The Third Soul Omnibus Two

by Jonathan Moeller

  “What of it?” said Raelum. “If he is setting a trap for us, let him. If we know about the trap, we can avoid its bite.”

  “And a man can see a flying arrow, but cannot avoid it,” said Arthuras.

  “Then what do you suggest?” said Carandis. “Do we turn back?”

  “Do as you please,” said Raelum, “but I will never stop chasing Marsile.”

  “We must stop him,” said Arthuras. “He cannot reach Moragannon. No, I do not propose that we stop. Instead, we must do two things. First, we will only enter the nameless city by daylight. Its demons rise from the catacombs at night. If we are caught in that foul place after dark, it will mean our deaths and worse. We must find defensible ground outside the city where we can camp safely during the night, and only venture into the city during the day.”

  “Agreed,” said Raelum. “And the second thing?”

  “As I said, Carandis should stop using the location spell,” said Arthuras.

  Carandis frowned. “Why? We can’t find Marsile without it.”

  “He already knows we are coming,” said Arthuras. “And we know he is in the nameless city. If you stop, it may put him off his guard. At the very least, it will confuse him.”

  “All right,” said Carandis. “I won’t cast the spell again, at least until we’ve come to the nameless city.”

  “I agree,” said Lionel.

  Raelum nodded.

  “Then let us,” said Arthuras, “make for the nameless city, much as I might wish otherwise.”

  “One question?” said Carandis. “Why does everyone call it the nameless city? Surely the bloody place has a name.”

  Arthuras’s smile was bleak. “It once had a name, but most of those who knew it were slain, and those who survived regarded the city as accursed, and spoke not its name. And in time the name was utterly forgotten.”

  “Cheering thought,” said Carandis.

  They doused the dying campfire, tended to the horses, adjusted their packs, and continued through the trackless forests. Arthuras led them through the maze of ancient trees. Sometimes he knew game trails or dry creek beds they could use, and Raelum’s appreciation for their strange guide grew. Even with Carandis’s location spell, they would have been hopelessly lost without Arthuras’s guidance.

  Yet how had Arthuras survived dwelling alone in these lands? It nagged at Raelum’s mind. He brooded on it, Lionel’s pallor, and Marsile’s trap as they wove their way through the trees.

  Arthuras stopped, greasy strands of gray-black hair skittering across his face.

  “What is it?” said Raelum.

  “Something burned here,” said Arthuras, sniffing the air, “recently.”

  “Marsile’s campfire, perhaps?” said Raelum.

  “I do not think so,” said Arthuras. “It smells like burned meat. Marsile may have fought enemies here.” He drew his sword, the steel shimmering. “Ready yourselves.” Raelum and Lionel drew their swords, and Carandis took a deep breath in preparation for a spell.

  The crumbled foundations of a long-ruined village appeared before them. Charred corpses lay strewn about the ruins, scorched bones stark against the white snow. Raelum tapped a skull with the tip of his sword, and it dissolved into dust.

  “These were demons,” said Raelum. “Ghouls, I think. Yet something burned them to charcoal.”

  “And I’ve never seen a demon like this before,” said Carandis, nudging a twisted corpse with her staff. It looked to have been a ghoul, albeit a ghoul larger and stronger than any Raelum had seen. It had a mouthful of jagged fangs and two enormous tusks. Long, curved claws, like scythes, jutted from its fingers.

  “What are they?” said Lionel. “I’ve never seen a demon like this.”

  “I have,” said Arthuras. “People usually call them reaper-ghouls from the talons on their hands. They’re stronger, faster, and tougher than ghouls found on the western side of the Alderine River. They are almost impossible to destroy, and can heal themselves quickly.”

  “Are these beasts invulnerable, then?” said Lionel.

  Arthuras snorted. “Do they not lie before us? They cannot abide magical fire of sufficient intensity. And I have never seen the blade of a Paladin used against one, but I suspect it would prove effective.”

  “Marsile must have fought them off,” said Raelum.

  Carandis muttered a spell, gesturing over the corpses. “Aye. Marsile cast powerful spells here.”

  “He must have realized their weakness,” said Arthuras. “A pity he did not. They could have torn him to shreds and saved us the journey.”

  Raelum drew on his demonborn senses, seeking for any demons yet lingering in the destroyed ghouls.

  His head jerked up.

  He felt the presence of numerous demons in the surrounding trees.

  “What is it?” said Carandis.

  “Demons,” said Raelum. “Dozens.”

  Arthuras snarled a curse. “We should never have stopped!”

  They stood in a loose circle and waited. Raelum heard branches crackling and snapping beneath heavy feet. A carrion stench, like rancid grease, brushed his nostrils. His sword and Lionel’s shimmered with white flame.

  A hulking gray-skinned shape lumbered into sight. Huge tusks gashed the creature’s twisted face, and long, curved claws jutted from its fingers. Both its claws and eyes flickered with a ghostly, blue-green flame. A dozen more reaper-ghouls appeared behind the first creature.

  With the reaper-ghouls came a ghastly, bloated shape. It looked like a ghoul swollen to grotesque size, resembling an enormous ball of rotting flesh. Wisps of greenish fume swirled around its nostrils and mouth. Even from a distance, the bloated thing smelled worse than the reaper-ghouls.

  Arthuras sang his chanting, eerie song, and his weapon burst into yellow-orange flames. The reaper-ghouls flinched and stopped. Fear and maddened hunger battled on their bestial faces.

  Yet the swollen ghoul continued lurched forward, toddling on bloated legs.

  “What is that thing?” said Lionel.

  Arthuras drove his flaming sword into the earth. With his hands free, he raised his bow, pulled, and released. His arrow plunged into the swollen ghoul’s belly.

  The creature exploded.

  Chunks of rotten meat skidded over the ground, and a plume of sickly green vapor billowed upwards. Raelum gagged and tried not to empty his stomach.

  “A festerling,” said Arthuras. “The fume of decay fills their flesh, and they breathe it out upon the living.”

  The reaper-ghouls screamed, their keening cries slicing into Raelum’s ears, and charged. Raelum just had time to get a good grip on his sword and shield, and then the foe was upon them. A reaper-ghoul slashed at Raelum, claws shrieking through the air. Even through the metal of his shield, he felt the enervating chill. Raelum twisted aside and slashed, his sword leaving a gash on the creature’s chest. He ducked under another blow and chopped, taking the reaper-ghoul’s left hand at the wrist. The flesh from its wrist to its elbow crumbled into ash, leaving the bones visible. The reaper-ghoul flung itself at Raelum, and he caught the creature on his sword, the blade bursting from its back. The demon shuddered and fell, its flesh crumbling to dust.

  Raelum spun, seeking a new foe. Lionel had felled one reaper-ghoul and now battled another. Carandis unleashed short bursts of white astralfire. Her flames staggered the creatures, allowing Lionel or Arthuras to land killing blows. Arthuras twisted and spun, his burning sword carving glowing arcs.

  Two more festerlings emerged from the ruins. “Arthuras!” said Raelum. “Your bow!” Another reaper-ghoul lunged at Raelum. Raelum blocked, sidestepped, and took off the reaper-ghoul’s head. “Arthuras!”

  Arthuras glanced at the approaching festerlings. Yet the reaper-ghouls pursued him, snapping and snarling. Raelum swung and hacked, trying to force his way to Arthuras’s side.

  One of the festerlings reached the edge of the battle and belched. A spray of swirling yellowish smoke burst from its mouth. The
stench hit Raelum like a blow, and he stumbled back a step, gagging. A reaper-ghoul reached for him, cold claws brushing against his mailed chest. Raelum roared and called on the Light to fill him with strength. He chopped the reaper-ghoul in half from skull to crotch, and charged forward just as the festerling just as it opened its mouth again. His swing took off the creature’s head, sending a spray of green vapor into the sky as the body crumpled like an empty sack.

  Raelum turned and saw a reaper-ghoul strike Arthuras across the side of the head, sending him to the ground. The reaper-ghoul stooped over him, and Raelumcharged and took off the reaper-ghoul’s hand and head in quick succession. The second festerling drew closer, and Raelum dropped his sword and snatched up Arthuras’s bow. He took aim and released. The arrow whizzed past the festerling’s head and slammed into a tree. Raelum cursed, steadied himself, and loosed another arrow. This time the arrow plunged into the festerling’s neck. A jet of fume sprayed from the wound, and the creature deflated into a ragged heap.

  A reaper-ghoul slammed into Raelum from behind, and he went down with the creature’s stinking weight on top of him. Raelum yanked his silver dagger free and stabbed the reaper-ghoul. It howled in pain and lurched back, tearing the dagger from Raelum’s fingers. Raelum rolled to the side, seized his sword, and stabbed the creature in the stomach. It fell with a wail, the sword’s white fires chewing into its flesh.

  He lurched back to his feet, panting. A ring of fallen reaper-ghouls surrounded Lionel. More fled screaming into the woods, crackling with Carandis’s blue astralfire. Arthuras lay unmoving on the ground. Raelum turned and plunged his blade into the back of a reaper-ghoul menacing Carandis. The creature heaved and tried to twist away, and Carandis whirled and flung a bolt of azure fire into its face. The reaper-ghoul went down, the flames raging into its flesh.

  Raelum turned in a slow circle. The surviving reaper-ghouls fled in all directions. Most of their number lay sprawled and burning across the ground. Raelum sighed, pulled off his helmet, and wiped the sweat from his brow.

  “Are either of you hurt?” he called.

  “I am uninjured,” said Carandis, “if tired.”

  “My armor turned the claws,” said Lionel. “But the stink! By the Divine, that horrid stink!”

  “What of Arthuras?” said Carandis.

  Raelum knelt by Arthuras’s side. He had a deep gash down his left temple and jaw, his face stained with blood. The edges of the wound had turned grayish-green. Raelum felt the festering demon taint in the wound. If left untended it would kill Arthuras, draw a demon into his corpse, and raise him as a reaper-ghoul.

  “I’ll tend to him,” said Raelum. He closed his eyes and summoned the Light. The Light flooded into the wound, burning away the demon taint. Raelum shuddered, opened his eyes, and pulled his hand from the gash. Exhaustion rushed through him, yet the cut had healed to a livid red welt.

  “By the Divine,” muttered Lionel. “That stench! Even the deepest levels of hell don’t smell so foul, I am certain. How is Arthuras?”

  “He will recover,” said Raelum, climbing back to his feet. He scooped up his dropped weapons. “We’d best not linger here.”

  “Arthuras will need to rest,” said Carandis.

  “Lash him to one of the horses,” said Raelum. “We’ll carry its load ourselves until he can walk again.”

  Lionel groaned and looked at Arthuras…and then a frown spread over his face. “What the devil?”

  “What is it?” said Raelum

  Lionel knelt besides the unconscious man. “You are not the only demonborn among us, it seems.” He pushed back Arthuras’s greasy hair.

  The top of his right ear came to a sharp point. Lionel turned Arthuras’s head to the side, revealing the other ear. It also came to a point.

  “What do you make of that?” said Lionel, stepping away. “He always kept his head covered, whether with his cloak or hair.”

  Raelum shrugged. “It matters not. He’s not possessed. Otherwise the Light would have harmed him, not healed him. But what of that?” He shrugged. “Perhaps I am indeed a devil, as so many have claimed. Yet I do what I must.”

  “No,” said Lionel, “no. I would be dead, if not for you.” He shuddered and rubbed his wrist. “Or worse than dead...”

  “Perhaps the ears aren’t a the mark of a demonborn,” said Carandis, frowning with deep thought. “Perhaps he…is simply not entirely human.”

  “What do you mean?” said Raelum.

  “Races other than man once walked this world,” said Carandis. “The Elder People and the Ashborn. And for all I know, they still do. It is a large world, after all. Some old books in the library of the Conclave speak of shapechangers, men with the ability to take the forms of animals. Perhaps Arthuras is among their number.”

  “You are wrong,” said Arthuras, voice raspy, “though close.”

  He sat up, blinking, rubbing his forehead. Lionel backed away.

  “Well?” said Raelum. “How do you feel?”

  “Like a nail beneath a hammer,” said Arthuras, blinking, “though I suppose I could feel worse.” His lips twitched into a pained grin. “And it appears I too owe you my life. You travel in a company of your debtors, Raelum.”

  “We saw your ears,” said Lionel. “What have you to say?”

  “I am in fact a Hierarch of the Old Empire,” said Arthuras, scooping up his sword and standing. He leaned on his blade for support. “And I’ve brought you out into the wilderness to kill you.”

  Lionel backed away, eyes wide.

  Carandis burst out laughing. “He’s jesting, fool. At least, I hope so.”

  “I am,” said Arthuras. “Forgive me for being churlish. I have something of a headache.” He sighed, shook his head, and pulled up the hood of his cloak. “I told you before that all men have their secrets? Well, you have found mine, though I might have wished it otherwise.”

  They said nothing for a moment. Smoke drifted from the charred reaper-ghouls.

  Arthuras coughed. “Let us be gone. This stink chokes my nose.” Raelum handed him his bow. “As we go, I’ll tell you my secret.” He leaned on the bow like a staff. “That way.”

  They wove through the trees, away from the ruined village. Raelum brushed the surrounding trees with his demonborn senses. A few hesitant reaper-ghouls trailed them, but nothing on the scale of the last band. Raelum hoped their hunger didn’t override their fear.

  “I am,” said Arthuras, “ninety-six years old.”

  “Ninety-six?” said Carandis. “That’s impossible!”

  “Marsile is nine score years old,” said Lionel, “his life sustained with stolen lives.”

  “Don’t be foolish,” said Arthuras. “I neither wield blood sorcery nor steal life. You were right before, Carandis. Races other than man once ruled this world. The Elder People, as you said.”

  “But the Hierarchs of the Old Empire destroyed the Elder People,” said Carandis. “All that remains are some ruins and their writings.”

  “Aye,” said Arthuras, “the Old Empire destroyed the kingdoms of the Elder People, but not all the Elder People perished. Some linger in hidden fortresses in the deep woods, or in the ruins of the Old Empire beyond the Silvercrown Mountains. Yet in the mountains themselves lies Rhegion, a hidden city, a secret stronghold of the Elder People, safe from demons and Ashborn and mortal men alike.”

  “Impossible,” said Carandis. “The Conclave would know of such a place.”

  “The Conclave does not know all,” said Arthuras. “Most Adepts believe that the Old Empire destroyed the Elder People entirely. Some know better, and seek them out. My mother was one of them.” He shook his head. “She was trained in the Conclave a hundred and twenty years ago. She might even have known Marsile, I suppose. But she hungered for greater knowledge and struck out on her own. A century ago she learned of Rhegion, and came there to learn. The Elder People admitted her. She learned much…and later became pregnant by one of the lords of Rhegion.”

  �
�With you,” said Raelum.

  “Aye,” said Arthuras. “The Elder People viewed it as a hideous crime, a defilement of their race. She bore me, and then they expelled her. They kept me, though, since I was part of their blood, even if mortal flesh tainted me. The Protector of the city raised me, and I learned what I could of their arts and lore, of spells and smithcraft. Yet when I turned eighteen I learned what had befallen my mother, and I left Rhegion in a rage, determined to seek her out. I visited St. Tarill’s and Karrent, and learned she had never passed through. So I scoured all of old Arvandil, from the Alderine River to the Mountains. Her wanderlust had taken her over the Silvercrown Mountains, into what had been the Old Empire. I followed her.” Arthuras fell silent, gazing to the east.

  “Did you find her?” said Carandis.

  “In time,” said Arthuras. “I wandered long. I fought the Ashborn and demon horrors. Pray you never see them. In time I found her. She had been killed and raised as a draugvir, slave to a kind of demon the Elder People call a sidhraug, a demon mage of terrible power and second only to a high demon in raw might. I managed to destroy the mage and free my mother, and gave her the gift of death. That was almost seventy years ago.”

  “It is said that the Elder People were cruel and indifferent to mortals,” said Carandis.

  “They are,” said Arthuras. He spat, cleared his throat, and continued speaking. “They were different, long ago. They built cities as men do. But most of their race ended. Those that survive are bitter, spending their time in endless revels. I do not seek them out, though I have met some. And I will not return to Rhegion, save at the direst need.”

  “What did you do after you freed your mother?” said Carandis.

  “I wandered,” said Arthuras, “in the lands of men. I visited Saranor, Annoc, Araspan, Callia. I traveled over the sea to the lands of Carth. Men panicked if they saw my ears. In Annoc I was called a devil. In Carth they called me an ifrit, a demon of the desert.” He smiled. “In time I came back to the ruins of Arvandil, where I could dwell in peace, and settled in the caves. There I have remained since.”