Raging Sea and Trembling Earth: Disciples of the Horned One Volume Two (Soul Force Saga Book 2) (14 page)

W
hen it became
clear to Damien that David wasn’t coming back he turned his attention to the debris floating below. A few survivors drifted amid the ruins of the flotilla. He needed to fish those people out of the water and get them somewhere dry. On the platform beside him Salem sniffled and rubbed her eyes.

“Are you okay?” Damien asked.

Salem made one last swipe at her eyes before she looked his way. “She abandoned me. My own sister, after everything we’ve been through. How could she?”

Damien had no idea how to answer that. He couldn’t imagine Jen ever abandoning him or if she did how he’d feel about it. “I’m sorry. If you want to go after them I understand.”

“You’d let me go?”

“You’re not my prisoner. I can’t let you have the urns though. They’re way too dangerous to have loose in the kingdom. I need to get the survivors out of the water. If you’re going now’s the time.”

She shook her head. “I’m not strong enough to make the flight and anyway I have no idea where they’re headed. I’ll stay with you.”

“That’s fine. I suspect you’ll see your sister again and if you stick with me maybe you can convince her not to do something that will make me have to kill her.”

Salem flinched. Damien sighed. He really needed to take Lane up on her offer of diplomacy lessons. Well, sometimes the truth wasn’t very diplomatic.

Damien flew down to the water. Sailors shouted and waved at him. He plucked them out one by one, transferring them to the platform he’d conjured for Salem. He picked up eleven men, some of them in rough shape. One had an arm bent at the wrong angle, another had a two-foot stake of wood driven through his calf.

Nothing else moved, but near the edge of the debris field he sensed a weak soul force. Damien flew over and found Captain Velco clinging to the remains of his ballista. One of his arms was missing just below the shoulder. Something, probably the dragon’s soul force, had cauterized the wound so he hadn’t bled to death. Had the Leviathan left Velco alive on purpose? The captain’s remaining arm was tangled up with the ballista cable. That was the only thing that had kept him from going to the bottom when he passed out.

Damien scooped up the unconscious man and flew him to the platform. The sailors sat around staring into space. A couple muttered to themselves, trying to make sense of what had happened. Salem had recovered enough that she was healing some of the worst injuries.

One man sat huddled off by himself, watching the girl through narrow eyes. He grasped his forearm and from between the gaps in his fingers Damien saw something black. When Damien made a move to get a closer look Captain Velco coughed, groaned, and sat up.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Damien said.

Velco looked around the little platform. “Is this all that survived?”

“Your other sorcerers fled to their true master. You were a pawn in something much larger, Captain.”

Velco groaned again and lay back, his remaining arm over his eyes. “Any more good news?”

Before Damien had a chance to answer, the sailor he’d been watching lunged for Salem and put a knife to her throat. “You’re going to give me them urns and fly us back to Port Valcane. Otherwise I’m going to cut this bitch’s head off.”

On the sailor’s arm was a tattoo of a raven. How did a member of the Unkindness sneak aboard the whalers’ ship? Damien surrounded the sailor’s knife blade with an invisible sheath of soul force. He wouldn’t be able to cut butter with that weapon now.

Salem locked gazes with Damien and gathered her power. He gave a slight shake of his head, hoping he could draw some more information out of the thug.

“I can’t give you the urns. Let her go and you might live through this.”

The false sailor pulled Salem closer to his body. “I know your type. You won’t let anything happen to this girl. The master will reward me for recovering her property.”

“Her? You mean the sorcerer?”

“Aye, she’s waiting for us back in port. When I give her the urns she’ll take me to her master and he’ll give me real power. Now hand them over.”

Damien nodded.

Salem lashed out with spears of power. They pierced her captor through the chest and stomach. He staggered back and dropped his knife.

“I’ll kill you for that.” He spat blood onto the tattoo on his forearm. It burst into black flames that swirled around him, healing the holes in his body. The dark fire gathered around his hands.

Damien opened a hole in the platform under the thug’s feet. He fell a hundred feet to the ocean below. The man thrashed his way to the surface, the water boiling around him. He shouted curses and screamed incoherent threats as he fought to stay above the water.

“You’re just going to leave him to drown?” Salem asked.

“His power will burn out in ten or fifteen minutes. When it does he’s dead. He chose to die the moment he activated that tattoo. That’s what corrupt power does to people, it kills them or turns them into monsters.” Damien shook his head and flew away, the platform trailing behind.

P
ort Valcane appeared
on the horizon, much to Damien’s relief. The flight back had taken a day, a night, and part of another day. Even his enormous soul force was reaching its limit. When he had everyone back to solid ground he planned to sleep for a week.

Salem flew beside him, testing her strength, trying to discover if the urns had done any permanent damage. So far she seemed fine. Her dark hair blew around her face, and every once in a while he caught a glimpse of a faint smile. Damien was mostly relieved she’d stopped crying.

“You’re getting tired,” Salem said.

“I passed tired some time last night. Right now I’m somewhere between exhausted and unconscious. You did good work getting the sailors all stabilized. You have a knack for healing.”

“I’ve always preferred healing to fighting. Maishi’s the fierce one.” She sniffed, but didn’t start crying. Salem looked toward the horizon. “Someone’s coming. Someone strong.”

“My master.” He’d sensed the archmage approaching minutes ago, but was curious about how sharp Salem’s senses were. “Don’t worry, I’ll vouch for you.”

“Why? We’re practically strangers. You owe me nothing, yet you’ve been kind and thoughtful, treating me like a friend rather than an enemy.”

“The truth is you’re a sweet girl and I think David tricked you and your sister into helping him. Maishi seems besotted with him and I don’t know if I can keep her from doing something stupid if he asks her to. My hope is that if you’re with me when they do whatever they’re planning to do, you can convince her to surrender. Maishi hasn’t actually broken any kingdom laws yet. If you can make her stop you both have a future here if you want it.”

“We’re sorcerers. We have no place anywhere. We’ll be feared and shunned wherever we go.”

Damien laughed. “Who fed you that nonsense? There are two hundred or so sorcerers in the kingdom, most of them loved and respected by their friends, family, and society in general. Only criminals are shunned.”

“But David said—”

“David said? Why would you believe anything that man had to say? He told you what he needed you to believe so you’d do what he wanted. I’m telling you the truth. You’d be a great addition to the kingdom’s sorcerers. With your gift for healing you’d be welcome anywhere.”

“Really?” She sounded so desperate to believe him. Someone had her totally convinced she was a monster with no place in society.

Damien made a little X over his heart. “I swear.”

The archmage’s eagle swooped into formation beside them. Her gaze racked the miserable survivors then came back to him. “Damien. Do I need to ask how it went?”

“It went as we expected. I brought you a present.” He concentrated and the bubble surrounding the urns flew over to her.

His master assumed control of the sphere. “What have we here?”

“Their secret weapon. The Leviathan wasn’t impressed. The urns seem to drain the wielder’s soul force at the same time they drain the target’s. I’ve never seen anything like them. Salem can tell you more.”

The archmage turned her cool gaze on Salem who flinched. “I look forward to that conversation. Where are the other two?”

“Best guess? I’d say they slunk back to Connor. They’ll be back. David was desperate to reclaim the urns. I hope you have a place to keep them. Somewhere deep, dark, and secure. I don’t know what Connor wants them for, but it can’t be good.”

“I was planning to just destroy them,” his master said. “We acquired several other dark artifacts that need purifying. Three more won’t make much difference.”

Damien chewed his lip. “Master, the way these things soak up soul force I have my doubts you can destroy them. It would be like trying to douse a fire by throwing oil on it.”

The archmage glared at the urns, trying to unmake them by sheer willpower. If anyone could, she could, but Damien feared it wouldn’t be that easy.

J
ohn sprawled
on the couch in the royal quarters and watched the princess pace. The king and queen had gone out for a ride leaving the pair of them alone. If she didn’t calm down she was going to wear a hole in an expensive rug.

He’d been in the capital for over a month now and all he’d accomplished was healing the occasional overzealous guard injured in training. Most of his time seemed to be spent listening to Karrie plot how to get Damien to marry her. She’d considered dozens of plans, each more farfetched than the last. John was so thoroughly sick of it he was tempted to ask for a transfer back to his old post where he could do something useful. At least holed up in the royal apartment he hadn’t run into anyone looking for favors.

Finally she stopped and rounded on him in a swirl of blue skirts. “You’re his best friend. Don’t you have any ideas how I can convince him that loving a sword is stupid?”

John scrubbed his hand over his face. How many times was he going to have to explain this? “It’s not the sword, it’s the spirit bound to the sword. And I can guarantee you the one thing that would make Damien never speak to you again is telling him loving Lizzy is stupid. You know, instead of trying to trick, seduce, or otherwise force him to like you, you might try doing something nice for him without expecting anything in return.”

She frowned as though the idea had never crossed her mind. Knowing Karrie it probably hadn’t. “Like what?”

“Damien’s name day was a couple days ago. You could throw him a late party after he finishes his mission. Get Jen and Fredric to come. Fix a nice dinner, maybe a cake. Hell, I don’t know. If nothing else we’ll have a good meal.”

The princess started pacing again. “A name day party. That might work. It’ll show him I care. That I can do things for him that some stupid sword can’t. John, it’s brilliant. But how will I know when to plan for?”

“Can’t help you there. It’s not like a mission has an end day. You should probably ask Jen and Fredric to come now that way whenever Damien gets back you could have the party the next day.”

Karrie smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “This might be just the thing to convince him to consider me. Things are finally looking up.”

C
onnor sat
on his black chair, Mikhail at his shoulder, and stared at David and whoever the girl was that he’d brought with him. He must have misheard. Connor fingered the amulet around his neck. Over the years it had become a sort of worry stone for him. Whenever he needed to calm down he touched it. “Let me see if I understand. You lost the urns after failing to claim the dragon’s soul force then fled rather than fight a whelp of a boy to reclaim them. Did I miss anything?”

“No.” David’s voice trembled. “Connor, please give us another chance to recover the urns. We were both badly depleted after the fight with the Leviathan and that boy has one of the strongest soul forces I’ve ever sensed.”

Connor leaned forward, prompting the two sorcerers to step back. “Stronger than me?”

David hesitated, probably debating whether to lie to him or not. “Stronger than you were before you became a warlock, yes.”

Connor tapped his chin. If the boy was as strong as David claimed getting the urns back wouldn’t be a simple task. Nevertheless it needed to be done. “Do you know where the urns are now?”

“I assume they’ve arrived in Valcane by now. Beyond that I have no idea.”

“Sir, my sister. She’s with the boy.”

Connor waved a hand and a gag of black flame appeared over her mouth. “The archmage can’t keep them in the city for long. There’s no safe place there to store demonic artifacts. She’ll have to transport them either to the capital or The Tower. My gold is on The Tower, but we can’t risk missing them. Mikhail, you will watch the road to The Tower. David, you and your girlfriend can watch the road to the capital. Whichever of you finds the artifacts contact the others and attack together. I want those urns back.”

“Yes, Connor. I won’t fail again.” David grabbed the girl and hustled her out of the library.

Connor shook his head. Competent help was so hard to find.

“Let me attack the city, Master. I’ll kill anyone that stands in my way and bring the artifacts back.”

Connor sighed and patted his servant on his armored wrist. “I appreciate the offer, Mikhail, but I have allies in Valcane and we’ve done quite enough damage to their city for the time being. Not to mention even you couldn’t handle a dozen sorcerers at once.”

“As you say, Master. I’ll need a new mount.”

“Have David transport you to a farm and take what you need. Just make certain you’re not seen.”

“Of course, Master.”

“And Mikhail, don’t fail me again.”

T
he explosion woke
Damien from a deep sleep. He groaned and rolled over on his cot. Admiral McAllen had been kind enough to offer Damien a bunk for the duration of his stay. A faint glimmer of sunlight filtered through the barrack’s windows.

She was getting an early start again today. For the past two days his master had spent from sunup to sundown on a small island half a mile out in the bay with Master Shen and Sasha blasting those urns with everything they could muster. Damien had offered to help yesterday. His soul force had fully recovered though his thoughts still swirled after going almost two days without sleep. The archmage had ordered him to rest. He’d shrugged and complied. If she wanted to blow off some steam blasting a pile of rocks and bird shit into gravel it was none of his business.

Unfortunately blowing off steam was all she was accomplishing. Those urns shrugged off everything the three sorcerers threw at them. When they’d returned last night, stooped over, soul force drained to almost nothing, Damien had caught a glimpse of the targets of their wrath. The black enamel hadn’t suffered so much as a scratch. He didn’t think blasting them would work, but one look at his master’s flat expression had convinced him of the wisdom of silence.

Damien dressed, picked up a sausage and biscuit sandwich at the mess hall, and headed outside. The brisk ocean breeze finished the job of waking him. He sighed. When they finally returned to the capital he’d miss the ocean breeze the most. Movement up on the fort wall caught his eye.

Salem was staring out over the ocean, her hair blowing. Poor girl. Not only had her sister abandoned her, she’d had to spend two hours alone with the archmage getting questioned. She hadn’t complained, not that it would have done any good. When the interview was over his master was satisfied that Salem didn’t pose a threat to the kingdom. As far as Damien knew she hadn’t spoken to Salem since.

Damien flew up on the wall and landed beside her. “Morning. Did you have breakfast yet?”

She looked at him sideways through a veil of hair. “I wasn’t hungry.”

An explosion lit up the sky out by the island. Damien tore his sandwich in half. “Here. You should know I don’t share with just anyone.”

Salem smiled, accepted the biscuit, and took a bite. Another explosion echoed across the water. Further down on the docks a small crowd had gathered to watch the show.

“She’s certainly determined,” Salem said.

“I think stubborn is the word you’re looking for. I’m pretty sure it’s in the job description.”

She laughed softly, her heart not really in it. “You like her, your master?”

Damien swallowed the last of his sandwich and nodded. “She can be hard when necessary, but she has a kindness about her as well. I think we’re well matched. I hope she feels the same. At the very least she hasn’t complained about my efforts so far.”

“Our master wasn’t a kind man. He pushed us hard and punished the smallest failure. Maishi took the brunt of it, protecting me the best she could. I miss her so much.”

Damien put his arm around her. “I’m sorry.”

At noon the explosions stopped and the weary sorcerers flew back to the fort. Master Shen’s face was drawn and pale. Even his master and the high sorcerer looked done in. Damien met them in the courtyard with a pitcher of wine and glasses. Beside him Salem carried a platter of fried dumplings she swore were favorites in her village. She’d offered the first real smile since her sister flew off with David while they were cooking together.

Damien poured everyone a drink and Salem passed out the snacks. When everyone had drunk and eaten the archmage said, “We’re done. I can’t think of anything else to hit those thrice-damned urns with and the island’s smashed down to the waterline.”

“Where will we take them?” Damien asked.

“One’s going to The Tower, one to the vault under the castle, and the third I’m going to sink to the bottom of the ocean.”

“I can fly that one out while you guys are resting if you want,” Damien said.

“Apprentice, you read my mind. We’ll head out with the other two at first light.”