Rended Souls

by Daniel Kuhnley

  “Fine.” Rakzar stood and walked over to the single window. “Bring a warm coat. Winter isn’t finished with us yet.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Thanks to Blackwind’s blinding speed, Wrik made great time, reaching the edge of the Alcedonia Forest in just under two hours. Minutes later, a small clearing came into view, just east of Alcedonia Lake. Using mindspeak, Wrik directed Blackwind to land there. Blackwind touched down in the knee-high grass, soft as a feather landing. Wrik dismounted.

  His feet had barely touched the ground when the presence of several elves bombarded the defenses of his mind. Had he not been prepared for the assault, they would’ve paralyzed him. As it was, they surrounded him, deep-blue, watersteel weapons drawn. He made no sudden moves and ordered Blackwind to fly beyond the forest and wait until he called upon him. Blackwind looked back at Wrik, snorted, and took to the sky with a leap.

  One of the elves stepped forward, a male. His stark-white skin and dark-blue hair contrasted the yellows, browns, and greens of the surrounding forest. The patches of black hair in front of his pointed ears signified his position among the clan, a leader of the warriors. Wrik recognized him immediately despite him no longer being a young boy. They called him Tuular.

  Tuular spoke in an elvish tongue that Wrik knew. “Why have you trespassed on our land? Your kind are not welcome here.” He spat on the grass.

  He doesn’t remember me.

  Wrik bowed to the tall, slender man and spoke in his native tongue. “I seek Noella.”

  “Noella takes no visitors.” The gills on the sides of Tuular’s neck opened and closed tirelessly.

  “Agreed, but she’ll take me. We’ve known each other for many years.” He folded his arms behind his back. “Tell her that Wizard Wrik seeks an audience with her.”

  A beautiful, slender woman emerged from the shadows. Her long, blue hair, woven into a single braid, rested over the front of her left shoulder. A few loose strands curled down either side of her narrow face, offsetting her porcelain skin and enhancing her beauty. Pointed ears, capped in silver, nearly reached the top of her head. A silver line traced her light-blue lips, and a silver nose ring hung from her right nostril, signifying her place amongst the äəllf äkfeʈik: royalty.

  “Ah, Princess Noella.” Wrik greeted her with a smile and bowed low, all the while keeping his gaze trained on her. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”

  Noella’s large eyes, bright-blue and deep-set, grabbed his attention and held him prisoner. Her heated glare would melt the southern icecaps if she were to turn it upon them. “I cannot say the same of you.”

  Wrik straightened. “Forgive my intrusion into your sacred kingdom, but there is something I desperately need from you. Some herbs that can only be found at the bottom of Alcedonia Lake.”

  She circled Wrik. He turned with her, his gaze locked with hers. “You’ve come to the wrong place, wizard. Be gone before I give the signal for them to gut you.”

  “Make no mistake, princess. I come bearing a gift you’ll want to see.” He smiled wide.

  Noella’s weapon, a double-sided, curved knife, glinted in the fading light. He hadn’t noticed it in her hand before. She gripped its blue bamboo handle firmly, her white knuckles nearly transparent. Its six-inch, curved blades could kill nearly anything within minutes with the smallest cut. The watersteel’s unique properties caused wounds inflicted by it to leech water, dehydrating the victim.

  Her eyes narrowed. “You’ve come here to try and bribe me? Have you not already insulted us enough with your mere presence?”

  “The gift I bring comes from beyond our shores. Beyond our realm.” He leaned forward for effect and whispered, “Beyond our world.”

  Intrigue flashed in Noella’s eyes, but her face revealed nothing of the like. “Take him to the palace and lock him up.”

  Wrik held out his hands. Water cuffs encircled his wrists and linked to each other. “This will be worth your time.” He winked at her. “I swear it.”

  Ten minutes later, Wrik sat inside a cell far below the surface of Alcedonia Lake. He’d been there several times, many years ago, but his last visit hadn’t been a pleasant one. Unlike that last time, he brought something with him that he thought would be of great worth to the elves, and the item meant very little to him. An easy exchange for the herbs and access to Nasduron.

  I’d pay any price to reach Nasduron.

  After waiting several minutes, the cell door opened and Noella entered. She closed the door behind herself and ordered the guards to leave. They did without question, and she turned her wicked grin toward him. She met him in the center of the cell, removed his water cuffs, and threw her arms around his waist.

  “Wrik, I am so happy to see you alive. My father told me that he’d had you tortured and killed when you came here the first time. It devastated me.”

  “It was nothing, truthfully. I’ve suffered far worse and would do so again to see your beautiful face.”

  She kissed his left cheek and then his right and then pulled away. From one of her pockets she produced a small bag and handed it to him. “Here are the herbs you requested.”

  “You are a life-saver.” He stuffed the bag in one of his robe pockets. “How will I ever repay you?”

  Her eyes widened and her cheeks glowed. “Show me this thing you claim is from another world.”

  Wrik reached into his robes and withdrew a folded kerchief. “Close your eyes and hold out your hand.” She did.

  He unwrapped the item and placed it in her hand. “Tell me what you hear. What do you feel?”

  Noella breathed deep. Her eyes moved rapidly back and forth underneath her eyelids. “I hear… ticking. Each tick jolts the item ever so slightly. Almost undetectable. It’s cool to the touch and rough.” She closed her hand over it and stroked it with her fingers. “A round surface. Smooth like glass.”

  Wrik nodded with excitement. “Yes! Do you know what it is?” Noella shook her head. “Then open your eyes and see what it is that you hold.”

  When Noella opened her eyes she gasped, the gills on her neck spread wide. “It’s… beautiful.” She held it in front of her face and scrutinized it further, twisting and turning it between her fingers. She cocked her head and listened closely, the item pressed against her ear. She shook it several times. “Why does it tick? What’s its purpose?” Her eyes widened. “Is it dangerous?”

  Wrik grinned. “As I understand it, it’s called a wristwatch.”

  “A wrist-watch?” She frowned. “Why would you need something to watch your wrist? And how does it watch? Does it have eyes?” She examined it again. “The ticking is its heart?”

  “No, no, nothing like that. The wristwatch isn’t alive.”

  “Then how does it watch?”

  “It’s a mechanical chronograph. Those hands underneath the glass signal the time of day. Its original owner calibrated it to work in our world.”

  “A chronograph…” Her eyes narrowed. “What are the letters around the circle for?”

  “Those are called Roman numerals. They signify the hours of the day in one-hour increments.” He looked at the face of the watch. “According to the watch, if I’m reading it correctly, it is half past the ninth hour in the evening.”

  Noella nodded. “As you say.”

  “It is called a wristwatch because you wear it around your wrist.”

  She slid her hand through the band. The watch hung loosely. She wiggled her arm and the watch slipped off. She grabbed it with her toes before it hit the floor and lifted it back up to her hand. “It’s too big.”

  “I believe there’s a way to adjust it, but you’ll have to figure it out on your own. Now, I must get back and save a friend’s life before it’s too late.”

  She took his hand. “Will I ever see you again?”

  “To be certain, provided I’m not truly killed this time.” He winked at her. “It is so good to see you, Noella.”

 
“Likewise.” She eyed the wristwatch. “Thank you so much for the gift. I will fully understand its purpose by the time I see you again.”

  Wrik held up a finger. “Ah, yes. I almost forgot. I brought several pages of notes with me that pertain to the wristwatch.” He reached into his robes, withdrew a sizable stack of parchment, and handed it to her. “You will be an expert in no time.” He chuckled. “See what I did there?”

  She sighed. “Your words aren’t as funny as you might think.”

  “In time, you will get it.”

  She smiled. “Let me show you the way out before you’ve overstayed your welcome.”

  When they emerged from the cell, Noella’s attitude toward Wrik returned to indifference. She didn’t join the escort that took him back to the clearing in the forest but instructed them to leave him unharmed as long as he left immediately. By the time they reached the clearing, Blackwind awaited him.

  Wrik stroked Blackwind’s neck after he approached the magnificent beast. He turned to say farewell, but the elves had already faded into the forest. He mounted Blackwind and they took to the sky.

  “Home,” he mindspoke to Blackwind. Blackwind banked east and headed toward the Cariosus Forest and Galondu Castle.

  We must return before death pays Gnaud a visit.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Dusk had settled in about an hour earlier, leaving Custos Bay shrouded in deep shadows. The sparse lights of Celsus Litus waned in the distance, an echo of Savric’s grim mood. Neither Qotan nor Zerenity had moved much during the last twelve hours, opting to lay on the ship’s deck with all the other infected people most of the time.

  Twice, Savric narrowly avoided detection by members of the ship’s crew, ducking down and burying himself amongst the infected. On three other occasions, he avoided capture by subduing the overzealous crew members with the help of Eshtak and a touch of mezhik. All of them now resided in the cell down in the ship’s hold with the first two men, and he was certain the cell wouldn’t hold anyone else.

  Twenty minutes later and without further incident, the ship came into port in Celsus Litus. Another ten minutes, and they had the ship moored to the pier. Gangplanks extended from the ship deck to the dock, one at the front of the ship and one at the back. The horde of infected rose from the deck in unison, a disquieting act to say the least. Savric teleported off the ship and into the shadows of another vessel farther down the docks.

  “Blech. More of ‘em.”

  Savric spun around so quick that he lost his footing and fell back onto the dock. Pain erupted in his tailbone and shot up the length of his spine. All thoughts of defense escaped his mind. “Feathers!” Savric glared up at the shadowy figure. “You scared the wit from my mind.”

  A red circle of light the size of a large coin glowed and lit the man’s face as he toked the thick cigar hanging between his lips. The burly man made no move to attack Savric or to help him up. He only frowned. “Don’ look at me like that. You’re the one popped in from outta nowhere.”

  Savric groaned as he pulled himself to his feet. His bones protested as well, cracking and popping with every move. “Əllíʈ ʊb.” The top of Qotan’s staff burst to life with white light, chasing away the deep shadows that hung between Savric and the burly man. “Pray tell the meaning of your words.”

  The man cocked his head and scratched his chin with chipped, dirty nails. They dragged through a good day’s worth of brown stubble. “Few wielders ‘round these parts.”

  Wielders. Although not an archaic term for wizards, Savric hadn’t heard anyone use it in several decades. Then again, he hadn’t traveled the western coast in several decades either. The beachers—a self-given title for those that lived along the coastline—spoke with the same dialect as the northerners, but their vocabulary differed greatly.

  Savric stroked his beard. “To be certain. Now, were you referring to the infected before?”

  The man yanked the cigar from his mouth, smoke streaming from his nostrils and billowing from his lips. “Infected?” he scoffed. “Crazy coots more like it. Migratin’ southeast just as winter comes to a head. Never in my life I’ve seen such nonsense.”

  Savric waved the cigar smoke away from his face. “Then you’ve seen more of them?”

  The man nodded, shoved the cigar back in his mouth, and took a long drag. The cigar’s end glowed red-hot again. “Live ‘cross town. Just outside.” His cigar wagged in his mouth when he spoke.

  It looks as though he has swallowed a puppy. Savric chuckled to himself.

  The man frowned but continued, “Was up at the break with the pigs this mornin’ when a whole heard of ‘em wandered right on through my pasture. Not a care between the lot of ‘em.”

  “Do you know where they came from?”

  “City folk. Country folk. No difference. Two hands up and left. Lucky I hadn’t paid ‘em yet.”

  This situation is far worse that I had imagined.

  Savric dipped his head toward the man. “Thank you for your time, good sir. Now, I must attend to some urgent matters.”

  The man grunted and walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the night.

  Several questions swirled in Savric’s head, none of which he had answers for.

  Qotan would have had answers. Although they might not have matched my questions.

  He desperately missed their exchanges. Who could he lean on for answers now? A woman with blue hair and pale skin came to mind.

  Morcinda.

  Savric smiled. The elves, no matter their race or faction, always held the answers to unfathomable questions. He harbored no doubts as to whether or not Morcinda would as well. Savric slammed the butt-end of Qotan’s staff against the dock and removed his hand. The staff stayed upright on its own.

  Calen would have been impressed with that.

  Heartache filled his chest. He’d been away from Daltura for weeks and hadn’t contacted Calen once. Now that he thought about it, he’d missed Calen’s name day as well.

  I promise I will make it up to you, my boy.

  Another thought crossed his mind. If this infection is as widespread as it seems, there are likely many infected people in Daltura as well.

  He gasped. “Calen…”

  What if the boy had been infected as well? Losing Calen would devastate him just as much as losing Qotan or Reni. He couldn’t be in two places at once, so what could he do? In that moment, the best and only thing he knew to do was pray, so he did.

  Ƨäʈūr, I pray that Calen is not among the infected. Please keep him safe until I can go check on him.

  Certain Calen would be okay, Savric set his mind to the task at hand. He reached into the folds of his robes and pulled out the small, leather-bound book he’d taken from Rayah. A thick layer of dust covered it. He brushed the dust away with his sleeve, revealing the symbol of light and freedom embossed on its cover: Ƨäəll Dhef Ƨäfn Dhä.

  “The Seal of the Seven.” It filled him with pride and wonder every time he gazed upon it. He imagined it did for the seven who created it as well.

  Three parts comprised the seal, layered within one another. The outermost layer looked like a golden iris and symbolized the eye of Ƨäʈūr, the one true, all-knowing God. The second layer, a vibrant-blue heptagram, filled the center of the iris where one might normally find the eye’s pupil. The heptagram, a seven-pointed star, represented Ūrdär Dhef Ƨäfn Dhä—The Order of the Seven. Without the order, all would’ve been lost in the Great War. A yellow lightning bolt, the third and final layer, sat in the center of the heptagram. It symbolized their resolve to do what needed to be done and the manner in which they chose to do it: strike randomly but with precision, meaning they would fight without a discernible pattern, but their strikes would prove deadly.

  A small, golden clasp on the book’s right-hand side held the book closed. It had no keyhole or release mechanism. Savric nodded knowingly and placed his hand over the seal. “In əllíʈ Hiz.”
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  Click!

  The clasp fell open. Savric opened the book to the first page, a blank one, and then retrieved the fountain pen from within the small pouch located on the book’s inside cover. He pressed the pen’s tip to the page and thought a moment about what he intended to say to Morcinda.

  He began writing: “Greetings, Morcinda. I write to you with a heavy heart and great despair. In the last day, I followed a large group of infected people onto a ship in Tyrosha. Each of them exhibits white skin with black veins, and black inkwells fill their eyes. When confronted they are unresponsive. They have gathered in mass and march toward the southeast, but to where and for what purpose, I am uncertain. In light of this news I have two questions for you. Have you seen this phenomenon happening elsewhere, and does it affect more than just humans? I look forward to your response. In əllíʈ Hiz. -Savric”

  Savric tapped the page with the fountain pen, and the words faded. He didn’t know how long it would be before Morcinda responded, and he didn’t have the luxury of waiting around. It could be minutes, hours, or days. He stuffed the fountain pen back in its pouch and closed the book.

  Ƨäəll Dhef Ƨäfn Dhä pulsed with blue light on the book’s cover. Could Morcinda have responded so quickly? He yanked on the cover, but the clasp had already locked itself. He placed his hand over the seal, said the words of mezhik, and yanked the book open. He grabbed the fountain pen from its pouch and tapped the first page with its tip.

  Words formed on the page in black ink. He read them as fast as they appeared. “Master Savric, as you know, I travel the Ancient Realm frequently. Every town and city I have been to is overrun with infected people. However, this virus or disease does indeed seem to affect only humans. Thank Ƨäʈūr I am äəllfin. -Morcinda”

  He tapped the page with the fountain pen and began writing even as Morcinda’s words faded. “I do not know the evil forces behind this, but I am certain no good will come of these events. I am in a position to find out exactly what is happening and will keep you apprised as events unfold. In the meantime, are you willing to take this information to King Zaridus? I believe his kingdom is in danger. In əllíʈ Hiz. -Savric”