the rising of the sun. Most people had already risen and begun work for the day as there was much work to be done still, providing that the weather remain favorable. The commotion woke Lyla from her slumber. She cursed the day, and cursed her sore body and the pain that was sure to come from another day of training. Shaking off the sleep, she sat on the dirt floor, closed her eyes, and breathed. She made it part of her daily training as Joko had instructed.

  After her morning ritual of breathing, she felt ready for the day. She stripped her bed clothes and dressed for another hard day of work. Stepping outside into the warm air, her spirit was bright with the promise of things to come.

  “Well, about time you got up,” Picaro said with a grin in passing.

  “Good morning, Picaro. How are you?”

  “I’ve seen better days. But can’t complain now that I’ve laid eyes on you.” He winked and walked away with an extra pep in his step.

  She smiled and shook her head as she watched him go. She turned her head to the sky. The sun sat high, much higher than it should.

  Damnit, she thought. It’s midday already? How long did I sleep?

  She ran through the camp and into the woods, afraid that Joko had already left as he wasn’t one for tardiness. She cursed herself for sleeping so long. She always prided herself for being prompt, never late for any occasion.

  Lyla jogged to the place by the stream where she met Joko every day. Birds chirped as they flew around the hidden glen. She repeatedly called his name, though he didn’t answer. The place was peaceful, and it was in that moment that she realized how beautiful it was. Various flowers lined the banks of the stream and there was just enough shade from the canopy of trees to keep the place slightly cooler than everywhere else. She’d never paid much attention before, always committing her focus to training. Walking to the water, she sat down and cooled her feet in the stream, wondering if Joko retired back to his home on the distant mountain for the day.