Soulbinder (Book 3)

by Ben Cassidy

  Joseph smiled softly, and picked up his knife again.

  “So,” said a quiet voice beside him, “are you ever going to actually tell her?”

  Startled, Joseph glanced over to see Kendril sitting up in his bedroll.

  “Tell who what?”

  Kendril stretched. “You know who. And you know what.”

  Joseph looked down again at the wooden bird in his hands. “I don’t know. I’m…waiting for the right moment, I guess.”

  “I wouldn’t wait too long. Maklavir might wake up one of these days and realize there’s a beautiful woman in the camp.”

  Joseph spun his head in Kendril’s direction, and almost dropped his knife. “He couldn’t—he wouldn’t…she wouldn’t…?”

  Kendril smirked, rubbing his unshaven chin. “Who knows? He seems to find a willing enough girl in every town we visit.”

  Joseph set his face, and looked down at the bird once more. “I’m sure Kara would have more sense than that.”

  “Yes,” the Ghostwalker agreed, “I imagine she would.” He looked over at the young woman on the other side of the campfire.

  Her face was relaxed and peaceful as she slept.

  “I told you before that I don’t know a lot about women,” said Kendril somberly, “and I don’t. But I do know this; you let a woman go that you love, and you’ll never forgive yourself.”

  Joseph bowed his head silently. He turned the bird over in his hands. After several minutes, he spoke. “It’ll be dawn soon. You should try to sleep.”

  Kendril gave a dismissive shrug. “Can’t. I’ve got too much on my mind.”

  “Galla?”

  The Ghostwalker nodded. He paused for a moment, staring at the campfire reflectively. “I had a dream,” he said at last. “Last night.”

  Joseph looked over at him curiously, but said nothing.

  “There was a woman,” continued Kendril, “dressed in a golden robe, with bright blue hair and eyes.” He looked over at his friend. “She warned me that something was about to begin.”

  Joseph rubbed his thumb absently on the top of the carved bird. “What?”

  “She didn’t say.” Kendril tilted his head back, closing his eyes as if remembering. “She only told me not to waver, but to hold fast, and that despair would not triumph. And she told me I was not alone. When I woke up, Galla was gone.”

  “You’re talking about a vision,” said Joseph slowly.

  “I know,” the Kendril replied. “But what about the woman? The description is like a Guardian of old, isn’t it?”

  Joseph looked over at the fire again. “Yes. Though no Guardian has been seen in Zanthora for a long time.” He gave a half-smile. “At least by no sane person.”

  Kendril shook his head. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. It’s all nonsense anyway.”

  Joseph set the bird down on the log beside him. “You don’t really think that, or you wouldn’t have brought it up.” He looked over at the Ghostwalker. “If what you saw was real,” he said quietly, “then it means Despair, doesn’t it?”

  “The Fourth Despair,” said Kendril in a monotone. He stared straight ahead, the light from the campfire flickering over his shadowed form. His face suddenly hardened. “I’m being a fool,” he said harshly. “It was a dream, nothing more.”

  “So why are you worried?” asked Joseph in the same quiet voice. “There’s something about the timing of this dream that’s bothering you, isn’t it? Something about that pendant Galla took?”

  Kendril looked down at the snow-covered ground. “We have to find him, Joseph.”

  Joseph nodded, tucking the bird back into his pocket. “Seems like we do,” he said.

  Chapter 8

  “Does that man have some kind of animal under his coat?” Maklavir peered curiously up the main street of Stefgarten, nodding at a heavily bearded trapper who was staggering across the street.

  Kara raised her eyebrows, looking around the corner of the porch she was sitting on. “Where?”

  “Right there.” Maklavir started to point. “Wait, he’s gone now.” He looked back over at Kara. “I’m telling you, his jacket was actually moving.”

  The redhead sat back. “I don’t think I want to know.”

  “Now that you mention it,” said Maklavir as he leaned against the porch post, “neither do I.” He gave a heavy sigh. “It’s so good to be back in civilization again.”

  Kara smiled, but said nothing.

  “Tuldor’s beard!” The door to the inn slammed shut, and Kendril stormed out onto the snow-covered porch, followed by Joseph.

  Maklavir pushed his cap back onto his head, looking up at the two men. “So, did you find our friend Galla?”

  “Galla,” said Kendril seethed, “has already left town.”

  Kara got to her feet. “That was fast.”

  “Yes,” said Kendril as he stomped down the porch steps. “It was.”

  Maklavir glanced at the black-cloaked man quizzically. “So what now?”

  “Now,” said Kendril without stopping, “we head across the street.”

  Kara and Maklavir looked at each other, then at Joseph.

  The bearded scout just shrugged, then nodded towards the Trading Post a little ways down the road. “The innkeeper said Galla caught a ride over there,” he explained as he walked.

  Kara and Maklavir fell in behind him. All three followed Kendril through the muddy snow.

  “Where did he go?” Kara asked.

  “Let’s find out,” said Kendril. He jumped up the three broad wooden steps of the Trading Post, and pushed the front door open.

  The interior was dim, lit only by the white light flooding in through the front windows. The wooden walls were covered with ropes, lanterns, furs, and a few rusty crossbows, all available for sale. Shelves lined one side of the room, covered with bags of flour, cans of oil, and jars of preserved goods. On the wall behind the large wooden counter hung every tool possibly imaginable, from a lowly hatchet to an ox-goad.

  An overweight man with a huge brown mustache greeted them as they entered. “What can I do for you?” he asked cheerfully.

  “We’re looking for a Baderan,” said Kendril immediately. “Slimy fellow, lots of rings and greased hair.”

  The merchant nodded thoughtfully. “I know him,” he said, his face crinkling. “Disgusting man. I was glad to see him leave.”

  “When?” Joseph asked.

  “Yesterday afternoon.” The man nodded towards the front windows. “Took the Ice Sled to Vorten.”

  Maklavir quickly set down the can of peach preserves he had been looking at. “Vorten?”

  “Yes. And like I said, I was glad to see him go. No Baderan ever did any good around here.”

  “Forgive my asking,” said Kara, “but what exactly is an Ice Sled?”

  The storeowner looked over at the pretty young woman with a more-than friendly smile. “Not from around here, are you now, lass?” He picked up a towel, wiping down part of the counter. “The stage coach has a hard time running out this far north, especially during the winter. When the snow comes, they take the coaches, remove the wheels, and put sleds on ‘em instead. Slows the service down a bit, but it works tolerable well.”

  Joseph stepped between the merchant and Kara. “So you said he took the sled to Vorten?”

  “Yeah.” The storeowner bent forward a bit, giving Kara another broad smile. “He said he had business there.”

  “Did he?” Kendril said grimly. “When does the next sled leave?”

  The man gave an apologetic shrug. “Like I said, the service gets pretty slow this time of year. I imagine the next coach for Vorten will be along in a couple days.”

  “Tuldor’s beard,” the Ghostwalker cursed again. He turned and strode angrily out through the front door.

  “Sorry,” the storeowner said to the three remaining companions. “If there’s anything else I can do for you, I’m more than happy to oblige.”

  Joseph gave Maklavir
and Kara a glance, then headed back out the door himself.

  Kendril was standing at the bottom of the Trading Post steps, glaring silently down the length of the main street.

  It had started snowing again, mixed with a little rain.

  Joseph shivered as it began to pelt his head and shoulders. He moved up behind the Ghostwalker. “So what now?”

  Kendril didn’t turn. “How long will it take us to get to Vorten?”

  Joseph glanced up at the frozen rain pattering the roof of the Trading Post behind them. “If we walk? Probably three days. That’s assuming we don’t get caught in a blizzard or something.” He shrugged. “Or freeze to death.”

  The Ghostwalker turned around, his face set with a look of determination. “You can get us there?”

  The scout took a step back and ducked under the slight cover from the overhang above them. “Sure. It’s a pretty straight shot. Just follow the highway. I doubt we’d have much trouble at the border.”

  Kendril nodded his head, lost in thought. “Three days?”

  “If we leave right now,” Joseph clarified

  “Ah, Vorten.” Maklavir strode out onto the porch, straightening his cap against the chilly drizzle. “The City of Light. Now that would be a rare touch of civilization in our lives.”

  Kara followed Maklavir, pulling up her hood against the falling slush. She gave Kendril a wary glance. “Galla will have at least a day or two on us.”

  Kendril turned his head back to the street. “I know.”

  The woman tugged at the corner of one of her gloves. “What if he’s gone by the time we get there?”

  The Ghostwalker swiveled his head back and gave her an icy look. “Then we follow him to wherever he’s gone.”

  “Hmm, yes.” Maklavir clapped his hands together, rubbing them against the cold. “I suspect that’s the point Kara is making, dear boy. I mean, I’m just as much a fan of brutal revenge killings as the next man, but how far exactly are we willing to take this?”

  Kendril glared at the diplomat.

  “I’m just as angry at what Galla did as you are, Kendril,” Kara said gently. “But at a certain point it seems kind of…well, crazy to keep this up, don’t you think? We could end up following this Baderan halfway across Zanthora.”

  The Ghostwalker turned, his figure dark against the snow behind him. He looked squarely at his three friends.

  “I will follow Galla to the Third Fire and back if I have to.” His voice was low and cold. “And not for revenge.”

  Maklavir tilted his head. “For what, then?”

  Kara gave Kendril a probing look. “That pendant that Galla took, there’s something important about it, isn’t there?”

  The Ghostwalker put one gloved hand on the snow-covered railing. He looked out into the street for a moment. “I don’t know,” he said at last. “There might be. That’s why I have to track Galla down.” He looked back at Kara, then at Maklavir. “This is something that I have to do. I can’t explain to you why. I’m not even sure I know myself.” He looked to the side again as a large wagon rumbled past through the snow. “My path leads to Vorten, and wherever else Galla goes after that. I don’t expect or ask any of you to come with me.”

  Joseph leaned back against the wall of the Trading Post and crossed his arms. He said nothing, staring down at the floorboards of the porch.

  Kara looked over at him. “You’re going with him?”

  Joseph took a deep breath, scratching his chin thoughtfully. Finally he nodded. “Yes,” he said, looking up. “I am.”

  The snowfall began to thicken, piling gently on the porch railing.

  Kara looked at Joseph for another long moment, then back at Kendril. “I think this is crazy,” she said. “But if Joseph’s going, then count me in too.”

  The pathfinder looked up, surprise on his face.

  Kara caught his expression, and smiled. “As far as I’m concerned,” she said wryly, “you’re the only sane one in this little group of ours. If you’re going with Kendril then I figure there has to be a good reason.”

  “The only sane one?” Maklavir gave a mock bristle, ruffling his shoulders. “My dear woman, I take deep offense at such a comment.” He looked over at Kendril. “Vorten is in Valmingaard, you know.”

  The Ghostwalker nodded. “I know. Been there before?”

  “Oh, plenty of times. Beautiful city. They have the Great Library there, of course. And the Ice Gardens.”

  “I take it that means you’re coming too?” asked Joseph.

  The diplomat smiled. “Don’t be silly, Joseph. Of course I’m coming.” He looked disgustedly out into the street of the small town. “I certainly have no inclination of remaining here for any longer than I absolutely have to.”

  “Looks like we’re all agreed,” said Kara.

  “Alright,” said Kendril. “Then let’s get moving.”

  By mid-morning it was snowing even harder than before. Joseph gave the falling flakes a skeptical look as he stomped across the street. He stepped up onto the wooden porch of the Trading Post, then pushed in through the door, glancing at the sky one last time.

  “Having second thoughts?” Kendril asked over his shoulder from where he stood hunched over the front counter.

  The pathfinder stamped his feet on the front mat. “No. It’s coming down hard, but I don’t think getting to Vorten will be a problem. Not if we stick to the main road, anyway.” He walked up to Kendril, noticing that the Ghostwalker was writing on a piece of paper. “We still have the money that Galla gave us, plus the supplies from our last trip. It’ll be a cold hike, but I doubt we’ll freeze or starve.”

  Kendril gave a satisfied nod. “Good.” He whipped a quill pen along the bottom of the paper, flourishing his signature. “Are Kara and Maklavir ready to go?”

  “Yeah. They said they’d meet us at the gate.” Joseph looked down curiously at the paper. He saw it for only a moment before Kendril began folding it, creasing it evenly on the wooden counter. “A letter?”

  Kendril nodded absently, reaching for a nearby vial of red wax that was being heated by an open candle. He poured it onto the white paper, then began fumbling in his trouser pocket.

  “No offense,” said Joseph, the curiosity still burning inside him, “but I thought a Ghostwalker was supposed to be dead to all his family and friends.”

  “This isn’t to either,” Kendril said briskly. He pulled a small, golden seal from his pocket.

  “Then who is it to?”

  Kendril stamped the seal into the wax, wiggled it slightly, then pulled it up again. The image embedded into the cooling wax was that of a sword, flames burning along its length.

  “An acquaintance,” the Ghostwalker responded elusively. He looked up at the store owner. “When’s the next coach heading south?”

  The man thought a moment. “Probably tomorrow, though it might be the next day.” He shrugged. “This weather makes things hard, you know.”

  “Fine,” said Kendril with a noticeable level of irritation. He set the letter down before the man, along with a couple coins. “See that this goes out with the mail.”

  The store owner nodded, tucking the letter back behind the counter. “Right, then. Anything else?”

  Kendril shook his head, turning for the door. “No. Just make sure that letter gets out.”

  Joseph followed after his friend, his face betraying his confusion. “So are you going to tell me what the letter’s for?”

  Kendril walked out onto the porch, and into the swirling snow. “Just in case.”

  Joseph quelled an exasperated sigh. “In case what?”

  “In case I’m right,” said Kendril without stopping.

  The snow continued to fall at a steady pace throughout the morning and mid-afternoon. The four adventures plodded silently through the whiteness, their heads down and hoods up against the blowing wind and snow. The road they were on wound north through the forest, and they followed it closely, struggling and slipping through the fo
ot and a half-deep snow. The animals didn’t seem very happy either. Simon was particularly moody, his back piled high with equipment and supplies. Kendril traveled beside him, giving the beast an occasional reassuring pat.

  The going was hard, and they found themselves taking frequent breaks, searching for what little cover they could in the trees by the side of the road. They never stopped for long, however, and the road northwards always beckoned to them.

  “At least in Vorten we’ll be able to find a decent place to stay,” said Maklavir as they walked. “There are some excellent inns there. The White Rose was always one of my favorites.”

  Kendril tried to smirk, but his face was too stiff from the cold. “Take many young women there?”

  Maklavir turned in his saddle and gave the Ghostwalker a nasty look. “Yes, if you must ask. Vorten can be a very romantic city, actually.”

  Kara shuddered as a cold wind began to blow. “Hard to believe that any place in the middle of all this could be romantic.”

  “It’s the globes,” the diplomat responded. He brushed some snow from his cap. “They’re set all around the city, you know. Utterly remarkable. Beautiful at night.”

  “I’ve heard of those,” said Joseph from where he was riding up front. “The glow-globes of Vorten. They light the whole city, right?”

  Maklavir chuckled. “Yes. Quite amazing, really. They’re made from a very rare mineral found in the nearby hills. Each piece of rock is painstakingly carved into a perfect sphere. The process can sometimes take years. There are whole families of globe-carvers that have been around for generations.”

  “How do they glow?” Kara asked curiously.

  “As best as I understand it,” said Maklavir, turning in his saddle, “the globes absorb even the tiniest bit of heat and reproduce it as brilliant light. Throw one in the fire, and it will shine like the sun itself.” He ducked as Veritas passed under a low-hanging branch. “About a century ago a local inventor figured out a way to connect them all by underground piping.”

  Joseph glanced over his shoulder, half-interested. “Piping?”