Soul Binder (Personas of Legend Book 1)

by Dante King

  Soul Binder

  Personas of Legend 1

  Dante King

  Copyright © 2020 by Dante King

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  v002

  Free harem books!

  Join my email newsletter to receive a free ebook of the epic fantasy novel, Dragon Atlas.

  Like audiobooks? Sign up to my newsletter for a free audiobook of Immortal Swordslinger #1.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Want More Stories?

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  We’d been waiting three days when the riders finally arrived.

  One of the scouts whom I’d sent out to guard the perimeter of our camp came in at a run with the news. When he was through the stockade gate, he jogged across to where I was sitting, on a sawn log by the big central fire. In the ruddy light of the blaze, his eyes were wide as he looked up at me and delivered his news.

  “Riders, sir,” he gasped. “Twenty of them, coming from the direction of Saxehold.”

  “Well done, lad,” I told him, “go to your post now. I’ll see to the rest.”

  My axe was leaning against the bench at my side, and I swung it up onto my shoulder as I headed toward the gate, with the rest of my warband behind me. Twenty seasoned warriors, lifted shields and axes, and checked the gleaming buckles and leather straps on their iron armor. These riders were expected; we weren’t anticipating a fight, but it never hurt to be prepared.

  Silently, I led my band outside the stockade. Pitch-soaked torches threw red light onto the tall pine trees of the Grimwood. We stood with our backs to our freshly-raised stockade wall and waited. We didn’t have to wait long.

  The newcomers rode up quietly, tall figures on nimble little horses appearing one by one out of the darkness. Twenty hooded and cloaked warriors called their steeds to a halt outside the stockade.

  One rider came forward and pushed back a heavy hood to reveal a shining fall of golden hair. It was a woman. Her strong, fair-skinned face and bright blue eyes shone out from her dark cloak in the light of the torches. She scanned the waiting warriors and the freshly raised stockade, saying nothing. Then her eyes fell on me, and she smiled.

  “Leofwine,” she greeted me.

  “Cara Ironside,” I replied. “Welcome to our camp.”

  She cast another critical glance over the stockade, then raised an eyebrow. “Quick work,” she said. “Expecting trouble?”

  For answer, I gestured to the gate. “Come inside and bring your warriors. I’ll tell you all about it.”

  She shrugged, dismounted, and followed me into the camp.

  This was not the first time we’d met. Cara Ironside was well-known around my hometown of Saxehold, and she had caught my eye before now. It was no secret that I found her attractive, but we were both warriors in our prime. In Saxehold, romantic relationships were not considered appropriate between active war leaders. That didn’t stop me looking at her, however. When we got to the central fire, our warriors following, she shrugged out of her cloak to reveal figure-hugging leather armor. I ran my eyes up and down the lithe curves of her body with frank admiration. She returned my look and smiled.

  “Well, Leo,” she said, and I was pleased to hear that she shortened my name to the more familiar form, “are you going to tell me about it?”

  I looked around. Cara’s warriors were all women, some of the best shield-maidens in Saxehold. They all crowded around the central fire, side by side with my warriors. There was some good-natured jostling and flirting going on, and some men were bringing meat and ale from the stores to prepare a meal. One man was hauling out a harp, and another had got a game of dice going with two of Cara’s shield-maidens.

  “Let’s go somewhere quieter,” I suggested. Cara glanced around at our gathered warriors, smiled at the group playing dice, then nodded her agreement.

  We went to my tent, which was set up a little way off from the main fire. I gave orders for food and drink to be brought to us, and we went inside. The tent was made from well-cured hides and carpeted with furs. Heat and red light radiated out from a brazier of burning charcoal which sat in the center of the snug space. Cara looked around approvingly.

  “This is comfortable,” she said, “and well-kept. These furs...?” She gestured at the thick bearskin and wolfskin rugs which covered the floor and made up the generous sleeping pallet.

  “All my own kills, of course,” I said, letting the pride in my work come through in my words.

  “Impressive,” she said, and I could tell that she meant it. She sat down by the brazier, loosening her collar and continuing to look around the tent with her careful, observant eye. Her golden hair glowed like polished bronze in the light of the brazier. I was suddenly very glad that I took care to keep my tent tidy and in good order.

  There was wine on a low table at one side of the tent, and I poured some into silver cups for us. She eyed hers appreciatively as she took it from my hand, then smelled the wine and took a sip.

  “So, how much do you know already?” I asked as I sat opposite her. She regarded me thoughtfully, took another swallow of wine, then set her cup down beside her.

  “I only know what Thane Johan told me, Leofwine. The Festering has taken hold in the Westmarsh, and you are tasked with finding the source of it. You can only take one companion, and for some reason, that companion has to be me. He told me you and your warband were camping here, in the Grimwood on the edge of Westmarsh, and that I should come and find you straight away. Nothing more. It’s all very mysterious.”

  There was a discreet tapping on the outer ridgepole of the tent, and a man entered with a platter of roasted meat and some freshly-cooked bread. When he had left, Cara took out her bone-handled belt knife and casually cut half the meat, slapped it on a slice of bread, and began to eat. She chewed, looked at me meaningfully, then swallowed. “Well, go on,” she said, gesturing at me with her bread. “Tell me everything!”

  So I took a breath and told her.

  Nine days earlier, I was woken by a voice calling my name. I sat up, only to find that I wasn’t in my chambers in Thane Johan’s castle at Saxehold. Instead, I was standing upon a grassy sward overlooking green hills. It was a hilltop, and there were ruins, old bits of stone sticking up out of the grass in a rough ring, as if a tower had stood here once. The sun was high in a bright blue sky, and it was warm, warmer than I’d ever known Saxehold to be.

  Sitting on the remains of a section of wall was an old man dressed in a tattered gray robe, with long gray hair and a scraggly gray beard. He looked like a hermit in his humble clothes, with his bare feet drumming against the stone. On the wall beside him there was a drinking cup and a piece of bread. He looked up as if he had only just seen me, and then jumped off the wall and hurried over. The grass was up to his knees. Despite how vivid the scene was, I was convinced I must still be dreaming, so I simply stood and waited for him as he approached.

  “There
you are at last!” he said, sounding harassed. “I’ve been waiting for... well, I don’t quite know how long, but I’ve been waiting.”

  “What is this place?” I asked him. “Who are you?”

  He stood with his hands on his hips, his long beard wagging from side to side as he shook his head disapprovingly.

  “You mean to say you don’t know who I am? You’ve never seen me before? You young folk are all the same, no memory of... what was I saying? Anyway. I am one of the Keepers. Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of the Keepers.”

  I was trying not to laugh. He was dressed like the lowest kind of beggar, and yet here he stood glaring up at me, berating me as if he were a high lord and I was a disobedient child. I decided to humour him.

  “Ah, the Keepers!” I said, knowingly, though I’d never heard of them before.

  With incredible speed, he darted forward and struck me on the arm with much more force than I would have thought possible from such a wizened old fellow.

  “Don’t give me your cheek!” he said, wagging a finger at me. “This is no laughing matter. I have a quest for you, a job which you must do. A test, if you will, to measure your... abilities.”

  That piqued my interest. “I’m listening,” I said.

  His brow furrowed, and he turned to look out over the pleasant view.

  “The Festering comes,” he said, and the light faded for a moment, as if a cloud had passed over the sun. “On the western border of your land, the Festering has taken hold of an ancient relic of enormous power.”

  “What is this relic?” I asked.

  “It is the helmet of Theodoric Ironside, a great warrior of the ancient world. In the old days, powerful warriors bound their essences to enchanted items, but then the Festering came, and corrupted the joining between the great warriors and their items. The Festering draws on the power of the ancient ones to feed itself and spread its corruption all over the lands. It has bound itself to this relic, and you, Leofwine, must travel to the heart of the Festering and free the Helm of Ironside from its torment. Go to your Thane, and tell him what you have seen here. Tell him he has a role to play; he must choose you one companion, and you must accept his choice.”

  Then he reached out and placed his gnarled hand in the center of my chest and pushed me gently backward. The scene faded, and I woke for a moment in the familiar surroundings of my bedroom in the Thane’s castle. A strange dream, I thought, then turned over and went back to sleep.

  Cara was finishing her meal as I concluded the tale of my strange experience.

  “But you told the Thane?” she asked after a moment’s silence.

  I nodded. “When I woke in my bed the next morning, my arm was bruised where The Keeper had struck me, and there was grass stuck to my feet. It was clearly more than just a crazy dream, so I went to Thane Johan immediately and told him the whole story. When I told the Thane, he took it very seriously. He told me this was the legendary Call of the Keepers, and that it was imperative that we should obey. He would choose a companion to go with me, as instructed, then he told me to gather my warband and go immediately to Grimwood on the border between Saxe and Westmarsh and wait there for the companion whom he would choose. That’s the whole story. I had no idea who he would pick, but I’m glad it was you. The thought of running a mission like this with you is pretty attractive.”

  She grinned at me. “You’ll be glad to know I feel the same. I was getting a bit bored with goblin raids from the northern mountains, and someone needs to do something about the Festering. It’s never been this close to Saxe before. Also, I understand why Thane Johan picked me. I’m one of the last descendants of the Clan of Ironside, and Theodoric Ironside is our legendary ancestor. If I can help you rescue his Helm from a curse and cleanse the Festering from Westmarsh at the same time, then I’m all in!”

  “Excellent!” I grinned. “We’ll do well together, I’m sure. What skills have you been focusing on recently?”

  She placed a hand on her pouch and gave me a cunning look. “A few potions of a new design. As you well know, I’m a battle druid, Leo. Experimenting with potions is a big part of my skill building. Of course, I keep up my bladework and I’ll always love my bow, but the potions have been my main focus recently. What about you?”

  “I haven’t changed. It’s been axes for me, always axes,” I said, slapping the huge two-handed, double-headed monster of an axe that lay beside me. She eyed it critically.

  “That’s a big weapon. You never fancy something smaller?”

  “I’ve been practicing with two smaller ones recently, one in each hand, and I’ve a belt of throwing axes too, but it takes a lot of practice. Unless something crazy happens, I think the two-hander will always be my best weapon.”

  Cara nodded thoughtfully. “Tomorrow, we’ll head alone into the Festering, seeking the heart of the corruption. We must be prepared for anything.”

  The next morning, I rose from my bed at the first glimmer of gray light. At first glance, I thought the whole camp was asleep, except for the men who had watch duty. Then I saw Cara. She was dressed in a light, flowing dress of pale blue, and her feet were bare. Her long blonde hair hung loose down her back. Her maidens had pitched their tents along the stockade wall nearest the gate, and Cara’s tent was larger and finer than the rest.

  She was going through the movements of a form using a long, unusual-looking straightsword. When she saw me watching her, she stopped and walked over to me. She was naked under her blue dress, and the slight breeze pressed the thin fabric against the curves of her body, clearly outlining her curved hip, lush breasts, and erect nipples. I looked, and she knew I looked, but she did not seem to mind. She tossed her hair back and fixed me with her bright blue eyes.

  “That smell,” she said. “Is that the Festering?”

  I breathed in deeply through my nose. Under the rich scents of the tall pine trees that surrounded the stockaded camp, I could catch it. A sickly smell, like something dead left in the sun.

  “You get used to it after a few days,” I said. “I’d almost stopped noticing it. Yes, that’s the Festering. You can see it in the Westmarsh if you walk to the top of the ridge.”

  “I’d like to have a look, I think, before we go down.”

  “All right. Now?”

  She nodded. “Let me get my leathers on, then we’ll go.”

  When Cara emerged from her tent dressed again in her leather armor, we left the stockade and walked together up to the edge of the ridge that looked down on the Westmarsh.

  The Westmarsh had always been a beautiful place, a vast and untouched fen that stretched for miles. It was home to countless beasts, birds, insects, and it was said that benevolent spirits occupied the little tufts of woodland that dotted it here and there. Folk seldom ventured out into the marshlands. There were no paths, and there were pockets of deep water hidden by floating carpets of thick mosses. It could be a dangerous place for the unwary, but for the people of Saxe, the vast expanse of Westmarsh had always been a reassuring presence. North, south, and east, we would always have to watch our borders, but to the west, the vast marshlands ran right up to the cliffs at the edge of the Grimwood and kept an impenetrable guard on the western borderland of Saxe. Until now.

  Now, in a broad swathe of decay that cut through the flat landscape, the Festering had turned the lush green of the wetland to a sickly gray. Noxious vapors rose from the waters. On either side, there was still a wide expanse of untouched green, but the influence of the Festering cut like a huge arrowhead across the Westmarsh, the tip of the arrow pointing toward the cliff where we stood.

  “Ugly, isn’t it?” she said, and her voice shook a little.

  “Does it affect you?” I asked her. “I mean, do you feel it? In your heart.”

  She didn’t look at me, but she nodded, slowly.

  “I do too,” I assured her. “The influence is less strong with me, but I feel it. When we go down, it may be stronger. If it’s getting too much for you, tell me.�
�

  Her eyes flicked up to meet mine. “Don’t worry about me, Leo, I’ve got something that will do the trick I think.” She patted her bulging potion belt and smiled. “When do we leave?”

  “As soon as we get our bags from the camp and rouse our warriors to see us off. If we leave now, we’ll have plenty of daylight to make use of. The Festering will be bad during the day, but I guess it’ll be even worse at night.”

  Back at the camp, all was activity and bustle as the men and women of our honor guard got ready to see us off. It had been agreed that this stockade should be occupied by our warriors either until the Festering withdrew, or we returned with fresh orders. If nothing changed for a year and a day, our warriors were to pick new leaders from among their own ranks, and return to the service of Thane Johan of Saxehold. Neither my men nor Cara’s shield-maidens were particularly happy to see us go off on this dangerous quest alone, but they all understood the honor that came with such a quest.

  We did not know how long our quest would take, so we packed enough rations to last for two weeks with care. The water in the Festering would be foul, but Cara had a potion which would render even the foulest water drinkable, so we were saved the trouble of having to carry many waterskins. We got our gear together, lifted our weapons, and in a very short time, we were ready to go.

  I had my big two-handed axe, my leather and iron armor, and a cloak of brown bearskin. At Cara’s urging, I’d also brought my pair of one-handed axes and my belt of small throwing axes. I’d considered bringing a bow and a quiver of arrows, but decided against it, since that was one of Cara’s particular specialisations. She looked good as we got ready to go. Her straightsword was at her hip, and she carried two long curved knives there as well. Slung around her hips above the swords she had her potion belt; this had a bewildering array of different holders for tubes, vials, pouches, bottles, and the many small tools of her trade. Her cloak was of fine sable, black as night, and her boots were knee high, made of supple leather and also dyed black. Slung across her back she carried a neatly-sized recurve bow and a quiver of arrows.