The Third Soul Omnibus Two

by Jonathan Moeller

  Thalia nodded. “We’ll split up and astraljump from floor to floor. Between the two of us, we should be able to find her.”

  “Splitting up is dangerous,” said Solthain.

  “Obviously. But Carandis is in danger,” said Thalia. Another spasm of jumbled emotions flooded through the thoughtmeld. “We have to find her now.”

  “One of us should warn Father and the others,” said Solthain.

  “You do it,” said Thalia. “Father is more likely to listen to you anyway. But hurry. I don’t know what is happening, but I doubt it is anything good.”

  Solthain nodded, cast a spell, and disappeared in the silver flash of an astraljump. Thalia summoned her own power and cast the spell herself. The world disappeared in a sheet of silver light, and Thalia reappeared in the corridor one floor above.

  She saw no one, and a quick spell detected the presence of no magic.

  Thalia cast the astraljump spell again, moving from floor to floor and room to room. She limited herself to short distances. A short astraljump consumed less power, and Thalia suspected she would need to conserve her strength. She saw more dead slaves, but no sign of Carandis or Magister Davrus. Again a strange burst of jumbled, chaotic emotion came through the thoughtmeld, and Thalia cursed. Carandis was in danger, but where?

  Then the realization came to Thalia. Carandis was a member of the College Historia…and the Great Library was the College Historia’s stronghold. She would have gone to the Library to check on Magister Rodez.

  Three astraljumps took Thalia to the doors of the Great Library…and she froze in alarm, bringing her hands up to cast a warding spell.

  Magister Davrus lay motionless upon the floor, his throat a crimson ruin. Over him stood a gaunt, grim-looking Magister with gray-shot black hair, his eyes twitching back and forth behind closed lids. Thalia had last seen him outside the Ring, riding in a sedan chair.

  “Magister?” said Thalia.

  The Magister gave no response, his eyes remaining closed.

  Thalia took a hesitant step closer, and saw the web of white and silver light shimmering over the Great Library’s massive double doors. Someone, most likely Magister Rodez, had triggered the Library’s defensive spells. Had Carandis gotten inside before the wards came up?

  For that matter, who had killed Davrus? The wraiths killed through touch, draining the lives of their victims. An outlaw Adept would kill through the High Art or through blood sorcery. Certainly a murderous Adept would not bother with something as simple as a dagger.

  The wards upon the door flickered and winked out. Someone had just disarmed them from inside the Library. Had Carandis or Rodez or another Adept sensed her presence?

  One of the doors opened a few feet, and Carandis Marken stepped into the corridor.

  “By the Divine, Carandis,” said Thalia. “What happened?”

  Dots of splattered blood marked Carandis’s pale face and hands. Her face was tight, her expression hard and cold. Under her right arm she carried a thin book bound in black leather. A crust of blood encircled the sheathed sicarr at her belt.

  Thalia had listened to Solthain talk about swords long enough to realize what had happened. Carandis had used her sicarr and sheathed it again without bothering to clean the blade.

  “Thalia Kalarien,” said Carandis at last, as if digging up a long-forgotten memory. “I…was attacked. Attacked, yes.”

  “You killed Magister Davrus,” said Thalia. “With your sicarr.”

  “Yes,” said Carandis again. She glanced at the standing Magister. “This is correct. I killed him.”

  Something in her expression and tone made Thalia’s skin crawl. It was as if Carandis was a different person entirely, as if someone else wore her face.

  And Carandis had never spoken with a faint Saranian accent before.

  “Magister Davrus demanded that I open the Library,” said Carandis, “and I refused. He summoned wraiths to attack me, but neglected to ward himself against physical attack. So I was able to stab him with my sicarr.”

  “Davrus?” said Thalia, astonished. Davrus had always been a loyal follower of Arthain Kalarien, forever preaching about the need for Adepts to stand vigilant against the demons. Thalia had known him since she was a child, and would never have dreamed he would wield blood sorcery.

  Yet she had known First Magister Talvin since she had been a child, too, and he had been possessed by a high demon most of that time.

  But this didn’t make sense.

  And the same chaotic mixture of conflicting emotions flowed through the thoughtmeld from Carandis.

  “If you were attacked,” said Thalia, “why didn’t you come to me? Or to the Magisters?” Her eyes narrowed. “Why did you go into the Library and bring out a book?” She peered at it. “Written in High Imperial, of all things?”

  Carandis said nothing.

  “And who the devil is that?” said Thalia, looking at the motionless Magister.

  “I don’t know,” said Carandis. Her expression remained glacial, but rage flooded through the thoughtmeld. Then her eyes widened. “Thalia! Wraiths!”

  Thalia turned, casting the spell to sense the presence of magic.

  She saw nothing, and she did not sense the spells upon the wraiths.

  But she felt the presence of blood sorcery radiating from both the standing Magister and Carandis.

  Thalia whirled and saw Carandis approaching, her face twisted into a rictus of fury, her bloody sicarr gleaming in her right hand. Thalia’s training took over, and she almost flung a blast of blue astralfire. But she sensed the dark power of blood sorcery radiating from Carandis, and in a flash of insight realized that the other woman had been put under a spell.

  Thalia cast a burst of silver astralfire. The silver flames enveloped Carandis, and she stumbled. Thalia sensed the blood spell shatter, and Carandis flinched, her eyes going wide.

  The standing Magister took a deep breath, and his dark eyes shot open.

  ###

  A moment of disorientation, a whirling instant of vertigo, and Marsile found himself back in his own body once more.

  For a moment agony assaulted him. His knees and back throbbed with pain, and a headache pulsed behind his eyes. He had expended too much power, and the price of it had caught up to him. Blood sorcery had given him a lifespan thrice that of a lesser man, but even that power could not sustain his mortal flesh forever.

  He had limitations, and they had caught up to him.

  At a damnably inconvenient time, too.

  He had to escape both of those young women, now. From Carandis’s memories he knew that Thalia was both the First Magister’s daughter and a skilled Adept in her own right. And Carandis knew who and what he really was. She would fight him to the death.

  But he had what he had come to claim. He need only take the book and escape the Ring.

  At last Marsile’s will exerted control over his aching body, and he summoned power for a spell.

  And as he did, Carandis began to shout.

  ###

  “Thalia!” said Carandis, all hints of the alien presence gone from her voice and face. “Him! It’s him! Marsile the blood sorcerer! He summoned the wraiths, and he murdered Magister Davrus and Magister Rodez!”

  Thalia had a vague memory of an Adept named Marsile, an Adept who had been expelled from the Conclave for practicing blood sorcery. But that had been a hundred and twenty years ago! Surely this could not be the same man…

  Then Marsile snarled a curse, casting a spell, and Thalia had to act. He was going to cast the astraljump spell, she realized, and use it to escape punishment for his crimes. And she did not think she could unleash enough astralfire to kill him, not as tired as she was from fighting the wraiths.

  But it was impossible to astraljump from within the Great Library, even when the defensive wards were disabled. To protect their books, the ancient Adepts had worked the wards against astraljumping within the very stones of the Library itself. Which meant that if Thalia could k
nock Marsile into the Library, he could not escape.

  She summoned her own power just as Marsile finished his spell. He beckoned, and invisible force ripped the black book from Carandis’s grasp and sent it flying into his waiting hand. Marsile started casting the astraljump spell. Silver light glimmered and danced around his fingers...

  …and then Thalia’s spell transformed her thoughts into fists, and she struck at Marsile with all of her strength.

  The blast of invisible force slammed into the renegade Adept and flung him into the Library doors. They swung open beneath his weight, and Marsile stumbled backwards into the Library.

  Thalia sprinted after him, Carandis following.

  Chapter 8 - High Art and Blood Sorcery

  Thalia ran into the Library as Marsile rolled to his feet, blood-colored fire crackling around his fingers.

  “A silver ward, quickly!” shouted Carandis. “Otherwise he can take control of you!”

  But Thalia had already started her own casting. A shell of silver light flared to life around her, and a heartbeat later Carandis glowed with a ward of her own.

  Marsile scowled. “Get out of my way, girl. There’s no need for anyone else to die today.”

  “Unlike those slaves you murdered to summon your wraiths?” said Thalia.

  Marsile offered a thin smile. “Would you care to join them? Their deaths should not offend you. Their lives were nothing more than a tool to wield as I pleased.”

  “I suggest,” said Thalia, “that you cease wearying my ears with feeble justifications for your crimes, and surrender.”

  Marsile sneered. “So your precious Conclave can execute me?”

  Thalia flexed her fingers. “We can do it here and now, if you like.”

  Marsile laughed. “Stop posturing. You don’t have the strength to stop me.” His dark eyes flicked to Carandis. “Neither does she, and nor do both of you together.”

  “If you could have killed us and escaped,” said Thalia, “you would have already done so, rather than waste time with irritating speeches.” She narrowed her eyes, letting contempt fill her voice. “Though you fools of the Secret College do so enjoy your pompous soliloquies.”

  She had to stall. Despite her bold words, if this was truly Marsile standing before her, Thalia was not sure she had the power to vanquish him, even with Carandis’s aid.

  “Ah, you know about them, do you?” said Marsile. “They are fools. Talvin had some vision, true…but he is dead and I am not. I have lived for eighteen decades, girl, and I shall live for centuries more after the Conclave has fallen into the dust of history.”

  “Talvin thought the same,” said Thalia. She reached for her thoughtmeld, found that it still functioned. She sent her intent to attack through the link, and felt Carandis’s acknowledgement. “He thought he would live forever and rule the world right up until my brother’s sword went through his black heart. Last chance, Marsile. You want to live forever, but if you don’t surrender, you won’t live to see the next hour.”

  Marsile laughed. “Bold words, girl, but…”

  Thalia threw all her power and will into a spell. Azure astralfire erupted from her fingers. Carandis did the same, unleashing her own blast of blue flame, enough power to burn the flesh from Marsile’s bones.

  But Marsile was faster.

  A ward of silver light flared into existence around him, and the blue flame splashed harmlessly against it. Marsile staggered back a step, growled, and raised his hand. Crimson-tinted blue astralfire burst from his palm and slammed into Thalia. Her ward collapsed beneath the onslaught, winking out with a crackling noise and the smell of ozone. Thalia had no choice but to recast her ward as Marsile whirled to face Carandis, fresh astralfire blazing around his fingers. Thalia’s new ward shimmered to life even as Marsile’s blast collapsed Carandis’s wards and sent her sprawling to the floor with a grunt of pain.

  “Pathetic,” said Marsile. “Little wonder the Conclave has failed to bring the world to order if this is the best young Adepts can muster.”

  His silver ward had dimmed, but not by much. Thalia’s mind raced through the possibilities. If brute force failed, perhaps she and Carandis could flee? But if they did, Marsile would escape, along with that book he had claimed from the Library. Solthain would be looking for her, and surely he had sensed her alarm over the thoughtmeld, even with his limited sensitivity to magic of the mind.

  She had to distract Marsile until Solthain arrived with aid.

  Carandis got to one knee, a new ward pulsing around her, even as Marsile began another spell.

  Thalia cast a spell of her own. She could not penetrate Marsile’s wards, but he had only warded himself against magic, not physical blows.

  And Magister Nazim always said the subtlety was better than brute force.

  Thalia finished her spell, her thoughts transforming into reaching fingers, and her will coiled around a chair resting beneath one of the shelves. She clenched her thoughts and sent the chair hurtling towards Marsile. The renegade Adept caught sight of the impromptu missile, whirled, and loosed the astralfire he had prepared for Carandis. The chair shattered into a score of smoldering, jagged fragments, the pieces bouncing across the floor.

  But Thalia remembered the fight with Talvin and his high demon, remembered how Magister Nazim had distracted the possessed Talvin with a constant rain of psychokinetically driven stones. None of them had harmed Talvin, but they had distracted both Talvin and his high demon, leaving them vulnerable to heavy blows unleashed by Arthain and Rachaelis.

  And for Corthain to attack Talvin from behind.

  The debris scattered across the floor, and Thalia’s will seized one of the fragments, and another, and then another, flinging them at Marsile. The first shard missed, and the second whirred past Marsile’s ear to clang against the iron stairs. The third clipped his jaw, and Marsile staggered with a grunt. He snarled in fury, casting a ward of blue light around himself, and Thalia’s rain of splinters rebounded from his protections.

  But Carandis hooked her fingers into claws, and a massive table floated off the floor and flew towards Marsile. Again Marsile cursed, chopping his hand through the air, and a short burst of astralfire blasted the table to shards. Thalia swept her will through the air like a carpet, catching the fragments and throwing them at Marsile. The renegade Adept cast another spell, and psychokinetic force exploded from him in all directions. Broken pieces of wood flew into the air, driven by his power.

  Thalia caught them one by one and flung them back. She was not as skilled as Magister Nazim, and could not split her attention in as many directions. But she had an affinity for the magic of the mind, and she was quick. She whipped shard after shard at Marsile, distracting him and keeping him from bringing his superior power to bay. Carandis hurled large pieces of furniture at their enemy. The thoughtmeld allowed them to work in perfect harmony, with less than a heartbeat’s delay between their attacks. Marsile destroyed the chairs and tables with bursts of astralfire, and Thalia drove the fragments at him.

  Bit by bit the blue glow of his ward began to fade. Again and again he began to cast a spell, only to flinch as Thalia sent a jagged shard flying for his face. Thalia felt a faint glimmer of hope. Marsile’s mastery of the High Art exceeded her own, but that counted for little if her distractions kept him from bringing his power to bear. She felt Solthain’s sudden urgency through the thoughtmeld. He was coming with help, and if Thalia and Carandis could distract Marsile for just a little while longer…

  “Enough!” screamed Marsile, his gaunt face twisted with rage. “I will not allow you to stop me! Not when I am so close!”

  His hand dipped into his belt and came up holding a glass vial. He spilled black fluid over his fingers, and Thalia realized what it was. The vial held blood, preserved and prepared for use in blood sorcery.

  He was working a blood spell.

  Thalia sent a warning through the thoughtmeld, and felt Carandis begin her spell. Thalia rebuilt her wards, a thick shell
of silver light appearing around her. Carandis’s own ward shimmered to life, even as crimson flames snarled up Marsile’s fingers.

  Thalia began another spell, and Marsile lifted his hands.

  And too late she realized that Marsile had not been casting a blood spell at all.

  Instead he had used the blood sorcery to augment a spell of the High Art.

  Force exploded from him, and a wall of displaced air slammed into Thalia and threw her backwards. She hit the wall, Marsile’s will holding her pinned into place like a fist of iron. She felt Carandis’s pain and alarm, and saw the other woman likewise pinned. Marsile raked a hand before him, and his will caught the various pieces of flying debris and flung them over the railing to clatter against the floor of the Library far below.

  “You miserable children,” hissed Marsile. “I gave you a chance, did I not? I am going to escape, and the Conclave will never find me.” Crimson-tinged silver astralfire burst from his hands, collapsing both Thalia’s and Carandis’s wards. Thalia struggled to break free, to work a spell, but the crushing force of Marsile’s will held her bound. “But before I escape, I am going to take the utmost pleasure from crushing you like insects.”

  He lifted his hands, and the pressure holding Thalia redoubled. Thalia screamed, pain flooding through her, her bones creaking with strain…

  A shaft of silver astralfire cut through the Library’s doors and flickered across Marsile’s hands. The crimson flame on his fingers went out, and the pressure holding Thalia vanished. She fell to her knees, gasping for breath, and Carandis did the same.

  Solthain Kalarien stalked through the doors, his sicarr and cortana ablaze with white fire.

  Chapter 9 - The Renegade

  Marsile turned to face the new threat.

  “Greetings, sister,” said Solthain as Thalia got to her feet, every inch of her body aching. “Sorry I am late. You proved more difficult to find than I thought.”

  “Solthain,” gasped Thalia, “ward yourself. He can take control of your body otherwise.”