SoulQuest

by Percival Constantine

  “Yeah...I can.” Tanus’ arm shot up and he fired several pulses from his weapon. The boy jumped away from them, swinging from the branches and moving from tree to tree with the same ease as a monkey might demonstrate.

  “What are you doing?” asked Zarim. “He’s just a boy!”

  “That’s no boy,” said Tanus. “Not anymore.”

  “Huh?” asked Ekala.

  “He’s a foundling.”

  The foundling landed before them in a crouch. He stood and smiled at them. But when he opened his eyes, they were pitch-black, like windows to a void in his skull. “You shouldn’t have come. They won’t be pleased that you’ve come. Children are welcome here, but not the big people.”

  “Okay, this is starting to get weird...” said Ekala.

  The foundling began chuckling. And his laughter grew louder, until it surrounded them completely. Every tree in the forest began to shake and the ground rumbled, tall ferns receding into the ground, leaving a wide, open and green field. The foundling backed away and there was a somewhat-familiar hum. But it was far louder than Ekala and Zarim had been used to, almost deafening, driving the three to their knees and clutching their ears.

  Within moments, dozens of them came, their bright, blue wings buzzing with ferocious intensity, as they surrounded the three completely. All of them were faeries, both male and female, and all of them wore armor covered with runic symbols. They were armed with swords, bows, and spears, their weapons held at the ready as they surrounded the three human intruders.

  “Hey Zee, you know that plan you had about getting into Nephelm without being seen?” asked Ekala.

  Zarim sighed. “What about it?”

  “I’ve got a feeling it didn’t work.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Ekala. What would I do without you?”

  One of the faeries hovered towards them. He was taller than the others, but that still left him at around five feet. He was thin and carried himself with grace, his long, green hair framing his face. His long sword was drawn, pointed directly at Zarim.

  “I am Albion, commander of the forces of Nephelm.” His voice had an almost melodic tone, yet there was an edge to it as well. “You have crossed the boundary between our worlds, mortals. And you have done so without consent. How foolish are you to believe you can venture into the Forest of Eternal Night without suffering consequences?”

  “Let’s just take it easy, little guy,” said Zarim. “We’re here on a mission.”

  Albion cocked his head. “Whose mission?”

  “Don’t think that’s any of your business,” said Ekala. “But it’s important. Fate of the world—which includes you, sparky—is at stake. So why don’t you just give us what we want and we’ll be on our way?”

  Albion snickered. “You are brash. What makes you believe we will honor your requests after you have invaded our lands?”

  “We didn’t invade anything, but how else were we supposed to get in?” asked Tanus. “You don’t exactly have a front door.”

  “For good reason,” said Albion. “Your kind hunts us, considers us monsters. And so we do what must be done in the interests of self-preservation. Your presumptuous nature offends me, and for that alone, I should have you executed where you stand!”

  “Albion, wait!”

  The faerie commander paused. A woman emerged through the ranks, hovering towards them. She struck an impressive figure—youthful with an angelic face and hair as black as night. Unlike the others, she wore no armor, just simple robes adorned with runes, and she came unarmed.

  “Nyx, get back! These...things cannot be trusted!”

  Nyx held out her hand in front of Zarim and closed her eyes. A halo of blue energy surrounded her palm, as she concentrated. She gasped as her eyes snapped open. “Albion, we must take them to the king.”

  “Are you mad, woman?” asked Albion.

  “You have to trust me, they are on a quest that could mean the world’s only salvation!”

  CHAPTER 12

  The actual kitchen area of the Excalibur was small, with a few booths attached to the wall. Swul sat in one of these booths, a cigar clamped between his teeth, a deck of playing cards in hand. He was engaged in a solo game to pass the time, lining up and organizing the cards in their proper order. He tried to avoid looking at the clock, although he had known exactly how long the others had been gone.

  Swul removed the cigar from his mouth and knocked off the ash into a small tray beside the cards. The thought that his friends were in trouble had crossed his mind, but he went back to his game, trying to concentrate on that.

  He took another drag on his cigar, setting the cards down. “If they’re lucky, they’ll change their minds and get outta that forest before they get anywhere close to Nephelm’s city limits. Faeries ain’t exactly what you’d call human tolerant,” he muttered to himself.

  Swul ran over those words in his head. In truth, he’d thought of nothing other than going after them since the others had left the Excalibur, wondered if he may have been able to convince them not to go in if only he hadn’t let his anger get the better of him. At last, he just shook his head.

  “Probably would be worse for ‘em if I were there,” he told himself. “If Zee’s smart, he’ll play dumb, act like they stumbled in there on accident in case they’re found. Faeries might let ‘em go. But if they went in there with an exile, might not end so pretty.”

  What if Zarim wasn’t that smart, though? Swul had been avoiding that thought. He hadn’t wanted to consider that possibility, but there it was. It was very probable Zarim would screw that up somehow, risk not only his life, but the lives of Ekala and Tanus as well. He puffed on the end of his cigar, the embers burning the tobacco leaves up to his knuckles. Swul stamped out the nub, and reached into his vest pocket for his cigar case. He struck a match and lit a new cigar.

  If they were in danger, Swul knew he owed it to them to do something. After all, if Zarim were in his place, he wouldn’t hesitate. Hadn’t before. Swul leaned back in the booth, his puffs on the cigar shorter and more frequent. He stared at the cards laid out on the table and slammed his fist on the surface. The cards jumped, becoming jumbled as they fell. The faerie slid out from the booth and went down to the cargo bay, grabbing his axe from the weapons cabinet.

  “Somebody’s gotta save the day, I guess...”

  As they reached the golden gates of Nephelm, the darkness that dominated the forest faded, giving way to bright sunlight. On approach, the gates opened outward and Albion led them inside the walls of the city. Every building was elevated a few hundred feet in the air by thin pillars, all of which appeared to be made of crystal. When the rays of the sun hit the different buildings, they gave off a wide spectrum of colors. In the center of the city were several pillars holding up interlocking structures that composed the palace.

  Albion remained silent, his mood generally foul. Nyx insisted on taking the intruders to see the King, and to make matters worse, she steadfastly refused when Albion insisted on shackling them. She said it would make no difference.

  The young mystic walked between Zarim and Ekala, with Tanus behind. A small battalion of guards remained with them, their faces stoic as their wings carried them, hovering just above the surface. Albion moved similarly, but Nyx walked with the humans.

  “Thank you,” said Zarim. “For helping us out.”

  “I did not do it for you,” said Nyx. “As I told Albion, I believe you are here for a purpose. And I see it as my duty to bring you before our King.”

  “That Albie guy’s a bit high-strung, huh?” asked Ekala.

  “He can hear you,” said Nyx.

  “I know,” said Ekala. “Why do you think I said it?”

  Nyx raised a hand to her mouth to hide her smile. Ekala took notice of the gesture and smiled herself, but she made no effort to conceal hers.

  “That was quite a security force that ambushed us,” said Tanus. “Is it usual for so many soldiers to respond to a threat?”
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  “We do not get many of them,” said Nyx. “So when a threat arrives, it is not uncommon for so many to assemble quickly.”

  “Interesting,” said Tanus.

  “How do you think the King will react to us?” asked Zarim.

  “I do not know. I pray he will be sympathetic to your cause.”

  “And if he’s not?” asked Zarim.

  “You will likely be executed. Following the torture, of course.”

  A grim smile fell across Ekala’s lips. “Of course. Can’t have an execution without torture.”

  Albion smirked at this, for it was his prayer that this exact situation is what would befall those who would dare violate Nephelm’s sovereignty. On the approach to the center structure, Albion gestured to some of the battalion to help the humans ascend. Two were needed to lift Tanus, but one each seemed sufficient to carry Zarim and Ekala. Dozens of wings fluttered in perfect unison as the faeries hefted their visitors from the ground and up to the front entrance of the castle.

  The castle hall was large, with a door leading ahead to the court. Just above the entrance was the balcony for the second floor. There appeared to be no stairs to access it, but when one could fly, what use would one have for steps? Albion led the group to the double doors below the balcony, and pushed them open.

  The king’s court appeared larger than the castle seemed capable of containing. Tapestries hung on the walls and at the end of the hall sat a throne of crystal. A faerie, taller than even Albion, sat on the throne, a crown of sorts floating above his bald head, an ornate staff held in his hand. His pointed ears were longer than any of the others, and his wings more extravagant—not only blue, but many other colors were mixed in with them as well, like they were made from stained glass. He stood upon seeing the new arrivals.

  “Albion! You dare bring these mortals to my court?”

  Albion bowed in submission. “No, my King. I wished to execute them on sight, but another believed these...things were worthy of an audience with your greatness.”

  “Speak! Who would sully the court of the King with the presence of these lower beings?”

  “I’ll show ‘im a lower being...” muttered Ekala through gritted teeth.

  “Don’t even think about it,” said Zarim in a hushed tone. “Let Nyx do the talking.”

  Nyx stepped past the humans and bowed beside Albion. “My Lord Oberon, it is I who bear responsibility.”

  “What is the purpose behind this affront, mystic?” asked Oberon.

  “They are on a quest, my liege. A quest which may determine the fate of the world.”

  Oberon stroked the silver beard that lined his jaw. “What sort of quest?”

  Nyx shook her head. “I do not know, Sire. By your leave, I would allow them to explain their purpose.”

  “You believe our home lies in jeopardy if they are not permitted to continue?”

  “I do.”

  “And what say you, Albion?”

  “My position on mortals is well-known, my King. I believe them to be nothing more than a threat to our kingdom and our very way of life.”

  “Yes, that has traditionally been so...” said Oberon, continuing to rub his beard. “But, as the mystic has foreseen danger in our mistrust, I shall permit them to state their case. Who among you would speak for this meager assemblage?”

  “I guess that would be me,” said Zarim. He stepped forward and bent to one knee, bowing his head. “King Oberon, first I would like to take this opportunity to thank you, for you are truly a gracious and bene—”

  “Spare me your flattery, boy,” said Oberon. “State your case.”

  “If you say so.” Zarim stood, his hands moving behind his back. “King Oberon, we’ve been sent on a quest by Master Quand of Xanadar. A quest to retrieve the five Soulstones.”

  “The Soulstones?” asked Oberon. “And for what purpose are they sought?”

  “Master Quand told us that the stones have been awakened and they are sought by a dark force. If this force should claim all five, it would possess the power to remake—or unmake—reality as it chooses.”

  “And Quand’s purpose?”

  “Once Master Quand obtains all five Soulstones, he said he has the power to return them to their dormant state,” said Zarim. “For this reason, we’ve been sent to retrieve them.”

  “You have retrieved some already?” asked Oberon.

  “Just one,” said Zarim. “We almost had a second, but it was stolen from us by our enemies. We’ve been informed that a third Soulstone is here in Nephelm.”

  Oberon rose from his throne, his multi-colored wings buzzing, slowly raising him above the ground and guiding him towards Zarim. “The enemy has their hands on one of the Soulstones?”

  “Not by choice, we tried to get it from him,” said Zarim.

  “Then time is most-certainly of the essence,” said Oberon. “We must take them to the repository.”

  “But my Liege, these mortals—!”

  Oberon’s head snapped in Albion’s direction. “Silence! Your King has spoken. These three are guests in Nephelm. I will not tolerate insubordination!”

  Albion bowed his head. “Most sincere apologies, my Lord. It was not my intention to slight you.”

  “Do not question my judgment again, Albion,” said Oberon. “Else you wish to incur my wrath.”

  In the Forest of Eternal Night, the foundling looked up from his perch high in the trees. The presence of a new arrival in his domain awakened him and he smiled at the chance to cause some more mischief. Jumping from his high branch, he soared across the distance to the next tree and held out his hands. He gripped the limb and swung, letting go and flying in an arc. The foundling grabbed a vine and swung low and released the vine. After a flip in the air, he landed among the weeds, knees bent and one hand on the soft, damp soil.

  His prey moved through the forest with caution and the foundling was prepared to act on this new intruder. Normally he didn’t get as many visitors as had turned up today. Boredom had begun to set into his routine and now with the opportunity to punish some intruders, he could hardly contain himself. He felt cheated when Albion and Nyx interfered with his last encounter, and he would compensate by torturing these new intruders as long as possible.

  He slipped into character and closed his eyes. When he opened them, the black void that normally lay behind his lids was replaced with the blue eyes of a human child. He sat on the ground and wrapped his arms around his legs, pulling his knees close to his chest. The foundling lay his head atop his knees and began to sob.

  Footsteps grew closer. The foundling stifled his excitement, but it was difficult. This was his favorite part of the game, when his chosen victims got sucked into his world. He raised his head, glassy eyes staring up, his cheeks moist with his tears. The man who stood before him raised his arm and brought it down in a sweeping motion.

  The foundling’s severed head hit the ground and his body slumped a moment later. The man’s arm rested by his side, the curved blade attached to his gauntlet spattered with the foundling’s blood, which gathered along the edge and dripped from the pointed end. He shook his arm to free his blade of the crimson fluid. The tall, lanky man stared down at the severed head, the foundling’s eyes still open but now back to their natural state of a black void.

  “What was that, Jeske?” The voice bellowed in the woods. The lanky man known as Jeske glanced at his companion, whose size made him appear as a boulder with arms and legs.

  “I assume that was the guardian of the forest, Graf,” said Jeske. “Emphasis on was.”

  A third figure approached the other two. This one was well-built, with a physique halfway between Jeske and Graf. “Is Nephelm near?”

  “Yes, Holtz,” said Jeske. “We’ve defeated the guardian, and thanks to the master’s magicks, we should be concealed from them. Once we’ve breached their walls, our mission is to get the stone.”

  “What if we meet opposition?” asked Graf.

  “Then I tru
st you to do what you do best, my large friend,” said Jeske. “Kill any who oppose us.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Swul hovered over the Forest of Eternal Night, but all he saw below were the treetops—a wide expanse of forestry as far as the eye could travel, and not even the slightest indication that a city was present somewhere in the midst. That was just the way Oberon wanted it to be, but Swul knew better. He could sense something pulling him down. It was the magical shield Oberon cast around Nephelm to try and keep out intruders, he could feel it.

  “Guess it’s time t’ find out whether or not you can go home again.”

  Swul dove, plummeting straight towards the ground. His blue wings unfolded from his back and began fluttering at rapid speeds to slow his descent. The winds were wild, batting him around as if he were nothing more than a fly. Swul fought against them, straining his wings to try and stay on-course. As he approached the ground, he saw the image beginning to fade. Parts of the forest were still there, but now in the middle, the walls of the city became visible.

  The strong winds died down and Swul found it easier to control his flight. He was still on something of a rapid descent, but he managed to straighten himself out and at least direct himself a bit more. He came towards the edge of the forest, plummeting straight for the trees. Swul raised the axe and swung it in front of his small body, cutting into a large branch that blocked his path. The branch struck the ground with a loud crash, followed by Swul himself landing face-first.

  He lay there for a few moments before finally spreading his arms, placing his palms against the ground and slowly pushing his torso up. Swul groaned as he fell on his backside, a pain in his hip. He reached for his belt and plucked the crushed remains of the radio transmitter, frowning while he examined it. Swul tossed it over his shoulder. “So much f’r that.”