Harvest of Souls: Disciples of the Horned One Volume Three (Soul Force Saga Book 3)
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Harvest of Souls
Disciples of the Horned One Volume 3
James E Wisher
Edited by
Janie Linn Dullard
Sand Hill
Contents
Copyright
Book Five
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
Book Six
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
Author Notes
Also by James E Wisher
About the Author
Copyright © 2016 by James E Wisher
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover art by: Fiona Jade
Sang Hill Publishing 914161.0
ISBN: 978-1-945763-04-5
Book Five
Fallen Hero
Chapter 1
Fredric St. Cloud sat in his hardback chair and stared at the report in his hand. He’d been struggling to read it for the past twenty minutes, but his mind kept wandering. He tossed the parchment down on his spotless desk and rubbed his face. How could it be that his son was now engaged to wed the princess and eventually become king? Fredric had warned both his children, more times than he could remember, that they should avoid politics like the plague. At least the demon sword forbore comment.
Damien was deep in it now. Fredric had refrained from recalling Jennifer to allow her to stay in the capital and support him. Not that there was any shortage of work for either of his children. In the six weeks since the quake, repairs had accelerated, but there still remained a great deal to do. He’d even gone so far as to send all the older students to the capital to help with the cleanup and repairs. The Citadel seemed too quiet with almost half his students and most of the other warlords away.
Someone knocked on his door and Fredric let out a great sigh, happy for any distraction from his muddled thoughts. “Come in.”
Rhys stuck his head in. He’d reassigned the veteran to serve as his assistant until his daughter returned. “There’s a farmer here I think you need to speak to.”
Fredric nodded, at this point he would have talked to anyone about anything. “Send him in.”
The door opened the rest of the way and a man perhaps fifty years old stepped through the door, the stink of manure crossing the office ahead of him. He wore dirt-caked trousers and a ragged tunic, both the color of grime. He was twisting a shapeless, broad-brimmed hat in his hands. The farmer glanced back at Rhys who nodded and shut the door behind him.
Fredric motioned his guest to the empty chair. He suppressed a wince at the dirty boot prints the farmer left as he crossed the office. The man sat like he feared someone might yank the chair out from under him.
“So, what can I help you with?” Fredric asked.
“Well, sir. The thing is I seen a demon and I didn’t know who best to tell. The Citadel is the closest bit of real government around and since you helped us with the goblins I figured you’d be the ones to see.”
Fredric frowned. If this was a joke it was in poor taste considering all the important problems in the kingdom right now. The farmer certainly seemed in earnest, but a demon? The odds of such a creature appearing in this area, especially after Damien and Jennifer had killed one less than a year ago seemed staggering. Not impossible though and if true it fell to Fredric, as the strongest warrior in the area, to deal with it.
“Describe this demon.”
The farmer looked away then back. “It was black, tall, kind of indistinct. Its eyes glowed red, that’s what I remember most.”
“How is it you survived encountering such a creature?”
“I only seen it, from a fair distance at that. I was chasing a lost calf in the woods when I stumbled on the monster. It moved through the trees like a ghost. It didn’t make no noise and it didn’t seem to notice me, thank heaven. The demon ducked inside a cave dug into the side of a hill. Soon as it got out of sight I ran. Never did find that calf. Someone needs to kill the thing before it gets one of us.”
“Will you excuse me for a moment, Mister…?”
“Smyth, sir.” The farmer scrambled up out of his chair. “I’ll wait outside, sir.”
He fled like a rabbit before a fox. When the door shut Fredric asked, “Was he telling the truth?”
He believes he saw a demon. Whether he actually did, who can say?
The demon sword seemed in a poor mood today. Her voice, if the silent words appearing directly in his mind counted as a voice, had an acid bite that set his teeth on edge. Fredric had no idea why. It seemed the fickle creature’s mood shifted like the weather.
“Are there demons that fit his description?”
There are demons that fit every description. What he saw is well within the realm of demonic possibility.
That seemed as close as he would get to a confirmation. He had already made up his mind to check it out, even if it turned out to be nothing Fredric needed to escape the office and this made a perfect excuse to go on a little hike. If he got to kill something at the end, so much the better.
He grabbed the sword from its stand and slipped it through the loop on his belt. Thus armed he went out into the hall and found a patiently waiting Smyth. “Can you lead me to where you saw the beast?”
“Of course.” A shiver ran through the farmer. “I’ll never forget that place as long as I live. It’s a long walk though. Half a day from my farm which is twenty miles south from here.” Smyth tapped his chin with a dirt-crusted finger. “We might make it before dark if we cut across country rather than retrace my route.”
“Can you ride?” Fredric asked.
The farmer’s eyes widened. “A plow horse, maybe.”
“Our destriers operate on the same principles, they just have bad attitudes. As long as you show them who’s boss you’ll be fine.”
The farmer trembled a bit. “If you say so, sir.”
Chapter 2
“Right there, sir.” Smyth pointed, his hand shaking, at a dark opening in the side of a hill. It resembled a shadow on the slope more than a real cave, but that might have been a trick of light and distance.
The two men crouched behind a clump of holly bushes. The spicy, evergreen smell lay over everything, thankfully canceling out Smyth’s odor. They had made the trip—a ride to the forest edge then a hike of several miles—in about eight hours. The sun hung low in the sky casting long shadows over everything. At the edge of his awareness, Fredric noticed the skittering of small animals in the branches above him. A good mile separated the cave from their position, but even so, the presence of animals seemed strange. Maybe Smyth had led him on a false quest after all.
No. I can sense the demon from here. Whatever it is, there’s no doubt something is there.
Fredric frowned. He hadn’t fought a demon in years and the last one had almost killed him. The prudent thing to do would be to summon help, but with the sorcerers already stretched thin due to the quake who knew how long it might take for someone to arrive.
He gripped Lizzenwar’s hilt. He’d boasted often enough that the two of them could defeat any opponent. The time had come to prove it once again.
“Smyth, go back to the horses. If I’m not back in half an hour return to The Citadel and let them know I failed. They’ll summon more help and you’ll have to lead them back here. Understand?”
“Yes, sir. Be careful.”
Smyth hotfooted it back the way they’d come leaving Fredric alone in the darkening forest. It seemed these sorts of confrontations always happened either at dusk, or midnight, or some other awful time of day when he had to rely on his enhanced vision to see what was trying to kill him. It couldn’t be helped. You had to fight the battle when you reached the field. Besides, it wasn’t like the time of day would matter inside the cave.
Fredric drew the demon sword, eased out from behind the shrubs, and started through the trees toward the cave mouth. They had covered three-quarters of the distance when Lizzenwar intruded on his thoughts again.
I don’t know about this, Fredric. The demon feels stronger than I first believed. Perhaps we should fall back for now.
“We’re too close to just run away. At least let’s have a look at what we’re dealing with.”
Lizzenwar’s anxiety filtered into his mind and Fredric forced it aside. With the sword’s power he could defeat any enemy. He had to believe that.
Fredric set foot in the dark opening. Sensing his thoughts the demon sword began to glow. In the crimson light the rough stone walls appeared covered in blood. The stench of rot and corruption filled the air, giving him the impression that he’d entered a charnel house.
He reached out and ran his hand along the stone. Moisture clung to his fingers and when he rubbed them together they felt tacky. Was there actual blood on the walls? That would help explain the smell.
His grip tightened and he kept moving. Whatever covered the walls it posed no threat to him. The tunnel snaked its way deeper into the hillside. He wasn’t aware of any mining in this part of the kingdom, so why was the cave here? Perhaps it occurred naturally.
It’s close, Fredric. Not more than ten yards away.
Fredric enhanced all his senses as much as he could and sped up his perception. Ahead of him the tunnel opened up into a wide chamber. A dark haze filled the room. It swirled around, but he felt no breeze. Over several seconds the darkness gathered and formed into a hazy humanoid shape. When the final speck of darkness joined the mass, crimson eyes blazed to life.
Fredric accelerated to warlord speed, then drew on Lizzenwar’s power to reach the blinding pace that gave him his nickname. Like lightning Fredric slashed through the monster in front of him.
Twenty, thirty, forty slashes in a second.
No resistance met his blade. He might as well be cutting air.
We’re not hurting it. Flee, Fredric, now.
He raced for the exit. It galled him, but the demon sword was right. If he couldn’t cut it he had no hope of winning.
A curtain of darkness covered the cave entrance, bringing Fredric up short. He spun and raced to the side just ahead of an insubstantial claw.
Dark tentacles shot from the demon’s body.
Fredric tried to sever them, but the demon sword affected the tentacles no more than it had the main body.
He dodged and ducked, running around the chamber like a dog chasing its tail. If he couldn’t retreat even his tremendous soul force would run out.
He had to break through the dark curtain.
Fredric, no!
Lizzenwar’s warning came too late. Fredric plunged into the haze.
Cold unlike anything he’d ever experienced chilled him right down to his core. Soul force rushed out of him.
Fredric staggered to the ground, his strength gone. He tried to stand up, but couldn’t move.
He rolled over on his back. The demon loomed above him, its burning eyes boring into him. A clawed hand plunged through Fredric’s chest.
The last thing he heard was Lizzenwar’s scream in his mind.
Chapter 3
Lizzy screamed when she felt Fredric die. It wasn’t the first time one of her bearers had died, but that in no way lessened the shock. When the last of his life drained away Lizzy did one of the hardest things possible. She sent her power into the blade that served as her physical host and made it fly.
Down the tunnel and into the night air she went. Like an arrow out of a bow, she streaked across the sky toward The Citadel. Moving on her own drained her power faster than any other task she was called on to perform. It would be a close call whether she made it back to the armory or not.
The dark stone fortress appeared in her extended perceptions. She couldn’t see exactly, but she did have a certain spatial awareness. She flew around to the rear of the keep until she located a six-inch-diameter hole in the wall, carefully hidden from casual view, and constructed specifically for her use in case her bearer died in the field. In The Citadel’s two-plus-century history she’d only had to use it once before today. She flew down her emergency entrance and into the darkness.
Lizzy slipped along the tunnel, flew to the first-floor armory, and landed on a stone slab raised four feet off the ground. She settled in place an instant before her power ran out. Soon now someone would arrive. She’d shattered several sorcerous barriers on her flight in. Whoever came would know at once what had happened. That person would tell Damien. Would he weep for his father? They hadn’t had the best relationship, but it had improved over the past few months.
If Lizzy had had a real body she would have sighed. Poor Fredric, he hadn’t been bad as bearers went. Now they would try to foist another man on
her, but this time she would choose. No one would dictate her fate.
She would have Damien and no other.
Chapter 4
Damien formed a bubble around the small mountain of cracked timbers, shattered shingles, and other random debris the workers had piled up in the street and flew away with it. Beyond the outer wall a massive fire burned around the clock, consuming the rubble from the capital. Smoke filled the sky, more smoke than when the fires still burned in the city. Not that there was any help for it. They had no other way to dispose of so much rubble.
Over the past month and a half Damien had added a great deal of fuel to this particular pyre, most of it wood, but some the bodies of victims discovered as they demolished damaged buildings. Many of the bodies were mangled so badly no one could identify them. A lot of people who lost friends and family would never know for certain what happened to their loved ones. Damien had gotten lucky. No one he loved had been injured in the quake.
It wasn’t just tearing down now at least. The sound of hammers and saws filled every corner of the city as carpenters from all over the kingdom worked to put the capital back together. Skeletal rafters of new roofs were popping up everywhere along with bare walls and stone foundations. If the pace continued maybe everyone would have a roof over their heads before winter.
Damien landed in the castle courtyard and wiped sweat from his brow. It was only midmorning, but the summer heat already covered the city like a damp blanket. He walked around to the back side of the keep. The castle well drew its water from a deep spring that stayed cold even on the hottest days. A long drink followed by a bucket dumped over his head sounded like just the thing.
He stepped into the shade of the keep and sighed. It had to be twenty degrees cooler here. Maybe he’d just rest a moment before getting his drink. He closed his eyes, leaned his hot back against the cool stone, and let the chill soak into his body. Sometimes the small things really were the best.
He sensed a familiar soul force approaching a moment before soft lips pressed against his. The kiss ended and he opened his eyes to find Imogen smiling at him. She wasn’t wearing her crimson uniform, instead she had on a simple white dress and sandals, her long, golden hair loose and waving in the light breeze. She looked absolutely stunning.