Gazing past him, she nodded absently. “Perhaps.”
He couldn’t remember a time he’d ever seen her look so defeated. Elora had always been so determined and unwilling to accept the limitations placed on her by her parents, or anyone.
For a moment, he almost mistook her defeat for acceptance, then thought better of it.
“What are you planning to do?” he questioned.
She shrugged one shoulder, continuing to avoid his gaze. “I don’t know yet, but staying here ...”
“The Dealer’s punishments for violating orders could include death,” he said. “Consider that very carefully, Elora, before you make a decision. Your aunt and mother have already lost you once. Your death would devastate them.”
She looked back at him. “But not you.”
“Not only would that require a soul, but it would interfere with my work.”
“And that’s what’s important? The Tank?” Tears shimmered in her eyes.
“Yes,” he said unapologetically. “Contrary to what the Regent and the Council would like people to believe, the Tank is the one thing keeping the ravagers out of the sector. Without the Tank force, the barrier would’ve fallen long ago. We are all that stand between us and death.”
“Can you even care about that without a soul?”
“I don’t have to care. All I have to do is my job.”
With a deep sigh, she shook her head. “Why are you here, Mason?”
“I came to warn you of the storm front coming in.” The lie rolled off his lips with little effort and no guilt. “Go see Rudy for more wood before you run out. Once the storm hits, he won’t be as willing to share.”
He spun on his heel and with long strides, walked to the Station House. Warmth from the crackling fire engulfed him as he entered the structure. Mechanically, he pulled the strap of the buckshot bolt over his head and placed it on the rack.
The sound of the Dealer’s angry voice drew Mason’s attention to the office. Walking to the doorway, he found Nick and the Dealer standing beside the desk, gazing down at the boundary map.
The Dealer looked up at Mason and then made a show of at the clock. “You're late.”
“I’m off duty.”
The two of them stared at each other for a few moments, and Mason tried to read the other man’s expression. The man was his father, yet everything he did—everything he said—was done as if Mason were just another Tank soldier.
Mason could remember a time when that blank gaze would’ve torn at him, leaving him wondering why he wasn’t enough, why his dad couldn’t care for him. It was better this way. He no longer craved his father’s approval, no longer wasted his life wishing he could be the man his father wanted him to be. He no longer cared.
“You're off duty when I say so.” The dealer jabbed a thick finger at the map. “We have a problem.”
“What’s wrong?” Mason asked, stepping into the room.
“The Mage refused to come,” Nick said.
“Which one? Charlotte? Anton? You know they won’t come up north. Petra is one of the few who is willing.”
“All of them. None of them will come.” Nick shook his head. “There’s talk of the Regent being ill. If she dies before selecting her successor, every Mage will be needed to reinforce the barrier around the Capitol.”
“And the barrier here?”
“We're on our own.”
The implications of those words wasn’t lost on any of them. If the barrier fell, the ravagers would be set lose in the sector. The Capitol and those areas with a greater population would survive; the rest of them would perish under the on slant of the monsters.
“We’ve wasted enough time waiting for the Mage,” the Dealer said.
He pointed to the map and under his touch, the paper came to life. A sea of red dots floated above the page, marking the position of every ravager within ten miles of the barrier. The blue line marking the shield’s path glowed vibrantly where its strength remained, pale at those points that had weakened.
The faintest was where the entrance to the ice bridge had been, and where the red dots pressed so closely together they were indistinguishable from each other.
“We're going to do a culling. We start by spreading them out, split the hoard. Nick, take Jensen north to the inlet. Mason, you’ll go south with Luce to the coastal ridge.” The Dealer swept his fingers along the border and the red dots congregated outside of Ironshore followed behind. “Open the shield, and take them out in small bunches. We’ll regroup at night fall.”
Mason grunted. “It’ll buy us some time. Maybe a month or two.”
“That may be all we need,” Nick said. “Hopefully, the Regent’s successor will have been chosen by then.”
“All right. Let’s do this.”
Mason strode back to the main room and grabbed the buckshot bolt from the shelf, slinging it over his shoulder. After a brief hesitation, he grabbed his double-edged ax as well and glanced over his shoulder at the Dealer, but the older man stayed silent.
He pushed the iron-wrapped shaft through a metal ring attached to his belt. He would’ve preferred to carry it in his hand, but this was far more convenient.
With a brisk nod, he headed out and down to Luce’s cabin. She wasn’t particularly impressed to find him at her door, but she perked up at hearing the Dealer’s orders.
While Luce strapped her dogs into their harness and worked to attach them to her sled, Mason pulled out the snowmobile from the shed and gassed it up.
Despite the increased time it would take for them to reach their destination because of her insistence on using the dogs, Mason knew better than to argue. The one time he questioned her use of them, Luce launched into a big speech about the relationship and trust she built with those animals and the benefits of having them as extra backup.
He’d tried to raise a litter a few years back, but the animals' sense of duty to him was restricted by his lack of affect. They seemed to sense that he viewed them purely as a form of transportation. On their first run, they escaped at the first opportunity, leaving him stranded miles from the village.
Mason walked to the water’s edge where the Dealer stood gazing at the rough waters beating at the barrier. With each crashing wave, the ravagers within the icy depths were revealed.
“Resonating stones,” the Dealer said, handing Mason two smooth pebbles.
“What do they do?”
“When you tap them together, they emit a sound at such a high pitch only the ravagers can hear it. Like a dog whistle.”
“Luce’s team won’t be effected?”
The Dealer snorted. “And you wanted to be a Paladin. What you know of magic wouldn’t even fill a page.”
Mason stared at the man he’d once called father. He had no response to the derisive remark. For so long, Mason had wondered if anyone else could ever understand what it felt like to be soulless, and in that moment, he realized the Dealer knew all too well.
Closing his fist around the pebbles, he allowed the two stones to collide. Gradually, his hand warmed with the energy building within until he uncurled his fingers. The once pale rocks, now glowed a vibrant orange, and as they pulsed, ravagers pounded at the shield, their shrieks audible over the sound of the waves.
The orange faded, and he placed the pebbles in separate pockets.
“You’ve requested a pardon for Elora. Why?” he asked.
“Despite her assurance that she intended to reside with her mother, I suspect she planned to request the Regent’s assistance in returning your soul.” The Dealer glanced at Mason then back out at the barrier. “Ironshore—Sector Ten—cannot afford to have you out of action. Not now.”
The logical explanation made sense. Turning from the Dealer, Mason headed back to his snowmobile. The sleek machine purred as he turned it on.
“Let’s go,” Luce ordered as he pulled up next to her sled, and she gave her team the signal.
Mason followed behind, conserving his gas as his snowmobil
e used her tracks to ease the path. Gas was a precious commodity in the Sector and the Regent was the only witch powerful enough to generate new supplies of the resource.
The flat landscape whipped past, and every mile Mason took a moment to use the Resonating Stones. Finally, they reached the point where the shield met land and began its jagged path through the mainland’s interior creating the boundary that kept them safe. They dismounted and surveyed the mass of ravagers that had followed.
“Think it’s enough?” Luce asked.
“It’ll have to be.” The double ax slid from his belt, and he gave a twist of his wrist, rotating the weapon in a wide circle at his side.
“Relax,” Luce said and pulled her buckshot bolt from her shoulder. “I’m up first. Let’s spread them out a bit more. You head up the tree line, stretch the beasts out; I’ll stay here and crack the shield just enough for one at a time.”
“Just make sure you leave some for me,” he said, and slid his ax back through the loop.
He jogged over to the point where the barrier made landfall and tapped on the translucent curtain. The grotesque bodies of the ravagers withered in anticipation at the sound. Smooth pale flesh covered the place where their eyes should have been. Their lack of vision was hardly to their detriment; acute senses of hearing and smell made up for it. Which was why Mason had opted for a hands-on approach to separating the herd. The Resonating Stones would attract all of them.
With long strides, Mason marched to the tree line, occasionally tapping on the shield to ensure enough of the beasts followed. When he turned back, Luce was busy taking down a Ravager that had crawled through the crack.
Although Mason preferred his ax, he recognized what a powerful weapon the buckshot bolt was. The shot Luce set off pierced the air with a flash of red, tearing through the tough skin of the ravager. There was a moment’s pause as the bolt set in, and the ravager clutched its chest, then the bolt ejected its four barbs which then exploded. The ravager burst apart, blood and flesh raining upon the snow-covered ground.
Luce gave a loud whooping sound, but her triumph was cut short as another ravager crawled through. Not wanting to incur Luce’s wrath, Mason kept back, waiting for her signal that she was ready for him to join in on the fun.
When she was out of bolts, she pulled her sword from its sheath. Her sleek muscled body performed a dance, her sword an extension of her arm. She played with the creatures, dodging their wickedly-sharp talons, letting her sword nick their bodies until finally she killed them. Her motions were hypnotizing: a perfect balance of grace and strength born of years of training.
It was only the loud cracking sound that alerted Mason to the shield’s breach. The small crack Luce had created to let one ravager through at a time had surrendered under the pressure of their bodies.
“Luce! Get ready,” he yelled and raised his buckshot bolt to his shoulder. Luce quickly finished the monster she’d been toying with and moved to Mason’s side.
Staring down the barrel, he took two shots, hitting the first ravager in the head.
“You missed,” Luce snorted. “Two bolts for one ravager. What a waste.”
“Wait for it,” he said, and as the dead creature slumped over, the one behind it fell as well.
“Damn,” Luce said. Any further discussion was squelched by the wave of Ravagers that pressed against the shield and the sudden stream of bodies through the narrow gap.
Mason’s finger squeezed the trigger, and the barrel of the bolt kicked back sharply into his shoulder. He squeezed again and then again, taking out the ravagers one at a time.
The shield continued to give way behind their fallen bodies. Silently, he counted the rounds he set off until he reached the end of the charge.
“I’m out,” he called to Luce. Knowing he had no time to reload, he tossed the weapon to the side and pulled out his ax. The heavy weight of it energized him.
He watched as ravagers continued to file through the opening. The creatures didn’t even hesitate, surging forward on all fours with massive leaps that ate up the distance between them and their meal.
As the first ravager reached him, he swung his ax, slicing into the tough hide of the monster. The strength of his second swing sent the blade through the ravager, cutting it in half.
Adrenaline kicked in, and he let out a savage howl. From anyone else it might have been a sign of excitement or victory; for Mason, it was simply a way to bring more ravagers to him.
The stream of monsters eventually slowed. Mason had lost count of how many he killed, but the mangled bodies piled around him were evidence of his work. He slammed his ax into the ravager standing before him. Its arms flailed, scoring Mason’s arms with jagged talons. With a hiss of pain, Mason jerked his ax free and swung again, severing its grotesque head. The head rolled along the ground, carried by a slight slope until it came to a stop under Luce’s foot.
“Close the shield,” he said as the last ravager made its way through the hole.
The beast paused just inside the sector, its head weaving as it smelled the blood of its kin. Preservation instinct took over, and the ravager ran toward the trees.
“Last one’s yours,” Luce said as she headed for the shield.
Mason jiggled his ax and ran after it. He paused when he reached the trees, squatting to scan the ground for the creature’s trail. Out in the open, he had the advantage over the ravager. Here, though, the creature could camouflage itself, hiding within the foliage both on the ground and in the trees.
Spotting the tracks he’d been looking for, Mason stepped into the woods. Moving slower than he’d like, he was careful to stay focused on taking in every bit of information with his senses.
A quarter mile in, he noted a change in the ravager’s movements. No longer erratic, its tracks took on purpose, creeping along the underbrush.
The shriek of the beast resonated through the woods and confirmed what Mason had suspected. They weren’t alone out there.
7
She couldn’t stay in Ironshore, Elora realized as she watched Mason walk away. Even if she could accept that he no longer loved her, or that he didn’t want his soul, staying meant possibly being forced into prostitution to survive.
There’d been a few fleeting moments during the past few weeks she almost believed she could let Mason stay soulless, then she’d see that empty gaze sucking the life from his brown eyes. He may never love her again—she wouldn’t blame him after the mess she made of their lives—but she couldn’t let him live out the rest of his days simply existing. She needed to speak to the Regent, convince her to help Mason.
The Dealer’s refusal to send her to the Capitol, his order that she stay in Ironshore, had nothing to do with punishing her and everything to do with keeping Mason from getting his soul back. Yet, regardless of his reasons, it was an order from the Tank Dealer and breaking it meant facing worse punishment. Although, he’d have to catch her first.
Stepping back into her cabin, she closed the door and surveyed the cramped space. She’d had nothing when she arrived back on the mainland, and she’d added very little to her possession since. But what she did have would help.
Grabbing the sheet from the bed, she folded it lengthwise twice, then began placing her items in the center. Her tin cup and bowl, along with her cutlery, the small leather bags of various herbs she’d gathered on her walks around town and her work at the pub, and a collection of stones given to her by Norm all went onto the sheet. On top, she placed the extra dress and socks Norm’s wife had given her. She would have preferred pants, but with no one else offering, she’d make do with the dress.
She folded the sides of the sheet inward again, overlapping the edges, then grasped the ends and twisted them tightly to seal in the items. Lifting the sheet, she arranged it so the makeshift pouch rested along her back and one twisted end came over her right shoulder while the other looped under her left arm. She secured it with a knot and pulled her parka on over top.
She’d hated
the bulky, too-big coat, but now it worked to her advantage. No one would suspect she carried all of her worldly possessions beneath its thick layer.
At the door, she hesitated. Her eyes were nearly blinded by the sun glistening off the snow-covered ground. Along the shore the snow was shallow, maybe half a foot deep thanks to the recent snowfall. East of the village, though, once she made it to the mountains, the snow would be feet deep, clinging to the steep slopes.
What was she doing? The journey through the interior was perilous for the most seasoned traveler in the summer. How could she hope to make it on foot in winter?
Movement behind the Station House drew her gaze, and she watched as Luce hitched up one of her huskies to a sled. Maybe there was another team in town she could use. Though she had no way of paying. But perhaps her aunt would help.
Careful to move naturally to avoid drawing attention, she left the cabin and made her way through town toward her aunt’s house. In the years she’d been gone, Ironshore had stayed the same. Oh, some of the houses had new coats of paint, but otherwise, they were stuck in time. Tina’s cabin was no different. Elora spotted the small Inuksuk she’d constructed for her aunt ten years before standing to the right of the door.
The door opened as she mounted the steps, and she smiled up at her aunt.
“Elora, what brings you by?” Tina gave her niece a brief hug, stiffening as her hands patted the collection of items hidden beneath the parka. She pulled back, a tense smile on her face. “Come in.”
Elora followed her aunt inside, her body tense until the door had closed behind them. She leaned back against it and closed her eyes.
“Are you going to tell me what you're hiding under your coat?”
Her eyes opened, and gazing at Tina, she wondered if she could trust her aunt. Tina had always been kind to her, and never one to shy away from adventure, but defying the Dealer’s orders was entirely different. Yet, she had no other choice.
“I’m leaving for the Capitol.”
“I see. Gregory is taking you before the Council?” Concern tinged Tina’s question.
Winter Souls: an Adult Paranormal Witch Romance: Sector 10 (The Othala Witch Collection) Page 6
