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

by Matt Moss

  Arkin stepped into the warm glow of the torches that burned along the ground in a ring of fire, the dry ground crunching under his feet. He stopped, thinking it to be far enough for what he was about to do. This might be the dumbest idea I’ve ever had. But it’s all I got. Let’s see if all the training has paid off.

  A war cry cracked through the silence from behind him as the villagers still drew breath in defiance of the invaders that came to take their lives.

  The horde of Ungaki returned a war cry of their own, overpowering the one that came from the village. With his vision enhanced, Arkin saw the leader of the Ungaki begin to descend the hill. The wyrm followed the leader, slithering and spitting flames as it descended upon the village.

  The trot of a thousand horses turned into a thunderous sound at the bottom of the hill as they charged the village at full speed.

  Arkin closed his eyes.

  Blue light emerged from his body as he soul tapped, and the ground from which he stood began to tremble. A whirlwind surrounded him and surged, his hair and clothes dancing wildly from the force as he channeled his energy. It snuffed the flame from nearby torches and left him alone in the night, bathed in the mystical light amidst the darkness.

  Some of the invaders stopped and turned around in fear upon seeing the miracle, but the horde was not swayed. The leader cried louder and pointed his staff of death at Arkin, signaling their first kill.

  Arkin placed a firm foot forward and brought his hands together. The light surged higher into the night as he focused his power even more. He saw the arrows coming straight for him, but they were deterred from the surrounding winds of his power.

  The enemy was fast approaching, closing in on him and trampling him in moments.

  He extended his arms and opened his eyes.

  Lightning cracked around his hands and grew as bright as the sun in a ball of pure energy.

  Arkin let it go.

  An orb of light blasted towards the horde, and disintegrated bones and flesh as it cut through the group. It drove through the center of them and into the ground, exploding in a ball of electric blue fire and earth, sending a majority of the horde flying in pieces. Human cries mixed with those from the beasts lamented after the thunderous sound of the attack faded away. The dismembered and injured reeled about the ground in agony, and the survivors were cast about, stunned and disoriented.

  The leader, having jumped away from the direct impact of the blast, found his feet and looked at his broken horde. The horses were all dead or scattered, the riders along with them. He bellowed and rallied the remaining half of his warriors that were behind the front lines. Slowly, they gathered their bearings and once again began their assault on foot.

  Shit, Arkin thought. He’d used up most of his tap in that attack, and hoped that it would be enough. Still hundreds of men strong, Arkin knew the odds were stacked against him. The Ungaki outnumbered them by double. Arkin pulled the sword from behind his back and marched towards the attackers. He could run for the safety of the village defenses, but the warrior in him stirred within his soul. He had felt it before—on the hill of the Grand Highlands when he cut his way down to Victor. Lost in the feeling, there’s no other way to go. No running. No fear. Just the thrill of the battle. Blood and bone; metal against mettle.

  It was what he was born to do. It was his calling. To fight—to rage against the darkness. To kill all who stood to take away the light of the world. To serve justice.

  To protect those who could not protect themselves.

  Arkin’s spirit rose as he prepared to engage the enemy.

  He fell into the tap.

  Before he joined the fray, he sensed something move behind him. It was the villagers, led by the chief and King Hobba, screaming a frightful war cry. Their spears flew past Arkin and drove their points into the invaders, wounding and killing those who were on the front line. The villagers surged past Arkin to join the fight.

  Arkin dashed past them in a moment and delivered the first blow from his sword, cutting a savage man in two. He slashed and dashed his way into the center, clearing a space all around him and dispatching the foes as quickly as he could. Behind him, the men and women fought for their lives. Many of the villagers died in a matter of moments as the two sides collided with one another, but many of them took the invaders’ lives with them. The villagers were outnumbered still, but Arkin swore he would even the odds. Each strike delivered by his hand was fierce, fast, and precise. The blade blurred through sprays of blood and cut through man after man.

  A sharp pain rose from Arkin’s side as an arrow found it’s mark and buried deep within him. It’s nothing. Breathe.

  He recalled his training in the frigid north with grandmaster Moses and cleared his mind, ignoring the pain. Still, the blood flowed from more wounds than he realized. His mind began to waver with thoughts of death, and his movements slowed. He cut through the bodies and saw the leader of the horde. The savage man held a woman in his hands and sawed a knife through her throat as she throttled in his arms.

  Arkin grit his teeth and pushed on. He tapped further, knowing that his spirit would be depleted in doing so. He didn’t care. This was do-or-die. And before he died, he would at least see the leader of the horde leave this world.

  Bodies flew around him as he fought to make his way to the leader. The savage man dropped the lifeless woman and locked eyes with Arkin. He gave a bloodcurdling scream and sought to meet him, carrying his broken skull club covered in blood that he used as a bludgeon. A long, curved knife in his other hand.

  Arkin threw his hate into anyone who challenged him. As he began to engage the leader, a screaming man came from behind and buried a knife into Arkin’s neck. Arkin cried out in pain, turned, and took the man’s head off with a ferocious slash. Blood began to flow down Arkin’s chest and arm. Again, death called to him.

  Just breathe.

  The leader screamed with a mouthful of black teeth, his bone armor rattling as he raised the club to strike Arkin down. Arkin ducked, but his body was weak, his strength depleting fast. The leader kicked him to the ground and raised the club for a killing blow. Arkin rolled out of the way and kicked the leader’s feet out from under him. Both scrambled to stand. Arkin stood slouched and heaved deep with exhaustion. The leader raised the club once more. Arkin’s vision blurred.

  Please, let there be something left. There has to be something left!

  Arkin’s body tensed, and he bellowed with everything within him as the club came rushing towards his head. He raised his hand up and stopped it mid-strike. He brought the club down and drove it into the ground—simultaneously grabbing the leader by the back of the head and punching the man’s neck through the end, impaling him onto it, replacing the old skull with a new one. Arkin looked at the leader—the man’s eyes and mouth open wide in shock, blood pouring around his black teeth—before he fell to the ground, no longer able to fight. The blood from the wound in his neck and side felt warm, and soothed him as his vision began to fade away. Shadows danced and moved among the flames and all sounds dimmed. He watched as they drifted away.

  Like old times, the void took him once more.

  He smiled, finding comfort and solace in the vast expanse.

  Light suddenly appeared, and Arkin opened his eyes. The medicine woman wailed when she saw him wake and began to tend to his wounds, reapplying the poultice to his neck and side. The stench that came from his body was putrid, but Arkin didn’t care. He was amazed to still be alive.

  “…thank you,” he wheezed out.

  The medicine woman clicked her teeth and waved a smoking leaf all over his body. As he watched the smoke roll over him, he collapsed back into sleep.

  Arkin’s eyes fluttered open. He saw the king kneeling by his bedside.

  “You truly are a man of the west,” King Hobba said, seeing Arkin recovering. “Stupid. As stupid as they come. Like an ass that’s been in the heat for too long without water.” He smiled, then laughed with joy.

/>   Arkin managed a smile in reply. “I’ve been called worse.”

  Hobbaplaced a hand on Arkin’s chest. “Because of you, the village still stands. The people will never forget what you did for them.” He stood from his kneel. “And I will never forget. I don’t know how you can do the things you do, but I know that you are the one to unite the clans. I will take you to the emperor, and you will lead the tribes against the enemy in the west.”

  Arkin took his hand. “Thank you.”

  Hobba turned and left him alone in the hut.

  His mission that Moses sent him on half a year ago was nearly complete. But would the emperor concede to going to war against Victor and the kingdom? And even if the tribes did unite, would it be enough?

  Arkin didn’t know.

  He closed his eyes in search of sleep, but found none. He found nothing but the image of Victor and the Religion sweeping over the land in a wave of flames and blood.

  And thoughts of death filled his mind.

  EIGHT

  The church prayed silently. People throughout the kingdom had traveled to Kingsport to receive the mark and solidify their faith in the Religion. High priest Victor led them in their devotions, vocalizing each prayer in front of the alter of stones, then allowing the space between for silence. The main hall of the church was bursting with people, and many were turned outside who then began to collect on the steps and on the street.

  Rat appeared from the priests’ chambers and walked to beseech Victor. “Your Grace, we’ve found him,” he said nervously, his head bowed in reverence.

  Victor opened his eyes and held his hands up to the alter. “Bring him here.”

  “At once,” Rat replied and left.

  Victor closed his eyes and led the people in another prayer. “Let the light of the Church preserve us,” his voice boomed through the main hall and could faintly be heard from the steps. “Let us be united together in body and mind. Keep an ever-watchful eye over us and keep us from the clutches of evil. Let us not give into temptation and help us keep our brothers and sisters from doing the same.” Rat brought the man to Victor, shackled at the wrists and accompanied by guards. Victor turned to look at the heretic and continued his prayer. “And if anyone denies the Religion—if anyone chastises a member of the flock—then may they repent and change their ways. For denying the Religion, one accepts their fate and places it in the hands of God’s judgement.”

  “Deny the Religion; welcome death,” the people in the hall repeated. The chorus grew and spread among the men, women, and children, until every mouth professed.

  “Deny the Religion; welcome death.”

  “Deny the Religion; welcome death!”

  Victor brought the heretic centerstage and stood beside him with a raised hand for all to behold.

  “DENY THE RELIGION; WELCOME DEATH!”

  The high priest raised his hands to silence the congregation. He turned to the shackled man. “Confess.”

  The man looked at Victor, confused and afraid. He shook his head, not understanding.

  “Confess your sin. Admit that you have conspired against the Religion and have spread heresy to others. You hold onto the Faith, but it has failed you. Admit these things and give yourself over to the Religion, and all will be forgiven.”

  The man found his resolve. He stared defiantly at the high priest and spat in his face. “To hell with you. To hell with the Religion!”

  Victor wiped his face, and the people raged upon seeing the insult. They demanded his death and cried for his blood. Sarie walked in. When Victor saw her emerge from the priests’ room, his arm beckoned her to join him. The room hushed in reverence as she stood beside the heretic. Victor smiled and motioned Karn to take the accused outside.

  “To hell with all of you!” the man yelled at the top of his lungs. The people spat and cursed his name as Karn, the executioner, forced him outside. Victor placed a hand on Sarie’s back and, together, they followed, leading the congregation into the street. They walked in front of the palace that stood no more—the ground made bare and ready for the chapel that would serve the people to come and pray at any time of day.

  The executioner’s block, however, remained.

  The executioner forced the man’s head onto the stone and shackled his arms with the chains at the base. Victor stood to the side, prepared to deliver judgement.

  Sarie leaned close. “What are you doing? You can’t just start killing people for no reason.”

  Victor looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “Have you forgotten everything we’ve built. This man is a heretic and defies the religion. Is that not reason enough?”

  “This man is innocent. The only crime he’s committed is not bending a knee to you,” she stated. “And that shouldn’t be a crime.”

  He glared at her, searching for the cause of her sudden indifference. You’ve changed, Sarie. How did this happen. What have you been doing? “Heretics don’t want to change. We’ve given them them the path to salvation, but they choose to spit in our face. Now, they all must be purged from this world.”

  “Victor…”

  He ignored her plea and turned to the executioner. His hand fell and the axe fell with it. The people watched in silence as the head fell to the ground. The executioner motioned the guards to unshackle the body and remove it from the grounds.

  Victor stepped to the congregation. “To deny the Religion is death. We are the Church—all of us, flesh and bone—together as one. Anyone who stands against the Religion is a heretic and deserving of judgement.”

  The people raised their voices in a joyous cry.

  Sarie looked on in awe and horror.

  Victor turned to her, meeting her eye, and repeated the decree. “Anyone who stands against the Religion is a heretic and deserving of judgement.”

  She met his gaze, then stormed away. Victor let her go. He addressed the crowd. “If anyone transgresses against a brother or sister of the Religion, I hereby decree that they be struck down. By your hand or mine.” He allowed a moment for his words to sink in. “Together, we will rid this world of evil and will unite the land to bring peace and harmony to all!”

  The crowd cheered and chanted his name. People bowed and some fell to their knees and wept, their hands raised to the sky. Others embraced one another and solidified the brotherhood in faith.

  Victor followed Sarie into the church. He found her standing alone at the alter of stones. He walked to stand behind her. “Your presence, or lack there of, has been noticed lately. Where have you been?”

  She shook her head. “This is all too much. I’ve needed some space to gather my thoughts.”

  He moved beside her. “And what have you been plotting, Sarie?”

  She turned to him. “Plotting? What are you talking about? I’ve plotted nothing.”

  He gripped her arm. “Don’t play dumb with me.”

  She ripped away. “You’re crazy. You’ve gone mad!” She stormed away, turning to speak to him in leaving. “You’ve changed, Victor, and not for the best. I hardly recognize you anymore.” She ran up the steps. Victor followed.

  Sarie climbed until she reached the next floor and ran into his room. He kept with her pace and closed the door behind him. “Where have you been, Sarie?”

  “Nowhere!” she replied in anger. Tears streamed down her face as she went to the balcony. He met her there. “What have you been doing, Sarie? Answer me, Oracle.”

  She gripped the rail and looked down at the city. “Why did you do that? Do you even realize what you’ve just done? There won’t be any going back from this.”

  “Yes, I do. Before long, there won’t be anyone to stand in our way. Every head shall bow to the Religion, just as the Almighty intended it.”

  She turned to him in disbelief. “Can you even hear yourself? You’re spreading fear and bloodshed in the Almighty’s name. All for your own pride and glory!” Her body trembled. “Nothing good will come of this.”

  He gripped her arm. “Where hav
e you—

  She slapped his face. He breathed deep, restricting himself from doing something that he knew he would regret. The people still believed in her—as much as they believed in him. They stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, before Sarie ran out of the room and out of sight.

  He let her go. You’re conspiring against me. Damnit, woman, what have you done…

  Victor walked into the room and poured himself a glass. Before it could be filled, he dashed it against the wall. “No!” he yelled in a fit of rage. Red lines traced down the wall by the door as he seethed with bottle in hand. The bottle shattered in his hands as his anger burned hot, and the furniture in the room began to quake. He closed his eyes in an attempt to calm the tempest that raged inside of him. Breathing deeply, he regained control and came back to his senses. Calm now, he procured another bottle of wine and poured two glasses.

  Footsteps echoed down the hall.

  Victor met his man with glasses in hand. “Ah, my faithful servant. How have you been?”

  Karn cocked his brow and took the glass. “I should be asking how you’ve been,” he replied, noticing his master’s odd demeanor and the fragments of glass on the floor. “But seeing Sarie leave in the way she did, I’ve no need to ask.”

  “I’ve never been better,” Victor said with a smile. He raised his glass in salute.

  Karn drank deep. He looked around the room, then locked eyes with Victor. “The Oracle didn’t look happy.” He gave a wink. “Don’t tell me you’re getting soft in your old age?”

  Victor glared at him and ignored the comment. “I expected you to return with stones, but here you are empty-handed again. Or have I misjudged your intended presence?”

  Karn snarled. “Someone was guarding the place.”

  “Oh. And this ‘someone’ was too much for you and fifty men to handle? Please, tell me I’m wrong.”

  “He’s an apprentice of Moses.”