The Shattered Orb (Vagrant Souls Book 1)

by Samuel E. Green

  "Peoh might be a liar. He might be the one responsible for shattering the orb. But he also might be able to save Aernheim. He has knowledge beyond anything I've known. You are my son." She touched his shoulder affectionately. "If you do not wish to enter the spire, you can walk away now. I will not think less of you."

  He looked at his feet. A little over a week ago, at a moment's notice, Alfric had conjured a plan to help Indham. He'd risked everything. Where was he now? Alive? Dead? He wasn't here. This time, it was Hiroc Indham needed.

  "I'm the only one," Hiroc said. "You said that yourself."

  Edoma smiled. "You have the glove. You have your knife. Draw blood when you need it, just a small cut. Call upon Enlil, and he will keep you safe." She removed a small vial from her robes. "This is the last of the human blood we have. We used the rest of it for this evening's wards. Tomorrow, we will have to make difficult decisions to keep warding the town, unless Saega brings back a dragon. But he might not return. It's up to you to save Indham. Go now. May Enlil's hand keep you from harm."

  Hiroc was about to leave when he caught sight of the etching on the wall. "I think Idmaer is innocent," he said.

  Edoma shook her head. "The grimoire of the First Priest was stolen from the tomb. Idmaer's medallion was the only thing that could open it. He isn't the man you think he is. Once, he was just, kind, and devout. But no more."

  "The Council might find him guilty. What then? Will you allow the man you once loved—the man who once loved you—to be executed? Will you allow my father to be executed?"

  Edoma's face clenched, as though she were fighting back tears. "That will only happen if he's guilty. He will have a fair trial."

  47

  Edoma

  Two hours before sundown, the Council gathered for the trial.

  Edoma had raced from the candlemaker's shop to the Council Hall and taken a seat beside Saega at the high table.

  "Is it wise to have the people present?" Edoma whispered to Saega.

  Wherever there was space to stand or climb, there were people. Fatherless, warriors, priests, acolytes, and Daughters of Enlil. There were even some pilgrims who had remained in Indham rather than seek their luck elsewhere. The only empty space was behind the Council member's table and a section in front of it, where Idmaer kneeled.

  The Council sat on the high table. Edoma had purposely sat directly behind him, where he would be unable to see her. There were scant few Council members who had been amicable with Idmaer before today, but now, every one of them looked on with scowls. Edoma hoped their minds weren't already determined. She had promised Hiroc that Idmaer would have a fair trial.

  "Everyone knows the charges," Saega said to Edoma. He was wearing his black runic robes. The wards on his face still glowed faintly. "I was outside. They chanted god-killer."

  Edoma sighed. She had been unable to think of anything except the trial since she'd visited Idmaer earlier that morning. Her anger had since subsided. In its place was a calm readiness to accept whatever happened today.

  "I'm not going to mention Peoh to the Council," Saega said. "Better that we deal with him ourselves. Should the Council learn of the oath you and I made with Peoh, we would suffer a similar fate to the real killer."

  Edoma didn't like lying, but she accepted it with a nod. It wasn't their trial today, but Idmaer's. Not only that, but she wanted Hiroc to find Peoh before Saega did. She suspected Saega wouldn't wait to question whether Peoh could help them. She still had hope that, even if Peoh had shattered Aern's orb, he might be convinced to restore them. She had, after all, once been close to him.

  Saega's body shuddered, and she caught sight of blood beneath his sleeve. The ends of his fingers were black with rot. He must now only be sustaining himself with Sulith's magic.

  Not a single person spoke as Saega stepped out from the table. A hood obscured his face. "Esteemed members of Indham's Council, I bring before you a charge of great weight. You were informed by Idmaer, High Priest of Indham, that Aern was weakened. This, however, was a lie."

  Saega nodded to Wulfnoth, and he stood. He opened a small wooden box and held it in an outstretched palm. He strolled behind each seated Council member, and they turned to gaze inside the box. Horror struck their somber faces. Edoma was last to discern the box's contents—the broken shards of Aern's orb.

  If there had been any doubt in the Council's mind until this point, it was gone now. Aern's orb had been shattered. Idmaer had lied to them.

  Edoma grimaced. This wasn't the best way to start a fair trial. Seeing that he had lied to them would make them more likely to condemn him for shattering the orb. Had it been her who had addressed the other Council members, she might have admitted that she had also known the orb was broken. But that would have been foolish. If Idmaer was condemned, they might have condemned her, too.

  Edoma hoped that if they did rule against him, more evidence would be put forward. If not, she would have to testify on his behalf, revealing that she had also known that Aern had been killed.

  Wulfnoth placed the box on the table, still open. The shards caught the sunlight through the windows. Everyone in the room was now able to look upon the fractured remains of their beloved protector.

  Saega nodded to Edoma, and she stood. It was her turn now to question the witness. Now she would learn what Wulfnoth had refused to tell her.

  "Where did you get this box?" Edoma asked.

  "I've owned it for most my life."

  Her question had been a test, and Wulfnoth had answered truthfully. That was good. He wasn't intending to lie to the Council.

  "And the shards?" she asked.

  "Idmaer told me to collect them from the altar. They are, as you can see, those that once formed Aern's orb."

  With not nearly enough information for a verdict either way, Edoma pressed on. "What else did he tell you?"

  "He said to scrub the blood clean so that no one would know what really happened to Aern."

  "What really happened?" Edoma said, holding her breath.

  "Idmaer stole a grimoire from the First Priest's tomb. He used the dark magic inside to destroy Aern's orb."

  Edoma felt her legs weaken. She grasped the table's edge with both hands.

  "Do you wish to continue?" Saega asked her.

  She nodded. Taking a deep breath, she asked her final question. This would be the one to determine Idmaer's guilt or innocence. "Did he tell you why?"

  "He wanted to prove that Aern didn't live within the orb. He wanted to show that there was nothing but energy within it. He called it an impersonal force."

  Edoma found herself nodding. It was all making sense. The motives rang true. Idmaer had spoken these diabolical philosophies with her before.

  "And this book?" Saega leaned heavily on his staff and groaned as he removed a tome from his pocket. It was small and blackened from burning. "Is it true you gave this book to me?"

  Edoma gasped as Wulfnoth answered, "Yes."

  "And where did you get it?"

  "Idmaer told me to dispose of it as he said to dispose of the shards. He had been unable to burn it completely. It is what remains of the First Priest's grimoire."

  A dry laugh broke through the shocked gasps of the people. The laughing continued, followed by a slow and pitiful clapping. Idmaer's chains clinked as he continued to applaud. He didn't speak, but he seemed to be taken with a hysterical bout of laughter.

  Edoma looked away. She clenched her fists beneath the table.

  Saega thrust a black-tipped finger at Idmaer. "This man before you, a so-called High Priest, has spoken heresy. The Guardians he calls nothing but forces. This is madness." Saega sneered down at Idmaer. "Do you believe these things?"

  Idmaer had remained silent for the duration of the trial. Edoma hadn't looked at him once during her questioning, but she did now.

  He smiled, eyes heavy-lidded. "Does it really matter what I tell you? How can you sentence a man to death for his beliefs?"

  "Answer the question
," Edoma said through gritted teeth. His smugness infuriated her.

  "No, I don't believe that now. This grimoire you speak of taught me otherwise."

  She had known he'd stolen it. And now he'd admitted he'd read it before the Council and before Indham's people.

  "There is no defense I can give," Idmaer said. "Since I will be leaving you all soon, I'd like to confess the only sins I am guilty of."

  Saega looked at Edoma, and she forced herself to nod. She braced herself for what might come next.

  "You may speak," Saega said to Idmaer.

  "Firstly, I failed in my duties to my family. As husband, I heeded not the advice of my wife, and when I did, I did so begrudgingly. I manipulated her into giving up our only sons. When she sought separation from the marriage bed and our home, I entered the catacombs beneath Enlil's Temple. In a stroke of pure luck, I happened upon a statue that contained a perfect fit for the High Priest's medallion. With it, I opened the tomb and stole the First Priest's grimoire.

  "But I spurned more than just my wife and my sons. My cousin, Bodil, was taken by men whom I suggested she court. The first betrays me now before you all; the other stands in condemnation of me. Both I counted as friends, but I see now that they are scorpions who preyed upon my dear cousin and now conspire to have me killed.

  "And to Indham's people—" He tried to turn his head to face them, but the chains made it impossible. "My father handed down the office of High Priest, thinking that I would do it justice. I didn't. I failed to lead the people as I ought. I convinced you all that the dragons were to be captured and enslaved. Those of you who opposed me, I ensured were silenced. Durwin, the man who made his opposition most clear, I framed for stealing an object from the Basilica. He was executed for a crime he didn't commit. And now, the gods, whom I have denied for so long, have seen fit to mete out justice. I did not kill Aern, but I shall suffer the punishment of death for the crimes I have committed."

  There was silence.

  Edoma barely noticed the tears running down her face. She rubbed them away with her sleeves, scowling at Idmaer as she did. He refused to meet her gaze. She wanted to storm over to him and strike him.

  How dare he admit to all those things and yet not tell the truth about Aern?

  "The charge is deicide," Saega announced. "Does the Council perceive the accused guilty?"

  Edoma considered things as hands shot up around her. Hiroc had spoken of a giant. Where was the giant in all of this? She supposed it wasn't unbelievable that Idmaer had hired a giant from the northern mountains to remain at the hill while he made an escape. And Peoh? The events described by Wulfnoth had left him out completely. Still, it was clear from Wulfnoth's testimony and the evidence presented that Idmaer—even if he hadn't struck the killing blow—had played an instrumental part in Aern's murder.

  Steeling her resolve, Edoma lifted her hand. She could see from the corner of her eye that every other Council member had a hand raised. Although only the Council's judgment could send a man to the chopping block, all over the room hands were lifted. Not a single person, Council member or otherwise, showed themselves to disagree with the charge.

  "The decision is unanimous." Saega wandered over to Idmaer. He nodded at Wulfnoth, who removed something from his girdle pouch. Idmaer's eyes widened at the whip Wulfnoth was unraveling.

  "Idmaer, you are stripped of your title as High Priest."

  A lash descended, breaking skin. Idmaer didn't scream.

  "You are stripped of your blood-right."

  Another lash, and still he didn't scream. He bit his lip.

  "You are stripped of your humanity. You are stripped of your eternal reward. You are stripped of your name."

  Three lashes this time, and on the last, he cried out. He lay on the cold stone, breathing heavily.

  "You will be executed at daybreak tomorrow," Saega said. His sandaled feet walked away, dotted with blood. The whip clattered to the ground inches from Idmaer's face.

  "Return the desecrater to the dungeons," Saega said.

  Edoma looked away as Idmaer was dragged out. He had admitted to all those things, and yet he hadn't admitted to killing Aern.

  "You got the dragon," Edoma said as Saega approached her. His faded habit obscured his face. A deathly stench filled the air.

  "Indeed. It was not easy, but it is done. After the execution, you can begin the bloodletting."

  "You commanded that Idmaer be tortured," Edoma said.

  "I needed him ready to give up the spire. You spoke with him, didn't you?"

  "Wulfnoth told you?"

  Saega nodded. "And you were unable to convince him to grant you ownership."

  "No," she said.

  "There are . . . other means by which Idmaer would transfer ownership." He drummed his fingers on his staff. They were, as she had seen earlier, black around the fingernails.

  Edoma couldn't believe that she was considering what Saega was implying. But Idmaer had stolen the grimoire and used it to murder Aern. He was entirely responsible for Indham's current plight.

  "Do what you must," she said.

  48

  Fryda

  Fryda continued through another sequence of corridors, following closely behind Peoh. She still held the short spear in her hand. The only light came from Peoh's tattoos. He'd removed his tunic so that the tattoos glowed brighter. She couldn't help looking at the strange woman depicted on his back. Was that what his Guardian looked like? He had come from Mundos like Edoma, so his Guardian was probably Mun. From the little Edoma had told her, Mun was a terrible Guardian who took pleasure in suffering. But this woman seemed to have a caring expression, her hands pressed together in a prayerful posture.

  They'd been traveling beneath the spire for hours. There was nothing unique about the stone walls or the sconces jutting out from them—everything looked the same. Were it not for Peoh's constant encouragement that they were almost at the exit, Fryda feared she might have gone insane.

  "Through here," Peoh said.

  Fryda stepped through a narrow doorway. Had he not pointed it out, she might have thought it was merely an inlet in the wall. She gasped at what was inside.

  In the middle of the round room was a pool. The spire's constant shaking caused the water to move about. A green light emanated from the center of the pool. Water trickled from a fountain on the wall behind it.

  "This spire is a magnificent place," Peoh said. He knelt beside the pool and ran his hands through the water. "It is said that godstone, the material used to build the spire, was mined in the realm of the gods—the Infernal City." He pointed to a symbol like a number eight that was carved onto each of the four stone pillars that held up the domed ceiling. "That is the symbol of the divine city."

  Fryda recognized it from the catacombs at Enlil's Temple. It had marked the giant door Edoma had thought the First Priest's tomb lay behind.

  Peoh nodded to a doorway left of the pool. "And that's the way out."

  "How can you be sure?" They'd traveled through a dozen doors that led into more rooms with more doors. Although, none of the rooms had been quite like this one.

  "Can't you smell it? The air is fresh."

  Fryda shook her head. All she could smell was dust.

  "Trust me," he said with a smile. He went to walk through the doorway, but Fryda stopped him.

  "We can't leave yet," she said. "Jaruman is still out there."

  "He was a good man," Peoh said. "We grew up together. He became a soldier and I a mage. The world is a lesser place for having lost him."

  "We left him trapped beneath the rubble, still alive. Don't speak of him like he's dead." The spire shook and the pool's water splashed onto the stone outside of it. "It's not just Jaruman we need to retrieve. The warrior dropped a vial of dragon blood."

  Peoh looked at her with a hard gaze. "Why do you need dragon blood?"

  "I want to be warded." When his eyes narrowed, she prayed that this strange man who could command unseen forces had a heart.
She doubted it, but she had to try. "Alfric was a man I loved. He went with two other warriors to Eosorheim."

  "We don't have time for this," he said.

  She grabbed his arm and immediately let go. His skin had scalded her palm. Ignoring the pain, she said, "Please, hear me."

  Peoh looked sympathetically at her burned hand and nodded.

  "Before Alfric got there, the wraiths came. They possessed him and made him into a skinwalker. I saw him. I thought my horse killed him, but it didn't. I want to find him."

  "Forget it," he said. "He's more lost than Jaruman. There's no coming back once a skinwalker takes you." He stopped, as though he was about to correct himself. "No coming back," he repeated.

  "Alfric is different," Fryda insisted. "Edoma said she saw him in the scrying crystal. His soul was still in his body, even while the wraith was controlling it."

  Peoh suddenly grabbed her shoulders and stared her in the eyes. "Are you certain?"

  Fryda winced, realizing that a man who had punched a hole in a wall was now gripping her tightly enough to break her arms. "I'm certain!"

  He let go of her. He scratched his chin in thought. "We must find this dragon blood. I'll ward you myself. I'd come with you to find this Alfric, but saving Aernheim is more important. At least for now."

  "Why are you willing to go back for the dragon blood when you weren't willing to go back for Jaruman?" Fryda almost regretted asking the question, but she needed to know.

  "There's something important about this Alfric, if what Edoma saw was true." Without saying any more, he walked past her. He went to one of the walls and pressed his ear against it.

  "What are you doing?" she asked.

  Raising a hand to silence her, he rapped against the wall with his fist. The sound came back hollow. "I was looking for this," he said. "The water pipes that make the fountain work lie beyond this wall."

  Peoh extended his arm, and the wards along them glowed. Fryda gasped as blood leaked from the tattoos. He widened his legs and turned from the hip, twisting his arm. His fist shot through the wall. Water trickled out from the new hole. "Well, we know where the pipes are." He wore an expression of concern as he crammed the broken bricks into the hole. Despite the obstruction, water continued leaking from it.