Harvest of Souls: Disciples of the Horned One Volume Three (Soul Force Saga Book 3)

by James Wisher

  “I thought we talked about this. I’m engaged to Karrie. We can’t be sneaking around behind her back.”

  Her smile widened. “You’d rather do this where she can see us? I’m game, but I’m not sure how she’d take it.”

  Damien pushed off the wall and headed for the well. “You know what I mean.”

  She latched onto his arm and walked along with him. Since they’d gotten back from the failed attempt to capture Connor Blackman, Imogen had started acting like a love-struck girl. It was such a change from what he’d gotten used to. Before, it had been easy to forget she was only a year older than Lane and four years older than him.

  “I know you don’t love that girl. That you’re only marrying her out of pity. Why should you have to give up your happiness for her?”

  Damien pulled the well bucket up to give himself a chance to think. He’d tried explaining everything to Imogen once already. The night after their return from the mission he’d gone to his room after a long conversation with his master only to find a naked Imogen lounging in his bed waiting for him. She had been intent on finishing what she started back in the cave. It had taken all Damien’s considerable willpower not to take her up on the offer.

  Instead they spent the evening talking. They shared their histories and Damien explained his promise to Karrie and how he felt about Lizzy. He’d thought Imogen understood and she’d left with nothing more than a passing kiss.

  He’d been mistaken. It appeared Imogen had made it her new mission to convince him to forget his promise, abandon the princess, and fall into bed with her. It seemed whenever he was alone she’d appear and start kissing him. She left him constantly on edge. If Karrie ever discovered them, even though it hadn’t been his idea, she’d never forgive him. And while Imogen was right that Damien didn’t love the princess, he also had no desire to hurt her.

  The bucket reached the top of the well. Imogen grabbed the dipper out of the bucket ahead of him and took a sip before letting the rest run down her chin and neck to soak the front of her thin dress. The wet material clung to her flawless curves. Damien forced himself to look away.

  “I thought you were thirsty.” She pressed herself against his back and kissed the nape of his neck with her cool, wet lips. A shiver ran through him. He needed to get away from her before his wavering resolve shattered.

  He sensed the energy of one of his master’s message constructs approaching. The golden orb flew around the wall and formed the words “Throne room.” Damien sent his master a silent thank you.

  He stepped away from Imogen. “Duty calls.”

  She licked her lips and smiled. “Another time.”

  Chapter 5

  The energy from the archmage’s message faded and Damien fled. When he glanced back he found Imogen watching him with one hand on her hip and a hungry gleam in her eyes. He seriously doubted anything he said had made an impression on her. Maybe his master had a mission for him. Something that would send him out of the capital until the wedding. Fat chance of that.

  He walked around to the front of the keep, his mouth dry and his throat scratchy. At least she could have let him get a drink. He had almost reached the steps when he spotted Jen coming from the opposite direction. She had on her slashed uniform and the hilt of the sword he made her jutted up over her shoulder. Even out on a work crew the weapon never moved far from her hand. That was one of the first lessons Dad had taught them. Damien paused at the bottom to let Jen join him.

  “She called you too?” Damien asked.

  “Uncle Andy sent a guard for me. You know what’s going on?”

  “No clue. I just got a message from the archmage calling me to the throne room.”

  They walked up the stairs, past the guards, and down the armor-lined hall The usual two guards stood on duty and opened the door for them. Damien nodded to them in passing. They refused to meet his gaze, which was weird. Usually the guards were friendly. There must be something serious going on to put them in such a bad mood.

  They entered the all-but-empty throne room. No messengers waited for instructions. No one was lined up to ask for a favor. Even Uncle Andy’s guards had gone off somewhere. The only people in the room were the king on his throne and the archmage standing at his right hand. Whatever they had to say must be dire. Uncle Andy looked even more wan than usual.

  They bowed and Damien said, “You called us, Master?”

  The archmage looked to the king who nodded. “I’m afraid I have bad news. Your father has fallen in battle.”

  Damien’s knees wobbled and beside him Jen gasped. He reached out and grabbed her hand. She squeezed back with unconscious and desperate strength. Only his shield kept her from crushing his hand.

  He tried to speak, but no words would come out. He glanced at his sister. Jen stared at the archmage then the king then back to his master. She didn’t seem to understand. Damien was having trouble with it himself.

  After a third try he managed to gasp, “What happened?”

  “We’re not exactly sure,” Uncle Andy said. “We know a farmer came to The Citadel two days ago and claimed to have seen a demon. Your father went to investigate. Sometime that night the demon sword returned on its own to the armory. The master of arms discovered it yesterday morning.”

  Beside him Jen’s whole body was shaking. Damien conjured a sofa and the two of them sat, protocol be damned. She started crying and buried her head in his shoulder. Damien put his arm around her and rubbed her back. She’d always been closer to Dad. Damien had just started to turn their relationship into something more than awkward silences and shouting. Now he’d never finish that process.

  “Has anyone spoken to Lizzy?” Damien asked. “She’d know everything that happened.”

  “Tradition holds that no one can touch the demon sword until the four generals select a new bearer for it,” Uncle Andy said. “That could take a while.”

  “I need to talk to her.” Lizzy would be upset after Dad died and she didn’t have anyone to talk to all alone in the armory.

  “The generals will all come to your father’s memorial.” Uncle Andy massaged the bridge of his nose. “I’ll encourage them to decide quickly.”

  Jen sniffed and looked up. “When will the memorial be?”

  “It will take a few weeks for everyone to arrive. Mid-July at the earliest,” the king said.

  Damien clenched his fist. He couldn’t wait two weeks to see Lizzy. She’d think he had abandoned her. Damien frowned and considered the layout of The Citadel. The healer’s quarters shared a wall with the armory. Maybe if he visited Miss Ella he could get close enough to connect with Lizzy. As long as he didn’t touch her it wouldn’t break any stupid traditions.

  “Since there’s no body—” Uncle Andy’s voice broke. He cleared his throat and continued. “We’ll put a plaque in the royal mausoleum. He’ll have a place of honor for all time.”

  “I think Dad would have liked that,” Jen said.

  “If it’s okay, I’d like to go to The Citadel and carve his name below Mom’s on the family headstone. Jen and I can fly there and be back in a day.”

  The archmage nodded. “We can manage without you for a while. Take as long as you need.”

  They stood up. “If there’s nothing else…” Damien looked from one to the other.

  The king and the archmage both shook their heads. Damien and Jen walked out of the throne room, leaning on each other for support. When they reached the courtyard Damien asked, “Are you ready or do you need to pack?”

  “Most of my stuff is still in my room back home. I guess I’ll need to gather everything up to make room for the new commandant.”

  “I don’t think they’ll kick you out in the next day or two.” Damien conjured a platform under their feet and they flew up over the wall.

  “I didn’t even think about putting his name on Mom’s headstone. That was sweet of you to suggest.”

  Damien winced. “It was more of an excuse to visit The Citadel. I need to ta
lk to Lizzy.”

  “We both need to talk to her. She’s the only one that can tell us what happened to Dad.”

  Chapter 6

  The Great Green whizzed by as they flew from the capital to The Citadel. Jen sat slumped against the waist-high rail he’d conjured around the platform. Damien didn’t fly at his fastest pace. He needed time to collect himself and he was certain Jen did as well. What in the world had Dad been thinking? Even a warlord as strong as his father couldn’t handle most demons alone. He couldn’t imagine Dad thought he had anything to prove at this point in his life. Everyone already regarded him as the best warrior of his generation. What more had he wanted?

  Jen sniffed and Damien looked down at her. “You okay?”

  She craned her neck to meet his gaze. Her eyes were bloodshot and tears streaked her face. “No. I can’t believe he’d do something so stupid.”

  “He must have been confident he could handle it. Dad had killed demons before. He probably thought what was one more.”

  “One more was one too many. I swear, I’ll finish what he started. I’ll hunt down the monster that killed him and bury it.” She sounded so angry Damien took a step away from her. Angry or not he couldn’t let her do something foolish.

  “Not alone you won’t. This thing already killed Dad and he had Lizzy to help him. Together they were twice as strong as you are by yourself.” Maybe he should have been more gentle, but he needed to get through to her before she did something unwise.

  “Don’t try to stop me. I can’t just stand aside and do nothing.”

  “I don’t want to have to carve your name under Dad’s.”

  She fell silent, her hard glare softening. Jen had to know he was right. It was just her grief talking. The St. Clouds were all alike. When in doubt, take action. Damien knew he had a tendency to make that mistake as well. He fought it constantly.

  “How about we wait to hear what Lizzy has to say before we make any decisions? Once we know what we’re dealing with we can make a real plan.”

  She let out a long sigh. “Alright.”

  An hour or so later The Citadel appeared on the horizon, the imposing structure looking especially intimidating today. They landed outside the walls on a flat stretch of land screened from the keep by a wall of spruce. Hundreds of stone monuments of various designs spread out in front of them.

  Each one represented a master of The Citadel that had died while in the crown’s service. Most were simple granite rectangles with shields carved into them above the name of the master and the date of his or her death. Some were more ornate, resembling swords or axes. Without fail the stones were spotless, each cleaned and polished several times a year by the first- and second-year students. The cemetery served as a constant reminder of every warlord’s eventual end.

  The St. Cloud family headstone was a black rectangle with a large shield in the center. The shield was crossed with a sword and spear, their parents’ favored weapons. Someone had carved Mom’s name a little below the emblem with Damien’s birth date beside it. He bent down and ran his finger over the letters and numbers.

  It was his fault she died. If he’d never been born she’d still be alive, maybe Dad would be too. Damien had no doubt his father had believed that. He never said it, but it was always there, just below the surface.

  Damien conjured a small chisel of dense soul force, its edge so sharp it would carve the stone like soft wood. The construct floated up to Jen.

  “Do you want to do it?” Damien asked.

  “I don’t think I can. Once I carve the numbers it becomes real.”

  Damien looked up and found his sister holding the chisel in trembling hands. He stood and put his arms around her. She cried into his shoulder, the chisel floating forgotten to one side. He didn’t know how long they stood like that, but when she finally pulled away from him her gaze met his, steady and strong.

  Jen snatched the chisel out of the air and took a knee. With deft strokes she carved Dad’s name along with the date of his death. When she finished Damien absorbed the chisel. He helped her to her feet and they stood in silence for a moment, each thinking their own thoughts. Damien wished he’d had a chance to build on what they started at his name day party, but wishes were as worthless as regrets.

  “Let’s go talk to Lizzy,” Jen said.

  It was a short walk to the outer gate from the cemetery. The guard on duty nodded and waved them through, a sad frown on his face. He wore a black band on his left arm. The first- and second-year students were out in the yard doing their forms while the masters looked on. Every one of them had a matching black band on their arms.

  One of the sword masters noticed Damien and Jen. He bellowed something and all the students stopped and faced them. As one they brought their fists to their hearts. Damien and Jen came to attention and returned the salute. Damien glanced at his sister and found her jaw clenched so tight the muscle looked like a small ball.

  The students returned to their practice and Damien and Jen went on their way. Beside him Jen cleared her throat. “One more display like that and I’m going to start crying again.”

  “We should be good now.”

  The doors stood open and they walked through without anyone seeming to notice. Damien allowed himself a hint of a smile as he strode the familiar path to Miss Ella’s room. This was the first time he’d ever visited the infirmary when he didn’t have an injury. The next door down two warlords stood at attention with their swords drawn. It looked like they were taking the tradition seriously. The two men couldn’t stop Damien if he really wanted to get in, but they could keep him from doing it quietly. He really hoped Lizzy was close enough to the infirmary wall to allow a connection.

  Damien knocked on the closed door and a moment later Miss Ella opened up. She had on her familiar blue dress and white apron with the red cross on it. When she saw them she burst into tears. Damien looked at Jen who looked back with an uncertain expression.

  He put his arm around Miss Ella and guided her back into the room. Damien helped her sit on her stool. She had settled down and was wiping her eyes. “You must forgive me. It was such a shock hearing about Fredric. Are you two holding up okay?”

  “Considering the circumstances I guess so,” Damien said. “We need a favor.”

  “Anything I can do, just ask.”

  Damien smiled. “I need to talk to Lizzy. I’m hoping she’s close enough to the connecting wall for my thoughts to reach her. Can you keep anyone from bothering us for a little while?”

  “No problem there. I seldom have visitors since you left.”

  Damien winced at the backhanded compliment. He had visited her so much because he was constantly getting hurt. “Thanks. Jen, let me see if I can find her then I’ll ask her to bring you in with us, okay?”

  His sister nodded and Damien flew along the wall separating the two rooms. Damien trailed his fingers against the wall, murmuring Lizzy’s name over and over as he drifted. Come on, where are you?

  He was almost to the far end of the room when he felt her presence.

  Damien?

  He was floating right above Miss Ella’s desk when her voice reached him, faint but clear. He settled on the desktop. “I’m here. Am I close enough for you to bring me in?”

  No. You’re right at the edge of my consciousness. I can sense those guards. Will they not let you in?

  “No. No one can see you until the generals decide who your next bearer will be. It might be a little while.”

  I’ll make it simple for them. Tell the generals the only one I’ll accept is you.

  His heart skipped a beat. “Me? I’m not a warlord.”

  Her laugh made him smile.

  I’m a demon spirit, remember? I have divine soul force. It can be used either internally or externally. My first bearer was a sorcerer after all. Tell them, Damien. You and no other.

  “Damien?” Jen had moved to join him by the desk. “Is everything okay?”

  “We’re too far away to ente
r Lizzy’s world. I can just make out her psychic voice. We’re going to have to wait to find out what happened.”

  Jen snapped a tongue depressor in half. “I hate waiting.”

  Chapter 7

  Damien flew north, his thoughts whirling. First Dad got killed then Lizzy demanded that Damien be her next bearer. It was too much too fast. He couldn’t process it all. Damien focused on the one thing that really mattered, figuring out how to make Lizzy’s wish come true. If they could be together it would make Dad’s death mean something, maybe. Damien didn’t know. All he was certain of was that he wanted to be with her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.

  Uncle Andy had agreed to have the memorial within the week and he ordered sorcerers to go and fly the generals to the capital. Damien had volunteered to collect General Kord. He wanted a chance to talk to one of them alone and he only knew John’s father well enough to risk it. Luckily for Damien the general had moved back towards the northern border and away from Duke Iceborn. The last thing Damien wanted was to run into Sig or his father.

  Compared to the capital, the Northlands had just awakened from the long winter hibernation. A green field surrounded the army’s camp instead of gray snow and the air didn’t try to steal your breath when you drew in a lungful.

  The general’s tent sat right where he remembered. No sorcerers patrolled the skies above and no one challenged Damien when he landed just outside the three-chamber tent. Two young men stood on either side of the flap, hands clasped behind their backs, blue and white uniforms spotless.

  The blond-headed boy took a step forward. “Is the general expecting you, sir?”

  “No, but I have a message from the king so I expect he’ll want to see me right away.”