“I am,” Devin said. “How did you know?”
The girl pointed at his Anwyn pendant.
“Jonathan’s told me stories. He said one Soulkeeper could fight off an entire village.”
Devin smiled softly.
“Your mayor exaggerates, little one.”
“So you don’t fight bad people?”
“Most of the time villages request my aid when they need herbal medicine, legal judgments, a wedding sermon, or a large number of reaping rituals performed. But if a village is in danger, then yes, I’ll fight the bad people. I try to use my words before I use my sword and pistol, though.”
“Are there bad guys here?”
“No bad guys, just some sick people I hope to make better.”
The girl sank underneath her blanket. Devin could see the exhaustion weighing heavily on her eyes, and his heart went out to her.
“I have trouble sleeping when I’m sad,” he offered. “Are you having trouble sleeping, too?”
“I’m trying not to be sad or cry,” Arleen whispered. “Aunt Theresa says I need to be strong.”
It hurt to hear a child who looked maybe six years old say such a thing.
“Even the strong cry,” Devin said. He reached into one of several pockets of his thick coat and pulled out a small dried root, which he held before her so she might see. “While you cry, try to remember everything good about Milly, all right? Her smile. Her laugh. The times you played together. And when you can’t cry anymore, will you do something for me? Will you chew this root?”
“Will it make me sleepy?”
“It will,” Devin said.
She took the root in hand, then swept it underneath her blankets.
“I’ll try,” she whispered.
“I ask for nothing more.”
He pulled her blanket higher over her as she curled deeper into the chair, her bleary eyes squeezing shut. A mournful shiver ran through his chest. So far the girl showed no signs of the sickness. So far…
Jonathan’s hand settled on his shoulder.
“Lyra’s love graces your touch, Soulkeeper. We are blessed that the Keeping Church chose you for our request. Please, follow me. We must speak plainly.”
Jonathan’s room was beyond the kitchen, a tiny square crammed full of books on desks and shelves. The bed was an incidental thing in the corner. Two lit candles slowly burned in their holders.
“I know of three more infected staying with their families instead of here,” the mayor said as he settled onto the edge of his bed. “They claim they’ll give better care than I can, and they may well be right.”
“This disease,” Devin asked. “Is it always fatal?”
“Without exception,” Jonathan said. The words left his tongue like lead. “Have you ever witnessed anything like this, Soulkeeper?”
Devin knew a hundred recipes to dry, chop, boil, and grind herbs and flowers to heal a variety of ailments, and just as many prayers to accompany the cures. But this dark rot spreading throughout the body?
“Never this extreme,” Devin said. “I know of nothing that will fight it. The best I can do is ease their pain.”
Jonathan ran both hands over his bald head.
“I thought as much. Truth be told, Soulkeeper, I did not expect that you could help these people when I summoned you.”
Devin kept his tone calm despite his sudden annoyance. Petitioning the Keeping Church for a Soulkeeper was a serious affair. There were always more in need than there were Soulkeepers to give it, and lying on a petition could result in criminal charges depending on how grievous the lie.
“I have helped many places beset by illness and disease,” Devin said. “How could you be so certain I would be of no help here?”
“Because it’s happened before,” the mayor said. “Years ago, when my grandfather was mayor. No plant or flower helped then, and I expect none will help now.”
Devin’s anger grew.
“I have sworn upon my life to bring aid to Dunwerth in its time of need,” he said. “If I am not here to administer to the sick, then pray tell, what am I here for?”
Jonathan rose from the bed, pulled a book off a shelf, and offered it to Devin. A page was marked by a long loose cloth, and he opened to it and glanced over the loose, sloppy handwriting in the dim candlelight.
I know my story will earn no belief, so I write this in secret, to be judged only after my death. I’ll care not your opinions once in Anwyn’s hands. Call me a fool if you wish, but I witnessed the impossible. I knelt before living stone and demanded its blood. I saw its face. I heard it speak its name like a woken god.
Arothk. The only cure to pock-black disease.
“That is my grandfather’s journal,” Jonathan said when Devin glanced up with a sour expression on his face. “He was a good man, and a good mayor. He told no wild tales, and he was known throughout his life as a man of honesty.”
“A faery tale?” Devin said, snapping the book shut. “I traveled all this way from Londheim to help you find a faery tale?”
Jonathan’s face flushed bright red.
“You insult my grandfather,” he said. “This is no faery tale. It is real, and it saved the lives of each and every person who had succumbed to the disease. Keep reading. He passed through the forest to the bald mountain, and at its base he met with Arothk, a creature of stone that gave of its own blood to cure the darkness.”
“Enough,” Devin said. “Why not send someone else? One of your hunters could have made the trip and back a dozen times before my arrival.”
“Because we need your skill with those,” Jonathan said. He pointed to the long, thin blade sheathed against Devin’s left thigh and the hammerlock pistol holstered against his right. “Twice I have sent hunters into the woods, and neither time did they return. That forest is a cursed place now; anyone who steps inside can sense it. Help us, Soulkeeper. People I love and care about are dying. I may be desperate, but only because the solution is before me and I lack the strength to reach it. This is not some trumped-up tale told around a campfire. This is real.”
Devin opened the book again, glancing over several more lines. It started with the goddess Lyra visiting the grandfather in a dream and ordering him to travel through the nearby forest to the base of the bald mountain. She’d told him that a creature from a time before mankind would await him there. From it, he would receive his cure.
“Jonathan, please, listen to me,” he said. “The Sisters created the Cradle for us. Humans. They did not create monsters or faeries or whatever this Arothk creature supposedly is. We are their children, their only children. Whatever stories you’ve heard are not true, they were never true, and I will not risk my life and the lives of those here because of the ravings of a dead man’s journal.”
The mayor fell silent. Devin didn’t blame him. In many ways, he’d just pronounced a death sentence for much of the village.
“I will do what I can to ease the burdens of the ill,” he said, putting up a callous front. “For your sake, I’ll not report your real request to the church.”
“Your herbs and bandages are like pissing on a wildfire,” Jonathan said. “At least you’ll be here for the reaping rituals. Anwyn knows there will be a lot of them.”
Devin slammed the journal down upon the desk.
“Do not belittle my coming here,” he said. “I swore an oath to aid Dunwerth and its villagers, and I did not take it lightly. I would put your lives above my own, yet what options do you give me, Jonathan? Forget silly tales in hidden journals. What would you have me do?”
“There is but one thing I would have you do, and you lack any faith or trust in me to do it.”
It hurt having a man so desperate and afraid look upon him, judge him, and find him wanting. Devin rubbed his eyes as his mind whirled. Forget the stories of this Arothk creature. What was the truth hidden in the faery tale? If he pried away the fanciful retelling of dreams and ancient creatures granting cures, what might be left to explain t
he events that occurred?
“Your grandfather went to this… bald mountain, and he came back with a cure for the same disease you’re suffering from now,” Devin asked. “Is that correct?”
“More or less.”
These people were clearly in need. Every fiber in his body wished to help them in some way. He could ease their pain with roots and herbs, but that was like massaging the shoulders of a man awaiting the fall of the executioner’s axe. It wasn’t a cure. Worse, he couldn’t shake the nagging fear of what would happen if the disease spread from this little remote village to some of the larger towns, or Goddesses forbid, Londheim itself. The need for a cure would be dire…
“Let me rest for a few hours,” he said. “My journey here was long.”
“So you’ll go?” Jonathan asked. Cautious optimism bubbled into his voice.
“I will go, but not to spill blood from a stone. Some weed or mushroom saved your people years ago, and I pray Lyra guides me to it now. As for your forest, I have no fear of lingering ghosts. Souls reside in the hands of Anwyn, Mayor, and she does not lose track.”
Jonathan’s dire smile gave him chills.
“You dismiss much,” he said. “Keep your heart and mind open, Soulkeeper. Here in Alma’s Crown we have learned to trust what you in the east dismiss as children’s tales. We are the edge of the known world, and you soon walk into lands beyond. Tread carefully.”
BY MELISSA CARUSO
THE SWORDS AND FIRE TRILOGY
The Tethered Mage
The Defiant Heir
The Unbound Empire
Praise for the
Swords and Fire Trilogy
The Tethered Mage
“The Tethered Mage is a riveting read, with delicious intrigue, captivating characters, and a brilliant magic system. I loved it from start to finish!”
—Sarah Beth Durst
“Charming, intelligent, fast-moving, beautifully atmospheric, with a heroine and other characters whom I really liked as people. (I overstayed my lunch break in order to finish it.) I would love to read more set in this world.”
—Genevieve Cogman
“Intricate and enticing as silk brocade. Caruso’s heroine is a strong, intelligent young woman in a beguiling, beautifully evoked Renaissance world of high politics, courtly intrigue, love and loyalty—and fire warlocks.”
—Anna Smith Spark
“One of the best first novels in a brand new high fantasy series that I’ve read in ages… If you’re hungry for a new fantasy series with awesome, nuanced characters, powerful worldbuilding, and solid writing—look no further. The Tethered Mage is the book you need right now. Absolutely recommended.”
—The Book Smugglers
“Engaging and entertaining with intrigue, a good pace, and strong characters. Zaira and Amalia are bright, bold heroes in a smartly constructed world.”
—James Islington
“Breathtaking… Worth every moment and every page, and should make anyone paying attention excited about what Caruso will write next.”
—BookPage
“An enchanting voice and an original world you won’t want to leave.”
—RJ Barker
“A rich world, political intrigue, and action that keeps you turning pages—The Tethered Mage is classic fantasy with a fresh voice.”
—Jeff Wheeler
“The Tethered Mage is the best kind of fantasy: intricate world-building, the most intriguing of court intrigues, and a twisty plot. But while readers might pick it up for those elements, they’ll stay for the engaging characters and the unlikely friendships at the story’s heart.”
—Rosalyn Eves
“A gorgeous, fresh fantasy debut filled with political intrigue and ethical quandary… Highly recommend.”
—Girls in Capes
The Defiant Heir
“Takes the series to the next level in every way… I absolutely loved The Defiant Heir.”
—Fantasy Book Cafe
“An entirely new level of awesome… Absolutely addictive.”
—Powder & Page
“An inspiration for geeks everywhere… Action-packed and bittersweet.”
—Kirkus
“A refreshing and lively fantasy that has characters that I just can’t get enough of… Highly recommend!”
—Speculative Herald
“A joy to read… Melissa Caruso is well on her way to making a very big splash in the fantasy genre.”
—BiblioSanctum
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The Unbound Empire Page 50
