Seer of Souls (The Spirit Shield Saga Book 1) Page 14

  Cayden held up his hand in a halting gesture with a quick glance over his shoulder. “These are friends. Please lower your weapons.” Swords slowly dropped.

  “Now that is what I call a welcoming party.” Ryder grinned, surveying the partially clothed men. “There are strange things happening in the world.” The grin slid from Ryder’s face as he turned back to Cayden.

  Cayden saw sadness touched with fear replace the joy of a few moments ago in Ryder’s eyes. “We need to talk, Cayden.” He looked at Ziona and raised an eyebrow in query.

  Cayden reached back and took Ziona’s hand, drawing her forward. “Ryder, this is Ziona. She has been a great help to me. Let’s get your men settled and the horses picketed, and then we can talk.”

  Ryder motioned for the riders to approach and they filed in with their mounts.

  “Why do you have all the extra horses?” Cayden was curious at the string of horse flesh being pulled along with the riders.

  “I will explain in a minute.”

  They hobbled and picketed the horses, allowing them to graze. They remained saddled, however. Cayden noted the precaution.

  “Please make these men comfortable and scrounge up a meal for them,” Cayden instructed his companions. Ryder’s men followed them back into the cave.

  “Why are you here, Ryder?”

  Ryder withdrew his waterskin from his saddlebag and leaned against a tree trunk. He uncorked it and took a long drink to quench his thirst and then described everything that had transpired up to their arrival a few minutes ago.

  Ziona and Cayden took turns describing their flight from the legion’s camp.

  “We were so afraid you were lying dead in that horrible place.” Ryder grimaced as the unwanted images passed before his eyes.

  “One thing is certain.” Ziona pinned Cayden with a look. “That camp was attacked because of you. You must take my warning seriously, Cayden. Men are dying for it.”

  Cayden raked his hands through his hair. He nodded. He looked to the south in the direction of Cathair. Something tugged at him, urging him to go in that direction.

  That quickly, Cayden’s band became thirty. There would be no more hiding their travels. From here on out, they would be riding in the open and much easier to spot.

  Chapter 25

  AVERY CROUCHED IN THE BUSHES between her father and Sharisha. The scene before them was eerily silent. A door swung back and forth in the breeze, creaking on rusting hinges. A lone chicken strutted across the empty street and disappeared into a flower bed to the right of the loose door. Nothing disturbed its passage.

  The town seemed deserted. No smoke rose from the hearth chimneys. No children played in the warm sunshine. No laundry was strung from the drying lines in the backyards.

  Sharisha stood up suddenly and strode forward into the village. Gaius and Avery followed, but at a much slower pace. Avery felt a great sadness about the town and a deep-rooted terror. Sharisha entered the dwelling with the creaking door. Inside was a comfortable living room. The chairs were covered with bright quilted pillow seats, the floors adorned with woven mats. Matching curtains fluttered in the windows.

  The table in the kitchen was set with four bowls. A roast sat in the middle of the table, carving knife and fork resting on the side of the platter. Several slices had been carved from the roast and lay ready for serving. A bowl of potatoes and a bowl of peas were also on the table. The fly-covered food had spoiled as had the meat. There was no one home. The house sat empty.

  Avery touched the tabletop and a flash of pure emotion assailed her. She gasped. For a second, she saw the family seated before her at the table. The woman wrestled two young children into their chairs. Her husband stood carving the meat. Suddenly, they both glanced toward the doorway. Horror sprang into their eyes and their mouths opened to scream. There was a sudden bright flash and everyone vanished.

  Avery stumbled back from the table as the vision faded. Tears sprang to her eyes and she gasped, hands over her mouth. She collapsed to the floor. Sharisha bent down and eased her to a sitting position.

  “What was it, Avery? What did you see?”

  Avery described the vision, blinking away tears that misted her vision. Gaius frowned at the table.

  “Was that an actual vision? Or was it my imagination?”

  Sharisha helped her to her feet. “Oh, I think it was a true vision. As to what could cause people to vanish, I know of only one possibility.” Sharisha strode out the door and continued to search the other dwellings. All were empty of inhabitants.

  In the barn, they found a hay fork dropped beside a loose bale of hay. The stall door beside it was broken. The horse had kicked it down to get to the food. They searched the barn. None of the animal fodder had spoiled. Only the human and Primordial food was going bad. They found the horse out the back of the barn, happily munching on the flowers planted along the side of the inn next door.

  “We need to leave this place,” Sharisha said. They hurried back to their horses, which they had tied off in the woods. Mounting up, they skirted the village and continued on down the road.

  The next three villages they reached were similarly abandoned, their inhabitants seeming to have disappeared midway through activities. The farms they found in between villages were also empty of human life.

  They set up camp for the evening in the yard of one such farm, where they turned out the horses to graze. No one wished to sleep inside, even though it was obvious no one was returning to the houses. Settling down around their campfire, Avery turned to Sharisha. “Tell me what is going on. Where is everyone?”

  Worry drew Sharisha’s brows together. “These are villages of the spirit clans. The Primordial of this area have been taken by the Paimon. The Paimon is the king of the underworld who manages the armies of the dead for both the Mother Goddess and the Great Goddess of the Dark. Humans would know the armies of the Mother Goddess as angels, the armies of the Dark as demons. It would appear the Paimon is recruiting for both armies.”

  Avery and Gaius gasped in unison.

  “I think it is safe to say war is imminent, if not already occurring. Recruitment in this fashion is usually a result of unrest in the underworld.” She addressed Avery. “The prophecies speak of a saviour to be born who will heal the land and its peoples and will lead the armies of righteousness against the forces of the Dark One, and who will unite all peoples in the final days.” She looked away. “It seems those days are upon us now. It is time to rest. We will reach my people with one more day’s hard ride.”

  Avery crawled under her blankets, her thoughts full of what she had seen. She eventually dropped into a troubled sleep, a sleep where she dreamed of Cayden in a cage and a ghostly hooded figure standing over him with a bloody knife. She cried out a warning, then rolled over and drifted back to sleep.

  Chapter 26

  CAYDEN AND RYDER assembled the men. They were a ragtag bunch in farmer’s woolens and former legion uniforms. Joshua scratched at his arm where the itchy wool rubbed against his sweaty skin.

  Silence fell as Cayden stepped forward to address them, Ryder at his side. Sheba took up a position on the other side of Cayden.

  “We wish to speak to you about your presence here.” Cayden glanced at Ryder, who nodded encouragingly. “I want you to know that I truly appreciate your care and concern in coming to rescue me.” He gripped Darius on the shoulder. “Without your help, I would still be captured and possibly dead by now.” Darius smiled, accepting the nod in his direction. “I must make you all understand the danger you are placing yourselves in by staying with me. Something is hunting me. I do not understand what or why. But understand this. Everything you have seen since leaving your homes is related to these enemies. They will not quit pursuing me. If you stay with me, there is every chance you will die doing so.”

  His gaze touched each of them briefly. “I cannot ask you to stay. There is no shame in going home after what you have seen these past few days. However, if you are willing, w
e would be glad to have your help and assistance. We will be travelling to the capital city of Cathair.”

  Ryder stepped in at this point. “If you choose to stay, the men who followed Cayden out of the legion will be training you all in battle and weapons techniques beginning today. You need to learn fighting skills if we are to survive. You have seen what we face. The legion was killed to a last man…except for those who had left earlier.”

  “What killed the men in the camp?” asked a pale-faced Joshua.

  Ziona took over and painted a gruesome picture of the Charun for the men. Faces paled and many men swallowed, panic striking their hearts. Ziona then reached up and uncoiled her hair, revealing her Primordial features. The assembled men gasped in surprise. Murmuring arose from the crowd.

  “Know this!” Ziona’s voice rang out. “Cayden is not alone. He has the support of the Primordial people in this quest given to him. He does not fight alone! Do you stand with him?” She surveyed the men. “There can be no doubt in your decision. The world is changing and he is central to it. Choose now, but choose carefully for you will not be asked again. Stay and help; fight and die if necessary. Or leave. There is no shame in doing so. But you must choose now. If you leave later, it will be viewed as treason. There is no turning back.”

  The youths from Cayden’s village shuffled their feet and as a man, looked to Ryder. Ryder nodded to them, feet spread wide and beefy arms crossed across his chest.

  Michale stepped forward. “I think I speak for all the men here,” he trembled, his voice breaking, “when I say we will stay. What hope is there for the souls of the living if things like the Charun are allowed to roam the world? We are all doomed if we do not take action. Stay or go home, but at least we know what is out there now. The people in the villages and farms across this land have no idea.” He met Ziona’s eyes and his hardened with determination. “If the Primordial people are willing to back Cayden, then I stand with Cayden.” He stepped forward and knelt in front of Cayden, head bowed. “I pledge my life, body, and soul to you, Cayden Tiernan. I am your sword.”

  All of the men followed suit, going to one knee where they stood and repeated the pledge.

  Cayden’s jaw dropped open in surprise. Ziona nudged his arm. His jaw snapped shut.

  Cayden cleared his throat. “Rise, men,” he squeaked. They rose as one, flashing grins at each other. It’s like they think this is a grand adventure. Cayden struggled to keep the grimace off his face. He felt completely foolish commanding them to rise, like some lord.

  Cayden grabbed Ryder by the sleeve, hauling him around so their backs were to the men, their faces hidden. “We need to get going. We can’t stay here. Can you organize them? Darius is a good man and well trained. He would make an excellent second-in-command for you.”

  “I will take care of it.”

  “Darius, step forward,” Ryder commanded, turning back to the crowd. Darius took two strides forward and snapped a sharp salute. Ryder pulled his sword and in the fashion he imagined the knights of old would have performed this ritual, he commanded Darius to kneel. Darius sank to his knees and bowed his head. “Darius, you are hereby raised to the rank of captain and you are now my second-in-command.” He lightly touched the blade to each shoulder then raised it straight, before dropping his arm to his side. His eyes took in all his men. “You will take orders from Captain Darius as you do me. Rise, captain.”

  “Your first task as captain is to get every man to a horse and to distribute the weapons we brought. Your men must be armed. Your second task is to arrange the men into fighting units. Choose a capable man to be in charge of supplies and have him gather men to secure provisions from the cave to be packed on the spare horses. We break camp in an hour. Dismissed!”

  The men followed Darius back toward the cave and hobbled horses to begin preparations to leave.

  Ziona moved closer to Cayden and Ryder. “We need maps. I will ride ahead and gather some maps in the next village. A lone woman will not be suspicious. Stay away from the main roads where ever possible. Try to keep the men on a parallel course to the road and use scouts to keep track of your relationship to the road. I will join back up with the band by sunset.” She glanced at the sky. ”The Charun prefer to move about in the darkness for they are creatures of shadow. Evening will be a dangerous time. Travel during the day should be relatively safe, provided there are no other forces out there hunting you, Cayden.”

  She retrieved her pack and sleeping roll and some basic supplies from the cave, gathered her horse and mule and with a quick hug for Cayden, mounted and rode off to the west.

  Chapter 27

  LAURISTA STUMBLED OUT OF THE BUSH, the gash on her head bleeding through the cloth she had hastily tied around her forehead. She limped slowly over toward the trembling horse. It was clearly terrified of her, nostrils flaring and eyes rolling back. It bared its teeth in warning.

  She murmured soft words to it and held out the apple once again. She knew she would not survive unless she could ride for help. She stumbled and fell to the ground. The horse snorted and backed up further.

  Her world spun. Light-headed from blood loss, her mushy brain told her. She reached up and applied pressure once again to her head wound. The world swam and she fainted.

  A velvety soft muzzle nuzzling her hand roused her once more. The apple was gone. The horse snorted gently and took a step closer, searching her body for more apples. Laurista opened her eyes and stared it in the face. Slowly, she reached up her hand and patted its muzzle. Her hand closed on the bridle and she pulled herself up as the horse stepped back, pulling her to her feet.

  She made a shushing noise, moving slowly to calm it. It stood still, permitting her touch. The gelding was still saddled. It had been one of the scouts’ mounts. She gathered the reins and pulled herself into the saddle.

  She pointed it west and nudged it into a walk, hanging on its neck to keep from sliding back to the ground.

  ***

  Ziona paused, hearing the sound of movement in the bush. She faded back into the trees, watching the approach of some animal. Her horse whinnied in greeting. A grey gelding stepped out of the bush, carrying a rider slumped over in the saddle. Ziona urged her mount forward and approached the unconscious person. She dismounted and cautiously approached the woman whose blue dress was covered in blood, the once white sleeves stiffened in gore. The woman slid sideways out of the saddle, as her mount came to a halt. Ziona caught her and lowered her gently to the ground. She tied the horse with her own and retrieved her medicine bag, her precious potion, her skin of water, and soft rags.

  Kneeling by the woman, Ziona forced some of their precious potion between her chapped lips. The woman swallowed it automatically, but her eyes remained closed. Ziona unstopped her water bottle and then unwound the hastily applied bandage around the lady’s head. A large gash pulsed with blood, beginning to trickle down her forehead and into her matted hairline, remoistening the blood already soaking it.

  Ziona washed the gash and then pulled a needle and thread from her pocket and stitched the large wound. It took forty stitches to close the gap. She examined her skull and was relieved to find no fracture. She knew that did not mean there was not some swelling under the skull.

  She washed off the remaining blood and affixed a smaller bandage in place over the cut. She poured a little more potion down the woman’s throat, which she swallowed again.

  Next, she examined the rest of the woman. There were no other severe injuries. There was a slice in her sleeve, revealing a superficial cut on the arm that had long since stopped bleeding. Ziona cleaned that wound too.

  Ziona leaned back to examine the woman. Obviously, the gore on her dress was not her own. She stripped the woman down to her smallclothes and then redressed her with a soft robe from her own pack.

  As she finished her ministrations, the woman stirred. Her hazel eyes fluttered open and focused on Ziona’s face.

  “You are the seamstress from the merchant’s camp,” sh
e croaked. She reached up and touched her forehead. Her eyes flew open. “You have stitched it already?” She struggled to sit up and Ziona assisted her. The woman trembled weakly. However, she felt herself strengthening dramatically. She peered closer at Ziona. “You are not what you seem, are you?”

  “I am a friend. Now that I know where you came from, I understand the gore all over you. Come, we need to keep moving, those who attacked the camp are still nearby.”

  She helped her back onto her horse, repacked her supplies into her saddlebags, and mounted up beside the woman. “My name is Ziona.”

  “My name is Laurista. Your name is Primordial?”

  “Yes. Let’s go.”

  Laurista followed Ziona’s retreating horse, eyes thoughtful.

  They reached the village of Stonytrail about two hours later. Laurista donned Ziona’s cloak to disguise her lack of proper clothing. They had stopped to bathe in a secluded bend of the river. Laurista joyfully sluiced away the gore and the stink of death from her skin and hair. They had not spoken much during the ride, Laurista too exhausted to do more than concentrate on keeping her balance in the saddle, Ziona deep in thought and planning.

  They skirted the village and set up a meager camp on the western edge of the village in a small dense grove of cottonwoods. Approaching the town, they entered a dressmaker’s shop and purchased two changes of clothing for Laurista. Ziona handed over the coins and nodded to Laurista’s hastily whispered thanks.

  “Is there a mapmaker in town?” Ziona asked the merchant.

  “No mapmaker, but the village mayor keeps a stock of such items. He is the fifth house down on the riverside.”

  They made their way to the indicated dwelling and knocked on the red-painted door. A maid opened it and ushered them into a small waiting alcove. She returned a few minutes later with the mayor, a tall dark-haired man sporting a handlebar mustache that he twisted between his fingers as he listened to their request.