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

by Matt Moss

  Victor offered his hand, the energy crackling as it surged around him. “Let me show you the way, Rico. Join me.”

  Rico looked at the three before locking eyes with Maximus and speaking to him. “I’m sorry.” Rico turned his head down and closed his eyes.

  God, you’ve preserved me this far. I’ve never been one to ask for help, mainly because I am unworthy of it, but I am asking now. Deliver me on this day and grant me one more chance to defeat thy enemies. Grant me this request and I swear I’ll never ask for anything again.

  After he prayed the last words, Rico soul tapped with everything in him. His feet moved faster than they ever had. He did something that he’d never done before.

  He ran.

  Karn began to give chase.

  “Let him go,” Victor said as he watched Rico disappear over the hill. He turned to Maximus and put a hand on his shoulder. “We got what we came for.”

  Maximus smiled. “Your Grace.”

  TWENTY NINE

  “Feel the world around you,” Moses said standing barefoot in ankle-deep snow, the cold wind snapping his white hair to the side. It didn’t bother him —nothing ever seemed to. It irked Arkin at times knowing that the man had such self control.

  Arkin sat with nothing but his loin cloth — the snow melted around him, allowing the green grass to once again feel the kiss of the sun. He sat cross-legged with his eyes closed, concentrating and fully focused.

  “Let go,” Moses instructed.

  “I am letting go,” Arkin shot back.

  “Go back to the water,” Moses chided, pointing to the icy stream nearby.

  Arkin began to protest, a reflex that he’d had his entire life, but held his tongue. He slowly stood and walked to the water.

  “Wait,” Moses said and took a crouching stance. “Fuel the fire.” As he moved, Arkin crouched and did the same. Both pumped their arms, extending them back and forth, focusing on their movements. They were quick, precise, and controlled. “Breathe,” Moses said between the motions. Arkin felt the power coursing through his muscles, bones, and blood. After a span, they relaxed and breathed steady.

  “Now, you can go to the water.”

  Arkin controlled his breath and stepped in. He hardly noticed the cold anymore. As the water flowed around his body, his mind was present but also, not. It was as if he was aware of everything in and around his body but unaware of time. Time didn’t exist in the cold. What felt like a moment may as well have been a span. Throughout it all, he knew of only one thing — breathe.

  Moses stood on the bank, contemplating him. After the sun moved in the sky enough for Arkin to take notice, the grandmaster spoke. “Good. Now you can get out. How do you feel?”

  “I’m alright.” He stepped onto the bank, shook the water from his hair and rubbed his arms. “Can’t feel anything, though.”

  “But you are still alive, yes? And you are still warm.”

  Arkin laughed. “I’m the furthest from warm.”

  Moses pointed out that Arkin’s skin was pink, not blue. He still held the same color all over his body as before he went in. To his surprise, Arkin checked himself and found it to be true.

  “You are ready to learn the first move.”

  “The first move?” Arkin asked, running a finger inside his ear. “What’s that?”

  “The first move of power — Telekinesis.”

  “Tele… what?” Arkin said, cocking an eyebrow at the old master before pulling his trousers up. He threw his tattered white tunic over his wet torso.

  “Telekinesis. The first move of power.”

  Arkin shook his head. “Yes, you’ve said that already. What is it?”

  Moses tossed his staff to the ground. He quickly shifted stance and flicked his wrist up, palm facing the staff with three fingers held straight. He whispered a word and the staff magnetized to his hand. After snatching it, he stood straight and relaxed.

  Arkin’s jaw dropped. He’d thought soul tapping was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen, but this was something else. This was like magic. Real magic.

  “How did you do that?” he asked, incredulously.

  “I believed, and I spoke the word.”

  The word! Arkin saw him whisper a word before the staff moved. It must be some sort of spell casting. His father had told him of Sorcery before, but always played it off as a children’s story or some old wives tale.

  “Sorcery,” Arkin said, absentmindedly.

  “Sorcery?” Moses spat. “This is not sorcery. Sorcery is the poison that people speak with their words. Their energy is dark and they cast spells upon people. Only those who are willing to accept that poison succumb to the sorcery.” He continued. “But I spoke truth to the staff. I called it by name and it responded to me in kind.”

  “You called the stick… a stick?”

  Moses grinned at that. “Walk with me.”

  Arkin stepped alongside the grandmaster and marveled at who this man was. How did he know about this power? Did someone show it to him or was it something he discovered?

  “Know that there is power in words,” Moses said. “More power than you can imagine. It is a direct representation of the soul and the perfect way to communicate the bond between it and the world. If the bond is accepted by the world, as in this case, the staff, then there is a mutual agreement and it bends to the will of the soul.”

  “You bonded — with a stick?” Arkin scratched his head. This was ridiculous. Was he dreaming? But he saw it happen!

  “Yes. A stick has energy, just as everything else does. A very slight amount, but still it has energy. It is that energy that can be bonded to.”

  “Do it again,” Arkin said, still doubting. Moses stopped and faced Arkin. He took three paces back. Again, the grandmaster took his stance and with an outstretched palm, sent Arkin flying backwards across the snow. When Arkin landed, he rolled and soul tapped — an instinctive reaction much like the one he had when he charged at Paul. Now he was charging at Moses, leaving a pressure wave in his wake. Before he could collect his senses and gather what he was doing, Moses outstretched his other palm and stopped Arkin mid-stride. Moses held him there, suspended in the air.

  A chill ran down Arkin’s spine — the same one that he felt when his father was levitated and thrown through the air by the soul stone that Lucian held. But Moses held no soul stone. He radiated energy — Arkin could see it flowing from him. He felt helpless hanging there, unable to move.

  Moses released the hold, his solid white eyes returning to their natural gray color.

  Arkin stood, slowly. “I was watching you. You never spoke a word or called me by name.”

  “Once you learn to master the names of things, you don’t need to speak the words — it can simply be thought. Controlled by the mind.” The grandmaster tossed the staff to Arkin. “But first you must learn to crawl before you can walk. Practice.”

  Arkin let the staff fall, outstretched his palm, and concentrated. After a moment he was fully focused, intent on making it move. He spoke the word after he was ready. “Stick.” It didn’t move. “Staff.” Nothing. He refocused and tried again. “Wood. Tree. Earth.” He dropped his hand, frustrated. “What’s its damn name then?”

  “It’s waiting for you to give it one,” Moses simply said. Arkin looked puzzled. The grandmaster elaborated. “Forget everything you know, Arkin. The language of man cannot define what something truly is. Something so simple as this piece of wood… imagine the complex makeup of a human being.”

  “It’s waiting for me to give it a name,” Arkin said to himself, contemplating.

  “Don’t think. Feel,” Moses said.

  Arkin closed his eyes and reached for the staff again. This time, he let go of everything he knew and quieted his mind. He could see, though his eyes were closed. He saw as though they were opened for the first time — the colors of the world shown more vibrant than ever before. Even the color from the stick. Arkin smiled and whispered a word. The staff sprung from the gr
ound and into his hand. He opened his eyes, amazed.

  Moses smiled proudly.

  “What did I call it?” Arkin said, suddenly realizing he’d forgotten the word.

  “It doesn’t matter what you called it. All that matters is that you made the connection. The words are within you, and you alone.” Moses threw his arm around Arkin. “It will remember the connection,” he said as they walked.

  Arkin felt a rush of excitement wash over him. This was incredible. He felt incredible! “What’s next?” he asked.

  Moses paused. He looked all around him, into the distance, and waved a hand. “There is a common thread among everything in this world. We are connected to it, as it is to us. Energy flows from the world and through the world, as it does through us because we are part of the world. Next, you will learn to speak more words.” Moses’s eyes gleamed as he took it all in. “You will connect with everything. You will become one, with everything.”

  THIRTY

  “Think of someone you love,” Joko told Lyla as they faced one another, each holding a bow staff — Joko’s weapon of choice. “Arkin. That is your lover’s name, yes?”

  She blushed. “He’s not my lover.”

  “Then what is he.”

  “He’s… a close friend. I’m in love with him.” The words took her aback. She knew she loved him, but she just said that she was in love with him. It was the first time she acknowledged her feelings for Arkin.

  “Good. Now, imagine him dying. I am standing over him, beating him until he dies. What do you do?”

  As they stood on the training grounds of the Grand Highlands, the evening sun setting the landscape in an orange glow, she placed the image in her mind before looking up. Her eyes were wild with pain and confusion. “I would stop you,” she said.

  He cocked his head. “You stop… me? How can you do this?”

  She held the staff out and took a fighting stance. Joko laughed. “You are just a girl. You cannot stop me.” His attention turned to the ground and a hateful look came upon his face. He began striking it with his staff. He stood tall and looked at Lyla. “Can you see him?”

  She pursed her lips and nodded. Her mind went back to the Grand Highlands and the battle with Victor. There was so much blood, so much death. God, she wished she could forget it. One image stuck out amid the chaos and still haunted her dreams. A boy, no older than sixteen, had been cut beyond recognition. He was bleeding out and far beyond saving. Lying in the corner and choking on blood, he looked up at Lyla with his one eye and reached for her — desperately begging for her to save him.

  She replaced that boy with Arkin and tears welled in her eyes.

  “Here he is,” Joko extended a hand to the ground and drew his fierce gaze upon her. “Now he dies.” He raised his staff.

  “No,” she pleaded.

  THWACK

  THWACK

  “He will die and you cannot save him. You cannot stop me.”

  THWACK

  “Stop!” she cried “Stop it!”

  THWACK

  Joko raised the staff high behind his head. “Goodbye, Arkin.”

  “I SAID STOP IT!”

  She exploded towards him, the staff held behind her with one arm, ready to strike. Joko barely fell back in time, away from the blow. Lyla spun around and brought the weapon with her, flailing it out towards Joko’s face. It grazed his cheek as he turned his head to dodge.

  He jumped back to put some distance between them. Lyla, too quick, swung low and caught his feet, driving him flat on his back. He hit the ground with a thud and grunted. Realizing what she had done, she dropped the stick and put a hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry.”

  Joko flipped, landing firmly on his feet, and smiled. “Yes. You did it! How do you feel?”

  She looked down and searched her feelings. It felt incredible! How could anyone describe such a feeling? It felt unlike anything she’d ever known. She felt the turning of the earth and saw colors anew. She could hear the grass growing and smelled the blood that still stained the Lodge. At one point, she thought she could hear what Joko was thinking. She remembered the speed, the strength. The power.

  “So that’s what soul tapping feels like,” she said, looking at her hands.

  “It is. Now, I can show you the soul’s calling.”

  “The soul’s calling?”

  Joko walked and threw his arm around her. “The five moves of power. And your soul’s purpose. These I will show you. Later. Now, we celebrate and tell brother Torin.”

  “It better be that you’re ready to eat?” Torin said walking up, chewing on a turkey leg that he cooked from the morning’s hunt. “Better get it while it’s hot. What?” Torin said, noticing them both standing, holding silly grins. He wiped a hand all over his beard. “Do I have food on my face?”

  Lyla laughed like she hadn’t in a long time.

  “We’re going to the right place,” Lyla stated. “We’re going to find it.”

  “How you know?” Joko asked in all seriousness. “The Garden, it could be anywhere. I still think it should be left alone.”

  “It’s at the Standing Stones. I know it,” she said confidently.

  At least, that was where her heart was leading her. At the Grand Highlands, she hadn’t slept in days. All of her time was devoted to training and searching through The Path of Man for any clue that could lead them to the garden. Torin hadn’t said much since they arrived and kept himself busy at the mill. The only time she saw him was at supper after he had put in a full day of work rebuilding what was lost. When not training, Joko would spend his time in the Lodge, mainly in the Prophet’s room. He was enamored by the man, though he never met him, and devoted his time there studying Paul’s books and letters.

  “Leave no stone unturned,” the prophet’s words echoed in her head as she sat in Paul’s chair. It was then she decided on their destination.

  Paul’s words were the reason they were heading to the Standing Stones. They didn’t have anything else to go on, and Lyla thought it as good a place to start as any.

  Why the hell not, she thought as she flipped through the pages of The Path of Man.

  It’s not like there’s anything in this book that anyone can decipher, anyways.

  The book was written from many hands through various times. From generation to generation, the ancient text was passed down throughout the ages. Now, it was left up to interpretation; and that was subject to debate depending on who the interpreter was.

  Lyla shook her head and tucked it away.

  “Ready?” Torin asked as he tossed away the remains of a hare’s bone. He wiped his mouth and stood, anxious to leave the camp they made on the road to the stones. Lyla kicked dirt over the fire and Joko went to fill the waterskins.

  They rode at leisure, soaking up the midday sun, talking and laughing about nothing. It was refreshing to see Torin smile. Lyla was glad to see the old Torin back, though she wondered how long that would last.

  “Look,” Joko pointed off into the distance. The monolith-like stones that had been erected long ago loomed in front of them, still standing the test of time. They approached them in reverence; the stones commanded it from anyone who stepped among the hallowed grounds. Lyla dismounted and walked among them. There was an undeniable energy here, unlike anything she’d ever felt before. She knelt down and placed her palm to the ground.

  “This is it.”

  Torin put his hand on a stone. “How are you so sure?”

  “I just am,” she stated. “I can feel it.”

  “I don’t feel anything,” Torin said.

  “The girl, she is right,” Joko said from behind, unable to step into the ring of stones. “I feel it, too.”

  “Well, what the hell do we do then, grab shovels and start digging?” Torin said, sarcastically.

  Lyla shrugged. “Why not.”

  “No,” Joko said. “There is another way.” Bowing his head, he closed his eyes. His lips moved a prayer to the Almighty above. “Stand bac
k,” he told them.

  They ran behind him. “I thought you didn’t approve of us finding the garden?” Lyla said.

  “Some things are meant to be. Some things are not,” Joko said.

  “Is this meant to be?” she asked.

  He focused his attention to the stones. “I do not know.” He outstretched his palm and made a sound that came from the bottom of his throat. His eyes turned white and pieces of earth and grass began to float around him, levitated by his energy. Lyla shielded herself from the power that pulsated from her mentor. The earth shook and one of the giant stones broke free from the ground and lifted into the air.

  Torin’s mouth was wide as he witnessed a power that he’d never seen before. Lyla’s was too.

  With a straining arm, Joko moved the stone to the side and slowly placed it back down. He breathed deep, his eyes and energy returning to normal.

  “How did you — I can’t believe it,” Lyla gasped. “This whole time we thought it was a levitation stone that made this, but now that is debatable!”

  Joko turned his head down, ashamed. “I should not have done this.”

  Lyla ran towards the hole in the ground where the stone used to lay. Torin walked to Joko and put a hand on his shoulder. “Remind me not to piss you off,” he said and walked after Lyla.

  Joko raised his head to the sky. “Forgive me.”

  “Torin. Joko,” Lyla called. “You might want to come see this.” She stood over the hole in the ground that tapered into a tunnel, descending deep down into the earth. A faint glimmer of light shone through the blackness at the bottom. Torin crouched beside her.

  “Do you see that?” she asked. “There’s a light at the bottom.”

  “I see it!” Torin said in surprise.

  Her eagerness couldn’t be contained and she ran to the pack horse. She returned with a rope and tossed one end to Torin. “I’m going in,” she stated and tied the rope around her waist. Before Torin could protest, she went in.

  “Damnit, Lyla,” he said and pulled the slack through his hands.

  The first part of the descent wasn’t bad. She could feel her way through the dark tunnel and eased along it on all fours. The glow at the bottom grew brighter as she descended.