Sapphire of Souls Read online

  Over the years, hundreds of explorers had been attacked and killed in the Wilderkind, but up until the last turn of the moon, never had the feral creatures been brave enough to venture out and attack humans in the open.

  Vinston-Fret questioned him about the weapons the trolls had been carrying, and Darblin argued that, in the thousands of years the dwarves lived beneath them, they had never seen trolls use anything other than clubs and rocks to fight with. The man told Darblin that he would row them back to New Scarlee and he could see firsthand the few dozen spears and axes they'd used.

  Braxton tried his best not to dwell on any of it. He kept his focus on his lessons and the need to find the Sapphire of Souls. Only after they were out of the boat, and in the more easily traversable area away from the river, did Darblin and Vinston-Fret resume their conversation about the weapons. Braxton was pleased when they both came to the agreement that Pharark had to be behind it all. Now, as Braxton tried his hardest to tune it all out and find the void, visions of the dead little girl he'd seen, and the idea of her getting her arms pulled from their sockets by some savage creature, kept him from it. If Pharark was behind that, Braxton vowed not only to find and destroy the Sapphire of Souls, but to do all he could to kill the demon as well.

  Vinston-Fret had left the horse and the extra bundles of cold weather gear with the man who had rowed them there. As a group, they more or less decided that if they hadn't found the Sapphire of Souls by the time the weather turned, they could go back to New Scarlee and wait out the winter.

  The plan sounded wonderful last night from the table in the man's cottage, but now, not even a full day into the true Wilderkind Forest, all of them save for the elves were voicing the foolishness of thinking this would be an exciting adventure. Suclair said they wouldn't survive the woods, much less the creatures within it.

  The elves, Sorrell in particular, made it clear he was already tired of hearing the dwarves complain. Nixy hadn't said a word, and as he took her in, Braxton saw that, like the elves, she hadn't gotten on the bad end of the greenery yet.

  When Vinston-Fret finally called a halt in what passed for a clearing, Braxton was relieved, but not as relieved as Darblin and Big H.

  Vinston-Fret and Cryelos immediately began tending to the many cuts and scratches on them all with the pungent gray cream they kept in their leather envelope. Sorrell dug a fire pit, collected quite a bit of dead fall, and built a huge fire. Nixy helped clean Suclair's head wounds while Braxton sat alone at the base of a tree and tried to force the image of the tortured girl out of his void. At some point, he succeeded, and he felt the tingling power of the jewel course through him. It was working to heal his arms too, he understood. Parts of the journal he'd read explained that the gem would do it's best to keep it's host healthy. One passage said that, if the injuries were great enough, the jewel would summon the void on its own.

  After making sure everybody's wounds were tended, Vinston-Fret sat by the fire and studied the crude maps his father had made. They were going straight to the place where the Sapphire of Souls was supposedly swallowed by the wood dragon.

  "I think that if we get even farther away from the river's edge the underbrush will thin out even more." Braxton heard one of the elves say. "At the moment, the vines and thorns seem to be our biggest problem."

  If the area of the Wilderkind between Baily and New Scarlee, where they'd slept two nights ago, had been scary, then this was downright terrifying. What little light the sun provided quickly disappeared, and the very forest came alive around them. Branches shuttered and shook for no apparent reason. These occurrences were followed by long periods of silence where not even the insects dared reveal themselves. A low screeching howl like nothing any of them ever heard before was cut off by a long series of guttural yelps. Just after they'd eaten a meal of warm broth, dried meat, and pieces of hard bread, a savage roar, followed by a wet tearing noise came from not so far away and left the night still and quiet for a very long time. The sudden trembling of the limbs and branches above them, as if something were shaking them, was the scariest of all, for the cause of the phenomenon was completely undetectable. Braxton thought the trees themselves might be alive.

  They set their watches as they had before, Vinston-Fret and Suclair first, then Nixy and Darblin, followed by Braxton and Cryelos, and finally Sorrell and Big H. Braxton hadn't slept for more than a moment or two since they'd left the ship in Baily. He decided to forego his meditation this night for he would have time after his watch until dawn to study Taerak's journal. Nixy laid her bed roll close to his. She didn't seem unpleased when he cautiously scooted close enough to put his arm around her before falling asleep to the sound of the already snoring dwarves.

  "I'm worried about my father," Suclair said quietly to Vinston-Fret as they sat by the fire, watching over their sleeping companions. "He should have reached out to me by now. You can't tell me he is too busy or that he forgot. He has never gone this long without contacting me."

  "I'm not sure what to say," Vinston-Fret said in reply. "I would like to be able to comfort your worry with words, but they would be false. The importance of our quest, not to mention your safety, would be cause enough for him to have reached out, as you call it. We can only hope that he is alright and that King Barden has him so occupied making preparations to defend the kingdom that he cannot take the time."

  "Something's wrong," she said as she searched for strength. "It's something I can feel. He is either in grave danger, or he is dead, and I am certain my feelings are correct. But you are also correct, all we can do from here is hope for the best."

  "I wish it were not so." He nodded. Then, after a long silence, the elf asked, "Have you felt the presence or the power of the Sapphire of Souls yet?"

  "No," she whispered with a glance at Braxton's sleeping form. "All I've felt is Lord Braxton's magic growing stronger and stronger. His aura swells when he slips into the void he speaks of. I doubt he even knows how strong he's become or what he is capable of. I do know that he leaves himself and flies above us sometimes while we travel. That is how he spotted those fur balls that attacked us before we got to New Scarlee."

  "They're called Kobls, Suclair." The elf forced a laugh. "Not fur balls."

  "Whatever they are, their blood stinks horribly." She wrinkled her nose. "That's all I know about them. I've only read about these creatures. I grew up inside the protective walls of the Sorcerious. I've not ventured out into the world so very much."

  "Well, make no mistake, your blast of sticky fire saved us from the sea creature."

  She couldn't help but smile at the amount of respect in his voice, but knowing her father was in trouble kept her from feeling any true joy.

  "It's called a fire ball, the spell I mean." Even through her sorrow, the spark of pride he'd instilled in her was something she'd never felt before.

  "I've lived my life in the wilderness. Well, what wilderness the Isle of Jolin afforded me. We elves can use magic of a sort, but it's not based around spell casting. It's more natural."

  Suclair found herself blushing when she wondered if an elf and a human could mate. Then she dismissed the idea, remembering elves lived for hundreds of years while humans did not. She doubted she would even ever master the spell of longevity that allowed her father to live so long, and even if she did, she still wouldn't live near as long as an elf.

  “Why is it called the Sapphire of Souls?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure.” Vinston-Fret shrugged. “Taerak told my people it would lead us to place we could truly call home, but my father said the souls contained within the sapphire are not of elves or men. We believe that the trees and plants have souls, as all sentient beings do. Father said it holds the souls of the keeper and his forest.”

  “Who is the keeper?” she couldn’t help but ask.

  “The guardian of the woods we might someday call home.” Vinston-Fret smiled, but his expression turned sour. “The sapphire has the power to transform nature, or so I�
�ve come to understand. I’m sure that is why the demon wants it. With it, Pharark might change the very landscape as he chooses. Imagine an unsuspecting town or village suddenly submerged into a lake or torn apart as a mountain thrusts up in its place.”

  After hearing that, Suclair decided not to ask any more questions.

  About a quarter way into the second watch, Nixy came up with an idea to help the dwarves keep the thorns from getting in their arms and shoulders so badly. Darblin spent the rest of the watch being prodded and twisted and turned until finally his arms were fully wrapped with leather strips Nixy cut out of an old cloak. The piece ran from above the elbow to the top of the shoulder and laced together on the inside of his arm. Then another strip ran from wrist to elbow. Darblin was pleased because his short stumpy arms would now be protected, and after a few tries, he felt he could still swing his axe unencumbered.

  Nixy spent the rest of their watch making another set for Big H while Darblin worked his arms this way and that, trying to stretch and unstiffen the material.

  Nixy woke Braxton with a soft kiss on his cheek, and then excitedly told him about her creation. She then curled up and fell fast asleep. Braxton joined Cryelos by the fire and waited patiently for his watch to end so he could begin his meditations. Cryelos must have noticed Braxton's anxiousness because he told him he could go ahead and begin his exercises. Braxton refused, but only out of sense of duty. He took his time on watch seriously. The idea that he might be a better sentry, if he was high up in the trees watching through the sharp eyes of the white falcon didn't cross his mind until his watch was nearly over.

  So many things were happening to him, and so fast, he couldn't quite adjust to any of them. Every day, he found something more that he could do from the void, or an easier way to do what he'd learned the day before. His drive to gain as much knowledge as possible, as fast as possible, overrode the need to master what he already learned. He actually found that sitting there with Cryelos in his normal state of mind was a relaxing and welcome change.

  "Sorrell is going to kill the dwarves before it's over with," Cryelos said absently. "He likes them well enough, but their constant complaining gets under his skin."

  "I'm sure if the dwarves could move so effortlessly through these woods without being torn apart by thorns or attacked by insects, then they wouldn't complain so much." Braxton smiled at the elf. "Sorrell's complaints about the dwarves are not so different from the dwarves’ complaints about the forest."

  "That is a very wise observation." Cryelos gave a sarcastic grin. "What are those yellow flies that won't leave Darblin alone, anyway?"

  Braxton thought about it and shook his head. "I don't know, but they seem to swarm around those plants with the sticky blue leaves." He pointed to the green hair sticking out of Darblin's bed roll. There were still a few of the blue leaves knotted up in it. "That's the only place I've seen them."

  "It looks like river moss," Cryelos said about Darblin's hair.

  Braxton chuckled. "It does, doesn't it." He decided that was exactly what it looked like.

  "Oldgen grumph—" Sorrell's voice broke the silence, causing both Braxton and Cryelos to turn quickly in his direction. Sorrell raised an arm and pointed absently toward the fire, then his arm dropped back to his side, and he rolled over and went back to sleep.

  "He must be dreaming," said Cryelos, turning back to the fire.

  "No doubt about killing the dwarves," Braxton added, and they both laughed.

  Later, when Cryelos went to wake Sorrell for his watch, he found that his lifelong friend's body was cold and rubbery. When he knelt for a closer look, his hand slipped right into the gooey muck that was once his friend.

  The wail Cryelos made was long and sorrowful. It woke everyone instantly. Suclair cast her light spell so that they could see what was happening, but at Nixy's request, put it out just as quickly. Braxton and Nixy both saw, quite vividly, the red mushy clump that Cryelos was now crying over.

  Darblin's ax saved Cryelos from the same fate as Sorrell. The blade came down on an orange and black serpent that slithered out from under the dead elf's blanket.

  The rest of the night passed in silence while Vinston-Fret and Cryelos buried Sorrell's remains right where they lay. Braxton and the dwarves tried to help, but were asked to give them space.

  When dawn broke, Vinston-Fret and Cryelos recited some sort of elven death prayer. When it was done, both swore to Arbor that the quest their friend died for would be finished. When that was done, they went about readying the group for the day's travel without another word.

  Chapter Five

  "But Vin, it was my watch. I am responsible for his death," said Cryelos. The cool of the morning had passed. It was midday, and the group was moving steadily deeper into the forest.

  "No, Cryelos." Vinston-Fret stopped, causing the whole procession to come to a halt. "You, nor Lord Braxton, will take the blame. There are things out here—" he spread his hands out indicating the vast green darkness of the Wilderkind, "Things that you nor I, nor any of us, can watch for. When Sorrell moved his bedroll so far away from the fire, he invited such an attack upon himself. Do not waste your time and energy on guilt, my friend. While you are skulking with your chin down, you might miss seeing something you could warn us about. That would be your fault."

  "I'm sorry, Vinston," Cryelos said, making a visible resignation. "I won't fail you."

  "Come, Cryelos," Darblin said as he eased up beside the elf to take the position behind Vinston-Fret. "If there is a fault, it is mine." His voice was matter-of-fact. "Meself and me fellow dwarf made a game of irritating your friend. And no doubt we’re who caused him to leave the fire's proximity. But I tell you this, the Wilderkind is no island safe from the world." He pointed back down the line at all of them. "If only one of us survives this blasted forest and Pharark's evil, it will be a miracle. Meself, or even you, might be the next one to meet the maker, so waste no time on tears for them that be gone. If ye live to see yeer island again, ye can take the time to mourn him there."

  Braxton could tell that Cryelos was fighting to bite back words he would probably regret. There was no doubt that Darblin was right. This place was dangerous beyond measure. Guilt and doubt would only invite more trouble. It was selfish of Cryelos to feel as if it was all his fault. The truth of it was, Pharark was to blame. None of them would be out in this dense twisted mess chasing a magic sapphire that was swallowed by a beast over a hundred years ago. Not if the demon couldn't use it to destroy the world.

  Braxton saw that Suclair had tricked Nixy into helping her manage her ink pot while she wrote her never-ending observations in one of the journals her father had given her. Nixy seemed irritated at first, but after a while, the angst had disappeared. Braxton was amazed, for as soon as Suclair was done writing about a plant, or a lizard, or the fist-sized, pale-white spider who had spun a web as big as a blanket between two trees, something else caught her eye, and she was at it again.

  The girl was clearly overcompensating out of worry for her father. Somehow, doing the things he'd asked her to do was keeping her mind off the fact he hadn't contacted her yet. Braxton knew the others agreed stopping every now and then so that she could articulate into words what she was seeing was far better than listening to her contemplate what might've happened to old Debain.

  Nixy's expression turned sour when Suclair left the group, moving towards something. Nixy shook her head, but dutifully followed, holding the vial of ink at the ready.

  The butterfly was big, and its shimmering wings seemed to hold every color imaginable. Each one was roughly the same size as a page of Suclair’s journal. They shimmered and slowly opened and closed repeatedly as if to show Suclair their magnificence and draw her closer. It's multi-segmented body was covered in green fuzz that was the same color as the leaf it was on.

  Braxton watched all of this through hawk eyes from above. He noticed movement ahead of the group, too, but it was so far away that he intentionally waited to i
nvestigate what it might be. Instead, he focused on his lover and Debain's daughter as they took in the beautiful creature they'd spotted.

  Along the butterfly's body were several tiny legs, too many to count. They gripped a stem as it wavered in the wind, and Braxton noticed a feathery yellow tail twitching back and forth behind the insect. It was quite amazing.

  Suclair was looking and writing furiously, trying to take in all the detail before it was startled away. Nixy insisted they hurry and return to the respectful, but impatient, group waiting on them.

  Darblin and Big H were passing a water skin back and forth, trying to catch their breath while they could. Vinston-Fret put his hand to his mouth, about to call out for the girls to get back into formation when the look of alarm crossed his face, and he instantly nocked an arrow.

  The butterfly fluttered into the air and made a slow, graceful loop around Suclair and Nixy. It hovered over Suclair's outstretched hand and looked as if it were about to land there. Just before it did, Vinston-Fret's arrow ripped through both of its wings and carried it sputtering into the nearest tree.

  "You’re a rotten turd," Suclair yelled at him. "What are you thinking?"

  She was furious, and her whole head glowed with crimson splotches. She reached up to touch the pinned creature. Both of its wings were pierced by the shaft, and it hung there flapping wildly, trying to escape. Just before her hand got too close Vinston-Fret slapped it away. He wisely ducked the swing she took at him, and then wrapped her up in his arms.