Seer of Souls (The Spirit Shield Saga Book 1)
Page 1
Seer
of
Souls
Susan Faw
COPYRIGHT © 2016 SUSAN FAW
All rights reserved. Reproduction or utilization of this work in any form, by any means now known or hereinafter invented, including, but not limited to, xerography, photocopying and recording, and in any known storage and retrieval system, is forbidden without permission from the copyright holder.
Cover Design by Greg Simanson
Edited by Pam Harris
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.
PRINT ISBN 978-0-9953438-0-1
EPUB ISBN 978-0-9953438-1-8
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Epilogue
Preview of Spirit Shield - Book Two
About the Author: Susan Faw
Dedication
There are many people who cross your path in life, and some, especially these days, you may never meet in person.
But they have the power to inspire you from afar. They can suggest an idea, spark a phrase, and help you remember an emotion, an event in your life that inspires a scene.
I wish to dedicate this, my debut novel, to two very special people.
Firstly, I wish to thank Tabby Dermody, who I met online playing a silly children’s game but who, through that game, showed me the soul of a true friend, and has been my buddy and constant supporter through all of our trials. Thank you Tabby, for all your beta read suggestions and for believing in me as an author, and by the way, I have some great suggestions for new characters in our game!
Secondly, or perhaps in a tie, I would like to thank my childhood friend, Geoff Miller, who has also championed Cayden and Avery’s journey, and who has supplied a constant stream of encouragement, wit, and a swift kick in the ass when my motivation lagged.
To all who dream of a life beyond, welcome to the journey.
Perhaps, together, we really can see beyond this reality. It’s worth the peek, don’t you think?
GET THE PREQUEL, SOUL SURVIVOR FOR FREE!
http://susanfaw.com/soul-survivor-prequel-free-download/
Prologue
THE BABY GAVE a feeble, barely discernable kick. Its twin had ceased movement but not with the natural stillness of slumber. Poison moved through their premature bodies, oozing along their tiny veins, a burning acid in their blood.
Mordecai lifted his hand from the woman’s sweaty forehead. Gwen’s panicked eyes locked onto his sad grey ones. She clutched her distended belly as another wave of pain ripped through her.
“It must be poison! This is more than simple birthing pangs.” She coughed and the motion made bile rise in her throat. Gwen clutched at Mordecai’s left hand, gripping it so tight the knuckles of her hand whitened. “It’s reaching the babies! Mordecai, what do we do?”
Straightening his lanky frame, he released her hand and wandered over to the tall mullioned window of the bartizan room. His sweeping brows pinched together in a frown as he gazed unseeingly at the silent courtyard below him. Purple wisteria climbed the ashlar walls of the castle, revealing their stark outlines. A fresh breeze stirred the heavy tapestry curtains as lightning flashed, highlighting the roiling clouds, puffing in eager anticipation of the storm breaking over the castle.
Her seclusion was for her protection. Gwen’s grief over Prince Alexander’s failure to return from his most recent patrol with the Kingsmen twisted in her gut, accentuating the pain of the poison. The prince and all of the Kingsmen in his unit had been slaughtered by Primordials in a sudden vicious attack. This sorrowful news had arrived on the heels of the king’s death from a heart attack a week prior. The kingdom was reeling from the double disaster. And now it’s my turn. I am the target, she thought.
Gwen coughed and froth formed in her mouth, drowning her thoughts. Her lungs attempted to fill but failed. Intense pressure gripped her chest as though a large man with a booted foot stood on it compressing it. She pushed aside her discomfort and staggered over to join the wizard at the window. She clutched a handful of his grey robe sleeve, partly to gain his attention and partly to keep from sinking to the floor.
“Please, Mordecai, I must save my babies! What can I do? There has to be a way to help them. Between your magic and my heritage, there must be a way.”
Mordecai’s mouth drooped beneath his long white beard. “I can only think of one solution, Gwen” he said gently. “You must pass the mother bond to me.” Tears sparked in her almond-shaped eyes as he locked his to hers. “I think we both know that you cannot survive this poison.” He squeezed her hands. “We need to convince Alcina the babes have died with you.”
Gwen’s liquid green eyes searched and found steely resolve reflected in his grey ones. She nodded once and unconsciously rubbed one hand across her protruding belly, where the foot of the lone stirring child pushed against the thin protection of her skin.
“We need to do this quickly, Gwen. The birth will take most of your remaining strength, and they must be born alive in order to pass the bond.”
She groaned again as a hard contraction took her. The twisting pain of a poison-filled cramp left her gasping for air as she sank to her knees beside the wizard. She raised her head, panting. “I do not think that is a problem, Mordecai.”
Mordecai gently eased her onto her back, on the cold stone floor. Reaching inside his pocket, he took out a clear crystal stone and placed it between her cold hands, clasping them with in his own. Together, they began to chant.
***
The late-day sun streamed through the garden-view windows of the bartizan room. Dust motes stirred in a breeze heavy with the smell of damp earth and wisteria. A few trailing clouds scuttled across the sky in an attempt to catch the storm moving off to the east, low rumbles fading softly into the distance.
With a groan, Mordecai sank back
to his knees on the polished floor beside the princess. Gwen's sweat-soaked brown hair curled damply over her curiously shaped ears. Dark circles shadowed her eyes; eyes that stared back at him from a deathly pale face.
She lay on the floor, her bloodstained gown bunched to one side. Beside her, wrapped in cotton swaddling, were two newborn infants, a boy and a girl.
Both children were dead.
A tiny red birthmark, resembling the shape of an oak leaf, adorned the right side of each smooth cheek. The tattoos faded away before his eyes. Mordecai smiled a grim smile and trailed a thin finger down the soft cheeks where the tattoos had appeared so briefly, sensing the residue of magic under the skin.
Gwen lifted her hand and caressed the cheeks of her two babes. A hot tear trickled out of the corner of her eye. She would never know them, nor they her.
Mordecai lifted the children and placed them in her arms. She hugged them and wept silently, tears streaming down onto the cherubic face of the closest child.
Gwen’s mournful eyes lifted to the man standing beside her.
“Are they truly safe now, Mordecai?” Her weak voice shook with supressed emotion.
“They are as safe as we can make them, Gwen.”
She touched his sleeve. “Thank you,” she murmured weakly. “You have been a true friend.” She stiffened, sucking in a hard breath that ended abruptly. Her eyes widened as the soul in their emerald depths faded away. Her hand slipped from his sleeve and thudded to the floor.
Mordecai gently closed her eyes, squeezing his own shut to dam the tears sliding down his whiskered face.
“Sleep well, Gwen, and welcome the peaceful embrace of the Mother.”
He staggered to a chair by the open window. Leaning out over the stone ledge, he saw a dead eagle on the stones below. He dropped back into the chair beside the window and gazed out at the setting sun. The last of the storm clouds faded into the distance. Little did they know that they carried the hopes and dreams of the world in their midst.
Pain stabbed into Mordecai’s chest and he sucked in a deep breath. If his calculations were correct, he had little more than a half hour left. The poison was completing its job.
Well, his task was finished. What would be would be. Eyes opened wide, he watched the sun creep toward the horizon. The rays of the setting sun blazed through the retreating clouds, glowing pink and orange. His lips curved with satisfaction. It was done.
***
The tall, regal woman burst into the room, cruel eyes sweeping the creeping shadows. Her contingent of guards with lanterns held aloft quickly encircled her and then spread out along the sides of the room.
She gazed around at the scene before her. “Search the room for others. Check to see that no one is alive,” she snapped at the guards.
She marched up to the woman lying on the floor cuddling her two babes. Frowning, she stepped around the bodies and moved over to the man in the chair.
He sat staring glassy-eyed out the window. She felt for a pulse in his neck and located a faint pulse under the curve of his chin.
“The wizard still lives!” she screamed. “Find the mage. Hurry!”
She snapped her fingers, calling the two guards standing closest. “Pick him up, and move him to the lower dungeon. Secure him with two guards on the door at all times. His head is to be shaven before he awakes and it must remain shaven or his powers will return.”
She grabbed Mordecai’s whiskered jaw in her long-nailed hand and shook his slack face. “Poor bald wizard,” she murmured to him. “You hoped to be dead before I arrived, didn’t you? Soon, you will tell me all your secrets, starting with this room. I will know the truth of this before you die.” She released his face. “Take him away!”
Whirling around, she barked to the other guards crowding the room. “Burn the bodies—immediately! There will be no Remembrance Eulogy for them. They are unworthy of the honour. It is reserved for true royalty”—she nudged Gwen’s body with her toe—“and she is not royalty! Filthy heathen!”
Furious, she stormed from the room, her black silk skirts snapping in her wake.
Chapter 1
ZIONA ASPENWOOD STOOD at the edge of the glade in the shadow of an ancient oak tree watching the blond-haired young man. Dressed in rough woolen pants and a bleached linen shirt, he sat on a rocky outcropping, whittling a length of wood.
He paused to examine his work, holding it up to his right eye and peering down the long shaft and then turned it over in his hands, running his fingers along the hollows he had carved into the body of the wood.
Satisfied, he picked up a long narrow awl, a useful leather tool that now doubled as a whittling knife, and with deft movements tunnelled into the shaft of wood, starting at one end then working from the other until a tube formed through its length.
He shook his hand and shavings fell to the grass at his feet. He blew into one end and peered down the tube once again. Grunting his satisfaction, he smoothed the center of the piece with the sharp awl.
Suddenly he glanced up, his piercing green eyes staring directly at Ziona. They pinned her to the spot. She flinched back to take cover even though she knew human eyes were not as sharp as a Primordial. Still, his focused concentration made her believe he had spotted her hiding place amongst the trees.
He stared at her like a deer scenting danger for a moment and then picked up his project once again, deciding the danger had passed.
Ziona drew back into the gloom of the woods and joined her companion. Sharisha Fernfell was dark-skinned for a Primordial with brown eyes bordering on black. Her sharp cheekbones and permanent frown provided a stark contrast to Ziona’s leafy green eyes, set in a heart-shaped face and framed by sun-kissed hair.
“Did he spot you?” Sharisha crossed her arms over her chest, annoyed by the lingering of her younger companion.
“No, I don’t believe so,” said Ziona, shaking her head. “I thought he caught my scent, but there is no possibility of that, is there? Perhaps one of his sheep alerted him to our presence.”
“We need to be careful,” Sharisha huffed. “The escalation of the war has made it unsafe for Primordials to be seen in human lands. Surely you know this, Ziona!'”
“Yes. There is no need to remind me, Sharisha,” snapped Ziona.
Sharisha frowned at the younger woman and instead asked, “So…what do you think? Is he the one we seek?”
Ziona was silent for a moment, thinking. Was it possible he was the one? He seemed to fit the parameters, but, on the other hand, he seemed so simple…so common…not at all what she had anticipated.
They had been watching him and his sister on and off for a week now. Other than an affinity for nature, they had not exhibited any skills or talents out of the ordinary.
“I don’t know, Sharisha. I just don’t know. The elders speak of an undeniable sign that will show them true. I guess we should continue to watch him. If he is the one then eventually he will show us proof of his true nature. The spring equinox is almost here. If a sign is to come, it will be then, when the Goddess returns to bless the land. I think we should wait until then.”
“Agreed,” said Sharisha. “We will wait and watch.”
Sharisha led the way back through the woods to their campsite deep in the forest. She moved without a sound on soft moccasin-shod feet. Ziona followed, slipping into the shadows.
***
Cayden Tiernan glanced up from his whittling, staring at a flash of something in the oak grove at the far end of the clifftop pasture.
He stared at the spot, focusing his senses on the spot, searching for anything out of the ordinary. He thought he sensed a presence beneath the ancient oak tree, which stood tall and proud where the field of tall grass ended. He smelled a fresh calming scent, reminiscent of his sister. Someone or something was definitely watching him.
He whittled without focus, his senses attuned to the spot. There. The movement was as graceful as a doe in the trees, so fleeting that the average person would miss it.
>
Now, the presence was gone.
Who are they? What do they want with that particular spot?
Cayden pocketed his flute and affected a casual stroll toward the ancient oak. As he entered the shadowy circle formed by the canopy of the tree, the lower branch quivered and a slender figure dropped onto his back. He staggered sideways, not as a result of the negligible weight but from the arm that snaked around his skull in a squeezing headlock that blocked his eyes and made spots swim behind his eyelids. His foot caught on a thick tree root that rounded out of the soil. The combination was too much and he tumbled to the earth with a thump that dislodged his attacker, tossing her over his shoulder and rolling away.
Cayden winced at the sharp spear of pain in his knee and looked up to see his twin sister, Avery, lying flat on her stomach, head twisted to the side. Her arms were sprawled to either side and she jerked spasmodically. Alarmed, he lurched to his feet, one hand soothing the friction burn on his face and the other brushing stones from his knee, as he stumbled to her side. Sinking onto his uninjured knee he grabbed her shoulder and flipped her over. Fear tightened his throat and he croaked, “Avery! Are you OK?” His shout trailed away as her face was revealed. Avery was laughing so hard that her shoulders shook and she swiped at the tears streaming from her eyes. A full-bellied laugh burst from her lungs and she rolled onto her side, curling into a ball and hugging her middle.
“I have a stitch in my side,” she hiccupped and continued to laugh and hiccup in an alternating pattern that eerily echoed the tune that had just been playing in Cayden’s mind.
Miffed, Cayden stood up and stalked away. She is always doing that, trying to scare me. His hands drifted into his pockets, checking that his flutes were intact as his eyes quickly scanned the surrounding forest, but whatever had caught his attention earlier was long gone.
Cayden rolled his shoulders, easing the tension there and also relaxing the sore point where Avery’s knee had impacted. He turned back and offered her a hand up. “If you are quite through…?”
Avery accepted his hand and he hauled her hiccupping to her feet. She brushed grass and leaves off her tan pants and picked a twig out of the turndown at the top of her boot.