The Third Soul Omnibus Two

by Jonathan Moeller

  THE THIRD SOUL OMNIBUS TWO

  Jonathan Moeller

  Description

  Combined in one volume for the first time, THE THIRD SOUL OMNIBUS TWO contains three thrilling stories of THE THIRD SOUL saga – THE OUTLAW ADEPT, THE BLACK PALADIN, and THE TOMB OF BALIGANT.

  When the sinister Adept Marsile attacks the Conclave and steals forbidden books, both the Knight of the Silver Blade Raelum and the Adept Carandis Marken must unite to defeat the renegade.

  Otherwise Marsile will resurrect a horror from a long-fallen empire, and all the world shall suffer…

  Other books by the author

  The Third Soul Series

  The Testing

  The Assassins

  The Blood Shaman

  The High Demon

  The Burning Child

  The Outlaw Adept

  The Black Paladin

  The Tomb of Baligant

  Computer Beginner's Guides

  The Ubuntu Beginner's Guide

  The Windows Command Line Beginner's Guide

  The Linux Command Line Beginner's Guide

  The Ubuntu Desktop Beginner's Guide

  The Windows 8 Beginner's Guide

  The Linux Mint Beginner's Guide

  The Ghosts Series

  Child of the Ghosts

  Ghost in the Flames

  Ghost in the Blood

  Ghost in the Storm

  Ghost in the Stone

  Ghost in the Forge

  Ghost Dagger (World of the Ghosts novella)

  Ghost Aria (World of the Ghosts short story)

  The Demonsouled Series

  Demonsouled

  Soul of Tyrants

  Soul of Serpents

  Soul of Dragons

  Soul of Sorcery

  Soul of Skulls

  The Dragon's Shadow (World of the Demonsouled novella)

  The Wandering Knight (World of the Demonsouled short story)

  The Tower of Endless Worlds Series

  The Tower of Endless Worlds

  A Knight of the Sacred Blade

  A Wizard of the White Council

  The Destroyer of Worlds

  $1.99 Dark Fantasy

  Driven and Other Stories

  The Devil's Agent

  Angel Sword and Other Stories

  The Third Soul Omnibus Two

  Copyright 2013 by Jonathan Moeller

  Published by Azure Flame Media, LLC

  Cover image copyright Nejron | dreamstime.com & Sergey Borisov | Dreamstime.com

  All Rights Reserved

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author or publisher, except where permitted by law.

  The Third Soul VI: The Outlaw Adept

  Thalia Kalarien is an Adept of the Conclave, one of mankind's defenders against the cruel demons of the astral world.

  But when an ancient blood sorcerer attacks the Conclave, Thalia must fight for her life, both against her foes and against her allies.

  For there are traitors within the Conclave of Adepts...

  Chapter 1 - Departures

  Thalia Kalarien stood on the quay and watched the ship carrying her best friend and her older brother disappear over the horizon.

  All around her Araspan’s harbor teemed with activity. Ships maneuvered through the waters, sails billowing, oars lashing, captains and bosons shouting orders. Thalia saw ships from every nation under the sun – Saranian vessels carrying wine, peppers and spices from Orlanon, timber from Callia, gems and jewelry from the proud merchant princes of Annoc.

  And the slave galleys from Khauldun and Carth, of course. Slaves in orange tunics filled the docks, carrying barrels and crates of cargo from the ships. Others went about their masters’ errands, delivering messages or packages.

  Thalia felt her lips thin.

  Always and ever, the Conclave of Araspan relied upon its slaves.

  “You look,” said a man’s voice, deep and amused, “as if you just took a bite out of a lemon.”

  Thalia turned to face her eldest brother.

  Solthain Kalarien regarded with an easy smile. Like Thalia, he had thick black hair and bright green eyes. It was hard to look dashing while wearing the black-trimmed red robe of an Adept of the Conclave, but Solthain managed it. Yet Thalia had known him her entire life, and she spotted the faint hints of strain around his eyes.

  They never left him. But given that his soul had spent twelve years imprisoned within the traitorous First Magister Talvin’s crystal, Thalia was not surprised.

  “I was just thinking,” said Thalia, “how much better off both the Conclave and the city of Araspan would be if we did not rely upon slaves.”

  “Ah,” said Solthain. “And not how you’ll miss Rachaelis and Corthain, then?”

  They turned from quay and walked into Araspan’s dockside district. Slaves and freemen alike took one look at their red robes and hastened to get out of their way, which annoyed Thalia. Still, it was easier than forcing their way through the press.

  “Of course I will miss them,” said Thalia. She sighed. “It has been quite a month, Solthain. One of my brothers was banished, and I thought the other dead. And then Corthain returned as a hero and you were restored to us.”

  “And now Corthain is leaving again,” said Solthain.

  Thalia shot a look over her shoulder at the harbor. “It is for the best. Corthain is the domn of Moiria. He has responsibilities elsewhere.”

  “And Rachaelis?” said Solthain.

  Thalia blinked. She loved her brothers, but both of them had been absent from her life for over ten years. Rachaelis, though…she had Rachaelis had become friends during their time as Initiates. When Rachaelis had survived the Testing, Thalia had been overjoyed. She had hoped to have another woman of her own age in the College Liberia, the small group of Adepts dedicated to ending slavery.

  But then Corthain had returned, and First Magister Talvin had revealed himself for what he truly was.

  “Rachaelis,” said Thalia at last, “would never be happy here. She doesn’t like to fight.”

  “And you do?” said Solthain.

  Thalia grinned. “Of course.”

  He snorted. “That would explain the constipated look Father gets whenever you draw near.”

  Thalia laughed. “Don’t let him hear you say that. The First Magister of the Conclave of Adepts would never conduct himself in such an undignified fashion.”

  “Fine,” said Solthain. “Let us say instead he looks…consternated whenever you come to harangue him about slavery.”

  “Would not the city and the Conclave be better off without slaves?” said Thalia.

  Solthain shrugged. “If we freed all the slaves, who would do all the work? I can hardly see you scrubbing your own floors, sister.”

  His response both amused and annoyed her. He had never taken anything seriously, and was not a man prone to strong opinions. Yet he did love his family, and craved their approval.

  But if he had not desired their father’s approval so much, then perhaps he would not have led his men to disaster against the possessed Magister Paulus.

  “Free men shall work for wages,” said Thalia, “as in the other kingdoms of the west.”

  “They have peasants and freeholders in Callia and Saranor and Orlanon,” said Solthain. “Surely that is not so different than slaves.”

  “But it is!” said Thalia. “The
y are free men, and not bought and sold like cattle. They own their possessions, and therefore can put hope in the future, rather than living in resigned despair. And men who live in resigned despair can put their hope in terrible things.”

  They kept walking. Araspan rose up before them, the Ring of the Conclave looming over the city on its mountain spur. The poets liked to call Araspan the City of a Thousand Towers, and the towers of the Araspani nobility thrust from the mass of the city like stone fingers. Both the nobles and the Adepts competed to build the highest and most splendid towers.

  “What do you mean?” said Solthain.

  “Why do you think,” said Thalia, voice low, “that Maerwulf and Thurvalda found so many willing followers among the slaves? Perhaps if the slaves were not treated so brutally, perhaps if they were not slaves at all, they would not turn so quickly to blood sorcery and the worship of demons.”

  Solthain said nothing, his eyes wandering over the city. Thalia wondered if he had decided to ignore her, but instead she realized that he was gazing towards the towers.

  Towards the shattered ruin of the Magister Paulus’s tower, where his men had been slaughtered and his soul imprisoned.

  “Maybe you are right,” said Solthain, shaking his head. “Ah, sister. It is a cruel world, is it not? There are so many hard choices to make, and sometimes we must decide between evils.”

  “That was profound,” said Thalia.

  His smile returned. “Surprised? Do not be fooled by my handsome face, Thalia. I am not quite as stupid as I seem.”

  They both laughed.

  “Enough grim talk,” said Solthain. “Let us return to the Ring. Not even you can save the world in a single day.”

  “We need to return to the Ring anyway,” said Thalia. “I have a dinner to arrange.”

  “Oh?” said Solthain. “Another Initiate you sponsored survived the Testing? That is always a happy occasion.”

  “No, nothing so elaborate,” said Thalia. “Just you, me, and a friend of mine.”

  Solthain’s eyes narrowed. “Only three? This sounds suspiciously like a trap. Who is this friend of yours?”

  “Carandis Marken,” said Thalia, “another Adept.”

  “One of your friends from the College Liberia, I suppose,” said Carandis, “some grim old reformer filled with humorless zeal?”

  “Hardly,” said Thalia. “She is a member of the College Historia, I shall have you know, and spends a great deal of time in the Great Library, translating works from archaic Callian and Saranian.”

  “Ah,” said Solthain. “Some old woman with a squint, then.”

  “Actually,” said Thalia, “she is a year younger than I am.”

  “Little sister,” said Solthain, “this sounds suspiciously like you are plotting to transform me into Carandis’s suitor.”

  “Why, brother,” said Thalia, “whatever would give you that impression?”

  “You sound like Father,” said Solthain. He stiffened, squared his shoulders, and executed a rather good impression of Arthain Kalarien, First Magister of the Conclave. “House Kalarien requires heirs, Solthain, and the Conclave needs children with magical talent. It is your duty to sire heirs, for both the good of our House and the Conclave.” He laughed. “But Father is wasting his breath. Corthain is more likely to have sons first.”

  “What makes you say that?” said Thalia.

  “You’ve seen the way he looks at Rachaelis,” said Solthain. “Shall we place a wager? Do you think he’ll get her into bed before his ship even reaches…”

  “Brother,” said Thalia, “that is most inappropriate. And I am not waving Carandis in front of you like a piece of meat before a wolf. If you meet and happen to like her…well, who am I to gainsay it?”

  “Subtle,” said Solthain. “What is she like?”

  “She’s quite clever,” said Thalia. “She speaks a number of languages, and is one of the stronger young Adepts in the Conclave. Her father was a Callian fur trader, and I suspect an occasional poacher. So she is shrewder about money than most of our brother and sister Adepts, and has investments with a number of merchants in the city. I suspect she will be a wealthy woman soon enough.”

  “Well and good,” said Solthain, “but what does she look like?”

  Thalia rolled her eyes.

  “Don’t give me that look,” said Solthain. “Intelligence and thrift are good, but you said she is in the College Historia. Should I expect a squint and a hunch? Or will she look like old Magister Rodez? I swear the man is wide as he is tall.”

  “Neither,” said Thalia. “And you’ll find Carandis pretty enough, brother.”

  They left the docks and the markets behind and entered the wealthy districts, walking past the towers of noble houses and Adepts and wealthier merchants. Fewer people filled these streets, mostly slaves going on errands for their masters and black-armored Swords on patrol.

  “We could simply astraljump back to the Ring,” said Solthain.

  “Or we could walk,” said Thalia. “Too many of the Magisters astraljump everywhere in lieu of walking or riding, Father says. And if you’re afraid of looking like Magister Rodez in your old age, I suggest you keep walking.”

  “That does sound like Father,” said Solthain. “He never did do anything the easy way when he could do it the hard way.” He paused. “And…we’ll have to wait a bit.”

  Thalia frowned. “For what?”

  They had come to a cross street, and Thalia saw a group of about two hundred men and women turning the corner, trudging in the direction of the Ring. All of them wore the orange tunics of slaves. At their head walked four burly men carrying a litter and a sedan chair. In the sedan chair sat a man in the crimson robe and black stole of a Magister of the Conclave.

  Thalia and Solthain stopped and waited for the Magister to pass. Slaves and commoners cleared the path of a noble, and even nobles gave way for an Adept, but both Adepts and nobles waited for a Magister and his entourage. Thalia looked at the Magister as he passed. The man was about forty-five or fifty, with a gaunt, grim face and gray-streaked black hair. His cold eyes flicked over her, and Thalia felt a twinge of unease.

  Then the bearers carried his chair around the corner, and the line of slaves continued their walk towards the Ring.

  “I wonder,” said Solthain, “why one Magister needs so many slaves?” He laughed. “Do they hold the skirts of his robe as he uses the privy?”

  Thalia shrugged. “Maybe. You see why I dislike slavery? It’s unjust to the slaves, and relying upon slaves makes a man both crueler and weaker. I wonder when that Magister last bothered to walk anywhere.”

  “Did you know the Magister?” said Solthain. “I didn’t recognize him. Though I’ve been…out of touch for a few years.”

  “I didn’t,” murmured Thalia. Which was odd. There were over three thousand Adepts of the Conclave, and she could not recognize them all. But she was Arthain Kalarien’s daughter, and Arthain Kalarien had been respected and feared even before he became First Magister. The other Magisters sought his favor, and so Thalia had met most of them at one time or another.

  But she had never seen the Magister in the litter before.

  “I thought you knew everyone,” said Solthain.

  “I don’t,” said Thalia. “Maybe that Magister spent the last few years on the mainland, and is only now returning to greet the new First Magister. There are Adepts who haven’t been back to Araspan in decades.”

  “Well,” said Solthain, “it’s no concern of ours. Let’s head back to the Ring.” He grinned. “I’m eager to meet this hunchbacked, obese poacher’s daughter.”

  “Carandis,” said Thalia with a sniff, “is neither obese nor hunchbacked.”

  They kept walking for the Ring.

  Yet part of Thalia’s mind returned again and again to the cold-eyed Magister.

  Chapter 2 - Wards of Alarm

  “This wine,” said Carandis Marken, holding the glass, “is excellent.”

  They met
for dinner in Thalia’s rooms within the towers of the inner Ring. The Magisters occupied spacious suites atop the inner Ring’s high towers, but the apartment of a common Adept was still more space than Thalia needed. She had her own bedroom, lavatory, study, and sitting room. Her hired workers had set up a small table in the sitting room, and Thalia, Solthain, and Carandis ate at it.

  “You can thank my brother for it,” said Thalia. “Apparently his domnium has numerous vineyards. Which was the entire reason he came to Araspan. He wanted to find new markets for his freeholders.”

  Carandis laughed. She was, Thalia thought, quite pretty, slim and fit with long dark hair and steely gray eyes. Unlike many members of the College Historia, she had not lost touch with the world outside of the Library, and was able to converse on subjects other than ancient history.

  “What is so funny?” said Solthain.

  “The vagaries of fate, I suppose,” said Carandis. “I was with the group of Adepts that attacked Maerwulf’s sanctum and Thurvalda’s lair, and I saw Lord Corthain lead the Swords into battle. Without him, the Jurgurs and their demons might have destroyed the city. Yet he only came back to Araspan to sell wine.”

  “It is well that he did,” said Thalia.

  “Indeed,” said Solthain. “If he had not, I would still be imprisoned…and we would not now be drinking this most excellent wine.”

  Carandis laughed again. “Well said, Lord Solthain.”

  “Please,” said Solthain with a dismissive gesture, “call me…”

  Thalia never found out what her brother intended to say.

  A deep, booming chime rang out, so low that Thalia felt the vibrations in her bones. Her hand clenched around her wine glass, and she saw the surprise on Carandis’s and Solthain’s expressions.

  The surprise, and the sudden fear.

  The chime was an alarm. Mighty wards guarded the walls and gates of the Ring of the Conclave, spells of protection again demons, blood sorcery, and hostile magic.

  And that chime meant that a demon had penetrated the walls of the Ring.