Sir Edge

by Trevor H. Cooley

  Instantly, Bertrom’s wounds faded. His face and chest were undamaged, and his eyes were wide and fill of vitality and energy. Lucinder’s jaw dropped open in shock.

  Then the moment ended. Priestess Sren laughed and climbed to her feet and her smile was wider than ever. Her eyes sparkled. “It worked! Lucinder, you finally had your awakening!”

  “I’m so sorry, my son!” wailed Queen Elise and Lucinder realized she was sobbing.

  “She’s sorry.” Sren shook her head good-naturedly. “Your mother chose this path long ago and we are all grateful for it.”

  Bertrom jerked at his chains, trying to get free, but his restraints were firmly planted in the wall. “It’s not too late, kid,” he shouted. “Get free! Go!”

  But Lucinder couldn’t go. Ghat was strong and he was frozen in the orc’s grasp.

  “Oh, be silent,” Sren said and she stabbed Bertrom in the chest again. This time there was no burst of power. No miraculous healing. Instead, a swirl of black mist began to leech from the hilt. Bertrom screamed, pulling at his restraints as the darkness slowly gathered. Then he slumped, the life leaving his eyes.

  Sren walked to the Dark Bowl and lifted the black orb that had long rested inside. She brought it over to him and gestured. Lucinder couldn’t move. She reached out with the dagger and made a slashing motion. The prince felt no pain. He looked down and watched as she took the black orb and slid it into the hole she had just cut in his chest.

  Lucinder’s vision went black. He floated in emptiness. At least his head no longer hurt.

  A familiar voice spoke to him. You did it, Lucinder. I thank you.

  What happens now? Lucinder asked.

  To you? The dark voice was almost kind as it said, You rest here. It’s time for me to return.

  The prince’s eyes opened. He looked down and saw the faint scar on his chest where the black moonrat eye had been planted. He pulled his hand free from the warwielder’s grasp.

  “I live,” he said and smiled. It amused him that the voice that came out of his mouth was the voice of a fifteen-year-old boy.

  “David, it’s you!” Sren said with a beautiful beaming smile. “Finally, you escape the world of death!”

  David took a deep breath, reveling in the feeling of having a corporeal body again. This body was so very young. And so weary. Tendrils of the boy’s headache still remained. He rotated his head, enjoying even the feeling of that fading pain.

  Smiling, he turned to face the king and queen. He nodded to them. “Mother. Father. Come. There is much to do before this world can be mine.”

  Thus concludes Sir Edge

  The Bowl of Souls series will continue with:

  The Dark Prophet Saga Book Two: Halfbreeds

  If this was your first Bowl of Souls novel and you would like to learn where the characters of Sir Edge and his bonded began, start from the beginning with Eye of the Moonrat, part one of the Moonrat Saga. The full list continues below.

  If you are caught up with the Bowl of Souls, check out The Wizard of Mysteries Series, an urban fantasy series about Master Tallow, the Wizard of Mysteries who trained Locksher.

  Tallow has come to modern day Atlanta, Georgia to help with a missing persons case and becomes embroiled in the dangerous case of a dark wizard who is bringing in magical objects and creatures from the world of the Bowl of Souls. An extended preview follows. Please read it and give it a try.

  If you love Sir Edge, you are going to adore Master Tallow

  The Bowl of Souls series:

  THE MOONRAT SAGA

  Book One: Eye of the Moonrat

  Book 1.5: Hilt's Pride

  Book Two: Messenger of the Dark Prophet

  Book Three: Hunt of the Bandham

  Book Four: The War of Stardeon

  Book Five: Mother of the Moonrat

  THE JHARRO GROVE SAGA

  Book Six: Tarah Woodblade

  Book Seven: Protector of the Grove

  Book Eight: The Ogre Apprentice

  Book Nine: The Troll King

  Book Ten: Priestess of War

  Book Eleven: Behemoth

  THE DARK PROPHET SAGA

  12. Sir Edge

  13. Halfbreeds (2019)

  The Wizard of Mysteries Series

  Tallow Jones: Wizard Detective

  Tallow Jones: Blood Trail

  Also, try Noose Jumpers: A Mythological Western

  Like Trevor H. Cooley on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/EyeOfTheMoonrat

  Follow him on Twitter @Edgewriter

  Or on his website http://trevorhcooley.com/

  Book reviews are always welcome!

  If you wish to become a Patron and become part of the creation of this world, you can join at https://www.patreon.com/trevorhcooley

  I would like to give special thanks to Patreon supporters and alpha readers:

  Stephen Quinlan, Vincent Miles, Randy Stiltner, Justin Porter, Ethan Nicolle, Derek Morgan, Adam Masias, Aglaia Greenberg, Brian Layman, Brian Every, Michael R. Clay, Amanda, Alexander Arn, Keith E. Scott, Madisen Dunn, Rebecca Smith, Jay Williams, Elliott Williams, Dave King, Michael Schober, Honor Raconteur, Neil Davis, Kami and Jacob Jenkins, and Morgan Raines.

  Also, thank you to all of you active supporters on Facebook, Discord, Twitter, and everyone who leaves reviews.

  Please spread the word. The Bowl of Souls needs your help.

  Chapter 1: A Toothy Grin

  “That’s my son!” said Douglas Jones, nearly dropping his binoculars.

  “Huh? What?” Detective Bob Ross mumbled from under the newspaper that he had placed over his face as he napped in the passenger seat. Sleeping while on stakeout was frowned upon, but everyone did it from time to time.

  “It’s Asher!” Douglas leaned far over the steering wheel, his chest pressing so hard against it he nearly honked the horn. “Crap! He just walked in the building.”

  “He walked into the travel agency?” Detective Ross sat up, fully alert for the first time in the last hour. He was a big burly black man. Not obese, but substantive. He looked like the type of person that would emerge the last man standing from a bar brawl and he could put on that persona when the situation merited.

  The two plainclothes officers were parked on the second floor of a parking garage just up the street from the building they were watching. The parking garage was mostly empty, and their position gave them a perfect view of the place. It had the added benefit of keeping them in the shadows and out of the oppressive Atlanta sun.

  Ross took the binoculars from his partner’s hands and raised them to his eyes. “Isn’t this a school day?”

  “What do you think? It’s Thursday.” Douglas’ hands were now gripping the curly brown hair on either side of his head, his face reddening with anger. “Their lunch time was over an hour ago. Sh- . . . Crap! Crap! Crap!”

  Detective Ross had a half grin on his face. “You sure it was him? I don’t see anything.”

  Douglas’ eight-year-old daughter had called him out about his language a few days prior and Douglas had promised her he would stop swearing. As she had pointed out, if the kids couldn’t do it he shouldn’t be able to do it either.

  The guys at the precinct had a bet going on about how long it would be before Douglas broke his promise. So far he had stuck to it, but if anything was going to break his composure, it would be his son skipping school and heading into a dangerous part of the city.

  “I’m dam-.” He gritted his teeth. “Darn sure it’s him. I told him not to wear that stupid shirt before I left this morning.”

  Asher had a yellow novelty shirt that read, Doctor Who Am I? It pictured Jackie Chan jump-kicking his way out of the open door of the trademark Doctor Who police box, trailing a long striped scarf behind him. Asher had ordered it online and was endlessly amused by the looks of bewilderment on the faces of people that were not fans of both obscure Jackie Chan films and Doctor Who. He insisted on wearing it once or twice a week, much to his father’s irritation.
<
br />   Ross snorted. “Okay, but what would Asher be doing in this part of town? And at a place like this?”

  Douglas tore the binoculars back from his partner and peered back at the building. Every city had its bad parts of town and Atlanta, Georgia had more than most. Gang violence and theft had plagued this particular area for years. It wasn’t so dangerous during the day, but it wasn’t a place you would walk alone at night.

  The establishment they were staking out was a low-end travel agency. It was the only open business in two blocks, but what made it suspicious wasn’t just how out of place it was. The building it occupied was overly large for their needs. It had once been an office park and there were room for ten or more businesses, but this travel agency leased the whole place.

  “I don’t know why he’s there. Drugs?” Douglas said with a wince.

  The police had received tips about heavy van traffic pulling up to the loading docks at the fenced-in rear lot of the property at all times of the day and night. Douglas was certain it was a drug front, but they needed more evidence before they could do anything about it.

  “Asher? Naw, he’s a good kid.” said Ross.

  Douglas shot a worried glance at his partner. They had both been cops far too long to rely on that. “They’re all good kids. Isn’t that what every parent says?”

  Asher was seventeen, a high school senior. This was a prime time for him to be making stupid mistakes and Douglas knew that he wasn’t around enough to catch all the signs. He was already starting to envision a double life for the kid. Weed hidden in the vents in his room. Maybe ecstasy or meth . . .

  “Just don’t jump to conclusions,” Ross cautioned. “Find out what’s going on first.”

  Douglas let out a slow breath. “Right. Asher is a good kid. Grades are good. No anger issues. It’s probably just a . . .” He gave his partner a helpless look. “Seriously, what else could it be?”

  “You know, if you let the kid have a cell phone you could just call him,” Ross reminded him.

  “Well, that’s not an option,” he said.

  Douglas had refused to let Asher have a cell for many reasons. One was that it seemed crazy to him that teenagers should have their own cell phones. His generation got along fine without them and these new smart phones were basically just pocket video game devices in his opinion. He also didn’t like the fact that it would double his phone bill.

  Detective Ross gave him a sympathetic grimace. “So, what are you going to do?”

  Douglas pushed his door open. “What can I do? I’ve got to go in.”

  “You want me to come with you?” Ross offered.

  Douglas shook his head. “No. It’s bad enough that I’m going. If both of us go it could blow our cover. I’ll be fine on my own and since I’m not about to flash my badge no one will think cop. While I’m there all anyone’s going to see is a pissed off dad. Believe me, there will be no acting involved.”

  “Alright,” said Ross. “But if you don’t come out soon, I’m calling back-up.”

  “Don’t worry, Bob. I’ll be back in a few minutes, even if I have to drag Asher by his ears,” Douglas promised.

  He trotted down the stairwell to the bottom floor of the parking garage. By the time he moved onto the street sweat was already dripping down Douglas’ back. It was only mid-May and already ninety degrees. He had lived in Atlanta for ten years and still was not used to the combination of heat and humidity. It would be hovering in the mid 60’s back in Idaho right now. The thought didn’t help his attitude.

  There were only three cars in the fenced-in rear lot and a single car parked in the lot outside the building. It struck Douglas once again how odd it was that a place like this could stay in business. The only thing he had been able to think of was that they relied on internet sales.

  Above the front door was a bulbous plastic sign that said in faded brown and orange letters, “S&C Travel”. The silhouette of an airplane flew under the outdated logo. He rethought his earlier hypothesis. This was not the logo of a company that used the internet.

  Douglas pulled the front door open and was greeted by a rush of air conditioning followed by the scent of cheap industrial cleaner. He stepped into a short hallway bracketed by wood paneling and a worn orange carpet leftover from the early eighties. This place had probably been considered fairly posh when it was built. Now it sat as a sad example of age and bad taste. The hallway opened into a small lobby area with a reception desk in the corner.

  There was Asher, standing at the desk talking at a vacant-eyed receptionist. Douglas’ anger rose just looking at him.

  Asher and his father couldn’t look more different. Where Douglas was of medium height and had a thick muscular build, Asher was tall and lanky. While Douglas had a wide face and curly dark brown hair, Asher had a long narrow face with the dirty blond mop of straight hair that came from his mother’s side of the family. The only things Asher had received from his father’s side were his wide nose and hawkish eyes.

  Asher wore the familiar yellow shirt with its obscure geek culture reference, faded blue jeans, and one of those old men’s hats that had come in vogue again lately. Asher called it a trilby. He had an easy smile on his face. That was because he hadn’t seen his father yet.

  Douglas got a good look at the receptionist for the first time. The woman wasn’t speaking but was flashing Asher a wide smile. She was mildly attractive, but her mouth was filled with overly large white teeth and there was a hungry look in her eyes that made Douglas’ stomach turn.

  Douglas pushed the feeling away, turning his attention back to his truant son. He watched Asher laugh and flirt with this woman that was at least twenty years his senior and his anger rose another notch.

  He walked up to his son and placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Are you planning a trip I should know about?”

  Asher froze, and his face went white for a moment at the sound of his father’s voice. He gulped and turned, his smile withering on his lips. “Uh hey, Dad! I uh . . .”

  “You what?” Douglas said. “Thought you should skip fifth period English?”

  Asher cleared his throat. “Um actually, Dad, fifth period is math, not English, and I’m acing that class, so-.”

  “So?” Asher’s tendency to correct his father grated on Douglas at the best of times, but right now it inflamed him even further. “So, you thought it would be a good idea to head downtown and do what? Look up rates for Caribbean cruises?”

  Asher let out a nervous laugh. “Good one, Dad. Uh, actually I just came in to use the bathroom.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Asher,” Douglas warned. “Not now.”

  Behind Asher the receptionist had stood from her chair and loomed over the desk, her arms hanging limply at her sides. She was taller than she had seemed at first glance, probably six feet tall. The woman’s wide grin was unchanging, and her eyes darted between the two of them.

  Asher glanced back at her. “All right, all right. Sheesh. Look, can we talk about this somewhere else?”

  “You know what? I don’t care what your excuse is right now!” Douglas barked. “There is no excuse, just no excuse for you to be where you are standing right now. You are grounded from computers, videogames, and TV for the foreseeable future.”

  Asher winced. This was the only punishment that held any weight in his world. He didn’t have friends that he hung out with that weren’t online and other than being an avid reader, he didn’t participate in activities that didn’t require a television or monitor.

  “Uh, that’s kind of a vague time frame, Dad.”

  Douglas’ face was now purple with rage. “That’s because right now I cannot conceive of a time when you won’t be grounded!”

  “Fine. Whatever.” Asher rolled his eyes and with a sigh, walked toward the door.

  Douglas paused a moment, his hands clenched at his sides. He had never struck his son in anger. Hadn’t even spanked him since he was six and yet he knew that if he reached out now he would strangle th
e teenager. Asher really knew how to push his buttons.

  The receptionist had stood quietly during the exchange without changing expression. Douglas turned to apologize to her before he left. She cocked her head and her hideous smile grew larger still. Instead of an apology, Douglas gave her a polite nod and followed his son out the door. He could feel her eyes burning into his back as he walked.

  The blazing heat outside shook all thoughts of the receptionist from his mind. “I can’t believe you would do something this stupid, Son.”

  “How did you know I was in there?” Asher wondered. He lowered his voice. “You watching the place?”

  Douglas shot him a silencing glare and motioned for Asher to follow as he stomped across the street. Asher shuffled along behind him, a scowl etched into his narrow face. They headed up to the second floor of the parking garage. Detective Ross was standing next to the car smoking a cigarette when they arrived.

  The detective let out a laugh when he saw the look on Asher’s face. “Whoo kid, are you in trouble! Your dad almost swore twice when he saw you go in that building.”

  “Really?” Asher’s expression perked up. “What are the current odds down at the station?”

  “Ten to one he doesn’t make it through the week.” Ross said with a grin. “He didn’t lose it inside did he?”

  “Shut up, both of you,” Douglas snapped. “Bob, can you call in and get a replacement for me? I need to get Asher back to school.” Department guidelines dictated that there were to be two officers on a stake out at all times.

  “Dad, come on,” said Asher. “By the time we get there school will be almost over.”

  “I said shut up!” Douglas barked. Asher sighed again and looked away.

  Ross chuckled. “I already called Jacobs while you were in there. He should be here soon.”

  “What are you guys watching the place for?” Asher asked, suddenly interested. “You think it’s a drug front?”

  “You tell me,” Douglas said, his glare steely.

  Asher’s eyes narrowed. “No way! You know I’m not into that stuff!” He reached up and pulled several hairs from his head and held them out. “Go ahead. Test my hair. Have me piss in a cup if you want. I’m no druggie.”