Soulbinder (Book 3)

by Ben Cassidy

  “You deserve it, Callen,” Kendril responded testily. “What were you doing, watching the back door? A sloppy job if I ever saw one.”

  Callen rubbed his swollen nose. A bloody piece of cloth was stuffed up one of his nostrils. “If you hadn’t come in ready to kill everyone in sight, then maybe—”

  “Enough,” said the elderly woman, kindly but firmly. She sat in a chair by the warehouse’s only table. “You could have certainly made yourself easier to find, Kendril. We have been scouring the city for you. After your letter--”

  “Yes,” said Kendril self-consciously as he paced the warehouse floor, “well a lot has happened since then. We’ve had reason to keep a low profile.”

  “Letter?” asked Joseph. He looked over at Kendril. “The one you sent from Stefgarten?”

  Kendril nodded silently. He glanced back at Callen. “Sorry about the nose,” he grumbled. “Just reflex.”

  Callen lowered his hood to reveal a freckled face and a tangled mop of strawberry-blonde hair. “It really hurts.”

  “Oh, quit your whining, Callen,” said one of the other new arrivals, a tall and commanding man with a sharp face and black hair. “You sound like a neophyte, for Eru’s sake.”

  Kara looked around at the group of black-cloaked individuals, her face showing her confusion. “Wait,” she said slowly, “so all of you are…?”

  Joseph nodded. “Ghostwalkers.”

  That word hung for a moment in the silence of the chilly warehouse air.

  The black-haired man gave Kendril a bitter glance. “Haven’t you told your new friends about us before, Kendril?”

  Kendril’s mouth curled into a half sneer. “I make it a point not to discuss garbage, Olan.”

  The other Ghostwalker bristled.

  The elderly woman rose, and turned to face Joseph and Kara. “I apologize. Our coming has obviously taken you by surprise.”

  “Yes,” said Joseph with a side-glance at Kendril, “well it’s hard to expect someone when you’re never told they’re coming in the first place.”

  “I am Madris,” the old woman said with a slight bow. “You know Callen, I believe, and Olan.” She turned to the remaining Ghostwalkers, who hung about the shadows of the room’s periphery. “That is Wanara,” she gestured to a cloaked young woman with long white hair and startling red eyes. “Hamis.” She nodded to an imposing, large man with a bald head and a brown beard. “And Tomas.” She pointed at the last Ghostwalker, a thin, tall man with an angular face and piercing blue eyes.

  Joseph returned the bow. “I am Joseph, and this is Kara.”

  “Now that we’ve all made our introductions,” Olan growled, “can we get to the matter at hand?”

  All heads turned to Kendril.

  Madris sat back down. She folded her hands on the table in front of her. “Well, Kendril? Your letter mentioned a matter of the utmost urgency.”

  The Ghostwalker paused. He rubbed a gloved hand over his face. “A Soulbinder has been found. I believe that it is in the hands of a nobleman named Baron Dutraad, here in Vorten.” He looked over at Madris. “I do not know what his intentions with it are.”

  There was deathly silence for a moment.

  Madris narrowed her gaze. “You are sure of this?”

  Kendril nodded. “I am certain.”

  Olan clenched a fist. “You made no mention of this in your letter.”

  Kendril shifted his gaze to the other Ghostwalker. “I was not sure then what I was dealing with. Now I have held the Soulbinder myself. It is real.”

  “You lost it?” It was Tomas who spoke, half-shrouded in shadow at the room’s edge. His voice was as cold as the ice on the warehouse’s windows.

  Kendril’s face twitched. “It was…unavoidable.”

  Olan snorted. “I would say rather incompetence.”

  Kendril straightened, staring hard at the other Ghostwalker.

  “This is a serious matter,” said Madris slowly. “To have lost the Soulbinder is a grave blow.”

  Kendril bowed his head. “I know, Madris. I am sorry.”

  Olan shook his head. “If you had had a team of Ghostwalkers working with you, Kendril, instead of pursuing this like a lone wolf, you might have—”

  “There is an assassin involved,” Kendril broke in. “A woman. She is expertly trained. Knives, throwing blades, hand-to-hand combat.” He reached into a pocket and drew out one of the throwing blades the assassin had left behind, then set it on the table for all to see.

  “We can handle one assassin,” said Hamis in a rumbling voice.

  “I doubt that this assassin is working alone,” said Madris quietly. “Vorten has long been a center for cultic activity.” She looked up at Kendril. “Do you know which cult is involved?”

  Kendril scowled. “No.”

  “But you suspect this Baron Dutraad?”

  Kendril met her gaze. “I can’t prove anything yet, but yes.”

  Tomas smiled thinly. “Dutraad has come to our attention in the past.” He shifted his gaze to Madris. “The good Baron has an interest in the occult and ancient pagan religions. There have been investigations, quiet of course, but they have always turned up nothing of consequence.”

  Madris sighed. “And one does not interrogate a Baron frivolously, especially one that is a favorite of the King of Valmingaard.”

  “So this is what you do,” said Joseph. He looked over at Kendril. “And that’s why you didn’t want to tell me. You Ghostwalkers track down cults and followers of the pagan gods. You’re witch hunters.”

  “More than that.” Madris gave Joseph a chilling glance. “We are the silent, invisible hand of Eru. We watch in the night where others fear to look. We hunt those who worship the darkness, and ensure they fall and do not rise. We are the tireless guardians of all that is good and pure, seeking penance by battling the followers of the old gods. Since the Second Despair we have followed the example of Tuldor Swiftblade, who slew a creature of the Void before the western gate at the Battle of Archangel. We watch, and when we strike, we do not falter.”

  “Except,” said Olan angrily, “when we hand Soulbinders over to servants of Despair.”

  Kendril threw the man a dagger-filled glare.

  Joseph looked around at the group of Ghostwalkers. “So you all think this may be the start of…of another Despair? Like in Kendril’s dream, the one with the Guardian?”

  His comment was met with blank stares.

  Kendril sighed. He turned away from the group.

  “And…Kendril didn’t mention his dream in the letter he sent you,” Joseph said slowly.

  “No,” said Madris with a keen glance at the Ghostwalker’s back. “He did not.”

  Olan hissed out his breath in a sharp exclamation. “This is all we need. Now Kendril is having…visions? I suppose he is a prophet now? What of it, Kendril? Do you have any divine revelations you would like to share with us?”

  Kendril faced the window, unmoving.

  Madris cast Olan a warning glance. “Olan—”

  He swung towards the woman, his hand clenching on one of the empty chairs by the table. “Don’t try to defend him, Madris. He’s led us on a merry chase to nowhere.” He looked over his shoulder at Kendril. “How do we know any of his tale is true? There may well be no Soulbinder at all.”

  “The Soulbinder is real,” said Kara hotly. She blushed self-consciously as all faces turned towards her. “Well, at least the pendant is real. I saw it myself. I don’t know if it’s a Soulbinder or not.”

  “Either way, we are committed,” said Madris. She raised a hand as Olan started to speak. “We cannot afford to take the risk, Olan. If a Soulbinder has surfaced, and it is in the hands of worshippers of the Seteru, then…”

  “Then we’d all better run for the mountains,” said Callen glumly. He poked gingerly at his swollen nose.

  Kendril turned around to face the room. “I have a plan.”

  Olan sniffed. “Does it involve dragging us all up here to suffer
frostbite for your delusions?”

  Kendril kept his eyes fixed on Madris. “I’m going in to Baron Dutraad’s estate. If the Soulbinder is there, I will find it and bring it out.”

  Olan raised his eyebrows. “You are going to do this?”

  Joseph gave the man an irritated look. “We are going to do it.”

  “You?” Tomas gave both Joseph and Kara a quick look. “Neither of you are Ghostwalkers.”

  Joseph opened his mouth to respond, but the words fell short.

  “We can’t barge into Dutraad’s estate by force,” said Kendril quietly.

  Hamis spat behind a nearby barrel. “I bet we could.”

  “I think,” said Madris, “that Kendril means we shouldn’t force out way into Dutraad’s estate.” She looked over at Hamis, a twinkle in her eyes. “And whenever Kendril is reluctant to solve any problem with the edge of a sword, I am inclined to take his word on the matter.”

  Olan paced in front of the carriage. He banged the side of it with a gloved hand. “So is this your plan, Kendril? To pretend you’re a nobleman?”

  “I don’t need to pretend,” said Kendril. His voice was low and steady. “I have a diplomat all ready to play the role.” He looked over at Madris. “I just need your permission. My team is almost ready.”

  Kara and Joseph looked over at Kendril in surprise.

  Olan gave Kendril a withering glare. “Your team? That is certainly humorous, Kendril, coming from you.” He stepped towards the Ghostwalker. “You have never worked in a team, never accepted any responsibility, never followed orders—”

  Kendril scowled. “I accept orders just fine when they’re not given by an incompetent fool.”

  Olan’s hand snatched for the hilt of his sword.

  Kendril flipped back his cloak and grasped one of his short swords.

  “Olan! Kendril!” Madris snapped.

  Both man hesitated a moment, then removed their hands from their weapons.

  “We don’t have to worry about Despair,” came Tomas’ sardonic voice. “Especially when we intend to kill each other.”

  “Kendril,” the older woman continued, “a word with you in private, if I may.”

  Kendril bit his lip, then nodded.

  Olan looked down at the woman. “Madris—”

  “Stay here, Olan, and secure the warehouse.” Madris grunted as she pushed herself to a standing position. She reached for a black wooden cane that rested against a nearby crate. “Take no action until I return. Is that clear?”

  Olan grimaced, but nodded. “Yes.”

  Joseph gave Kendril an inquiring look as well.

  The Ghostwalker gave a half-shrug. “Hold out here until Maklavir gets back.” He turned and opened the side door for Madris.

  They both disappeared outside.

  Joseph crossed his arms indignantly. “Team?”

  The wind was fiercer and colder down by the frozen river’s edge. It was snowing hard, the white flakes tossed and tumbled by the buffeting wind. Across the frozen length of the river wooden ice sleds scooted, ferrying passengers, cargo, and even whooping children.

  Madris hobbled up to stone wall that separated the road from the river’s rocky bank. She looked out over the river traffic and smiled. “It has been a long time since I have been in Vorten,” she said. “I have missed it.”

  Kendril wrapped his cloak around him and stared glumly out across the ice. “Miss what? Being perpetually turned into an icicle? I’ll pass, thanks.”

  The older woman glanced over at him with an affectionate smile. “I’ve missed you too, Kendril. It’s good to see you again.”

  The Ghostwalker turned his head away. He glanced back up the empty street behind them. “I think you’re the only one. You really had to bring Olan with you?”

  Madris looked over as a passing sled skidded by on the ice. “Olan has risen rapidly in our order. He is already a section commander.”

  Kendril pulled his hood up more against the whistling flakes. “Eru help us if he ever makes full commander.”

  The older Ghostwalker tapped her cane against the hard ground. “You could have easily made commander by now, Kendril. You had potential.”

  Kendril crossed his arms. “I don’t like to be stifled.”

  Madris gave a sad smile. “You’re a stubborn old mule. And stupid, too.”

  Kendril swatted at a patch of snow and ice on the wall in front of him. “Are you blaming me for what happened in New Marlin now?”

  She looked over at him. “You still haven’t forgiven Olan for that?”

  “Forgiveness has nothing to do with it. The man was a fool, and he let me take the fall for everything.”

  Madris lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t you think you deserve at least some of the blame, Kendril?”

  The Ghostwalker looked away. “You didn’t come to Vorten to talk about old history.”

  Madris turned, using her cane to steady herself. “No. I came because you summoned us for a matter of extreme urgency.”

  Kendril sniffed. “Olan doesn’t seem to think there is any kind of a problem.”

  The woman tilted her head. “He doesn’t know you like I do, Kendril. And when you of all people actually ask for help, I know things are bad.” She dropped her voice down a notch. “Now tell me, how bad are things here?”

  Kendril did not respond immediately. He looked out over the stone wall. The sound of children yelping and playing on their makeshift wooden sleds drifted faintly over the ice.

  “Kendril?” Madris’ voice was kind but firm.

  “The Soulbinder is real,” he said at last. “I checked it out in the library. I was in the temple where it was uncovered. Someone was after it, and they have it now. I think that person is Dutraad, and after hearing Tomas I suspect it all the more. I don’t know what he intends to do with it.”

  Madris sighed. “There is only one thing you can do with a Soulbinder, isn’t there? None of us want to say it aloud.” She shook the accumulation of snowflakes off her raised hood. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

  Kendril took a deep breath. “I had a dream.”

  “So your friend mentioned.”

  “I saw a Guardian. She warned me about Despair.” He paused a moment, wrestling with words. “She said…that night was coming to Zanthora.”

  Madris looked quickly away. “Great Eru.” She closed her eyes. “I should have brought more Ghostwalkers.”

  Kendril gave a slow nod. “Yes, I think you should have.”

  She looked back over at him. “You have a plan already? To get into Dutraad’s estate?”

  The Ghostwalker continued to look out over the river. “Yes. It’s risky, but I trust my companions. They’re good at what they do.”

  “They’re not Ghostwalkers,” Madris said sharply. “We should come along as well.”

  “No,” said Kendril firmly. “Too many of us and Dutraad will smell a trap. We need to keep him complacent until we can retrieve the Soulbinder.”

  “So you just want us to sit quietly on the sidelines until you summon us?”

  “That’s about the size of it.”

  Madris gave a knowing smile. “You just don’t want Olan in your way.”

  Kendril gave a half-shrug. “That’s about the size of it too.”

  “The fate of Zanthora hangs in the balance, and you want me to cater to your personal preferences?”

  Kendril’s eyes flashed. “I didn’t—”

  “I know.” Madris leaned heavily on her cane. “This is your mission, Kendril. You have a plan, you have a team, and your logic seems sound. At least for now. To interfere at this stage, I believe, would cause more harm than good to our greater purpose.”

  Kendril visibly relaxed. “Thank you.”

  “But you will take Tomas in with you.”

  The Ghostwalker wrenched his head towards the older woman. “Tomas? Absolutely not!”

  Madris turned to face him. Her eyes were like steel. “I don’t care what you think o
f him personally, Kendril. Tomas is excellent at what he does, and his skills are exactly what you will need to infiltrate Dutraad’s estate. I want at least one other Ghostwalker with you.”

  Kendril’s face clenched. “But—”

  Madris hardened her gaze. “Olan is right about one thing, Kendril. You don’t know how to take orders. You never have. So tell me, if you were in my position, what would you do?”

  Kendril looked away in defeat. “I…would take over the whole operation myself and run it with the Ghostwalkers I had brought.”

  Madris tapped her cane. “Well, then, it seems we can both agree that I am already being more than generous. Tomas goes too.”

  “Agreed.” Kendril glanced back over at the old woman. “This could be the start of…of another Despair. You understand that?”

  Madris’ face grew grim. “Yes, Eru help us.”

  “Then why…?” Kendril spluttered off, a confused look on his face.

  Madris gave a kindly smile. “Because unlike Olan, I do believe in visions. And this Guardian appeared to you, Kendril. Not to Olan, and not to me. I can’t help but think there is a reason behind that, just as there is a reason behind everything.”

  Kendril brushed some snow off his shoulder. “Olan won’t like it.”

  “Truth be told, I don’t like Olan very much either.” Madris’ smile disappeared. “Kendril, if things here get out of hand, if your infiltration efforts fail and there is open conflict, then Olan has the right of command. He is Sword, I am Staff. The section is his if things become violent.”

  Kendril nodded. “I understand.”

  “I hope you do.”

  He glanced over at her. “You’re putting a lot of trust in me.”

  Madris smiled again. “I trust in Eru, Kendril. And if His purpose involves you, then that’s where I will put my faith as well.” The smile disappeared. “You have to get the Soulbinder back, Kendril. If Dutraad is able to use it…” She let the sentence hang unfinished.

  “My companions know what they’re doing,” said Kendril quickly. “They may not be Ghostwalkers, but I trust each of them with my life. They can do this.”

  “Kendril, Hello!” A figure in a bright red cape came traipsing up, his clean-shaven face almost as red in the cold air. “Out for a walk, are we? Yes, I see. Good for the lungs, I always say.” He came up beside the two Ghostwalkers, and straightened the feathered cap on his head.