Raging Sea and Trembling Earth: Disciples of the Horned One Volume Two (Soul Force Saga Book 2) (8 page)

D
amien stood
on the dock a few feet from Captain Velco and the archmage who were busy arguing about whether he could join the expedition. Their shouting almost drowned out the lapping of the waves. Since he’d left all his gear back at the capital, Damien had gone shopping and now he carried a new canvas bag filled with clothes and other goods, most importantly a supply of parchment and pencils so he could keep his master up to date on the whalers’ activities. Considering what he’d seen on his first voyage with the good captain he didn’t expect to have much reporting to do.

He stretched and yawned. Despite the early departure time he’d spent a late night chatting with Lane after a wonderful meal of fresh seafood. She’d been surprised by Captain Velco’s good manners as they went from shop to shop buying what the captain needed for his hunting trip. He hadn’t put so much as a toe out of line and Lane seemed to think he meant what he said about opening up new hunting grounds. If he had ulterior motives he hid them well. Damien and Lane finally said goodnight around midnight. Lane kissed his cheek and slipped into her room. She was a good friend and unlike Karrie seemed to harbor no ambitions beyond being his friend.

“Damien!” The archmage waved him closer.

They must have settled their differences. He didn’t know why the captain bothered arguing. He either had to do what she said or be stuck in port. “Master?”

“Captain Velco has agreed to let you travel with him on his flagship. All you’ll have to do is stay out of everyone’s way. Clear?”

“Perfectly.” Turning to Velco, Damien said, “I appreciate you letting me travel with you, Captain. I won’t give you a moment’s trouble.”

“I’m sure you won’t. I booted my first mate to the common room so you’ll be staying in his cabin. Meals are served promptly so if you’re late you’ll have to do without. Any questions?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. Let’s board. I don’t want to miss the tide.”

Captain Velco showed Damien to a tiny, cramped cabin with nothing but a hammock and sea chest for furniture. He barely had room to turn around without bumping into one of the walls. It was going to be a long trip.

Damien put his gear in the trunk and sat cross-legged in front of it. With everyone busy this would be a good time to scout out the ship. He conjured a spy bug, linked it to a viewing rectangle, and sent it under the door and down the hall. Damien sent the bug into Velco’s room to have a second look around. It creeped and crawled over everything, but he found nothing interesting.

The bug flew down a level to the hold. Scores of barrels filled every square inch. Some were filled with fresh water, but most were empty. It didn’t take long for him to conclude the hold was a waste of time as well. The crew quarters came next, a jumbled space of hammocks and footlockers. Some of the sailors had letters from home tacked to the wall beside their hammocks, but nothing of interest to Damien.

The only place left to check was the sorcerer’s cabin and Damien didn’t know if he wanted to take that step yet. If she noticed his spy there’d be trouble, but nothing ventured, nothing gained. The bug flew to the opposite end of the ship where the sorcerer’s isolated cabin waited. Damien studied the closed door through the bug’s eyes. A barrier similar to the one he’d used at the border baron’s castle blocked anyone from going in. He could smash it easily enough, but didn’t dare, not yet.

The ship lurched and Damien let the bug vanish. He’d check the other ships before he took any drastic steps. Damien got to his feet and went up on the deck. Behind them the city was slowly shrinking. Standing alone in the front, her blue robe swirling in the breeze, was the female sorcerer that had tried to threaten them when Damien and his master first arrived.

Maybe he could talk his way into her cabin. He’d seldom met a sorcerer who’d pass up the chance to discuss their preferred techniques, and being from the Old Empire she had to be curious about how kingdom sorcerers wielded soul force. He certainly wondered about her style.

Damien started across the moving deck, stumbling every other stride. Annoyed, he finally flew over beside her. When he landed she looked at him with wide, seemingly vacant blue eyes. Damien chewed his lip and tried a smile. “We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Damien.”

He held out his hand and her gaze shifted down to look at it. She reminded Damien of a sleepwalker. The lights were on, but nobody was home. Her whole body shuddered, she blinked, and stumbled back from him. “Where did you come from?”

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “You looked right at me when I landed.”

“My body looked at you. My mind was otherwise occupied checking for obstacles in the water. What do you want?” She had gone from unaware to angry and Damien wasn’t sure which he liked better.

“I wanted to introduce myself. I figured we’d be traveling together for a while and it might be nice to have another sorcerer to talk to.”

“If I want to talk to another sorcerer I’ll fly over to one of the other ships and talk to my comrades.” She brushed past him and flew down to her cabin. The door slammed behind her a moment later.

He sighed. So much for talking his way in. Steps behind him heralded the captain’s arrival.

“Not very friendly, is she?” Velco said.

“No, not very.”

“Don’t take it personal.” The captain slapped him on the back. “Near as I can tell she don’t like anybody but her sister.”

“At least she likes someone. How far out are we going to sail?”

Velco tapped his chin. “Well past your island. I’d say we’ll be at least three weeks getting to where I plan to hunt. Here.”

Damien caught a fist-sized white lump. “What’s this?”

“Whale bone. Some of the sailors like to carve it. Thought you might like to give it a try, make the time go by faster.”

“Thanks.” Just what he needed, something to speed him along to a battle with the most powerful creature on the planet.

D
ry air blew
across Connor’s face as he and Focalor flew east from the pyramid across the vast expanse of nothing that was the haunted land. Only the occasional movement of undead and minor demons disturbed the gray sand below. No water flowed and no plants grew. Connor didn’t know how King Alexious managed to sacrifice even water to the Horned One, but it impressed him none the less.

For three hours they flew in silence. Connor found it eerie, flying through the empty sky. On the other side of the mountains birds and insects occasionally shared the sky with him, though always flying away from him as fast as their wings could beat. Combined with the constant drain on his soul force the haunted lands were taking their toll.

At last the royal palace appeared on the horizon. The heart of the ritual that created these ruined lands, the royal palace was a huge, sprawling collection of courtyards and walkways surrounding a four-story keep with a red-tile roof and stone dragons perched on each corner. An ancient map showed the palace sitting in the center of a city twice the size of the kingdom’s capital. When the king triggered the ritual it wiped out everything not involved in the transference of energy.

Once, Connor imagined, the palace probably inspired awe in the people and fear in visiting ambassadors. Now everything had faded, the color washed out to various shades of gray, the place more mausoleum than fortress. Even from this distance the barrier Focalor mentioned rippled and shimmered in his sorcerous vision. It didn’t look like demonic energy. What he couldn’t see was what sustained it and whether it would permit non-demons to pass through. If he couldn’t get in he would have expended a lot of energy for nothing.

“You see it?” Focalor asked.

“The barrier? Yes, it’s very powerful.”

“Of course it is powerful, it kept Focalor out.” Demon and warlock landed just beyond the barrier. “But will it keep the warlock out?”

Connor took a deep breath and let it out. “One way to find out.”

He stepped forward. The barrier resisted, then flexed inward, like it couldn’t decide if it should let him through or not. Connor wouldn’t be denied. One grim step after the next he pushed ahead until the resistance vanished. The constant drain eased at once. Like the pyramids, the palace must be protected from the effect that drained his soul force.

Connor turned back to face the demon. “I guess it won’t keep me out. I’ll try and find the source of its power.”

“Focalor will circle above to avoid drawing unnecessary attention.”

Connor nodded. The demon lashed its wings and soared into the air. More likely it wanted to make sure Connor didn’t try to escape without keeping his end of the deal. He’d do his best to follow through. The last thing Connor wanted was to have the powerful demon as an enemy.

He put Focalor out of his mind and turned to face the palace. The barrier extended ten feet from the outer walls so Connor only had to take a few steps to pass through an open gate and into the first courtyard, a square area open to the sky. He suspected it had been a garden. A pair of eroded stone benches gave mute testimony that once upon a time people had lived here, children had played while parents sat on the benches and chatted. Connor could almost imagine the scene and the power that had ended them forever.

Such power.

He breathed out a sigh. He would have that power for himself. If not identical then equal. A covered walkway led from the square to the keep. Connor followed it to a closed door of petrified wood. The door didn’t budge when he pushed it. Nothing supernatural protected the entrance, at least nothing visible. He drew a bit of power and blasted the door. It exploded inward showering the empty room beyond with splinters.

Connor stepped through the ruined portal into a foyer decorated with intricately carved chairs and tables. Faded banners hung on each wall. Aside from a thick layer of dust it looked no different than it might have when people still occupied the palace. The perfect condition of the interior room clashed horribly with the ruined courtyard.

As he had no interest in physically searching the whole palace, Connor sat in one of the chairs and conjured a scout sphere. The sphere zipped through halls, past perfectly preserved bedrooms, store rooms, a huge kitchen. He reached a set of double doors intricately carved with abstract shapes and gilded with gold. When Connor tried to send his sphere under the door it bounced off another barrier, similar to the one surrounding the palace, but more powerful and focused.

Connor left the sealed doors for the moment. His sphere continued up to the second level, then the third, revealing nothing but ordinary living spaces. On the top floor the sphere slipped under a door and Connor’s jaw dropped. A library that made the one at The Tower look like the collection in some backwater village stretched out before his disbelieving eyes. Connor could spend a mortal lifetime there and not read every book.

He didn’t have a lifetime. If the other portions of his plan were on schedule he needed to find the artifact and return to his base in weeks, not months or years. Connor slammed his fist on the arm of the chair, shattering the wood. He guided the sphere slowly through the library. Maybe there was a section of more important books he could focus on.

Row upon row of packed bookcases filled the viewing rectangle, none looking more or less important than another. In the center of the library he found an open area with chairs and small tables where people could read in comfort. A dark carpet covered the floor. It had some sort of design woven into it.

Connor guided the sphere higher so he could look down on the carpet. He blinked, certain his eyes were playing tricks. Laid out in white thread was an image of a horned skull. It couldn’t be a coincidence. The Horned One’s symbol had to indicate something.

C
onnor stood
in the library surrounded by musty parchment, looking down at the carpet. Dim light filtered in from windows built into the ceiling. Occasionally Focalor’s shadow would pass overhead. Could the demon see Connor standing in the library watching him fly by?

Up close the carpet design looked less distinct. Whoever made it had woven the skull in as part of a larger design. If a person wasn’t expecting to find the marker they might look right past it. Hiding things in plain sight was a trick used by the Horned One’s cult and over the years Connor had gotten used to finding hidden symbols. Tentacles of soul force pushed the tables and chairs off the carpet then yanked it to the side. Underneath was an oval depression, a twin to the one in the pyramid.

Connor took his amulet off and with trembling hands fit it into the oval. The floor vibrated then black flames spurted up between the cracks. Connor leapt back an instant before the stone sank down, forming a spiral staircase. He hadn’t seen any sign of it when his scout sphere searched the palace. The staircase had to run between the walls. There was certainly enough room that no one would ever notice if a wall was thicker than it needed to be. For all Connor knew hidden passages might have been the rage when the palace was built.

He conjured a light and started walking. He had no idea how long he walked or how deep he went, but finally the enclosed stairs opened up into a dark, empty room. Connor frowned. Where were the artifacts?

Light spheres streaked to the far corners of the room. He left the staircase and walked around the empty space, his footsteps echoing around the chamber. Was this some sort of joke? Was King Alexious having a final laugh at his expense?

The room shook, a violent shudder that brought dust raining down on Connor’s head. Now what was happening? He spun, looking for the source of the tremor.

Movement caught his eye. When Connor turned, a giant of black flame separated itself from the far wall. The construct—Connor had no doubt the giant was a soul force construct—lumbered closer. It was built like a man, with massive shoulders and long arms ending in three-fingered hands. It stood on legs as big around as full grown oaks. Its head was nothing but an oblong lump sitting on its trunk. Power surged down its arm and formed a flickering blade of black flame longer than Connor was tall.

The construct strode toward him, raising its weapon as it came. Connor took to the air. The giant swung its blade.

Connor darted aside. The passing of the blade raised a breeze. Before the giant halted its momentum Connor blasted it with a stream of hellfire.

The construct absorbed the energy and grew taller. The sword whistled at Connor, faster this time. He just managed to avoid getting cut in half.

Connor zipped around the giant like a bug, annoying but harmless.

He avoided three more swipes. Though faster, the construct still failed to keep pace with him. Unfortunately, since it could absorb his attacks, Connor had no idea how to defeat it. They were at a standoff. That didn’t work for him at all.

He flew around the construct, dodging its ineffective attacks, and studying it from every angle. There had to be a way to deal with it. Everything had a weakness, he just needed to figure out what the construct’s was.

Connor squinted and peered closer. Something floated, just visible, inside the construct’s chest. The black sword swished past his head, only missing by inches. Connor snarled away his frustration. He had to focus.

He was almost certain whatever floated in the giant’s chest was the key to stopping it. He took a breath, fortified his shield, and plunged toward the giant.

The black sword came up.

Connor ducked under it a moment before he struck the construct. His shield was stripped away in an instant. Cold and heat warred in their efforts to kill him.

Connor fought the darkness. His skin melted and healed one second to the next.

Even when the Horned One ripped his soul out and replaced it with a fragment of his own the pain didn’t come close to what Connor experienced as he fought through the construct’s body.

A flicker of movement to his left. He flailed, hit something hard, and grabbed on.

More pain as whatever he grabbed attempted to burn his hand off. Teeth clenched, Connor forced his way out the back of the construct. He fell twelve feet to the floor.

Every inch of his body was screaming. He would welcome the giant’s sword if only it would end the agony.

Seconds passed. Connor uncurled his pain-wracked body and looked up. The giant had vanished.

Connor sent healing energy through his body, soothing his pain. Skin reformed and in minutes Connor had recovered. He loved many things about his new abilities, but the thing he loved most was that his demonic soul force worked as internal or external power, just like a true demon.

He sat up and brushed dead skin off his arm. The battle and healing had drained him. He didn’t dare try to move on before he’d recovered. Connor opened his left hand. Almost imbedded in the flesh was a flat, rune-covered stone maybe three inches around. He probed it with a little tendril of soul force.

The token had served as an energy storage device. Whoever created the giant had filled the token with sustaining energy then stuck it in the construct’s chest. Connor frowned. No way the little artifact had held enough power to sustain the construct for centuries. Whoever put it here had done so more recently. A few months ago perhaps. Certainly not more than a year. That begged another question. Who had set the trap?