Seer of Souls (The Spirit Shield Saga Book 1)

by Susan Faw

  Ziona, however, gasped and fell to her knees face down in the dirt in front of the child. “I am honoured and humbled by your presence, Great Aossi!” She pressed her forehead to the ground. Cayden was stunned. Aossi winked merrily at him again and skipped over to Ziona. She placed her hand on her hair and murmured something to Ziona in the Primordial tongue. Cayden thought it might be a blessing of sorts. He gazed at the scene in amazement. Tough, commanding Ziona on her knees to a child, albeit a magical one. Ziona rose from her subservient position and backed up beside Cayden. Her face was alive with joy.

  “Tell us why you have come, ancient one?” Cayden’s eyes jerked back to Ziona’s at her words.

  “Cayden has summoned us from our retreat.” She twirled, her prismatic skirts swirling on feet floating above the ground. “Even we could not resist the spell of his music.”

  She danced over and placed a hand on the curve of Cayden’s cheek. “He is so very special, even if he does not yet understand how. We know and we come as called.” She grinned again and a finger tapped his cheek. He instantly felt a rush of joy swell in his chest. She soothed his worries and peace stole over him. She gazed into his eyes and they grew serious, a strange expression for her nature.

  “Cayden, you are the one all creation has been waiting for. That we have been waiting for. Hidden within you is the ability to save this world, poised on the brink of destruction. You and your sister have great gifts, which you are only beginning to understand. You are prophesied to do great things. Many have sacrificed their lives to give the world this chance. We bow to you and are in your service.” She knelt before him, head bowed. Ziona knelt beside Aossi also.

  Cayden backed up in shock.

  “Stop that! I don’t understand any of this!” he croaked. “Would someone please tell me what is going on? Everyone seems to know far more than me.” Frustration made his voice sharpen. “I need answers and I need them now!”

  Aossi stood up and smiled at him. “That is the response I was waiting for. Take command, Cayden. Do not be afraid to lead. A king must be able to stand tall and with assurance. He must be able to make decisions sometimes with little or no knowledge. This is your destiny. The city you march toward is your home, Cayden. It is your heritage and your promise. The present queen is a usurper and must be deposed. There is one there, who is calling to you from within the city walls. It is so, yes?”

  Cayden’s eyes met hers and he nodded.

  “Find him. He is a wizard of great power. He has been imprisoned there since your birth. He has been waiting for you. He has the answers you seek. You must free him and take back control of your capital.”

  “I am no king.” Cayden rejected the charge automatically.

  “You do not know who and what you are.” Aossi studied him. “Find the wizard. He will help you to understand.”

  To Ziona, she said, “You are his guide, yes?” Ziona nodded reverently, bowing her head once again. “You must stay with him every minute of every day. There are many seeking him on behalf of the queen. She has entire legions of soldiers searching for him. She may even know you are coming. But they are not the only ones. There are deeper, darker stirrings.”

  Ziona nodded again. She straightened her posture, grim determination etching her face.

  Aossi’s smile dimpled her cheek, once again becoming the impish little girl.

  “All you ever need to do, Cayden, is call for us. Protect that flute. Know that it works only for you. If you should ever lose it, you may also find us here.” She poked his chest where his heart beat. “And here.” She tapped his temple. “We will be watching over you too.” With a swirl of green skirts that felt like a breath of warm spring air, Aossi vanished.

  Ziona sank back to the ground, her eyes clouded over in thought.

  Cayden placed the flute back in his satchel and then went over to the pot of stew bubbling and gave it a stir, his thoughts full of the conversation. At least now he knew who was calling him in Cathair. But take the city? He snorted to himself. How in heaven and earth would he accomplish such a task? It seemed ridiculous to contemplate. He laughed out loud. I am no king. What a ridiculous concept. He opened his mouth to say those exact words, but the look on Ziona’s face stopped him.

  She stared at him in fascination, and she was bowing before him once again. Cayden blushed deeply and reached down and pulled her to her feet. “Stop that. You are totally embarrassing me, Ziona! Get a grip on yourself, would you? She was just a little fairy person. What does she know about the future or about who I am?”

  Ziona shook her head, marvelling at his innocence.

  She sat down, drawing him down beside her. “Your Majesty.” Cayden went to interrupt, but she plowed right over top of him. “You did not tell me you had summoned the Aossi.”

  Cayden frowned at her. “What is so important about them? They look like fairies to me.”

  “They are related to fairies, yes. But they are much, much more than mere fairies. They are of the Mother Goddess herself. They are the guardians of the spirits of nature; the chief stewards who protect the world and keep it in spiritual balance. It is said that they are immortal and exist on a plane between the mortal and immortal worlds. And…”—she raised a finger in emphasis—“they have not been seen in a millennium.”

  Cayden’s mouth snapped shut. “So…they are…what? Angels? What do they do?”

  “They maintain the status quo between good and evil, Cayden. Think of it this way. When the autumn comes and the leaves fall, what happens to them? They become part of the forest floor and in the spring the worms grind them into fertilizer to feed the tree, which in turn feeds the leaves of the new season. Death begets life and life falls to death. Harmony and balance are maintained in the circle of life that the Mother Goddess created. For good to exist, so must evil, for one cannot exist without the other. They are the balance.”

  “But why have they appeared to me?”

  “You are significant to their plans or to their existence or both. You are somehow tied to them and them to you. They aid you because they must, because it is part of what was and what will be.”

  Cayden stood and went back to the pot. The stew was done. He ladled their dinner into two bowls and brought one to Ziona.

  Ziona observed his stiff and jerky motions, frustration displayed in his every movement. “I know this is hard for you, Cayden, but you will find your answers in time. I am here to help you. At least we know one thing for certain.”

  “What do we know?”

  “We know you were right to head to Cathair. And we now know why. Who is this wizard?” she mused.

  “I have no idea. I have never met a wizard before.” Cayden shrugged. “Can I ask you a favour?”

  “Certainly, what is it?”

  “Please do not call me ‘Your Majesty’ ever again.”

  Ziona shook her head, amused. “I cannot promise that, Cayden. However, I do believe it unwise to flaunt such knowledge to the common listener. Your secret is safe with me…for the time being at least.” She regarded him once again. “I would never have believed starting out that this journey would bring me to this place and time. The Mother Goddess works in mysterious ways.”

  Cayden frowned, clearly not amused. They cleared up the dishes, working side by side, and then settled back with their tea. Curling his hands around the warm cup, he gazed into its murky depths. “I wonder why you couldn’t summon the Aossi.” He took a sip in contemplation.

  “A good question. I believe those flutes are attuned to you and they will only respond to your touch in any magical fashion. Should anyone else pick them up, they will simply be what they seem, wooden flutes. I think it must have something to do with the runes. There is a magic in runes that is unique. The symbols have meaning beyond the actual shapes they form.”

  Cayden took another sip. “Maybe this wizard will know. Do you have any idea how to find him?”

  “Well, if he is a prisoner, he is likely held in one of the prison cells,
right?”

  “That would make sense, yes. So do you have any ideas on how to go about breaking a wizard out of a prison cell? Why can’t he break himself out?”

  “I can think of many reasons why he might still be in that cell, Cayden, but none of them really help us. I think we need to enter the city and see what it is like before we try to form a plan to get him out. I know nothing about the palace and I assume you are equally in the dark about it?”

  He nodded.

  “Well then, we should get some rest, Your Majesty.” She giggled and headed off to her tent. She glanced back over her shoulder and spied his look of consternation. Laughing, she let the tent flaps close behind her.

  Chapter 32

  NELSON AND FABIAN PAUSED, pulling Denzik to the side. They let the men pull ahead, so they were the last to leave the Traitor’s Gate.

  “This is the wrong opening,” Nelson whispered.

  Fabian nodded. “Yes, I think so too. A lucky discovery, but we were led to believe that the path to the proper insertion point would be more to the east.”

  “Then we must have walked right past it. Let’s keep our eyes sharp on the way back.” Denzik took the lead.

  They headed off down the stream side path, keeping their eyes peeled for an opening in the rocky cavern face. The cave widened and narrowed in several places. About one hundred yards from the Traitor’s Gate, Fabian pointed out a shadowed area partially concealed behind a stalagmite formation. From the other direction, the opening had been completely covered.

  They scrambled up over the short rise of floor to the opening. It appeared to be high enough to allow a slightly stooped tall man to enter. Denzik and his companions, not being tall men, were able to stand straight, their hair brushing the stone above. Denzik shoved his lantern hand into the opening and a narrow passage opened up before them. It was not a natural formation. Small sharp grooves marked the surface of the tunnel.

  “This may be it. Nelson, go inform our men that we are staying behind for a little while longer. We need to see where this path goes.”

  Nelson trotted off to do as bidden and returned a few minutes later, carrying an extra couple of lanterns.

  Denzik led the way into the tunnel, which twisted around, its path seeming to follow the softer sections of the rock. After about ten minutes, during which they became completely disoriented, the path emptied onto a flat expanse of rock glowing with an eerie light. Some sort of fluorescent substance lined the cave, giving it a greenish glow. They spread out, approaching the wall in front of them. It was also plain but obviously made of limestone, and this time there was no question that it was man made. Large smoothed blocks of seamless limestone were stacked precisely, the stone quarried to the slightest of tolerances.

  Denzik stepped up to the wall, searching its surface by lantern light. He ran his fingers across the surface, looking for anything to indicate they were at the right spot. The others searched alongside him. He moved down the wall, right into the corner where the massive foundation disappeared back into the natural rock. His fingers paused over an indentation about chest height shaped like a sword.

  “Here, this might be it. Give me some more light.” Nelson and Fabian raised lanterns, flooding the area with a flickering bright light.

  Denzik rubbed the surface, scratching away years of dust and dirt to reveal the symbol. He backed up, eyes scanning the wall. “This must be it.” He scratched at his beard in thought. “I have no idea what is on the other side.”

  “Why don’t we tap on the wall and see if we get a response? After all, these are likely to be the deepest cells of the castle, correct? They must be prisoner cells.”

  “All right. I guess there is no way our tapping would alert any guards. Their stations are on the next level up.” He gazed up the wall to where it disappeared into the cavern’s ceiling.

  “Here is a rock.” Nelson pushed a stone into each of their hands.

  “Let’s tap the call to arms from the King’s Guard. The current guard would not recognize it,” Fabian suggested.

  “An excellent idea.” Denzik clapped Fabian on the shoulder appreciatively. It seemed fitting to attack the walls with sounds that had been banished from them.

  They tapped out the bugle call, the rhythm coming naturally to them as though no time had passed. They paused at the end, waiting to see if there was any response.

  Silence filled the cave…and then they heard a faint echo of their tapping. It was the same call, but coming from the other side of the rock. Someone was tapping in response.

  Denzik switched over to the proper tapping code of the sentries and tapped on the wall, “Who are you?”

  The reply, when it came, shocked them. “Mordecai Ben-Moses, First Wizard of the Fell. I have been waiting for you.”

  Chapter 33

  THEY BROKE CAMP TO A FINE DRIZZLE that soaked the tents and ground. Ryder settled his cloak around his broad shoulders and drew up his deep hood to fend off the persistent moisture. The evening had passed peacefully. He tightened the girth on his horse, checking its catch. He tied his pack in place behind his saddle and mounted up.

  The men were ready to go. They have become quite good at this. Slowly, we are being transformed from a bunch of farmers into a real soldiering unit, Ryder thought.

  The once-boys-now-men laughed and joked as they went about their tasks, clearly happy to be in the band.

  Last night around the campfire, they had finally chosen a name for themselves. They argued that all excellent fighting forces had a name. They approached Ryder for his permission to raise a banner in their chosen name. And so the Band of the Rebels’ Land was formed. Darius led the name choice. Ryder had tried to talk him out of it initially.

  “I don’t know if it’s such a good idea, Darius,” Ryder said, the presence of the men standing behind him softening his words. “By choosing that name, you are announcing to the entire world that you are set against the queen and in open rebellion against her rule and her authority. You are painting bull’s eyes on their backs.”

  “Exactly! Don’t you see? By loudly proclaiming our allegiance to our homeland, we will attract like-minded men who are not organized but who wish to stand in revolt. We are not the only ones out here, Ryder.”

  Ryder scanned the eager faces around him and crossed his arms over his chest, pondering their choice. Yes, they would attract attention, but enough of the right kind to offset the expected whiplash when the queen learned of their presence and declared purpose? What if she sent her own forces against them? Experienced battle-trained troops!

  “Then in the morning, we ride. We ride hard. For in announcing our intentions, we sacrifice the luxury of remaining hidden.”

  Laurista worked long into the night to fashion a banner. They located some royal blue cloth onto which they had sewn a circle embroidered with a bright golden eagle clutching a branch in its talons. The banner was hoisted into the air on a stout wooden pole they had foraged for in the woods. After arguing over who would have the first honour, Darius took it and rode up beside Ryder. The rest of the band formed up behind them to begin the long journey south, allegiance proudly displayed for all to see. They broke into song, singing a battle hymn of their own making:

  “Hoist the flag and proudly fly

  Our pride soars into the sky

  War will find us come what may

  Bring it on, we proudly say

  We march no matter what the cost

  In remembrance of what was lost

  Our proud king stolen away

  Will rise again on that day

  Hoist the flag and proudly sing

  Freedom comes on eagle’s wings!”

  Ryder hummed along as the drizzle dripped off his coat.

  They followed the River Erinn for most of the day. Toward dusk, they came upon the outskirts of a small village set back from the river. A long stone arch bridged the river from shore to shore, wide enough to accommodate two wagons passing at mid-span.

  T
he village was surrounded by farms, bordered with neatly trimmed hedge rows and low fieldstone walls. A dirt road opened up between the farms and led directly to the central village square. A sign announced the village as Erinnshire.

  They rode into the village and stopped at the fountain in the center of the square. The new banner snapped in the wind announcing the band’s arrival. Ryder gazed around and then dismounted. The villagers went about their business taking no particular interest in the newcomers.

  Ryder spied the village inn on the south side of the square. It was a two-story structure, covered with mud plaster and peeling white paint. Wooden shutters painted a bright blue provided a splash of colour on the otherwise plain façade of the building. A sign hanging over the front entrance announced the name of the inn as The Frosty Mug. A tall glass of ale with a bead of moisture slipping down the side decorated the sign. The men eyed the sign and licked their lips in anticipation.

  “Stay here,” Ryder commanded, “while I seek out the mayor and ask him for a suitable location to set up camp. If he is agreeable to having the entire band in town, we will come back and fetch everyone.”

  Ryder was joined by Darius and Laurista as he entered the inn’s dim interior.

  A woman with a mass of curls piled high on her head straightened from wiping a table and inspected the newcomers. She wore a yellow ankle-length skirt and matching shirt, accented by a crocheted tan vest. Her friendly eyes greeted them.

  “How may I help you, gentlemen and lady?”

  “We have come with about thirty men and are planning to have them camp at the edge of town. Would the mayor be available to speak to us? We wish to ask where it would be the least intrusive to settle down for the night.”

  “I am the mayor. I am also the proprietress of this inn. My name is Simona.”

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance, madam. I am Ryder.” He motioned to his companions and made introductions.

  “I believe Old Man Jacoby has a field lying fallow this year. He may be willing to allow you to set up camp there for a small fee.” She gave directions to the farm on the south side of town. “Will your men be coming into town later? I ask so I can let the cooks know of a larger crowd than usual.” She glanced around her common room, which was presently about a quarter full.