The End of Days (The Soul Stone Trilogy Book 3)

by Matt Moss

  According to Paul the Prophet, Levi had been researching more than the location of the Garden of Stones—he had been delving into the mysteries of soul tapping. Before Paul left for Kingsport, before the dreaded, fated day, he stated that Levi had found that there were different levels of soul tapping. If there are different levels, or more powerful abilities to be had, then there must be a way of progressing one’s abilities from one level to the next, so Lyla thought. I just need to find out how.

  She looked over the books but found nothing of note; a few children’s books, and books on how to cook various stews. She picked up The Discovery of Medicine; A Man’s Journey.

  She stifled a laugh of irony and placed it back on the shelf.

  More scribbled paper lie underneath the desk. Placing the candle on the floor, she began to rummage through the pages for anything of note. She paused as boots stomped across the front porch. They stopped in front of the door. Lyla’s hand moved for the knife tucked inside her boot and she waited for the door to open. Her horse whickered and whoever it was left upon hearing it. She let out a sigh of relief.

  I’ve been here long enough. Time to leave, she thought.

  She gathered the pieces of paper up. Blank or not, the floor is no place for such things. As she knelt down to gather a few rogue pages underneath the desk, a loose floorboard shifted under left hand. Finding it odd, her fingers traced along the edges. With a quick brandish of the knife, she pried the board loose to reveal a hollow compartment underneath. She brought the candle closer to light what was inside. Nestled safely within was two small sacks. She pulled them from the hole and untied the first to find a decent amount of coin—enough to live comfortably for a year by the looks of it. She began to untie the other sack.

  She gasped at the contents as the glow filled her eyes. An array of colors shone bright as the soul stones pulsed from within.

  Her heart filled with joy as she looked into the sacred stones and she wondered how many other secrets Levi held. Smart man. She knew that this must be the place where he stored his treasures and knew that there must be more. “Please, let there be more,” she said to herself.

  She looked deeper into the wooden safehold and found a notebook wrapped in cloth. She flipped through the pages and immediately knew what it was—Levi’s research journal on soul tapping.

  Another group of rowdy folk approached the shop and made their way down the street. She quickly replaced the contents, thinking it was best to save them for later. If they weren’t found by now, they should be safe. The stones were too valuable to keep on her person. Besides, they had plenty more back at the camp, and it might prove useful to have another stash somewhere just in case. And she had enough money for the trip.

  Not you, though. You’re coming with me. She tucked the journal into her pack.

  Peering through the cracks in the window, she found the street clear and made her way outside. It had stopped raining, and the horse shuffled at the muddy ground, still tied to the post. “Come on, girl. Let’s find you a better place to stay for the night.”

  After stabling her ride, she went in search for an inn, deciding it best to skip the tavern. The inn should have a hot meal and a warm bed. That’s all I need.

  “A room for the night, please. Nothing fancy, just a bed will do fine,” she said to the innkeeper.

  The tired innkeeper pulled the ledger. “Well, you’re in luck. Been busy lately and had to folk away earlier. But a room just opened up.” He slammed the book open and gave her a pointed look. “Nothing fancy, mind you. Name?”

  “Myra.”

  “How many nights?” he grumbled as he jotted the name down.

  “One, please.”

  “Upstairs, last room on the left.”

  “Do you serve any meals here?”

  He raised his eyes while keeping his head down. “Where you from? Kingsport? Does it look like we would serve food here? Honey, it’s all we can do to keep the place in business since we only operate during the travel season. You might wanna try the place next door. They serve food and drink.”

  “I will. Thank you.” She took her things to the tavern next door, thinking it safer to keep them by her side instead of hiding them inside the room at the inn. The place was crowded as she could tell by the commotion and laughter from outside. She knew it wise to avoid places like this, but her stomach ached with hunger and her head felt dizzy. She needed nourishment, and found it worth the risk.

  Inside the tavern, the air felt hot and sticky. She could smell the ale upon entering and saw that countless cups had been spilled onto the floor in the amusement of the drunken patrons. An open stool at the bar caught her eye and she made her way for it, carefully dodging the men and women who swung their cups as they sung along with the bard who played in the corner.

  The barkeep mumbled something.

  “Excuse me?” Lyla asked.

  “I said, what’ll it be, miss?” he growled and leaned on the bar.

  “I’ll take whatever, so long as it’s hot.”

  “We got soup beans with ham fat tonight. Drink?”

  “Water, please.”

  She watched the barkeep rush away, and folded her hands in her lap in waiting. With her hood pulled tight, she kept her head down. Sitting next to her, she could feel a man’s inquisitive eyes bearing down. She raised a hand and began twirling at her hair.

  “Lyla?” the man said.

  She raised her eyes to meet his. “Cain!” Her anxiety faded upon seeing her friend and she reached out to embrace him. He embraced her back and held her close for more than a moment. She pulled back. “I can’t believe it! I thought you were dead.”

  He gave that familiar, charming smile that was only privileged to her. “I nearly was. But I fought my way out of the Grand Highlands and managed to escape.”

  “Where have you been this whole time? We’ve been at the camp for months now. You knew that. Why didn’t you come?”

  He frowned and looked away. “I was beat up pretty bad, Lyla. It took this long for me to mend, and I’m finally feeling better. I’m on my way to the camp now, but seems I don’t have to go alone now that I’ve found you.” He placed his hand on hers.

  She pulled her hand away. “Torin and the others are at the camp.” She leaned in close to whisper. “And we found the Garden of Stones! Right now, we’re gathering them up and hiding them in a safe place.”

  “Really? That’s amazing!” he replied.

  “Isn’t it, though!” She drained the cup of water after the barkeep sat a glass in front of her, parched from the long trip.

  Cain grinned at her, then turned to his cup. “Well, what are you doing all the way down here in The Crossing?” he asked and took a drink of dark ale that sat in front of him.

  She noticed his other two empty pints that the barkeep hadn’t collected yet. “I’m actually on my way home to Fortuna to see my family.”

  “That’s great.” he said and wiped his mouth with his hand. “I’m going with you.”

  She cocked her head. “But Torin and the others need you at the camp. They’ll be just as excited to know that you’re alive. You should go there, like you were planning on.”

  “Plans change, Lyla,” he stated. “To be honest, you were the only reason I was making the trip to the camp. And now that I’ve found you, there’s no need for me to go.”

  “But…what about the others? Don’t you care about them?” She looked into his eyes, waiting for an answer.

  The barkeep sat the bowl of soup in front of Lyla. “Here ya go.”

  “Her water needs filled,” Cain told the man, not taking his eyes off Lyla.

  The barkeep mumbled as he poured another glass, then sat it on the bar.

  “I do care about them, Lyla. But the Order is done. The Grand Highlands is destroyed. There’s nothing left.”

  “The people are still alive, thanks to you. Thanks to everyone who fought and gave their lives.” Her voice raised and she could feel her emotions rise wit
h it, annoyed by his lack of compassion. “The least you could do is let them know you’re alive.”

  He leaned towards her. “I’ll make you a deal. Let me go with you to your home. After we’re through there, I’ll go to the camp. Besides, you’ll be needing an escort back anyways.”

  She crossed her arms and sat tall. “What makes you think I need an escort? Made it this far without one, didn’t I?”

  He turned back to his drink as he spoke. “A pretty girl like you, alone and on the road.” He gave a sharp, knowing shift of his head before taking drink.

  She grinned at his arrogance. “I can take care of myself, thank you.”

  “Oh,” he replied with a sly grin. “Been training, have you?”

  She nodded and turned to her food.

  “Good. Then you can show me tomorrow.”

  “I never said you could go,” she said with a mouthful.

  “I never asked,” he said as a matter of fact and raised the ale to his lips.

  She shook her head and smiled, thankful to be in the company of a friend again. “Cain, I’m glad we found each other.”

  “Me too, Lyla. Me too.”

  FIVE

  The standing stones were no more. A great wonder that had endured the test of time for all to gaze upon, no longer stood. The ancient structure now nothing more than massive pillars of stone lying about the ground like fallen sentinels, with holes in the ground that exposed the Garden of Stones.

  Joko sat nearby, guarding the sacred place. Sitting with legs crossed, he hummed deep and low, his eyes closed, channeling himself for what he knew was to come. When he removed the first standing stone for Lyla and Torin, his heart ached at the act of defilement and he ran away in fear of the Almighty’s retribution. He knew his life was forfeit now. Cursed. One shred of penance for his soul would be to give his life by protecting the garden, so he thought.

  And that’s what he would do, because he felt a dark power coming his way.

  He continued his mantra as the large group of men reigned their horses to a stop.

  A giant approached him.

  Joko opened his eyes, but continued his mantra. Before him stood the giant man covered in scars, gazing down with soulless eyes; a bemused look upon his face. Joko gripped his staff before rising to his feet to face the giant. He looked up. The curious demeanor on the giant’s pale face faded as he broke into a laugh, his mouth gaped full of pointed, rotten teeth.

  “Leave this place. Now,” Joko commanded.

  Karn cocked his head and placed a pitiful hand on Joko’s shoulder. “No.”

  Like a bolt of lightning, Joko planted a palm to Karn’s chest that sent the giant flying backwards, hurling him into the men that accompanied him. Curses flew from the downed soldiers as they found their feet and drew steel. Karn scrambled to his feet, wide-eyed and smiling, still. Again, he laughed.

  “Kill him,” Karn commanded his men.

  Three of them charged at Joko, eager to prove their worth and fearless just the same.

  Joko’s staff blurred at the leading man’s face, snapping his head back with a crunching sound, his feet leaving the ground from the sharp blow. Joko pivoted, dodged a slash, and ducked under the other. While bent, he brought his heel up and smashed it into his attacker’s nose, sending the man sprawling to the ground in pain. Joko spun around, and checked a blow from the third soldier, then slammed the lower end of the staff into the man’s groin. As the soldier doubled over in pain, the staff whipped across the back of his head, knocking him flat to the ground and rendering him still.

  Joko picked up the man with the broken nose, and effortlessly threw him towards Karn. The injured soldier reeled at the giant’s feet. “He broke my nose! The bastard broke—” Karn smashed the man’s head in with his boot.

  “I command you to leave this place!” Joko shouted.

  Karn narrowed his gaze at Joko before speaking to his men. “All of you, go. Bring me his head.” Twenty men screamed and charged at Joko with sword, shield, spear, and axe. Their eyes intent on delivering no mercy.

  Joko twirled the staff end-over-end and knelt into a crouch, his eyes focused on the ground in front of him. The first three engaged him, and quickly met a worse fate than their predecessors. Joko threw his anger into each blow, each dodge, each counter. He let himself go, even though his training had taught him to stay composed. He couldn’t help it. Emotion took over and clouded his senses.

  Five men lay dead on the ground. A quick pause in the fighting told the truth about the mens’ mettle as they surveyed the scene. Apprehension overcame their vain boldness. The rest came at him three and four at a time. Joko kept his eyes focused ahead, never looking at one man, always using his peripherals and senses when dealing with more than one attacker. A man charged into the pack, hoping to catch Joko off guard. Joko spun, rolled off the shoulder of the charging man, and wrapped his arm around the man’s neck. With staff in hand, he brought the man’s other arm up and snapped the bones, drawing a sharp final breath from the man before letting him fall to the dirt.

  Whatever the staff did not break, Joko’s hands did the rest.

  Another group surged from behind Karn. Through the fighting, Joko saw them coming from all sides, rage-filled and hungry to prove themselves. Through sheer numbers, they would overrun him.

  With feet spread wide, he crouched slightly and placed his palms together in front of his chest. A low hum came from within as he channeled his energy. Pieces of earth began to rise around him, slowly ascending from his feet. Rising. Rising.

  The screaming men were bearing upon him—their weapons held poised to strike.

  Joko extended his arms toward them in a smooth motion, his thumbs and fingers making a triangle shape, palms facing out. The low hum grew louder and emerged as a cry from somewhere buried deep within him. Blue energy flowed down his arms and sparked like a fire in his hands. Surging and glowing with blue light, he brought them back and took a fighting stance as the men came at him.

  Joko moved faster than before, his movements a blur among the flailing bodies cast about him. The men couldn’t touch him, despite all their attempts. Each blow that Joko delivered hit the soldiers like a phantom. His strikes landing with devastating force, though his fists were an arm’s length away. Through the sprays of blood and spit, the blue light from his strikes danced at blinding speed. And the bodies piled up, strewn about the hallowed ground, some nearing fifty paces away.

  Joko delivered a crushing blow to the last man’s chest and sent him flying past Karn. Joko stood tall as the rest lie dead. The energy left his hands, but his eyes flashed dangerously at Karn. “Leave this place!”

  The smile on Karn’s face had long since vanished. He snarled at Joko, but didn’t advance upon him. “You’re power is strong, bald man. Maybe even stronger than mine.” He spat to the side. “But today is your lucky day. I’m not going to kill you…yet. No. I’m going to let you live in fear, never knowing when I’ll return. Never knowing when, in the dark of the darkest night, I might be behind you. And when that time comes, when your fears become reality, I’m going to rip that bald head from your body, drive my arm down your neck, and pull your still-beating heart from your body so I can feel its pulse rise as I sink my teeth into it.”

  “Small words from such a big man,” Joko replied.

  Karn glared with hateful eyes. “I’ll be back for you, Warrior of the Light,” he spat the words as insult. “Soon. Very soon.”

  “And I will be here. Waiting,” Joko promised.

  Karn stormed away and disappeared into the distance.

  Joko sat on the ground and closed his eyes. He would bury the bodies later. After he prayed and begged for forgiveness.

  He would bury them after he had no more tears to shed.

  SIX

  The king arrived on horseback, accompanied by a small guard that swore his protection over the long journey. Bare-chested and gleaming with sweat, they were in desperate need of water as the long trip across
the desert depleted their rations. The summer months had been hotter than normal and the rains refused to fall, despite the king’s prayers to the god of the sky. Even the dances of the shamans fell deaf upon the god’s ears.

  It was this year that the gods stopped listening to King Hobba’s prayers—that was the reason he made the long journey to Emperor Xar’s palace. He needed the gods to listen again.

  They rode through the city, drawing looks from the locals there—both rich and poor. But the king never cared much for the opinions of others. “They look at how we dress, how we live, and think of us as savages,” he told his men in an amused tone. King Hobba looked around and marveled at the city. He had heard tales of the Golden City before, but found them to be wanting, as it was more grandiose than any story. The Emperor brought the best metal smiths in the world to create the most elegant city amid the great oasis; the city in the middle of the desert. Each building was elaborately made of copper, stone, and steel, with essences of gold. The streets, made of polished stone, paved the way to the grand court in front of the palace. In the middle of the court, surrounded by a floor of solid gold, a fountain made of gemstones flowed.

  King Hobba dismounted his horse and dove towards the life-giving water. Kneeling beside the fountain, he cupped his hands and drank greedily, almost choking from doing so. His men dismounted and quenched their thirsts as well, thankful that they made the journey alive.

  King Hobba, after having his fill, wiped his mouth with a sleeve and looked around. He noticed the palace guards looking at him like he was a savage beast. Three more men approached.

  “Who dare defiles the fountain?” The grand vizier scoffed, walking towards Hobba with two of the palace guards.