Sapphire of Souls (Fantastica Book 2) Read online

  Sapphire of Souls

  Fantastica, Book Two

  M. R. Mathias

  Copyright 2017 by Michael Robb Mathias Jr.

  All Rights Reserved

  Interior Artwork by:

  Gideon Deschain

  Special thanks to:

  Tim Marquitz for editing services

  John H. Carroll for formatting Services

  Author Note

  Fantastica was written a long time ago. So long ago, in fact, that I had forgotten about it for almost two decades. While going through my mother's house, after her death in early 2017, I came across a box containing this manuscript in longhand. It was written after The Wardstone Trilogy, but before I started writing The Legend of Vanx Malic. I estimate that book three will be available before Christmas.

  Enjoy,

  M. R.Mathias

  Table of Contents

  Sapphire of Souls

  Map of Narvoza

  The Previous Spring

  Part I

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Part II

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Part III

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Demon of Destruction - Preview

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Other titles by

  M. R. Mathias

  Map of Narvoza

  *A Note to Readers:

  Those of you who read the preview of this book at the end of book one should know that during the editing process of book two, subtle adjustments were made to that content. Though nothing that greatly effects the plot or characters was changed, there are small differences in wording and phrasing. I suggest you start from the beginning, but if you chose not to, I don’t think your reading experience will be greatly effected. I thought it only fair to make this clear. Thank you for reading.

  -- M. R. Mathias

  The Previous Spring

  Ulrich Gruell, commonly known as Lord Ulrich, towered over King Rayden of Nepram, even though he sat in Rayden’s throne. King Rayden stood just over six feet tall, but Lord Ulrich was gothican. The average height of a gothican male was around nine feet. Lord Ulrich was nearer to ten. His size brought with it a natural intimidation, especially when dealing with what he called inferior humans.

  Lord Ulrich accentuated his powerful look with a wide, spiked shoulder piece of pullover armor. It sat on some of the finest chainmail ever crafted. His long black hair, and the pitiless look he conveyed with his empty black eyes, created an aura of supremacy that was only fortified by his deep intellect.

  “It is a simple plan, really.” Lord Ulrich spoke in a deep, commanding voice. “King Barden will be so busy fighting and feeding men to his northern border, he will leave himself exposed from the south. My master will grant you full control of all the lands south and east of the Vasting River. Your kingdom will triple in size overnight. You will no longer be forced to grovel for food and goods from Narvoza. The rich farmland along the river’s bank will be yours.”

  King Rayden shuddered. He wondered who or what this giant warlord referred to as his master. The obvious respect, and sometimes fear, Lord Ulrich showed when he spoke of this mysterious entity was truly unnerving. Rayden was sure this person, or thing, was very powerful. He was also sure, if he didn’t agree to betray King Barden and all those innocent people, that Lord Ulrich and his legendary warriors wouldn’t mind fighting one more battle against Rayden’s people.

  “As you know, Lord Ulrich.” Rayden tried to keep his voice steady and diplomatic. It wouldn’t do him any good to let his growing fear show. “King Barden is my cousin, and the Kingdom of Nepram was a gift to my family, given many generations ago for our heroic deeds in the migration. Why should I agree to betray my own blood? What guarantees can you and your master give my people?”

  “Your own blood indeed.” Lord Ulrich laughed. “You humans came here three centuries ago because you somehow consumed everything in your own land, I am sure.” Lord Ulrich stood, paced slowly across the floor in his loud boots, and looked down at Rayden, his dark eyes full of fury. “You drove my harmless, simple-minded ancestors out of their homes into the frigid mountains to freeze and starve without a care.” He yelled now, throwing his arms about erratically.

  “If you want a guarantee, King Rayden, then I will give you one. If you do not cooperate with my master’s wishes, then I will personally lead a force of insanity so ruthless your bravest men will die of fright before we even swing a blade. We will march through the heart of Nepram unchecked.”

  Rayden did his best to swallow his fear as the massive gothican warlord went on. “I will keep you, and your children, and your children’s children for pets. The pathetic gift King Barden’s ancestors gave your people is a wasteland. Your whole populace is dependent on his great kingdom for everything. Nepram was a token gesture, at best, a pacifier given to silence a screaming child.”

  King Rayden, now terrified, trembled. He didn’t like hearing this from Lord Ulrich. He didn’t like hearing Nepram undignified in such a way. He didn’t like it at all. What bothered him even more than his inability to hide his dread, and hearing these insults hurled at his people, was the fact that it was the truth. To King Barden, Nepram was but an afterthought. It was a place to visit and be treated like a god whilst strutting around in full regalia, only to whisper about how dreadful a place it is. Rayden wanted desperately to believe Lord Ulrich’s so-called master would restore dignity to his kingdom. After all, he and his father, and even his grandfather, had been forced to beg for base necessities for the last two hundred years.

  With a sigh of resignation, and maybe a hint of hope, King Rayden asked, “How long will maneuverings take?” He still fought to hide his fear with what he hoped was a blank face and a diplomatic tone.

  “You will have to put on the show for some time.” Lord Ulrich breathed deeply and strode to an embrasure that overlooked the mostly useless land that was Nepram. The massive gothican had to stoop to get his eyes below the peak of the arched opening. Rayden cautiously eased nearer to Lord Ulrich and saw a herd of goats below searching for rare tufts of grass between the rocks.

  The sigh the great gothican let out was thick with what might have been pity. Rayden understood Ulrich’s race in a sense. Like the gothicans, his people had been pushed aside for King Barden’s ever-growing Kingdom of Narvoza. The only difference was that the gothicans had been here long before the humans had come. If Lord Ulrich could have his way, which Rayden understood was a viable possibility, the gothicans would still be there long after humanity was eradicated from the realm.

  “To answer your question, King Rayden, late this summer, we can start our attack on the southern border. By the end of winter, you will be the only human king left alive and Narvoza will be rid of most of
its men. Imagine claiming King Barden’s lands as a greater Nepram. Of course, your new subjects will need you desperately, for we will leave no one who opposes us alive.”

  The gothican rose back to his full height and looked down at King Rayden. His eyes twinkled with something akin to glee. “Just imagine the number of lonely women, with fatherless children, all awaiting a mighty leader such as you to guide them. They will serve you any way you desire.”

  After hearing that, and understanding the truth of it, King Rayden could do nothing but smile.

  Part I

  The Wilderkind

  Chapter One

  The elves, dwarves, and all the humans, for that matter, couldn't be happier to feel solid ground under their feet again. Everyone except for Braxton Bray. He wasn't paying attention to the fact that he was back on land at all. The odd thought consuming his mind was how weirdly wonderful it felt when one of the deck hands, and then Captain Pickerell himself, had referred to him as a wizard.

  Is that what I am now? he wondered. I've healed a dragon and stopped a ship from sinking, and I've soared over the ocean as free as a bird, but a wizard doesn't do those things outside of his body, does he?

  He wanted to ask Suclair about it but was afraid that another long, frustrating interrogation would ensue if he did. He kept his thoughts to himself and let Nixy lead him from the half-sunken ship that had carried them to Baily. The little fishing village only had one inn. That was hopefully where they would be spending the night. Warm food, a bath, and a bed were things, only half a day ago, he thought he would never know again. As worn and weary as they all were, the group would depart in the morning, and the elf, Vinston-Fret, was already making preparations.

  The good people of Baily seemed to be in shock. First, a ship that should not have been floating had made it to the dock. Then, to their onlooking amazement, three elves followed by a pair of dwarves and a bald-headed human woman had come ashore. Some of them hurried home and locked their doors. Braxton saw windows being shuttered in fear of the group. Others were reluctant but helpful. Apparently, they had never seen the wild-looking yellow-eyed elves, or the gnarled stumpy dwarves, but not all of Baily's citizens were so afraid. Many stood and gawked at the motley procession as it moved down the dock and wound through the town's only road toward the inn.

  The inn was fittingly called The Shipwreck, and since the innkeeper said he hadn't had a tenant in months, they gladly accepted the dwarven gold they were offered and started preparing a meal for the evening. The owner, a round-faced older man, was as happy as a lark when the braver souls of Baily started filing into the common room to have a drink and take a look at the new arrivals.

  The Shipwreck Inn had only four rooms available, and the dwarves paid for them all. To Braxton's surprise, they paid enough to rent the whole place for most of the month, but the dwarves weren't concerned with gold. Gold to a dwarf was like water to a fish. As Darblin had told Braxton on the ship, "When you live underground, precious metals en't so precious."

  Darblin and the other dwarf that was with them, Big H, were happy to be drinking and eager for a hot meal. The things Nixy was worried about, like bathing and changing clothes, never crossed their mind. Braxton, however, was tired of feeling the grainy salt in all his cracks and crevices and couldn't wait to wash the sea from his skin.

  When they got upstairs in the privacy of their room, Nixy awkwardly tried to talk to Braxton. She was saying they might need to slow it down and take a step back from each other but seemed frustrated he wasn't very concerned with her.

  It wasn't that he didn't care, he was just preoccupied with what lay ahead of them. He didn't intend to make her angry. In fact, he agreed with her.

  The tub at the end of the hall had been filled with hot water, and Nixy left for it with a frustrated huff. Oddly, she stopped at the door, took three long steps back toward him, and gave him a kiss on the forehead. Braxton had been sure she would throttle him, but now the door was closing behind her, and he was alone.

  Braxton had no regrets over having been intimate with Nixy, but he felt like the only reason she had given herself to him was because she thought they were going to die. Lately, every time she looked at him, she seemed either deeply in love, frustrated, or maybe just confused. He hoped she didn't regret what happened, but he agreed that, with the journey that was ahead of them, they needed to keep their emotions in check.

  At the moment, he had things on his mind that were far more important than either of them. If she wanted him, or needed to talk to him, he supposed she would.

  That night in the common room, Darblin and Big H halfheartedly complained about having to dine by themselves. The wrinkled noses and wide-eyed cringing that happened whenever someone passed too close was lost on them. Between their complaints, they were busy eating from the mounded piles of roast mutton and vegetables on their table.

  "Don’t worry, I'll make sure they bathe before they pass out," Nixy told bald-headed Suclair, daughter and student of the old wizard named Debain. Braxton was in some sort of daze so Nixy didn't even bother to address him.

  "Maybe if we leave them be, they'll scare away the creatures of the Wilderkind with their smell," Sorrell, one of the three elves, joked.

  "To scare away most anything," Vinston-Fret added, his yellow elven eyes twinkling with mirth, "all Darblin has to do is drop his pants."

  "Now that is scary." Suclair made a face. "Please change the subject."

  "I must have missed something," Nixy said, noticing the grins around the table and the red splotches on Suclair's bald head and cheeks.

  "I don't know how you possibly could have missed it," said Sorrell with a grin.

  "Don't feel bad," said Cryelos, the other elf in the odd group of companions. "I missed it, too, as I was drowning in the sea while they were busy gaping at the poor dwarf’s privates. I did, however, see how you saved yon dwarf by severing the tentacle that would have surely taken him."

  It was Nixy's turn to blush. She didn't think anybody had noticed what she'd done to the creature that had crippled their ship. She wasn't the type to gloat, but she had to admit it had been quite an acrobatic move to get her sword over Big H's head without taking part of it off and still bring the blade to bear on the deadly creature's appendage.

  "Speaking of that, how is your arm?" Suclair, her expression half-pride, half-embarrassment asked Vinston-Fret.

  "A little sore, but not so much so.” He smiled at her. "You did well, Suclair. Your father will be proud to hear about it."

  "Yeah, Sue.” Nixy patted her on the shoulder. "You blasted that thing good."

  "Speaking of my father," Suclair said, obviously unaware that her bald head glowed crimson when she was flustered. "He should have contacted me by now. I'm starting to get worried about him."

  "Why don't you try and contact him?" asked Nixy.

  "I'm not that practiced yet," Suclair answered. "My father has to make the connection. I cannot."

  "I'm sure that he's so busy he's just forgotten," said Vinston-Fret. "After telling King Barden about the amassing gothicans, and the scummy man who put the bounty on Lord Braxton and Lady Nixalia, I'm sure he was put into service to help fix the situation."

  "They better be torturing that grave robbing liar," Nixy said.

  After more light conversation, the elves excused themselves, saying there were a few more things that needed to be tended to before they retired.

  "I recommend you ladies get some good rest this evening," Vinston-Fret added. "We depart at dawn and will be sleeping on the ground until we have found what we are after and return."

  "Better the ground than on a sinking ship," Suclair joked.

  Not long after the elves left, Braxton surprised Nixy when he blurted out, "Watch!"

  Her lover pointed at his empty pewter goblet and, as everyone in earshot looked on, the cup slowly melted into a puddle, then reformed into a pewter rose. When it was done, Braxton picked it up and proudly handed it to her.

&
nbsp; So pleased at the magical gift, she forgot her intent to restrain her affection and gave him a giant kiss.

  In the night, as Nixy lay sleeping in the soft bed, Braxton was absorbed in reading the newly revealed passages of Taerak's journal. He could only read the words it wanted him to read, and even then, only by looking at the script through the gem in the medallion he'd found on Taerak's withered corpse what seemed like ages ago. For Braxton, sleep would not come this night. His blood was like liquid fire as he read page after page of information that was as terrifying as it was extraordinary.

  He was so consumed with the knowledge he gained that he didn't want to sleep.

  Dawn broke on a beautiful day, and Braxton was glad he wasn't tired for the quest to find the Sapphire of Souls was quickly underway.

  Three humans, three elves, and two dwarves made their way out of Baily on the Scarlee road. To call it a road was a stretch for it was only an overgrown set of wagon tracks. More than one villager called out a dire warning about the stretch of the trail that passed through part of the lower Wilderkind Forest. Braxton even heard a pair of old men wagering on the group’s chances of surviving the short, three-day journey to New Scarlee, which was just the first leg of a trek that would take them deep into the Wilderkind. All of this made for a somber mood as the village slowly disappeared behind them.

  Vinston-Fret had purchased two cart horses that seemed happy to not be in front of a wagon. The cart that might have come with them had a broken wheel and there was no one in the village, nor any parts, to fix it. The animals looked to have no trouble at all with the bulky gear strapped on their backs.