Soul Sanctuary: Book Two Of The Spirit Shield Saga Read online

  The unicorn stepped around Avery and approached Sharisha, who was still frowning over Gaius’s ankle, purple and blue and clearly crushed.

  “There is nothing I can do for this foot.” Sharisha shook her head. “My powers of healing do not extend to this kind of injury. It requires more healing spirit than I possess. I will try to bind it as best I can, but the outlook is grave.”

  She walked back to the woods where Avery noticed she had tied her mount. The horse’s ears were pricked forward, and it watched the unicorn with avid interest, prancing where she stood, clearly as eager to greet the unicorn as Sunny had been.

  Avery followed the unicorn back to Gaius and watched as she placed the tip of her horn against the mangled flesh. Avery’s father groaned at the touch and his eyes rolled back in his head as he fainted. Waves of energy washed from the horn and encased his foot, sinking into the skin and flickering over it with a cold blue flame. The foot writhed and reformed under the skin, the bones mending, the tendons reattaching, the skin smoothing as the foot was repaired. The blue light faded, and the unicorn raised her head. Gaius’s mouth dropped open and he began to snore peacefully.

  The unicorn wandered back toward the woods, her tiny hooves leaving no trail.

  “Wait!” Avery cried. “What is your name?” She felt silly addressing the unicorn this way, as though she understood her speech, but then a thought pressed against her mind.

  You may call me Deva, whispered the unicorn. It means celestial spirit.

  How is it I can hear your thoughts?

  We communicate by telepathy. For you to be able to see me and hear me, you are a rare human. She stepped closer to Avery, Deva’s sky-blue eyes shining. We know you, Mother. She nosed Avery’s sleeve, and Avery’s arm tingled and then burned. She yelped and pulled up her sleeve. Burnt into her skin was the outline of a unicorn.

  Chapter 2

  Legend

  SHARISHA RETURNED FROM HER SADDLE BAGS, her healer’s kit in hand, and jerked to a halt when she saw Gaius snoring away on the ground.

  “Did you provide healing for this foot?” She dropped to the ground and lifted it, examining the formerly crushed appendage. She even went so far as to peel off his mangled boot and sock, gazing at the torn leather then at the perfectly pink, albeit dirty, foot.

  “Uh.” Avery was unsure if she understood what had happened herself. She rubbed the tingling tattoo on her arm, hesitant to share the experience with Sharisha. It felt personal somehow, as though the tattoo was connected to the unicorn in some form.

  Sharisha rose from the ground “Well? It seems you have been hiding talents from my knowledge.” Avery did not reply. “Wake your father. We must ride!”

  Avery bent down and shook her father gently. Abruptly, the snoring ceased. Gaius looked up at her, startled. Then he sat up, his confusion evident in the way he gaped at his naked foot.

  “Put on your boot. We have to move on. We will have to double up on Sunny.”

  Hearing her name, Sunny ambled over, tufts of grass sticking out either side of her muzzle.

  Gaius pulled on his sock and boot, his eyes studying his dead mount. Avery tried to help him up, but he shook off her hands. Nothing showed of his tumble except for the torn leather of his boot and rips in his right pant leg.

  They scrambled onto Sunny’s back and followed Sharisha’s retreating back down the gloomy trail, hurrying to keep her in sight.

  Gaius leaned over and whispered into Avery’s ear. “Would you care to tell me what that was all about? Clearly, I should not be walking.”

  Avery looked back over her shoulder, eyes searching for the unicorn, then hugged her father around the middle and whispered the events to him, as softly as she could, keeping her tone low. Her father knew all about her strange abilities to sense the souls of animals and to sense honesty and integrity in others. She and her brother Cayden had been born with special abilities to see the spirit world around them. For this gift, they had been hunted since before they were born. There were those who would do anything to capture a Spirit Shield and the magic they possessed.

  “And why do you not want to share this with Sharisha?”

  “I don’t know, Father. I just feel uncomfortable around her. I know it’s silly, but…” Her voice trailed away as Sharisha glanced back over her shoulder, checking their progress.

  “You have never been wrong before, Avery. Trust your instincts. I know Cayden would say the same thing.”

  Cayden…where are you, Cayden? Avery wondered, as she swayed on the back of the horse. He had reached out to her a little while ago, telepathically, but they had been occupied with the Primordial camp and strange actions of the High Priests at that time. She buried her face in her father’s back, trying to erase the horrific images that crept behind her eyelids, images of blood and flesh and bone transfigured into a beast of unknown intent.

  Maybe she could contact him if she tried. Cayden, can you hear me? Cayden?

  It had been two months since she had last seen him, since they had fled their home in Sanctuary-by-the-Sea. She remembered him riding away surrounded by legion soldiers and being scared to death that she would never see him again.

  Obviously, he had had a much easier time of it than she, and his powers must have grown for him to be able to telepathically contact her as he did. He must have been able to keep his magic hidden, much as she had, or he would have been dead by now.

  “Father, can you hear Cayden in your head? Does he whisper to you?”

  Gaius shook his head. “No, I cannot contact him as you do. Have you?”

  “Yes. He tried to contact me while we were spying on the camp and then again, about two weeks past. He was safe at the time. As much as I detest being separated from him, he seems to have chosen the easier path.”

  Gaius patted the arm slung around his waist. “Let’s hope so, dear one.”

  Sharisha partially reined in her horse as it danced nervously. “We must move faster. We might be followed. Come!” She heeled her mount into an easy trot, and they fell silent as they sped through the gloom of the woods, slowly brightening with the dawn.

  They rode through a stand of sage willow, leggy branches heavy with dew, hugging the edge of a bubbling brook thick with copperhead fronds and blue-spotted mushrooms right to the water’s edge. With a large plop, a bullfrog launched itself into the water. Sunny’s ears flicked as she marked the frog’s passage, which was soon followed by smaller ripples at water’s edge. Her nervous eyes attempted to follow every splash. Sunny snorted then danced sideways as she attempted to keep all the frogs in sight.

  They followed the gurgling brook for roughly an hour and then veered north and up out of the valley floor, climbing once again toward the join of two rounded hills that sliced through the cliffs.

  “Sharisha,” Avery called over her father’s shoulder. “Are you going to explain that scene we witnessed back there? What was that thing the bear cub turned into?”

  Sharisha slowed her mount, allowing them to catch up and ride side by side. “The cub is no longer a cub.”

  Avery twitched with annoyance. “I saw that. Would you prefer I said ‘who was that’?”

  Sharisha rode on in silence. Just when Avery thought she did not intend to elaborate, Sharisha spoke. “As you know, legends are legends because the knowledge of what actually occurred has been lost with time. It is no different for the Bear and Thunder Clans. Some scholars believe that there truly were clans that could harness the magic of the bear and the elements such as thunder. But what remains to us is the stories passed down, not factual account. It is from those brief stories that have we gained what little knowledge we currently possess of the ancient clans.

  “According to Primordial legend, in the beginning of time great bears roamed the land, much as humanity does today. In those days, they walked upright on hind legs and it is believed they had developed a rudimentary language. They lived in family units and communities, not much different than we do today. There are sacred
caves that record generations of the Bear Clans, familial lines drawn out in detail on the smooth walls. Our High Priests believe that they once numbered in the tens of thousands. The remains of large stone communal dwellings can be found in the hills, some of which are still in use today as way stations.

  “When the Great Cataclysm occurred, legend has it that the Bear Clans packed up their families and moved deeper into the mountain to escape the anger of the Thunder Clans. No one is sure what happened to the Bear Clans, but by the time that humans came to be, the great Bear Clans had passed into legend.

  “One particular scroll, however, gives account of a she-bear princess pregnant with cub, who braved the open elements and against the clan’s wishes, left their shelter to speak with the Thunder Clan Chieftain to plead her people’s case that all peoples had a right to the land under the sky. The Thunder Clans, beings of air and water, believed that their powers gave them dominion and that the Flesh Clans were beneath them, lowly as the earthworm is lowly. Unsurprisingly, the meeting did not go well.

  “Legend speaks of an encounter of sorts at the Great Waterfall, a waterfall so tall it soared higher than the cliffs, the summit swaddled in misty rainbows which arched into heaven itself; the home of the Thunder Clan. Artio of legend was a humble bear maiden, blessed with a she-cub who she swore was fathered by the Thunders when they came to her one evening, when she had fallen asleep after eating magical gooseberries. The Thunders have the ability to take the shape of flesh beings, and that evening, so legend tells us, they came to be with her in the form of a man.

  “To Artio, a human descending from the bear clans, her daughter was a gift from the heavens and a bridge between their peoples. She gave her daughter her own name and believed that if she could get the Thunders to accept her child, then she could bring peace to their peoples.

  “So, she started out on a solo quest to the Great Waterfall, hoping to be granted an audience with the Thunders in the sky. The journey was hard, carrying her child on her back in a papoose, feeding her Thunder-cub daughter magical gooseberries that she found by the path side and jiggling her pack soothed the cub to sleep. All the while she planned her words, knowing she would have but a short time to convince the aloof Thunders.

  “She arrived at the Great Waterfall just as the sun was setting, and the waters blazed as though lit from within by a fire. She called to the Thunders, but the roar of the waters was too great and no one heard her.

  “Finally, in desperation, she began to climb the rocky face of the waterfall, slippery with moss and water. All the while, she called, ‘Thunders, hear my cry. Thunders, hear my plea. Come greet our child, the union of our peoples. We can live in peace and harmony for look what nature has wrought? Thunders, hear my cry. Thunders, hear my plea.’

  “She climbed and climbed and eventually she reached the clouds. She was afraid that they could not bear her weight, so she put her papoose down to test their strength. Her cub, well-rested from being carried all the way to the falls and up to the sky, climbed out of the papoose and with a giggle, ran across the clouds and onto a rainbow, laughing the entire way as the rainbows tickled her feet. The maiden called to her daughter to return, but the child cub ran on, the tickling colours creating tones that blended into a tinkling song.

  “When the maiden attempted to step onto the cloud, however, her foot sank through the mist. She could not follow her cub. Just then, the last rays of the setting sun pierced the clouds and they vanished as if they had never been. In the blink of an eye, the rainbows faded and along with them, her cub.”

  Avery waited for more. Sharisha rode in silence, her face pinched in a pensive frown.

  “And?” Avery asked “What happened next?”

  “No one knows,” Sharisha replied. “Legend does not tell us.”

  “And the princess?” The story could not end there, Avery thought.

  “No one knows.”

  Avery drew in a deep, frustrated breath. What was it that was born in that clearing? Or perhaps the better question is who?

  Chapter 3

  The Hunt Begins

  CYRUS DISMOUNTED FROM HIS FINE CHESTNUT GELDING, handing the reins off to a soldier stationed at the entrance to Alcina’s tent. It was easily picked out in the sea of military canvas. The tent was black, slashed with red, displaying the colours of the now-outlawed Queen’s Guard and announcing her presence in the camp. It stood tall enough that he could enter the doorway without bending.

  The guards saluted and retracted their crossed pikes, allowing entry. A pageboy, dressed in leggings and livery, announced his arrival in a high-pitched voice that cracked on his name. “The Lord Cyrus attends you, my queen.”

  The first weak rays of the rising sun pierced the tent as he entered, striping the woven red carpet that formed the floor.

  Alcina reclined in a sedan chair covered in brightly woven tapestry, a delicate mug cupped between her palms. She sipped at the tea, watching him approach, then placed the cup on a carved bone table and stretched out one lacquered hand.

  Cyrus swept his helm from his head, bent on one knee and lightly grasped her hand, kissing her fingers, then released them. “You have need of me, my queen?”

  Alcina studied his bent head, observing the thinning thatch forming on the crown. He, too, showed signs of age; time was making fools of them both. Why, she had found a grey hair that morning amidst her own luxurious mane of ebony. A tiny frown creased her brow at the remembrance.

  “Rise,” she commanded. Cyrus rose then ran his hand over his bald spot as though he could feel her eyes on it. “I understand we have a captive?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty. We captured one of the tree-climbing monkeys they use for scouts.”

  “And?” she prompted.

  “He has been placed under guard and will be questioned thoroughly.”

  Alcina picked up her teacup and drummed her nails on the side, thinking. “I wish to question him myself.”

  “My queen?”

  “I will not have a repeat of the fiasco with that boy Cayden who usurped my throne. I will know what is happening, every minute of every day. I wish to be present for all interrogations.” She glared at Cyrus. “In fact, I should conduct the interrogations myself. It is obvious no one else knows the correct questions to ask or how to ask them. I will crush them like bugs under my heel. They will tell me everything they know.” Cyrus bowed in acceptance. “When is the interrogation scheduled?”

  “At noon, my queen,” Cyrus replied.

  She nodded and then, stretching, rose from the sedan chair. “There is one other matter I wish to speak to you about.” She waved her hand dismissing the servants in attendance. They departed the tent, leaving Alcina and Cyrus alone to speak in private. As the hem of the last skirt disappeared out of the tent flap, Alcina murmured softly, “The Great Mistress spoke to me in my dreams. She showed me a vision of a girl, one with Primordial features. She travels with two companions, an older gentleman and a woman who could be a Primordial Seeker. We are to find this girl at all costs. The Great Mistress warns that she has the power to unite the Primordial factions. She can undo the chaos we have sown here.”

  Alcina paced to the far side of the tent and touched a shriveled scalp that hung from a canvas tent pole. The hair was silky, soft, and jet black. “While their eyes are set on each other in suspicion, while they attack and kill their own in religious civil war, they are easy to control and eventually eliminate. United, however, they would become a tidal wave that could crush our armies. Continue with the attacks on the outlying villages, and be sure our elite forces leave a trail of clues implicating the other Primordial faction. Be sure that they are so focused on each other that they are virtually blind to our passing.”

  Cyrus bowed once again. “I will make finding the girl my personal task. I will take a small group of elites and we will find her. Along the way, we will sow seeds of distrust, starting with the Primordial scouts. If she exists, if she is more than rumour, we will find her.”
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  Cyrus saluted, spun on his heel, and marched from the tent.

  Alcina stroked the silky black hair again and smiled.

  ***

  Cyrus straightened as he released the tent flap. The guards snapped crossed-pikes at his back as he strode away. The Great Mistress had also come to him during the night with the same vision. He saw no reason to share this with Alcina, however. He was unsure if the Great Mistress had communicated precisely the same instructions to both of them or if Alcina was aware that the Great Mistress had begun to visit him. Caution meant he was content to keep his own counsel.

  For instance, Alcina had failed to communicate that the girl they sought was the twin sister of the boy Cayden, who now sat on the throne of Cathair, the very throne that had been Alcina’s. All this time, they had believed they were looking for one heir, when there were actually two. They were twin usurpers to the throne, a throne that he had been promised to share. It was a pretty large piece of information to withhold.

  He rubbed his jaw as he strode along, considering his next move. He was content to allow Alcina to sit in the queen’s chair, as in truth, the position was restrictive. As a pretty figurehead, she was always surrounded by fawning servants, counselors, and nobles. She could not do as he did: stroll amongst the men to get the feel of the battle, belly up to the bar in a local tavern and hear the latest gossip, or slip between the sheets in a brothel and find out what the local scheming lords and ladies were up to.

  Yes, for now, his position allowed him a freedom to move his chess pieces around the board in whatever fashion brought him the best position, the greatest advantage.

  He strode through the camp, acknowledging the salutes as he passed with a lazy wave. His destination was the prisoner’s tent. Conveniently located next to the horse lines, the black smithy’s tent provided a steady supply of red hot irons, a favorite method of the inquisitors of the legion. The closer Cyrus got to the tent, the greater the smell of burning: burning wood, burning coal, burning leather, burning skin, burning hair. The smells mixed obnoxiously with the odours of horse and human manure from the hastily dug latrines located nearby.