Soul Sanctuary: Book Two Of The Spirit Shield Saga

by Susan Faw

  “This potion will hide you from view should you need it. There is only one dose, and the effects will wear off within five minutes, but that may be just enough if the situation is dire.”

  Aossi turned to Achak, who knelt in front of Aossi with his head bowed. She placed her hands on his head and murmured, “You are now appointed as Avery’s guardian. You are her protector. This is a grave charge. Swear to me, on your belief in death and rebirth that you will guard her life as your own.”

  Achak swore his oath. When Aossi’s hands lifted, he looked up. “You have magic at your command. Use it in her service. Your phoenix will add to your strength.”

  Aossi stepped back, and her impish smile returned. “This will be a great game! Play well, and you might just save the world.” With a skip and a jump, she sprang onto the unicorn’s back. “Farewell and good luck, Mother.” Aossi and the unicorn left, their images blurring and fading within three steps.

  Avery stood up, brushing leaves from her knees. She walked over to Achak. Taking his hand in hers, she led the way out of the glade and to their waiting horses.

  Chapter 22

  Sleepwalker

  CAYDEN WOKE WITH A POUNDING HEADACHE. His rest had been disturbed and troubled, filled with dreams he could never recall upon waking but that still left him sweaty and shaking. His muscles were stiff, locked up tighter than a saddle girth and he only managed to relax them after a few minutes of stretching in the tent. None of it touched the pain of his headache. He grimaced and pulled on his clothes, stamping into his boots and then belting on his sword before flinging his cloak over his shoulders.

  The dawn was cold and crisp as an apple but already warming as the sun crested the horizon. Restless, he stepped out, intent on a walk around the camp. Four guards dropped in behind him before he could take two strides. He ignored them. He was getting good at that. He had no place in mind to go other than he wanted to stretch out the remaining tightness in his thighs and hips before spending the day confined to a saddle once again.

  He had walked about a quarter of the distance around the perimeter of the camp when his head throbbed with pain so intense that it felt as though a white-hot iron was thrust into his temple. He cried out, clapping his hands to the sides of his head and fell to the ground writhing, screaming at the top of his lungs. His guard rushed up, hollering for help and tried to restrain him, but Cayden jerked out of their grip in a spasm of agony. His eyes rolled back so that only the whites could be seen. His screaming went on and on, and suddenly Mordecai was there. The guards parted, allowing him to kneel beside Cayden. Mordecai took Cayden’s head in both of his hands and gripped it tightly, chanting in a singsong but commanding voice. Cayden arched his back, and drool dribbled out of the corner of his mouth. Mordecai did not let go. Gradually, Cayden’s twisting slowed and his body stilled. With a final sharp command, Cayden sagged, body limp and still on the ground.

  Mordecai took one hand away and retrieved a polished stone from his pocket and placed it on Cayden’s forehead. Still chanting, he drew a line with both hands from temple to stone, repeating the motion three times to establish the link. He stopped chanting and then removed the rock. Cayden’s eyes popped open, confusion evident on his face. He turned his head to see the crowd of Kingsmen bending over him and tried to lift himself. Mordecai helped him to sit up. Cayden grimaced and placed a hand on the swelling lump on the back of his head. It came away red, slick with blood. Cayden said nothing but motioned for Mordecai to let him up. Two Kingsmen stepped forward and helped Cayden to his feet. A Kingsman reached into his pocket and handed him a fold of cloth, which he took gratefully, pressing it to the abrasion on his scalp.

  “Thank you,” Cayden said. The Kingsman nodded and stepped back. So much for loosening my muscles, Cayden thought. I think I know why I did not get any rest last night.

  He hobbled away, Mordecai at his side. “What happened?” Cayden asked. The headaches were increasing in frequency and strength.

  “Another attack. I was able to repel it. It is a powerful magic. Cayden, I have been doing some research.”

  Cayden rolled his eyes. “When are you not doing research? Never mind. What is it you wanted to tell me?” he said, rubbing at his temple. The headache was always present.

  Mordecai shook his head and grabbed his arm to stop him from walking away. He lowered his voice. “Listen to me. This is serious!” he hissed. “I believe that it is a form of Primordial magic being used against you! I think someone has created a Soul Fetch.”

  He snorted. “A Soul Fetch? I have never heard of such a thing. Besides, I have had these headaches ever since I moved into the castle. I think it is more likely that someone has been trying to poison me.”

  It was Mordecai’s turn to frown, then he raised his hands and delved Cayden’s body with a quick spell designed to determine the health of an individual. His brows drew together when he detected poison in his body.

  “It would appear that your instincts are correct. I do detect a small quantity poison, although it is fading now. As it is weakening, that would confirm your theory that the source of the poison is at the castle. However it does not explain the headaches that are occurring now.”

  “What is a Soul Fetch?” Cayden asked, his eyes clouded with worry and the residual pain of the attack.

  “It is an ancient magic held by the High Priests of the Flesh Clans. I think someone is trying to build a link to you and the link is getting stronger.” Mordecai paced off ten steps, feet kicking the hem of his robes, hands clasped behind his back as he thought. “The possessor of the doll is trying to take control of you and I fear they may be able to do it. I am researching ways to block it, but until I find a way, all I can do is assist you when an attack comes. For that I need to be close.”

  “I don’t believe it,” snorted Cayden. “I have some headaches, a residual of the poison in my system. That is all. It’s probably stress.” Mordecai shook his head, negating Cayden’s theory. “So what if I have been feeling sick. Everyone has times of illness. Besides, I have never even heard of a Soul Fetch.”

  “All the signs are there, Cayden. Soul Fetches are extremely rare. Think. The headaches started up just after the recall of the coins. Remember how you could not locate them all?”

  Cayden laughed. “Coins? You want to blame the coins? There were not enough missing to bribe a guard.”

  “The coins are not a bribe. They are a connection to you, a solid connection. A Soul Fetch needs something personal, something important to the victim, in order to bind them. Not only do they bear your likeness, but you imbued them with your will, by making them the objects of such an intense search. It is precisely the type of magic that a Soul Fetch utilizes.” Mordecai paused in front of Cayden, knowing his next words would not be received well. “I do not think it wise for you to sleep unattended any longer.”

  “What? I am not having the entire camp standing in my tent when I am trying to sleep!” As Cayden’s voice rose in anger, the guards behind him dropped back a pace. When a king and a wizard argued, it was never good to be close by.

  “Well, what do you suggest, Cayden? I could sleep in the same tent with you, and then I would be there to assist you immediately.”

  “And listen to your snoring all night long? And those spooky eyes that never close? It won’t matter if I am attacked. I won’t fall asleep with you there.” Cayden rubbed his temple, grateful that the headache had lessened with Mordecai’s assistance and annoyed at feeling grateful at the same time.

  Mordecai sighed with frustration. “Cayden, this is for your own good. Someone wants you desperately, and we do not need to form a long list before we arrive at the most likely culprit. Alcina must be in possession of the doll. She will know you are near. This is why I counseled you to stay in the castle to remain safely away from her machinations.”

  “It would not have mattered if I was here or in the castle, she would still have attacked me.”

  “True, but there, it would have been e
asier to care for you.”

  He is treating me like an invalid, like I am sick or diseased. Cayden’s heart hardened despite his gratitude. He would not be controlled by Mordecai, or anyone else for that matter. He knew that Avery needed him. He felt the pull of her soul. He had to reach her and Ziona. Somehow, that bond was muted, fuzzy as though it had been tossed under a heavy cover of blankets, muffling the connection.

  Mordecai sighed and put out an arm, stopping Cayden. “If you will not allow anyone within your chambers, then I insist you take this.” He reached inside his robes and pulled out a simple stone and placed it in Cayden’s upturned palm. Cayden examined it, turning it over in his hand. It was exactly what it appeared to be, a smooth stone embedded with clear crystal, covered in dirt as though Mordecai had just plucked it from a river bed.

  Cayden looked up, puzzled, and in a flat tone said, “You want me to have a rock.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Did anyone ever tell you that you are a bit strange?”

  Mordecai chuckled. “Oh yes, I have been told and by stranger men than you.”

  “Do you mind me asking why you want me to have a stone?”

  “Ask away.” His eyes twinkled, enjoying the game.

  “So I can remember you always?” Cayden’s tone dripped sarcasm.

  “Yes! Yes! Very good!” Mordecai clapped his hands together, gleefully.

  Cayden rubbed a hand across his forehead as it gave a painful throb. “So I can remember you? I do not see any engraving.”

  “It’s not a party favour. It is a memory stone.”

  “A memory stone,” Cayden said in a flat voice.

  “Yes, a memory stone. This is how it works. Before you go to sleep at night, tuck it under your pillow. The stone will remember everything in your head right up until you fall asleep. In the morning when you wake, put it back in your pocket. You will pick right back up where you left off the night before.

  “So…what happens if I forget to put the stone in my pocket?” Nervous about the answer, he shied away from Mordecai’s gaze.

  Bleak clouds drifted across his eyes. “Then…you will be lost.”

  Not reassuring, Mordecai! Lovely…just lovely. Now I am supposed to trust everything to a bloody stone?

  ***

  Cayden tossed and turned and his blankets twisted around his sweat-soaked body.

  Cayden, come to me. Rescue me.

  Cayden mumbled, his head thrashing on his pillow

  Cayden, rescue me. Rescue me.

  Cayden sat bolt upright on his cot. His eyes, glazed and unseeing, were wider than a full moon. The memory stone tumbled from his fingers to the floor of the tent, forgotten.

  He rose with the jerky motions of a puppet and pulled on clothes and then, taking up his sword, he slit the back of the tent. With the silent but sure tread of a sleepwalker, he disappeared into the night.

  ***

  Cayden struggled to wake. Vaguely, he knew that something was wrong. The dream would not end. It was as if he were peering at the world through a spyglass, everything distorted and blurred around the edges. The tents of the camp faded away and trees overtook the narrowed view. He floated through a hazy but amazingly pain-free world. That, in itself, was a vast improvement from the last week. Maybe now I can get some real sleep…if only I’d stop dreaming. Or maybe I am asleep and this is part of the dream? He reached out to the horse that swam into focus in front of him. It felt real enough under his hands.

  An undeniable force clamped down on his mind, steely and commanding. “Get on the horse.”

  Obediently, he put his foot in a stirrup and swung onto the horse. It started off, and the swaying of the beast pulled him. He fell into a deep sleep, rocking gently in the saddle.

  ***

  Cayden woke with a start. The forest of his dream had vanished. In its place, striped canvas walls filled his vision. He was kneeling on a plush carpeted floor on which sat the legs of an ornate chair. The chair was not empty. Groggily, he lifted his head to see Alcina, dressed in a low-cut green gown that clung to her curves, seated in a throne-like chair. Cayden blinked and shook his head to clear it, trying to gain control of his senses, but it was like trying to grab the shifting sand of an hourglass. Thought and memory trickled through his fingers until Alcina spoke.

  “Look who we have here. The mighty king of Cathair.” She stood up and walked around him in a circle, twitching the drag of her hem out of the way of her pearled boots. “How I have waited for this moment. You have done well, my pet.” She stroked his hair, trailing her fingers through it as she passed behind him. “You have come as called, as I commanded.”

  Cayden’s low ebb of panic bubbled ever higher, struggling to free him, but he could not take command of it to make it his own. It shifted away and drowned, leaving him groggy and semiconscious once again.

  “I will enjoy controlling you, I think.” She completed her circuit and sat back in her chair once more. “Before I kill you, I am going to use you to regain my throne and take control of this miserable world. Before I kill you, you will restore me to my rightful place. I will squeeze your mind and your soul, until you beg for release. The torture of your mind will be delicious! In your lucid moments you will remember what you have done and weep for it. The first place to start is with these pathetic Primordials. You, my pet, will be the key to their failure and to their surrender.”

  The words registered in Cayden’s brain, but somehow, he could not muster the will to care.

  Alcina reached over and picked up a doll that resembled Cayden in form. A crude approximation of his clothing dressed the straw. A pin was jabbed into the temple. “See this? I am now your master. When I locate the other doll, I will also control your sister. Soon you will be my playthings, and those you love will never see it coming. Not one of your Kingsmen would lift a finger to harm you, and it will be your undoing.” The fingers of her left hand tapped on the arm of her chair, head tilted to study Cayden. She bent over and grasped his chin in her hand, tilting his face up. His eyes flickered with the wild element of a trapped animal. With the other hand, she twisted the pin and Cayden’s eyes widened and crazed with pain. He gasped, a scream ripping from his hoarse throat. His hands gripped the sides of his head, and he toppled sideways on the lush carpet, tearing his head from her grasp.

  “You will obey my every order without hesitation, my pet. You can’t imagine the torture I can inflict on you by this lovely doll now that I have control of your mind.” She released the pressure of the pin, and Cayden squinted through watering eyes, trying to bring the swimming doll into focus.

  “For your first task, I’d like you to meet an old friend. I promise you will enjoy it,” she purred.

  Chapter 23

  Deepest Desires

  ZIONA SAT UP, rubbing the itching abrasions on her wrists from the fibrous ropes. The thin blanket they had left for her slid to her lap as the heavy wooden door of her makeshift cell was flung wide open with a crash. There was no light in the decrepit stone hut, nor was there a source of heat. She shivered with cold, blinking at the sudden glare of light from a lantern held aloft, and her eyes fell on a man stepping across the threshold. Tall and broad-shouldered, his sky blue cloak was flung back to reveal a royal purple tunic was matched with tan pants, tucked into tall suede boots. His face was hidden by shadows as he paused while her two guards pulled the door tight and locked it from the outside.

  He raised the hand holding the lantern higher, the light pushing back the dark and illuminating his face. Even without the light, Ziona knew who this was. Cayden stepped toward her. As his face became fully revealed, she saw that his brow was pinched with pain, deep furrows of strain puckering his skin. He swallowed heavily, Adam’s apple bobbling. A trickle of sweat rolled down the side of his face from a forehead beaded with moisture. Her momentary spike of joy at seeing him flushed away, replaced by a feeling of dread. He was in pain. Great pain.

  He appeared sick, but from what, Ziona couldn’t tell.


  Cayden, what is wrong? She spoke through their link, only to find that the link was damaged. She could sense him there, but it felt as though a solid brick wall had formed between them. She sensed cracks in the emotional mortar, allowing occasional glimpses of the man she knew, but always the wall repelled her attempts to breech it. She could sense him struggling to find a way around the wall and reach out to her but to no avail.

  Suddenly, he jerked into motion as though someone else controlled his steps. He hung the lantern on the peg on the stone wall then removed his purple cloak and hung it beside the lantern on a second peg. He shivered as the cool of the cave touched his fevered brow.

  Ziona stood up and walked over to him, placing a hand on his chest. Cayden, can you hear me? Come on, Cayden, fight it! Speak to me! Use my strength through the bond. I am here. Reach for me.

  Cayden shuddered at her touch, and she felt the burning heat of his body against her hand. Ziona’s eyes caught his fevered gaze and recoiled at the wild look about them, as though he was teetering on the edge of madness. His crazed eyes frightened her, and she nearly backed away, but then she remembered how he had saved her and that he did love her. They were bonded mind, spirit, and soul.

  Whatever comes of this, I trust him. I swore that my life was his to do with as he chose. Ziona took a deep, shuddering breath to slow her racing heart, then reached out and enclosed one of Cayden’s hands in hers. Gathering his wild eyes with her warm, welcoming ones, she spoke to him aloud in a soft voice. “Cayden, you know that I trust you. Do not be afraid. I am not afraid. I am yours, remember?”

  Cayden’s green eyes flickered with the memory, and just for a second, the madness receded. He gasped, “Alcina! She…she is controlling me…by a doll! I cannot fight it for long. Ziona! I don’t think I can stop her from doing what she wants with me. I cannot get past the doll.” He grimaced with pain and cried out, clutching at his back and stumbling, falling to his knees at the stab of pain that pierced his back. “She is taking control again, Ziona, bond with me, quickly!” Ziona grabbed his hands, and they merged their minds before the wall closed again. The madness returned to his eyes, but the core of him, the gentle man that Ziona had come to care for so deeply, remained.