Seer of Souls (The Spirit Shield Saga Book 1) Page 27
“Well? What is the news? You have a new prisoner in the cells. Speak up, man. I have no patience for evasions this evening.”
“We have an interesting prisoner below, my lady. You know I would not impose on you to perform an inspection, but there is something about this one. I can’t put my finger on what it is, but he seems familiar somehow.” He frowned in thought.
Alcina raised her severe eyebrows, like a hawk sighting a mouse attempting to hide. “That does not sound like much to go on, but I will humour you this time. Beheading that useless wizard might be just the thing to raise my spirits. Yes, I believe it is exactly what I need to relieve my stress.” Her eyes glinted cold chips of blue ice in her pale face.
Cyrus opened the door and stepped back with a bow to let her pass. They made their way from the queen’s apartments on the top floor of the main tower, down winding staircases, and through adjoining tapestry-draped corridors until they reached the upper walkway above the parade grounds.
They crossed to the other side of the castle housing most of the guest suites and the various meeting halls for dignitaries or noble petitioners. The kitchens were located in this section of the castle. They descended a broad-curved staircase to the pillared welcoming hall. The queen’s coat of arms in a break with tradition was the sole decoration displayed on all the walls of the hall, all former monarch symbols having been removed.
They entered a hallway leading to the kitchens and then took a side corridor to a curving staircase that wound down deeper into the depths of the castle. Arriving at a landing, they spied two guards sitting at a table, playing cards. They snapped to attention on seeing the new arrivals and then bowed deeply at the waist.
“You are dismissed for ten minutes.” The guards bowed again and left as ordered.
Cyrus pulled a key ring from his pocket and fitted it in the lock.
“Why did you choose to come down the main stairs this time, Your Highness?” Cyrus asked.
“That nosy maid is why. Unlike the other maids, she likes to hang around my apartments. I am suspicious of the reason why. The other maids are quick to leave my chambers. They understand that I do not want them around once they have performed their duty.” She touched the emerald collar at her throat. “That one is too nosy by far. I do not want her to stumble on the secret passage entrance in the back wall of my closet. Secret passageways should remain secret, especially as that one leads all the way down to the cells—handy when I do not wish to be seen, but it would not do for others to know of its existence.”
Cyrus lit a splint in the lamp hanging by the door and brought it to bear on the wicks of two unlit lamps. They flared to light, pushing back the shadows. He handed one to Alcina, the light flickering over her features. She stared back at him, a cruel twist of pleasure on her lips.
“Besides, it was a wonderful treat, surprising that servant who was currying favour with the wizard. Ahh, the look of surprise on his face when we popped out of the wall! That was to die for! Hanging him for his crimes was the only answer, of course. Smuggling supplies to the wizard is one thing, but failing to cut his hair was an unforgiveable mistake. One I intend to correct shortly.”
Alcina preceded Cyrus down the hall, taking up a lantern from the wall and holding it aloft with one hand and picking up her skirts with the other. A cool breeze blew down the hall, bringing with it the odor of unwashed bodies. She wrinkled her nose in disgust but continued on to the end of the main hallway and then descending the curved rough-cut stone to the lowest of the dungeons. The click-clack of her boot heels echoed off the walls as she strode the short distance to the end where two cells flanked the stone corridor. Holding her lantern aloft, she let the light of it flood the interior of the cell.
It was empty.
Swinging the light around to the other cell, she flooded the interior with light, peering into it.
It was also empty.
At that precise moment, the alarm bells sounded. The castle was under attack.
Chapter 52
ZIONA GRABBED CAYDEN AS HE CRAWLED through the hole, pulling him out of the dusty passage, then hugged him, while Tobias crowded close, determined to not let Cayden out of his sight again.
Mordecai popped out of the hole behind him, surprisingly spry for one who had just been released from a seventeen-year imprisonment. He pulled out his focus stone and with a few murmured words, lessened the weight of the limestone block, thus assisting the rescue crews with the realignment of the stones into their original positions. They trowelled the mortar over the thin crack visible around the blocks and blended it seamlessly with the surrounding stones. When they were finished, it was impossible to tell the breach had ever occurred.
Nelson grinned pleased with the way the stones had slid out so easily with the lightest tug. The stone to Mordecai’s cell had been used as an escape route in times past, secrets within secrets held silently by the ancient walls. Nice of them to mark the right stone, as it had sped up the process considerably. The dissolving paste was really quite the find, and the mortar had liquefied in a matter of hours. Now with the stones back in place, there was no evidence to show where the escape had occurred. Nor would the queen know where they had gone. They were safe…for now.
Ryder walked up and bear-hugged Cayden. Cayden groaned with the pressure on his sore ribs. Cayden’s eyes wandered over the vaulted ceiling of the cavern and then onto the rescue team. “Where are we?” he asked.
“In caverns below the castle,” Ryder said with a pleased smile. “Denzik here”—he waved Denzik over to him—“and his cronies have been mapping these passageways for years, ex-Kingsmen all. I think they expected you to come although I am not sure they expected to rescue you.” Ryder bent over and whispered for Cayden’s ears only, “Who’s the old man?”
“A wizard and an old friend; a very old friend, if truth be told,” Cayden said.
At that moment, Denzik arrived, and Ryder introduced him to Cayden. He bowed to Cayden and then shook his proffered hand. “Sire, I am so pleased to meet you! We have waited for a very long time for you to come, a lifetime, really. But we have not been idle, as you can see. You are pleased?” Denzik asked, just as the faint sounds of warning bells reached their ears, echoing through the cavern.
Ryder’s head swivelled toward the sound and he glanced over at Nelson.
“We need to get back to our teams,” said Ryder. “They have begun their assault through the Traitor’s Gate. Anthony unlocked it from the inside and the teams are spreading out through the castle. Damn! The alarm has sounded too soon!”
Nelson walked over to Cayden, peering up into his face, as he towered above him.
“Sire, you are the spitting image of the late king, may the gods have mercy on his soul. It is an honour to serve under you once again.” Nelson knelt before Cayden, head lowered.
Mordecai’s eyes twinkled at Cayden’s discomfort. Cayden reached down and pulled Nelson to his feet. “There is no time for this right now!” I seem to say this a lot lately! The thought flashed across Cayden’s mind. “Didn’t you say battle has commenced? Let’s move!”
Both Nelson and Tobias snapped a salute as did Ryder. They gathered up the rest of the men and raced back to their respective units.
Ziona slipped back over to Cayden’s side and held up a water flask for him to sip from. More of her magic elixir, he guessed and took a long swig. Ziona grinned up at him, hearing his thoughts. She slipped her hand into his.
Mordecai’s smile broadened.
“Well, my boy, we now have a decision to make. The fight to retake this castle will rage above. But what truly concerns you at this moment in time is down here under the castle, under your ancestral home.”
Cayden could feel it. The incessant tugging sensation on his soul made him restless, like his body was pumped full of adrenaline with no ability to burn it away. He now realized there had been a double pull happening, one to Mordecai, yes, but also another…deeper…somehow connected to him personally.
“I was with you when you were born, but more importantly, I was with you before you died.”
“I died and then was born?” Cayden stared at Mordecai in confusion as did Ziona.
“Actually, you died and were born twice.” Mordecai hummed to himself in satisfaction. “Cayden, what do you know of the prophecies? Ziona, perhaps you can help him with this? Your people must have similar ones.”
She nodded, understanding. Mordecai closed his eyes, reciting the prophecy by memory.
“And it shall come to pass in the end of days that the Lord of All shall weep with sorrow for the destruction of his creation. Darkness shall cover the land and the Mother Spirit shall be crushed. Her tears flood the mountains, yet who listens? For her tears are consumed by the fires of Helga. Who can stand before her gates? The world is burning. Weep you souls of the earth for he must die and live again. On the wings of an eagle so shall your salvation be carried.”
Something stirred with in Cayden awakening in him. A distant memory flashed across his mind…or had it been a dream?
Ziona tilted her head, a puzzled expression on her face.
“Come,” said Mordecai, “there is something you need to see.”
Chapter 53
MORDECAI LED CAYDEN AND ZIONA down a rocky path that narrowed into low ceilinged sloping tunnels and bent toward the center of the earth beneath the castle. The sweeping curves dug relentlessly into the dark, dank underground, deeper than anyone had ever gone before, if the layers of undisturbed dirt were any indication.
At first, a faint greenish glow seemed to seep from the rocks, but the closer they came to their destination, the colour became aqua and then took on deeper shades of blue. The blue intensified and Ziona, glancing at Cayden, suddenly gasped aloud. Cayden was glowing with the precise same colour that was emanating from the cavern ahead of him. His skin flickered, absorbing the blue, creating a celestial aura around him. He looked at her questioningly and then followed her eyes to look at his own hands. He stopped abruptly, shocked. Blue flames danced and swirled off his skin. Mordecai, hearing him pause, stopped walking also.
Cayden’s skin glowed with the light of ten lanterns, dimming the light of their lamps to nothing.
“I suspected this would occur,” said Mordecai. “It is nothing to worry about, Cayden. Come.”
The cave mouth opened into an oblong cavern. Walls, slick with the dripping of ancient waters, morphed into quarried blocks of marble imbedded with heavy veins of quartz. The unpolished stone of the anteroom glinted dully in the light exploding from Cayden’s skin. On the other side of the anteroom, an arched opening pulsed sympathetically with Cayden’s glow, and crackling tendrils of cool flame flickered across the opening. Cayden felt his hair try to rise, as the blue lighting drew him forward. He was unable to resist the pull and his feet crunched across the anteroom to the main chamber. Mordecai and Ziona followed Cayden, their steps cautious.
Cayden reached out with his hand and touched the opening. Lighting snaked up his arm and wrapped around his body then melded with the blue mist emanating from his body. He stepped through into a cathedral of marble. The walls towered three stories above the chipped and cracked floor. Soaring buttresses ran from columns standing in each corner, meeting in the middle of the ceiling, where an inverted bowl clung to the ceiling, carved out of the marble of the cavern, and decorated with faces of men, women, and children. Windows that opened onto nothing dotted the walls, and long black scorch marks streaked across the marble. On one wall, a large crack spidered up and out of sight.
It was the simple limestone well directly below the inverted bowl of faces that drew Cayden forward. Perched on a rocky platform and decorated with runes, mist swelled and swirled over the sides, interspersed with more flashes of blue lightning, the source of which was the depths of the well. Cayden stepped up onto the ledge and peered into shimmering surface. The basin was fathomless. Cayden gripped the sides of the well, knuckles whitening, so strong was his grip on the lip. He swayed as a wave of dizziness washed over him. From the depths, faces twisted into the air and shimmered into a three dimensional shape then collapsed back into the foggy surface.
Cayden’s eyes widened and he extended a hand toward its shimmering surface. Ziona stepped up beside him and gazed into the well.
The mists stirred and churned in reaction to his proximity and more and more wisps detached themselves from it, forming shapes.
One such shape pulled essence from his body, and steadied, rising out of the well and solidifying into the reflection of a beautiful woman with long curly brown hair and emerald Primordial eyes. Cayden and Ziona gasped at the same time, stumbling back from the well and slipping off the platform. Both recognized the woman, although for different reasons.
“Who are you?” Cayden croaked.
“Princess Gwen?” Ziona peered over Cayden’s shoulder.
“My son,” the image whispered. A ghostly hand curled toward Cayden’s face, as though she longed to touch him. “I cannot maintain this form for long, so we must speak quickly. So long have I waited for your return to your ancestral home. You and your sister are the only hope for this dying world. The evil goddess has stretched out her hand to smother it. Even now, she squeezes the throat of the Primordials in a vice grip that pits family against family, clan against clan.”
Ziona gasped audibly at this news.
“You and your sister are the key to stopping a war that will engulf both lands. You must go to the land of the Primordials and meet with the high elders. Time is short, my son. Do not delay! As always, our souls are yours.” Her form faded back into the mists of the well.
Ziona, stunned, sank to her knees on the cold stone floor. Mordecai followed her lead.
“You are more than a king. You are the Lord of the Mists, the Seer of Souls!” Ziona gasped as she bowed to the floor, touching the cold stone with her forehead. Cayden looked at them both, a memory stirring at her words. He knew that title. He had been called it before, but it was in a different place, a different time.
“Ziona is correct. This is the Well of Souls, Cayden. You are the Lord of the Mists and the caretaker of the souls within it.” Mordecai straightened from his prone position, still kneeling. “You placed these souls here, Cayden. Do you remember?”
Cayden rubbed his head. Vague images flashed through his brain, but he found it impossible to make them settle into an actual memory.
He shook his head. “I do not know. There is something there, but I cannot seem to access it.” He stepped back onto the ledge and peered over the edge, suddenly realizing the voices of his dreams were before him. They had not been dreams at all, but real souls calling out to him in his relaxed state. He dipped his hand into the pool and the mist clung to him, enveloping his arm and then his entire body in a lover’s embrace.
“How many souls are in here?” Cayden asked, gazing unfocused at the surface as he listened to the whispering of voices only he could hear; the faces of tens of thousands of souls glimpsed in the swirling mists.
“These are all the departed souls who have ever lived, Cayden, at least all those who have not been snatched away by the shadow and not now inhabiting living bodies. You are their guardian, Cayden. You guard their rest until they are reincarnated, until they are blessed to be reborn as infants. That is why they are attracted to you. I think you see why this place had to be protected,” Mordecai said. “I have been guarding the Well of Souls until your return, keeping the minions of Helga from discovering its location and from snatching away the future of mankind. Though they have searched long and hard, they have not found this place. It was for this reason the tunnels were created under the castle.
“The Royal Family of Cathair has ever been its protectors, the Spirit Shield of the Cathairs providing a blood shield and a spirit shield for the souls of humanity. Now I give this sacred duty back to you. This is why you must fight for this castle. It is your heritage and your birthrigh
t, but beyond that it is a sacred trust to protect, not only for you but for the entire world.”
Chapter 54
CAYDEN, MORDECAI, AND ZIONA entered the castle through the Traitor’s Gate and slipped up the passage to the parade grounds where the battle was at its fiercest. Soldiers from both sides lay bleeding and dying on the field. Cayden was shocked at the carnage, bodies broken and twisted, some barely recognizable as human.
His footsteps slowed and he hesitated. This is insanity. There is no reason for this bloodshed. These people fight each other when they should be at peace. They are not each other’s enemies. The queen is the enemy; she is the one who pits friend against friend, human against human. I must put an end to this.
Around the injured and dying soldiers, auras pulsed, as they teetered on the cusp of death. Cayden walked out into the sea of bodies and knelt beside one such man from the Queen’s Guard. His eyes were glassy and clouded in pain. Cayden gripped the man’s hand. Cayden felt a shiver in his arm and the man went limp. A bright glow formed around Cayden. He visited soldier after soldier, friend and fallen foe alike, giving comfort and solace with a touch at the last moment of their existence on earth. Their souls passed to him like a feathery sigh. Instinctually, he sent them to the Well of Souls to their rest.
Mordecai walked behind him, anxiously scanning the various battles going on around them, searching for signs that someone was taking an interest in their proceedings. Ziona gripped her knife tightly in her hand and scanned the milling crowd of soldiers, spinning when the battle stumbled too close.
Cayden stood and Mordecai grabbed his arm, steering him to the other side of the courtyard and out of harm’s way, ducking into the open doorway at the base of a tower leading to the very highest point of the castle. They launched themselves onto the skinny spiral staircase, the clash of steel and screams of the wounded pursuing them as they raced up the stairs. Occasional flashes of battle were glimpsed through arrow slits in the block, but they did not pause.