The Path of Man (The Soul Stone Trilogy Book 1)

by Matt Moss

  Then he saw Lyla stop in the road. She waited until he caught up, then fell in beside him.

  He pretended like nothing happened, careful to take a glance at her. He smiled a half grin, fixing his eyes on the road ahead.

  “Well, you sure are a talkative one aren’t you,” Lyla stated.

  “I, uh..., yea. Hello,” Arkin said, looking down.

  “Hello,” she said, giggling.

  He desperately tried to think of something to say. “So, nice weather we’re having,” his voice cracked when he said weather.

  She smiled. “Yes, it is. I love the spring. It’s nice to feel the warm sun on your skin after the cold winter months.”

  He smiled, cursing himself for the daft way to start a conversation. He took a deep breath. “I love spring too. It makes me feel alive.”

  “Tell me about yourself, Arkin,” she said, eyes content on the road ahead.

  The question caught him off guard. It was the one thing he didn’t want to talk about.

  “There’s not much to tell, I’m afraid. I’m about as normal as they come.”

  “Something tells me that’s not true,” she replied. “What of your mother? Father? Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  Here we go, he thought.

  “My mother died when I was a baby. I have no brother or sister, that I am aware of. And I watched my father die a few days ago by the hand of a stranger,” Arkin snapped.

  Lyla put a hand to her mouth in shock.

  “I’m sorry,” Arkin said, aware of his rash reply, “I should not have spoken that way.”

  “No, it is I who should apologize for prying. Arkin, I had no idea,” she looked into his eyes. “I am truly sorry.”

  “It’s alright. I’m coming to terms with it.”

  They rode in silence for a moment. “So, what about you? Tell me about yourself,” Arkin said, shooting her a sideways grin.

  She sat straight back, holding her head high. “I’m a farmer’s daughter. My three brothers and I help our parents on the farm, taking care of livestock and tending to the garden. One day, I am going to be a doctor,” she said, looking to Arkin for a reaction.

  He stared wordlessly at her for a moment. “Then that is what you shall be.”

  “Are you mocking me? A woman can be a doctor too you know!” she chided.

  He held his hand up. “Not at all. I can see that there’s something different in you, something more. I believe in you.”

  With surprise, she stared back at him, mouth slightly open, searching for something. He smiled, turning his eyes back to the road ahead. Torin had stopped.

  They halted next to him.

  “The Standing Stones,” Torin said, pointing to the west.

  In the distance, standing atop a lush green hill, stood a group of large monolith like stones. The sight of them, with the fading sun in the distance, filled Arkin with awe. He had heard stories of the great stones before, but the sight of them left the tales wanting.

  “They’re massive!” Arkin said. “How could they have been moved there and placed like that?”

  “Have you heard of a soul stone?” Torin asked, looking to each of them. He took their silence for their answer. “They contain unspeakable power. It is rumored that a great man used a soul stone to create that which you see before you, now. To what purpose, I do not know,” Torin said. “It has baffled people for generations.”

  “Maybe it’s a marker of some sort,” Lyla noted. “Or a shrine to his God — a monument that he thought would stand the test of time.”

  Torin shrugged. “We better make camp for the night.”

  Veering away from the road, he led them to a small clearing in the woods. It was far enough out of sight to hide from malicious eyes seeking the light of a fire in the darkness.

  Each of them welcomed the warmth of the fire. It was still the first of spring, and the cold set in fast after the sun went down.

  “Couple more days,” Torin said, chewing on a piece of dried meat that he bought from Umber.

  Arkin nodded, devouring his portion.

  “Do we have enough food?” Lyla asked, covering her mouth as she ate and spoke.

  “Aye,” Torin said, checking his pack. “Umber was generous enough.”

  Arkin drained the skin of water, drawing a scornful look from Torin. He held it for the big man to take.

  Torin slapped it from his hand, sending it flying across the camp.

  “Damn fool, boy,” Torin chided, “I guess you’ll be the one finding water in the morning. That was the last we had.”

  “I’m sorry, I thought we had more,” Arkin said, embarrassed.

  Torin stood. “Get some sleep. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”

  Lying there, Arkin replayed the day over in his mind. If he could go back and do it over again, he would. There were so many things he wanted to say to Lyla.

  He stole one last glance at her, fast asleep in her bedroll by the warm glow of the fire. He closed his eyes, exhausted from riding all day.

  Five

  Victor sat in his darkened chamber, his head resting on his hand, deep in thought. His eyes gazed into the dark room, lit only by the light of a few candles. He swirled the last bit of wine in his cup while he stared at the set of keys lying on his desk.

  It is time, he thought.

  It had taken years for him to position the pieces — getting everything, and everyone, in order. It took even longer to align himself with the right people. He had played the game for so long, but now there was no more playing.

  It was time to change the game.

  It had proved to be extremely difficult to gain influential friends in the capital. It was even more difficult to find the right people he could bribe, mindful that one slip-up would be his undoing.

  Now, he finally had position in the Church. He was second only to the high priest. After all his time and hard work, Victor’s plan was finally coming to fruition. The power he wanted was so close. His body trembled at the thought.

  He closed his eyes and thought of Lucian. Victor’s first apprentice had always been loyal. He had always been the best.

  Now, Lucian was on a suicide mission.

  If he didn’t get killed in the attack, or murdered in the palace cells, he would surely be torn to pieces after he killed the king.

  Victor didn’t have a doubt in his mind that the king would die. Lucian would see it done.

  Victor would miss Lucian.

  He often wondered what drove the man. No doubt, Lucian hated the Order; that’s why he turned coat. But what made the man tick? What made Lucian do whatever Victor bid him to do. Lucian was the most gifted killer he’d ever known.

  Maybe even better than me, Victor thought.

  Whatever Lucian was living for, Victor didn’t care, so long as he did what he was told.

  “Everybody’s got a place,” Victor said out loud to the empty chamber. “Time to take mine.”

  He finished the wine, set the cup on the desk, and grabbed the keys. A candle flickered and came to life as he lit the wick, illuminating the tunnel as he strode from his chamber.

  Out of the tunnel he passed the empty front desk in the great room — the old man retired for the night. The moon had been out for hours and everyone was asleep in the barracks.

  He walked to the far tunnel — the one with the iron gate blocking the entrance. Flipping through the keys, he found the right one and slid it into the lock. It turned easily, allowing the gate to open smoothly. He made sure it was oiled regularly.

  Walking through, he turned and locked it behind him.

  The cavern was dark, lit only by the flame of his candle. There was a damp breeze that filled the air, making this tunnel unique.

  After taking a right at the first fork, he took another right at the second. As he entered the chamber at the end of the tunnel, his eyes adjusted to the room. It was well lit by the torches on the walls which helped keep the space warm and dry. Excess smoke drew up and ou
t through the cracks in the ceiling.

  Paintings hung from the walls and sculptures decorated the cavernous room. In the corner was a chair with a desk. Beside the desk stood shelves of books. An enormous rug lay in the center of the room. Beyond the rug was a large bed. A canopy of silk tapestries enveloped it from top to bottom.

  His eyes found a woman lying on the bed. She was a middle-aged beauty, lying propped up on her elbow with her head resting on her hand. A silk, ebony sleeveless gown wrapped around her body which set off her bright red hair.

  Victor strolled over to the bedside. “It’s time,” he said as he pulled the silk curtain further aside.

  “Time for what, Master?” Sarie said, sliding her free hand down her thigh.

  Victor sat on the edge of the bed.

  “Time for me to leave for the capital. I have work to do in the Church.”

  “So you’re finally going to help the poor citizens of Kingsport,” she said sarcastically.

  “Every flock needs a shepherd,” he said with a grin.

  “Am I to come with you?”

  “Not yet. There are other... ordeals that must be taken care of first.”

  “That’s no way to treat an Oracle,” she sighed.

  “Don’t worry, my dear, you will act your role very soon. All of the Dark Society believe you really are an oracle. Even though they have yet to see you. Soon you will be in the public eye.”

  “What if they find out I’m a fake?” Sarie asked, sitting up in the bed and drawing herself away from him slightly.

  “We will make sure that they don’t,” Victor said, resting his hand on her thigh. “People believe what they see. They believe what they hear. We will give them the greatest show this world has ever seen.”

  “I wish I did have the Sight, like the Prophet,” she said, sliding closer to Victor again.

  Victor’s eyes narrowed. “That old fool,” he spat, “has no more Sight than you. He uses the King and his precious Order to make it look like he is a prophet,” he caressed her cheek. “It is all lies and deceptions.”

  “But he saw the Rebellion coming. How did he know?” Sarie asked.

  “I was his main advisor, commander, and best friend in the Order. We had a disagreement the night before the Rebellion. I suppose that put him on edge,” he trailed off. “And sometimes he gets lucky.” Victor lifted himself from the bed and turned away, deep in thought.

  Sarie jumped up from the bed, pulled Victor toward her, and wrapped her arms around him.

  “Sometimes, you get lucky,” she said, then began kissing his neck.

  “Yes,” he said. “I found you.”

  “You saved me!” she said. “That night of the Rebellion. Sometimes I can’t believe it’s been eighteen years,” she said with tears in her eyes.

  He touched the scar on her neck. “Lucian returned the other day.”

  She tensed in his arms. “What? Where is he now?”

  “I sent him to Kingsport. Let’s just say he won’t be returning. There is no need for you to fear him anymore.”

  “I don’t know why you’ve kept him alive this long, knowing our past,” she said.

  “He gets the job done and he doesn’t ask questions,” Victor said. “I’ve kept him close, keeping a watchful eye on him.” Victor held her at arm’s length. “We wouldn’t be this close to our goal without him.”

  The torches crackled on the walls, accompanying the silence.

  “He killed Levi,” Victor said with remorse in his tone.

  She stepped back, looking at him in shock. “When?”

  “Days ago,” Victor said. “I sent Lucian to find the Path of Man. He tracked it to Levi. Unfortunately, he did not find the book.”

  She stood, emotionless, staring blankly.

  He wondered what she thought. Was her mind suddenly bursting with memories of a life long ago? A life of happiness with a husband, a child, and a home. A life she had pushed away to the back corners of her mind.

  Now, he could see that terror and heartbreak seeped back into the very depths of her.

  “I wish Lucian had died too,” she said, choking back emotion. “Not only did he try to kill me, but he killed my husband.” She began sobbing sorely. “And he killed my son!”

  Victor wrapped his arms around her, attempting to sooth her while she shook in his embrace.

  “Hush now, justice will be served. Lie down and get some rest. I will call upon you soon.” He kissed her on the forehead. “I must leave now.”

  As he left the warm light of the room, a thought crossed his mind. Should he tell her that her son remained alive? That Arkin was the one who carried the book?

  No. That would undo everything. He had lied to her eighteen years ago, telling her that Lucian had killed Arkin. The lie was to keep her here with him. If Sarie had known the truth, she would have pursued Arkin a long time ago. She would have lost trust in Victor and his plans. And she was the key to everything.

  He unlocked the gate to find Karn, idly leaning against the cave wall.

  “Have a good time?” the giant man said, a menacing smile upon his face.

  Victor glared at him with contempt. “Get your things. We leave now.”

  Six

  Arkin awoke to a boot in the side of his ribs.

  “Get up, boy.” Torin said.

  “Damnit, why’d you...”

  Torin kicked him again, urging him to rise from the camp.

  “Alright,” Akrin grumbled. He looked to where Lyla should have been sleeping.

  “Where is she?” Arkin said.

  “There’s a creek nearby, said she was going to wash her face. Now put your hands up.”

  “What?”

  Torin slapped him upside the head, then took a fighting stance. “Like this, boy.”

  Rubbing the sting from his head, Arkin put his hands up, mimicking Torin. He had tussled with his friends before, but had never been in a real fight. Now he felt like he was about to brawl with a bear.

  Despite the size difference, Arkin was tall, almost as tall as Torin. Both stood over six feet, but Torin was twice his size.

  Arkin noticed the big man sizing him up. “Hit me,” Torin said.

  Throwing a straight right jab, Arkin held his left hand up for defense, his memory recalling the time his father taught him the basics of fighting; always keep your hands up to protect yourself.

  Torin deflected the jab with his left arm and lunged forward, wrapping his right arm around Arkin’s neck. Torin used his right leg for leverage as he threw Arkin to the ground.

  The impact almost took Arkin’s breath. He stayed there on the ground for a moment, the morning dew cool on his face, before getting up slowly.

  Dusting himself off, he took his fighting stance again. Torin waved him on.

  Arkin feigned a right jab, then threw a left hook. Torin moved only enough to dodge the blow, then threw an open hand slap to Arkin’s head, followed by a right hook to side.

  Arkin doubled over. Tears welled in his eyes. He had never felt a pain so intense.

  “That’s a liver shot, boy. It’ll take down the biggest man.”

  Arkin fought to regain his composure.

  “I have a name, you know,” Arkin wheezed out. “And I’m a grown man, dammit. Why do you keep calling me boy?” Arkin said, gasping for air.

  “Because you are inexperienced and still wet behind the ears,” Torin said with no hint of sympathy. “You are soft and weak, like a boy.”

  Arkin didn’t understand why Torin was doing this. Why was he being so mean?

  Clinching his fists, Arkin felt himself grow angry.

  Torin eyed him, noticing his reaction. “Now, I said hit me. Boy.”

  “Stop calling me a boy!” Arkin yelled, running at Torin, full of rage.

  With fists flying, Arkin pressed the assault. Torin backpedaled, fighting to check or dodge each blow. Arkin noticed his own speed increase, along with the fluidity of his movements. It felt incredible and terrifying at the
same time. He pressed on.

  Another flurry of strikes came. Between blocks, Arkin saw shock and awe in Torin’s eyes. A right hook caught the big man square on the jaw, knocking him down on one knee. Torin shook his head to clear the haze.

  “I... I’m sorry,” Arkin said. “I didn’t mean to.” He unclenched his hands, looking at them in wonder as his body surged with energy.

  “Don’t be sorry,” Torin grumbled, rubbing his jaw. “You did well. Just caught me off guard a bit is all.”

  Arkin stood frozen, stunned by his own actions. He could feel everything around him and within him. All he could manage to do was breathe.

  Standing, Torin smiled and put a hand on Arkin’s shoulder. “We’ll make a man out of you yet, boy.

  The three made quick time packing up the camp, and soon they were back on the road. The sun sat in a clear blue sky, highlighting the green rolling hills in the distance.

  Arkin rode beside Lyla, filling her in on the recent event.

  “So how did you do it?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” Arkin said, still exuding energy. “I remember becoming angry, but after that it’s a blank.”

  “He said that you caught him off guard,” she noted. “From what I hear of the Order, nobody catches them off guard.”

  “I guess I got lucky.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe you should go talk to him,” she said.

  Arkin nodded. “You’re right, I’m sure he can explain to me what happened.”

  Arkin galloped up next to Torin. Neither said a word; Torin obviously content to ride in silence.

  The landscape changed from green rolling hills to mountainous terrain. Arkin saw that the road ahead cut between a high rock bluff and a dense forest.

  “We’re over halfway there,” Torin said, breaking the silence. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a hot plate of food and a warm bed tonight.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Arkin replied. “Hey, Torin, back at the camp, you tripped didn’t you? That’s how I hit you.”

  “No, boy. I didn’t trip or let you hit me. That was all you.”

  “But, how? I’ve never fought before.”

  “Could have fooled me,” Torin said, shifting his jaw. “Have you ever heard of soul tapping?”