King Of Souls (Book 2) Page 15

General Demos moved ahead until he stood beside Tara on the railing. “They rejected you. They’re no more your kind than they are mine.”

  Tara shook her head. “You’re wrong Gregor. I could almost taste the soul threads of those knights. The beauty I saw almost overcame me. I’d forgotten what I’d walked away from.” She hung her head and stared into the black water. “I’ve made mistakes.”

  “Walked away? Elan abandoned you. You told me yourself.” General Demos glared and pointed toward Ripool. “He cast you out! Have you forgotten?”

  She wiped fresh tearstains from her eyes and cheeks. How could he understand? “No, Gregor. I wish I could forget, but I haven’t.”

  “Besides, we’ve nowhere left to go,” General Demos said. “By now, a foot of water should cover vast sections of the inner farmlands. If we could stop our continent from sinking, we’d have no need for this land or these humans. But that’s impossible.”

  “Maybe this King Ronan would be willing to help us if we approached him as partners,” Tara said.

  “What makes you believe humans have changed? Fear drives them like cattle. Even if they allowed our people inside their borders, they could never understand our ways.”

  “Two thousand years is a long time Gregor. Maybe they’ve changed.”

  “I know this is hard for you, but it’s better this way.” General Demos rested his hand on Tara’s wrist. “I’m sorry. But we’ve only a single path forward.”

  Tara couldn’t look at him. Her chin quivered, and she lowered her head. “I never wanted any of this.”

  “If another path presented itself, perhaps.” General Demos shook his head. “Our people are too proud to serve a weaker race, and we’ve come too far to risk tens of thousands of lives on human generosity.”

  “Lora’s children might lend us aid,” Tara said.

  General Demos shook his head. “They’re as human as the Meranthians. They would label us monsters and cast us out…again.”

  Tara’s chin dropped, and her shoulders sagged in resignation. “I’ll need you with me the whole way Gregor. I can’t go through this alone.”

  From the midnight sky, a draco scout appeared like a ghost landing on the ship’s bow near Tara and General Demos. A brown-scaled Baerinese scout dismounted the draco. He strode across deck and stopped before General Demos. The scout saluted snapping together his black leather boots with military precision.

  General Demos returned the salute. “At ease corporal. What’s your report?”

  The soldier relaxed spreading his legs shoulder width apart. “The humans have abandoned Ripool my lord.” The soldier’s forked tongue flickered, and his gaze darted toward Ripool’s naval base. “But, the stronghold’s on high alert. A full battalion of troops are awaiting our arrival in port.”

  Tara’s stomach dropped. “Are soul knights among them?”

  “It’s uncertain my lady. They might cower inside the stronghold, but I saw none lining the ramparts.”

  “Corporal, have you any further reports on the sea ice?” General Demos said.

  “It’s thickening my lord. We expect the ice to block the harbor’s mouth by morning.”

  “When we come within range of their ballista, they’ll open fire on our decks,” General Demos said.

  “Can we use the draco to evacuate our troops?” Tara said. “How many people can a draco transport at a time?”

  General Demos’s fork tongue flickered. “We’ve six draco mistress. They’re built for speed not transport. They might carry one extra person a short distance before exhaustion overcame them.” He shook his head. “But, the draco have run constant patrols for the better part of two days. They’re exhausted. I’m afraid that plan would end in disaster.”

  Heat flared at the base of Tara’s skull as her gaze settled on the Meranthian fort. An idea came to her. A risky idea for sure, but their entire voyage came at great risk. “General Demos, place the Porthleven villagers aboard the two captured naval vessels. I want them set adrift in the harbor.”

  General Demos nodded. “Yes mistress, I’ll make sure it’s done.”

  The Arianne heaved and pitched in the harbor’s ice-filled swells. The lights from Ripool grew larger. The city streets lay still and silent, but soldiers lined the stronghold’s ramparts.

  Tara had let a moment of weakness rule her decisions. She recalled the anger on Elan’s face when she’d taken the dark magic. They’d treated her like a freak and forced her from their shores. She no longer belonged to the human race.

  Tara clenched her teeth and tightened her grip on the ship’s iron railing. “I believe you were right about the humans Gregor. Please forgive my moment of weakness.”

  ***

  The sled’s frozen ropes groaned beneath Ronan’s gloved fist. Two full days of traveling had brought him and Moira halfway up Dragon’s Peak. As the mountain’s angle increased, the sled carrying Moira became harder to manage.

  For two days, Ronan had channeled a constant supply of energy. He'd fed his body increasing his cold resistance, strength, and endurance. He couldn’t go on forever, without proper rest, he’d run out of energy and pass out cold.

  Ronan tightened his grip around the rope and slung it over his broad shoulder. He trudged ahead pulling the sled behind. Every step forward took him another foot closer to Rika, and he intended to find her safe no matter what obstacle blocked his path. An ocean of Elan’s power aided his quest. He wished he could channel His power into a set of wings.

  Ronan gritted his teeth, dropped his head, and pushed forward. His thoughts drifted to Rika, and the pain her absence left in his heart. He needed his Rika, but he’d always needed her.

  Winter’s bitter wind picked up sending a squall of fresh powdery snow into Ronan’s spirit shield. It melted on impact sending puffs of white steam skyward.

  Ronan glanced over his shoulder to check on Moira who lay bundled beneath a small mountain of furs resting atop the sled. He’d layered a spirit shield around her despite her protests. It struck him odd when she didn’t seem surprised by his magical gift. “How are you holding up back there Moira?”

  “Quite well Ronan,” Moira said. “Thank you for pulling me, but I would’ve been perfectly content walking.”

  “Just relax and try to stay comfortable. The wind’s picking up.”

  “There’s a cave not far ahead. It will lead us to the opposite side of Dragon’s Peak. We’ll have a far easier time traversing the mountain from the peaks seaside face.”

  “Yes ma’am. I’ll keep an eye out.”

  The worn path Ronan had followed for the past two days narrowed leaving the sled’s right rudder hugging the ledge. Thousands of feet below, Moira's log home appeared as a miniature dollhouse.

  Ronan trudged onward fighting through ankle-deep snow. Each step forward crunched through brittle snow. The sound came amplified by the high altitude and stark silence. Few creatures thrived at these breathtaking heights. Without Elan’s magic, he’d fair no better. “Moira, do you mind if I ask you a question?”

  “Not at all Ronan. What’s on your mind?”

  “When, I channeled a spirit shield around you, you didn’t seem surprised. Did you grow up around shard magic?”

  Moira sat in silence for a full minute as Ronan continued to pull the sled forward.

  Ronan thought she’d fallen asleep or maybe he’d touched on a sore subject. After thirty more seconds of silence, he spoke. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.”

  “It’s not that,” Moira said. “I’m trying to find a proper way to describe it.”

  “Describe what?”

  “The way you shine,” she said. “When I opened my door a few days ago, your presence almost blinded me.”

  Despite the bitter mountain climate, Ronan felt the first droplets of sweat roll down his neck and soak into his collar. Perhaps senility had touched the old woman’s mind. “What do you mean? I shine?”

  “I see certain…things. I don’t have a better way to descr
ibe it. From time to time I’ve seen other people that glowed, but not like you. One trait they all shared, was the ability to perform magic.”

  Ronan forgot about the treacherous mountain slope and deep snow. He paused and faced Moira.

  “How do you think I saw you across the valley? Your shine gave you away.” Heavy layers of fur covered Moira’s body leaving nothing but her emerald green eyes exposed.

  What other wonders had those intelligent eyes seen? If he asked, would she tell him?

  Her eyes sparkled with amusement betraying a warm smile under her winter wraps. “It’s so strong in you, but it’s good. You’re a kind man Ronan. I can see it as plain as the snow falling from the sky. Rika’s a lucky girl to be sure.”

  “How can you see such things?”

  Moira shrugged. “It’s a gift I suppose. I’ll be happy to explain more later, but for now we should continue forward. The days are short in the mountains, and night will fall sooner than you’d expect.”

  Ronan’s mind birthed a thousand questions, but he found himself nodding instead. “Yes ma’am.” He turned from her tightening his grip on the frozen rope and pulled.

  For the next thirty minutes, Ronan walked ahead ever mindful of the narrowing path and the precious cargo behind him.

  The sled’s right rudder clung to the dwindling trail by a hair’s breadth, and a dozen yards ahead the path ended merging with the peak. They’d reached the trail’s end.

  “That’s strange,” Moira said, her brows furrowing. “We should’ve seen a cave entrance by now.”

  “Maybe the ice has sealed it closed?”

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” She nodded. “I remember the opening just a few feet before the path ends.”

  Ronan pulled the sled forward and stopped at the spot Moira suggested. “Here?” He pointed to a snow covered patch of mountainside.

  “Yes dear, I think that’s it.”

  Ronan brushed away a thin layer of snow revealing several feet of clear solid ice. Unlike the surrounding rock, the peak’s black rock didn’t appear beneath the ice. Rather, back-lit gray light shown through the ice revealing a hidden entrance.

  “Well, that’s a bother.” Moira’s words sounded as urgent as a child late for summer school.

  Ronan smiled slipping his sheba blade free of its sheath. “I’ll have the way cleared in a few minutes.”

  “Be careful Ronan. It doesn’t take much to trigger an avalanche.”

  “I’ll be careful.” He moved Moira’s sled a few feet from the entrance and turned his attention on the frozen door.

  The ice had hardened over the circular entrance forming a three-foot thick stone-hard wall.

  Ronan channeled enhancement energy through his blade before plunging it deep into the ice near the wall’s base.

  Ice cracked and popped protesting the sheba blade’s unwanted intrusion. Ronan pressed his blade into the ice hilt-deep. He paused while fresh water sizzled against his cherry-red sword.

  Billowing white steam poured from the thin watery trail. Ronan dragged his blade upward. He carved through thick mountain ice as easy as slicing a hot piece of Mistress McClaren’s shortbread.

  Ronan finished the final cuts and stood back admiring his handiwork.

  “That sword certainly comes in handy, doesn’t it?” Moira said.

  A half grin tugged at Ronan’s lips, and he nodded. “It does indeed.” He severed the energy flows to his blade before sliding it back into his sheath.

  “Be careful with that ice Ronan. Don’t let the mountain come down on top of you.”

  Ronan flattened his palms against the ice door, and with a final glance over his shoulder, smiled at Moira. “Here goes nothing.”

  Moira nodded her silent ascent and cocked her head, staring at Ronan with a serious expression.

  Channeling thick weaves of energy into his arms and shoulders, Ronan pushed against the wall, but the ice didn’t budge.

  “Go ahead and push,” Moira said. “Anytime you’re ready to start is fine.”

  Ronan’s cheeks flushed as a knowing smile slid across Moira’s face while her eyes danced with mischief.

  A sheepish grin spread across Ronan’s face before genuine amusement forced a short burst of laughter. At that moment, he decided he liked Moira. He liked her a whole lot.

  Moira smiled. “Just put your shoulder into it, and give it a good shove. I’ll be right here rooting you on.”

  “If you say so.” Ronan lowered his right shoulder and placed it against the ice wall. He widened his stance increasing his leverage and pulled on his magic reserves. He sent strength into his legs and back. Ronan pushed, and the ice groaned giving an inch.

  “That’s it Ronan. Keep it up,” Moira said.

  Ronan paused pulling in a fresh lungful of air and bent over resting his hands on his knees.

  “One more quick shove,” Moira said.

  He set his shoulder again and pushed using all his strength while stifling a groan. His shoulder trembled under the strain, but the ice heaved two-feet forward.

  “That looks heavy,” Moira said. “I’d help you push, but I’m afraid I’d just be in your way.”

  Ronan waved her off. “Stay put Moira. I’ll manage.”

  She nodded, and Ronan shifted directions setting his left shoulder against the ice wall. With a mighty heave the wall slid another two feet inward leaving enough room for Ronan and Moira to squeeze past.

  A low deep rumble sounded from deep inside the mountain.

  Ronan lunged for the sled strengthening the shields surrounding him and Moira.

  Moira extended her palm as if to silence Ronan, and the rumbling faded. “Like I said, it doesn’t take much to trigger an avalanche,” Moira said in a low whisper.

  Through the two-foot gap, curved walls of blue and white ice lined the exotic passageways.

  Ronan moved behind the sled and pushed.

  It slipped through the narrow gap.

  Ronan stopped when he and Moira stood inside the cave finally free of the wind and snow.

  Smooth glassy ice formed a seamless curvy tube-like passageway. It extending deep into the mountain’s heart curving from view far ahead. Gray sunlight streamed through rounded holes high up in the ceiling. Light splashed across the ice creating a glossy wonderland.

  “Yes, this is the place.” Moira gazed around the ice cavern. “Be careful where you place your feet Ronan. It’s easy to slip and fall.”

  “Yes ma’am. I’ll be careful.”

  “As I mentioned earlier, there’s a second entrance on the opposite side, but I remember the way.”

  Ronan scooped up the sled’s rope and took a few tentative steps forward doing his best to remain upright. He pulled the sled ahead easing along the corridor.

  The ice cavern’s curved tunnels gave way to empty ice covered rooms of various shapes and sizes. Moira directed Ronan ahead guiding him through the labyrinth of shifting hallways and icy slopes.

  An hour later, Ronan paused. He sat on a smooth white and blue ice bench created from an ice flow extending from an exposed shaft high overhead. “Do you mind if we rest for a minute?”

  “I’ve been resting dear,” Moira said. “You’re doing all the work. Take your time, I’m not going anywhere.”

  Ronan rubbed the soreness from his calf muscle and nodded his appreciation. Keeping his balance while pulling the sled, called for muscles he hadn’t used in a long time.

  “I suspect we’ve another twenty minutes left, and we’ll be through this cave,” Moira said.

  “I would’ve wandered this cave for days, maybe weeks, without your guidance. You were right. I couldn’t have made the journey without you,” Ronan said.

  Moira smiled and nodded. “Thank you Ronan. I —” She began to say more but hesitated. She cocked her head and paused. “Did you hear that?”

  Ronan had enhanced his hearing since entering the cave. But, he heard only the low whoosh of wind whistling through the ceiling’s hollow ice sha
fts. He furrowed his brow and perked his ears tilting his head like Moira. “Hear what?”

  A low deep growl rumbled through the ice cave bouncing from wall to ceiling making the source of the noise difficult to place.

  Ronan’s flesh crawled. Humans had long ago developed an innate instinct for sensing danger, and his body screamed for him to run. Instead, he loosened the strap on his sheath and slid his blade free.

  “Don’t be too hasty with that.” An edge of command salted Moira’s words.

  Ronan channeled magic through his blade. Red energy bounced from the cavern’s icy walls pitching scarlet light across the chamber.

  Around a curved passageway, a long shadow stretched across the ice chamber’s red-tinted floor.

  Ronan positioned himself in front of Moira and strengthened his and Moira’s spirit shields. “Stay put Moira. I won’t have your death on my hands.”

  Ronan’s voice echoed, and the growling noise intensified its tone edged with warning. The shadow grew larger spreading far up the wall while the skittering sound of claws scraping against ice moved nearer.

  Ronan gripped his blade in his right hand and readied a bright orb of blue spirit in his left preparing to strike.

  As the beast rounded the corner, blood rushed from Ronan’s face. He stared dumbfounded at the strange creature standing before him. “This can’t be.” His words came out in a low hoarse mumble.

  “Of course it’s real.” Moira spoke with a calm, steady, clear tone that gave not the slightest hint of fear.

  The beast curled its lip baring sharp white fangs and menacing yellow eyes. White shaggy hair covered its body from head to toe, and a pair of long white barbed tusks protruded from just below its mouth. The snarling creature stood six-feet at its shoulder. It crouched low pinning back its ears in a menacing attack position.

  The animal standing before Ronan had appeared as drawings in ancient Meranthian history books. Long believed extinct, the legendary great horned ice bear had taken center stage in many tales told by bards and poets. The Book of Order’s hardback cover consisted of ivory carved from an ice bear’s tusks.

  Ronan recalled Sir Alcott’s claim that the ice bear still existed deep in the Adris Mountains and almost laughed. Rare or not, he wouldn’t let the beast harm him or Moira as they journeyed through the ice cave. “Stay behind me Moira. I’ll make this as quick and painless as possible. He won’t suffer long.”