Blade and Soul: A Dark Fantasy (Kindred Souls Book 2)

by C. M. Estopare

  Following the shadow, she found him bare chested. Hunched over a deep brown desk with white steam emanating from the muscular planes of his back.

  He regarded her with a nod. Nothing more.

  How should she tell him?

  Marceline blinked. Approached the desk he stood over. Saw wrinkled parchment with a map of the continent painted upon it. By the unsure lines, she assumed he had drawn it by hand.

  She saw a plan of attack. Little figures surrounding Safrana's citadels. A large figure sitting in the brunt.

  “I have her.” Marceline said, “The highscale's bonded. Kiran and I,” and Lucius, “we brought her here.”

  Ludovic met her eye, “Really?”

  “Yes.” she replied, her gaze down, “Though she isn't what I originally went to the citadels for...” should she tell him? Tell him that the Masters prompted her to go?

  Some things are better kept as secrets.

  “I went there to save a friend. She just happened to be the Bonded.”

  “What a lucky woman you are!” Ludovic spat before flame erupted beneath his palms and threatened to burn up his map. He pushed away from the table as Marceline jumped back.

  He flailed his hands through the air, getting rid of the fire. The smoke.

  The two bumped into each other. He laughed, “I still have no control over it.”

  Marceline found herself laughing too, giggling, “Well, that much is obvious.”

  They shared a laugh, looking at each other cautiously.

  Before a strange silence took over. The heat pounding Marceline's head, giving her a headache.

  They were too close—she could feel the skin of his midsection brush her forearm. Quickly, she shuffled away. About an arm's distance.

  “So,” she began, breaking the silence, “we attack the highscale tomorrow. Truly?”

  He combed his hands through his hair. Brought his face to the ceiling, “We have no choice. The Spears of the Sun are sworn to protect Safrana for the true heir. If he returns and Safrana is nothing but a slush pile...” he cut himself off. Took in a long and heavy breath. Met her gaze steadily, “I'm...glad you made it back in one piece, Marceline. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something happened to you.” red colored his face. He blushed, biting his tongue.

  Marceline opened her mouth. Closed it.

  No one had ever felt this way for her before. She was without words.

  Silence descended.

  “And I'm...” what should I say? “I'm sorry.” she finally said, bringing her gaze to the floor, “For all the trouble I've caused.” I only did it to help.

  “Kiran told me how things went out there.” he said, stepping closer, “You risked your life, all for one person?”

  “One friend.” she corrected—the answer sudden, “Reine is my friend.”

  Marceline smiled then, chuckling somewhat, “But if I had known a dragon was going to be involved, I'm not so sure I would've gone through all the trouble.”

  Ludovic snorted. They shared a laugh.

  Quiet fell once more, heavy like a cotton blanket.

  Marceline remembered his anger at her lying to him. How he had touched her face, his skin brushing against hers.

  Ludovic concentrated steadily on her lips.

  Heat rushed to her face as he closed the distance between them. From here, she could note every scar as they crisscrossed his chest in jagged patterns. Roving through his skin like the many lines of a map.

  She touched one. It dug deeply into his right side. Healed with a heavy line.

  “Griffin.” his voice was husky.

  She pointed to another, three talon sized marks ripping across the center of his torso.

  “Drakeling.” he replied, cupping her chin.

  She looked up.

  “Sir! He's awake—Severin's opened his eyes!”

  Ludovic's hand fell.

  Marceline spun on her heel.

  An elderly woman dressed in white had barged in. One of Severin's caretakers.

  Ludovic touched Marceline's shoulder, “Will you come with me?”

  It didn't need to be asked, “Of course.”

  Sliding a robe over his broad shoulders, Ludovic left with Marceline on his heels. The two followed the caretaker to the fort's infirmary. Shoved their way into Severin's private room.

  The man sat up. Eyes wide. It seemed as if he had been speaking to someone, yet his room was empty. Cold.

  Ludovic knelt at the foot of his friend's bed, “Sev!”

  Severin wouldn't look at him.

  “Lud,” he gasped, “I've seen them.”

  Marceline cocked her head.

  “We're marching on Safrana tomorrow, Severin. The highscale is back.”

  “The Fates, Ludovic. They exist...they spoke to me.” his eyes were wild. With a shuttering breath he pointed to Marceline, “She's seen them too!”

  Ludovic laughed uncomfortably as Marceline closed the distance between herself and the cot. Shoving Ludovic away, Severin pulled himself to the edge of the bed. Snatched up Marceline's hands and choked her wrists.

  Marceline winced.

  “You cannot defy gods.” Severin said—his voice a splitting baritone. His eyes unyielding as they bore into hers, “You are only one woman.”

  Marceline yanked at her wrists—fought to untangle herself from Severin's grip.

  He clasped her wrists tighter, “If you take her life, there will be consequences.” leaning in, Severin breathed, “Grand consequences.”

  Who are you to defy the Fates?

  It was a voice that only she heard, as it reverberated around the room. Echoing. Repeating over and over.

  Who are you to defy the Fates?

  His grip loosened. She snatched her wrists away.

  Bruises bloomed where his hands had caught her. Black and purple. Bits of yellow.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Marceline

  Who am I to defy the Fates?

  Marceline rubbed her throbbing wrists as she escaped from the room. Dashing out of the main building only to be slapped by the chilled air of the courtyard outside. Grimacing, she raced across cobbles. Danced through a group of sparring men and met the bridge to the alchemist's tower at a sprint.

  Who are the Fates to take away everything that I care about? To destroy an entire city with a highscale's hellfire?

  Climbing the steps of the alchemist's tower, she came to the second floor and sighed. Caught her breath with a hand to her chest.

  She looked down. Stared at the budding bruises on her wrists.

  Without us, what are they? Without our prayers and sacrifices, what are gods?

  A splash reverberated up the lonely hallway. Snapping her gaze to the door at the hallway's end, she began to trudge forward. One single thought pervaded her mind as she counted the hours till sundown tomorrow.

  She only had so much time.

  Useless, she told herself, without the sacrifices of mankind, they are nothing.

  She flung the door open with her forearm.

  “Tell me his name.” Marceline snapped. Closing the door behind her.

  Reine bathed in a large tin tub. Steam wafted from the water's murky surface. Soap bubbles foamed off of the side.

  Lifting a leg, Reine ran a yellow sponge over her porcelain skin. Twirled a toe in the air. She threw Marceline a sidelong glance before bringing her eyes back to the water.

  “Please.” Marceline begged, “If you want me to keep my promise...”

  No reaction. Reine continued bathing herself. Began to hum.

  “Non...I won't do it. Unless you give me his name, I won't...”

  Water sloshed over the side. Outside, birds sang. Chirped like there would be a tomorrow.

  No reaction.

  Time pressed on her skull like a headache.

  “Reine—everyone you've met here—every single one of them—will die if you don't give me that djinn's name.”

  This earned Marceline a snort from the girl in th
e tub. A gentle flick of her waterlogged hair.

  “They march on the highscale tomorrow evening, at sundown.”

  Reine threw her a glance, “You aren't one to lie.”

  “It's suicide. I know. But I plan to save them.”

  “How?” Reine snapped.

  “You're the highscale's bonded. If I fulfill your promise, I'll save them too.”

  “But I'm without my soul, I cannot die.”

  Marceline nodded.

  “But you know this.”

  Silence. Reine chewed her lower lip.

  “If I gave you his name and you summoned him here...” she shook her head, “he would not come for us. He'd know something isn't right.” she turned completely. Brought her fingers to the lip of the tin tub, “Do you have a plan?”

  Marceline smiled sheepishly. Nodded her head. Couldn't force any words to come out.

  She had made the decision on her way to the alchemist's tower. After being mishandled by Severin, she had come up with the idea quite suddenly. As if the Fates themselves had planted it within her head.

  Non—it was me. I made the decision. This is something the Fates do not want.

  “He is more than a simple djinn, Marceline.” Reine warned. Shooting up from the tub. Splashing water everywhere, “Most djinn cannot pick and choose who they come to, but this one can. He is the Advocate.”

  Marceline narrowed her eyes.

  Reine smiled, “The title is familiar, then?”

  It was. It was.

  The Fates.

  They spoke of an Advocate. How it had weakened.

  “What does it mean? To be the Advocate?”

  Reine brought a finger to her lips, “There is only so much I can explain. But I can tell you this: he is like a mother muskrat eating her young when predators invade her hole; he only does this because he must. He has no choice.”

  Wrapping a towel around her dripping body, Reine cinched it into a knot. Took a step towards Marceline, “Now,” she breathed, “What is your plan?”

  MARCELINE RUBBED AT her chin as the two waited. Reine hovering over the hand painted map stretched across the wide table crowded within the council's meeting chamber.

  Before them, two doors edged open with a dusty sigh. Kiran and Ludovic glided in, the two almost in step.

  As the doors closed behind them, both stopped with a start. Eyed Marceline warily, Reine even more so.

  Kiran snapped his eyes wider as if coming to a realization before striding towards the table and stopping. His hands clasped firmly behind his back.

  Ludovic came to slower, his face burning. Steam drifted from the broad planes of his back as he approached. Stopped to stand an arm's distance away from the table, squarely facing Reine.

  “I'm...confused.” Kiran said, breaking the silence as his face twisted into a slight grimace, “What have you summoned us here for, Marceline?”

  Marceline sighed. She saw it written all over his face, etched in the dull lines: “I'm not going to beg for her life.”

  Both men visibly relaxed.

  “But I do need your help.” Marceline added, looking from Kiran to Ludovic.

  The sky outside was already darkening. She'd have the morning and afternoon of the next day to solve this problem, but she couldn't do it alone.

  She needed help.

  Marceline opened her hands. Prepared for the worst, “A djinn has her soul.”

  Kiran's face blanked. Ludovic's eyes widened.

  She waited for the realization to hit them.

  Kiran gazed at Reine slowly, “You're one step away from being...immortal!”

  Beneath his breath, Ludovic cursed.

  Reine remained quiet. Stiffened near Marceline's side.

  Pressing her palms into the table, Marceline met Ludovic's eyes. They had grown colder.

  “You have a plan?” he asked, meeting her eyes steadily.

  Marceline nodded.

  “Then why call us here?”

  “The djinn will not come to us. I need...one of you...to summon it.”

  Kiran's lips thinned, “Djinn don't get to pick and choose who they appear to! If someone summons a djinn—they come!”

  “Not this one.” Reine snapped.

  Marceline had no time for this. Ludovic shared her sentiments as he silenced Kiran with a glare.

  “Let them speak.”

  Marceline swallowed at the lump growing in her throat, “This djinn is an—,” she looked to Reine, “—the Advocate.” she corrected herself.

  Kiran blanched even whiter, his face the color of snow. He kept his thoughts to himself as he pressed his lips together, a thin line replacing his mouth.

  “You have a plan to deal with this Advocate?”

  Again, Marceline nodded.

  Here goes.

  “One of you will summon him and I will exchange my soul for Reine's.”

  Marceline licked her lips.

  Saying it made it sound more concrete—as if she'd actually do it.

  She'd do it—to save the Spears, to save her people—she'd do anything.

  Marceline watched Ludovic slowly shake his head. Kiran sputtered beside him. Opened his mouth only to close it.

  “You will be wiped of all emotion...you'll be the equivalent of those...things in the citadel.” Kiran whispered.

  She knew.

  Hanging her head, she listened to them take it in.

  Beside her, Reine snorted.

  “It is the ultimate sacrifice.” she heard Kiran murmur.

  She bit the inside of her cheek, brought her head back up.

  “Are you sure about this?”

  Her gaze moved to Ludovic's. Held it for a moment.

  His tone was soft. Gentle.

  “Marceline, are you sure?”

  He didn't want her to be.

  Marceline swallowed. Nodded once more, “Yes.” What more could she do?

  Ludovic shook his head, “I'll do it. I'm their Soliel. The plan to attack the highscale was my own—I should do it.”

  “Non!” she blurted, “That is exactly why you cannot! You're their Soliel—they need you!”

  She braced herself. Watched a myriad of emotions cross his face.

  Kiran touched his shoulder, “She's right.”

  Ludovic huffed. Snatched his shoulder away from Kiran's grasp.

  He knew. He knew Kiran was right.

  But it isn't fair, his expression said.

  Marceline pulled her gaze away—unable to look at him any longer. Afraid that if she did, she'd change her mind and make someone else make the sacrifice in her place.

  “This is my fault.” the words tumbled from her lips, “Her soul getting entangled by a djinn.” Would the truth come out now?

  It had to.

  “Sometime ago, I was hurt—severely. I failed as an Agent, and because of my weakness—she died.” Marceline swallowed. Watched hurt flit across Ludovic's face, “Reine was originally my charge.”

  “So...you are no longer an Agent?”

  Marceline's jaw tightened, “I was dismissed.”

  Ludovic blinked.

  His slow breath stung at her ears.

  “You lied to me.”

  Marceline bowed her head, “Yes.”

  Silence. It fell like snow. Covering all.

  Ludovic stepped forward, “I'll summon him.” he avoided Marceline's gaze. Looked to Reine, “Tell me his name.”

  Reine sighed. Rolled her eyes as she snatched a bit of parchment from the map below her. Reaching for an ink quill, she snatched one from a nearby quill holder.

  Gingerly, she scribbled the djinn's name onto the slip of paper. Looked up to meet Ludovic's gaze and passed it to him.

  Reine turned away. Crossed her arms and gazed out of the towering window at Marceline's back.

  Ludovic stared blindly at the name. Pressed his lips into a hard line.

  It was now or never.

  Kiran rolled his shoulders. Sighed and looked up.

  Marceline
nibbled at her bottom lip. Her heart palpitated. Her palms became damp.

  “Say the name three times.” Reine instructed him.

  “Everyone knows how to summon a djinn.” Kiran breathed, closing his eyes.

  This choice made her uneasy. The sacrifice she'd have to make.

  All for the Spears of the Sun.

  No—all for the Agents that died in her care. For her brothers at the Bann. For everyone that has ever helped her.

  Safrana was home to hundreds—maybe thousands. Saving them meant sacrifice. Meant defying the Fates and striking out on her own. Even if her name won't be remembered for what she's done.

  This was her purpose. Her reason for living.

  Sacrifice.

  The ultimate sacrifice.

  Marceline clenched her fists.

  Ludovic opened his mouth.

  Said the name once.

  Candlelight flickered. Died. The room's colors faded to a dull gray.

  Cold streamed in from the window behind her.

  Beside her, Reine whimpered quietly as Kiran shuffled his feet.

  Ludovic's Adam's apple bobbed.

  The name rolled off his tongue once more.

  White dust burst from the window behind her, blanketed her back. Blinded Reine as she screamed, brought her hands up to protect her face.

  It spewed into the room, covering the chamber in a sudden crystalline chill as the table before them darkened. A shadow swallowing it. An inky blackness lengthening.

  Ludovic shielded his face from the sudden onslaught of icy crystals. Kiran twisted, closing his eyes.

  “Once more—hurry up! Once more!”

  Marceline's stomach dropped.

  “Dunstan Riche!”

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Ludovic

  They froze. Just like that.

  Ludovic's eyes scanned the room. Flitted this way and that.

  They're not breathing...yet...

  “Don't think too hard about it.” snapped a figure crouching on the table, “You called me, correct? Ludovic Rey. Scourge of the Champions.” the figure laughed. A man in heavy robes, the layers tiered with clashing bright colors.

  His eyes were mismatched. One blue, the other green.

  Ludovic took a step backward, “Are you the djinn?”

  “Dunstan Riche.” the djinn tutted, stepping from the table with the fluidity of a sliding snake, “Time ticks away, even when frozen. Your friends? Every moment spent in this...immortal hibernation takes months from them. Years.” the djinn closed the gap between himself and Ludovic. Circled around him like a cunning panther, “So be quick, human. Tell me what you want.”