Raging Sea and Trembling Earth: Disciples of the Horned One Volume Two (Soul Force Saga Book 2) (25 page)

D
amien hurried down the tunnel
. Jen wouldn’t have any trouble dealing with four monsters. The way she fought, he figured she’d catch up to them long before they reached…wherever they were going. The thud of steel on flesh mingled with hisses of pain. He grinned in the dim light.

Go get ’em, sis
.

Five minutes later they reached a blank dirt wall and Jen still hadn’t caught up. Damien allowed himself a moment of worry before he brushed it off. No way she’d lose to some stupid monsters. Jen would be along any minute. Which begged the question: what were they supposed to do when she got here?

Damien leaned over the box to check on his passengers. Leah was still out, eyes closed and breathing slow and steady. The old druid didn’t look so good. He wheezed and coughed, his eyes fluttered under his lids, his face was ashen and sunken in. Whatever Eleck had done to him it knocked him for a loop.

Much as he hated to bother the wise one, Damien had no idea what they were supposed to do now. He shook the wise one and his eyes fluttered open.

“We’re here. What now?”

The wise one raised a shaking hand. “Help me touch the wall.”

Damien guided the box over beside the tunnel wall so the wise one could reach it. The moment he did a glow surrounded his hand and a faint tremor ran through the tunnel. Damien drew power, ready to reinforce the walls should it become necessary.

The end of the tunnel rattled, and clumps of dirt fell to the floor revealing a wall of roots and vines. The strands of wood pulled back, some going up into the ceiling and others down into the ground. When the shaking ended the tunnel continued on, sloping a little downward.

Down didn’t seem like the way they wanted to go, but he had no other options except back the way they came and that seemed unlikely to take them anywhere safe.

The wise one slumped back into the box. “We need to go.”

“Just as soon as Jen catches up.”

“Have to hurry.”

“We will, but not until my sister gets here.” Damien didn’t care what the old man said, he wasn’t going anywhere without Jen.

The minutes ticked by one after another and still no Jen. He was about to go looking for her when she staggered into view. Damien sighed in relief. She was still alive, but clearly the fight hadn’t gone as well as he’d hoped.

A figure loomed above her. A black-scale. The biggest one he’d seen so far. Its core blazed with power. It must have drained Jen. That was why she looked so weak. Clearly she was in no shape to fight. Damien drew his sword and dagger and charged.

Jen stared at his bared weapons. “What are you—”

Damien drew a bit of soul force and flew over her head, sword leading. The giant black-scale twitched aside at the last moment. Instead of his sword piercing its eye he only managed to scratch its cheek.

He landed behind it, rolled to his feet, and spun. Just in time to angle his sword between him and an incoming claw. Damien slammed into the tunnel wall, pinned by a hand big enough to wrap around his chest.

He drove his dagger into its wrist three times in rapid succession. The monster roared and snatched its hand back.

The bleeding wound sealed and vanished in seconds. Its core dimmed a bit as well. Damien raised his weapons. There was nothing for it. He’d just have to keep cutting until it ran out of healing energy.

The black-scale roared again as Jen’s sword burst from its thigh. A backhanded swipe sent his sister flying toward the end of the tunnel. Her sword went one way and she went the other.

Damien took advantage of the distraction to stab three deep wounds in its side. The black-scale shrank visibly as it healed the wounds, its core more than halfway depleted.

It attacked again, quicker this time. Not warlord speed, but fast enough that it took all of Damien’s skill to dance around its claws. He didn’t even dare try and counterattack.

Fortunately he didn’t need to. His opponent was burning through its stolen soul force in a hurry to increase its speed. It got smaller and slower by the second.

Damien dodged a snapping lunge and countered with his dagger, opening a thin line along its jaw. The wound didn’t heal at once. Its core was empty.

Damien grinned. He had the advantage in speed now. He feinted at the black-scale’s throat and when it twisted its head Damien dropped his sword tip, piercing it through the chest.

He dropped back on guard, but the fight was over. The black-scale slumped to the tunnel floor facedown. Just to be safe Damien ran it through twice more. When neither wound closed he nodded, cleaned his sword on the hem of his tunic, and went to check on Jen.

She groaned when he helped her sit up. A quick glance revealed the still-depleted state of her core. It would be hours before she could fight at full strength. He looked back up the tunnel. At least there were no monsters in the immediate vicinity.

“Are you okay?” Damien helped her to her feet.

Jen wobbled like a drunk then got herself under control. “I’ll live. Just need a few hours’ rest. I thought I killed that thing.”

Damien put her arm around his neck. “Lean on me.”

They hobbled their way over to the others. Damien conjured a seat on the edge of the box. “Take a load off.”

“I can walk.”

“You can barely stand. Sit down. We need to move faster than you can stagger.”

It was a sign of just how exhausted she felt that his sister didn’t even argue. She slumped on the seat and Damien conjured a belt around her waist so she wouldn’t fall off. He sent out a tendril of soul force. The golden thread wrapped around the hilt of her sword and pulled it to Damien. He scoured the blood off it with a burst of power and slid it in the sheath on her back. Jen never even flinched. She’d fallen fast asleep.

J
onny woke
to a bright glare filtering through the limbs of the maple he’d collapsed under the night before. Everything hurt, even his hair somehow. He hadn’t used the urn’s power for more than a second or two and it about killed him. He hoped that blond bitch he blasted was in worse shape than him at least.

He struggled to his feet. His stomach was complaining and his tongue felt like sandpaper. Maybe he could find a stream to quench his thirst. Jonny staggered from one tree to the next. He couldn’t believe the sorcerers hadn’t chased him last night, especially after he blasted one of their own. Maybe they were afraid of the urn. He grinned then winced at the pain in his face. It would be nice if the red tabards feared him instead of the other way around.

If he was honest with himself Jonny doubted he had guts enough to use the urn again or the strength to survive if he did. There were some things you should only do once in your life, like jumping in a frozen lake on a two-royal bet or sleeping with your best friend’s girl just because she’s willing. Using the urn’s power definitely fell into the one time only column.

He needed to get out of these trees and figure out where he was. After the battle he’d been so messed up he couldn’t even remember which direction he ran. He thought east, but wasn’t willing to bet his life on it. His contact lived in the village Long Rest southeast of the capital. It was situated on a dirt side road off the main trade route. If he could only reach it everything would be okay.

An hour of stumbling through the woods brought Jonny to a clearing where he finally got a good look at the sun. He’d been moving dead east, thank heaven. He only needed a minor correction to get back on track.

Jonny had managed about three hundred yards when the splashing of water brought him up short. His head swung left and right, trying to home in on the noise. Five minutes later he found it, as pretty a stream as you could hope to find. His knees crunched in the grass beside it and he bent down to drink. Three handfuls slaked his thirst and cleared his head. Now that he could think again it occurred to him that he may have been out longer than he first thought. If that was true the lack of hunters surprised him even more.

Never one to question his good fortune, Jonny started walking again. He had a long way to go on an empty stomach.

Jonny managed to cover half the distance to Long Rest when he heard voices and people crashing through the bushes. He leaned against a tree and held his breath. They were growing closer by the second and Jonny was too tired to pick up his pace.

Tired or not, if he didn’t hurry whoever trailed him would catch up. He pushed away from the tree and managed a limping trot. At least it wasn’t sorcerers tracking him. They’d be in the sky not crashing through the bushes. The red tabards had probably set his former comrades on him. Maybe if he saw someone he knew they could make a deal. On the other hand if they’d heard about him poisoning Fat Garrik and his crew at the gate maybe they’d run him through and ask questions later. Best not to risk making contact.

A combination of grit and terror brought Jonny within sight of the village ahead of his hunters. He looked down at Long Rest from the top of a little ridge. His contact lived on a farm at the edge of town. Another half a mile and he’d be safe.

Jonny started down the ridge, stumbled on a root and tumbled to the bottom. The urn flew out of his satchel and landed at the base of a small cherry bush. He reached for it, stopped, bit his lip, and grabbed it. Nothing happened. He slipped the evil thing back in the satchel and yanked it shut. Why didn’t it come to life when he touched it? He didn’t know and didn’t care. It wouldn’t be his problem for much longer.

He dragged himself up and limped on, his ankle now hurting just a touch more than everything else. At the edge of the woods his contact’s farm came into view. It was a modest place, the sort of little farm you wouldn’t give a second look to. A small barn sat about ten yards from a one-room stone hut. Smoke swirled out of the chimney and in the field a small flock of sheep browsed at the new spring grass.

He rapped on the door to the hut. Come on, damn you, open up
.
The door creaked in and a pinched, wrinkled face sporting a patchy beard appeared in the gap.

“What the hell are you doing here? Our next meeting isn’t for two months.”

“I need help. Everything went to pieces in the capital. I can’t go back. I have the artifact, but there are hunters after me. You have to hide me.”

His contact’s jaw worked as he thought it over. “Get inside.”

The door opened enough for Jonny to slip inside then shut behind him. The hut held nothing but a cot, a workbench, and an iron stove. “Where am I supposed to hide, under your bed?”

“Something like that.” His contact pulled the cot out away from the wall and ran his finger along the floor. Something clicked and he lifted a door up revealing a space under the floor. “Get in.”

Jonny crawled into the tiny space and the door slammed, leaving him in total darkness. Scraping came from above as his contact slid the cot back in place. Nowhere for him to run now. He just had to hope his contact didn’t betray him.

D
amien followed
the hidden tunnel down at a slight slope, the air growing damper and mustier the deeper he went. It stretched on and on for far longer than he would have preferred, but he’d sealed the entrance with a blast of soul force, so it was either keep moving or blast his way up to the surface. He could do it if he had to, but unless he ran out of tunnel he preferred to keep any sorcery to a minimum. Damien didn’t know how sensitive the soul force eaters were, but he figured less power was better.

Jen and Leah were still asleep and the wise one went from conscious to unconscious and back one minute to the next. Though seldom lacking in confidence, as Damien made his way down the tunnel with nothing but the glow from his construct to light the way, he would have appreciated some reassurance that something was waiting for them at the end of the tunnel.

So it was to his great relief when the slope leveled out then went up. He picked up his pace and ten minutes later came to another wall of roots. A faint green glow leaked out between the openings in the wall and he caught a whiff of water. Something glittered through the gaps in the roots.

Damien reached in and shook the wise one until he woke. “I think we’re here. Can you open the door?”

“Help me to the wall.”

Damien guided the wise one’s hand over to the tunnel wall and soon the familiar green glow formed around it. The roots withdrew and Damien directed his construct into an underground grotto. A beautiful blue pool of water dominated the chamber. Green phosphorescence lit the grotto and gave it a sense of otherworldliness. Under different circumstances Damien would have enjoyed just taking in the sight, but for the moment he had business to attend to.

“What now?” he asked.

“Help me out and press my back against the dirt wall.”

Damien lifted the wise one—the old druid seemed nothing but skin and bones—and carried him over to the grotto wall. He frowned and conjured a pair of extra hands. He managed, with considerable muttering, to maneuver him into place. The moment he did fine tendrils grew out and pierced the wise one’s flesh. More vines grew and wrapped around his wrists, freeing Damien from having to hold him. In two minutes he looked every bit as connected to this room as he had to the one they fled, and even his face had filled out more.

The wise one sighed. “Put Leah in the pool. The water will restore her.”

Damien looked from the old man to Leah back to the wise one. “What about her clothes?”

“Take them off. It will be more effective if they aren’t clinging to her.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that.”

Damien stripped her as quickly and methodically as he could, trying in vain to ignore the lean, fit body underneath. When he finished he wrapped her in soul force and slid her into the water before reabsorbing his power. Leah floated on the surface surrounded by a faint emerald glow.

That left Jen, who, as far as he could tell, only required a good long nap. He shifted the box into a couch and set her to one side of the pool. Damien slumped beside the wise one and closed his eyes.

“So what happens now?” Damien asked. “The investigation seems kind of beside the point since we know who’s responsible.”

“I trusted Eleck like a son. I thought one day he would take my place as Wise One. To have him betray me, betray all of us like this is beyond my comprehension. I suppose the task hasn’t changed. We need to deal with Eleck and his followers then restore the ley line to its proper place.”

“Followers?”

“Yes. No druid, not even me, has the power to shift a ley line on their own. He needed a full circle to manage something so powerful.”

“A full circle?” Damien felt like an idiot asking for constant clarifications.

“One experienced druid to guide the ritual and seven acolytes to provide power.” The wise one shook his head. “I can’t believe he found seven others to betray the Green Path. Have I failed my people to such an extent that they’d follow someone as corrupt as Eleck?”

Damien wasn’t quite certain how to respond to the wise one’s sad speech. Pep talks weren’t his specialty. Threats were more his speed. “Maybe Eleck tricked them, like he tricked you. After all you had no idea that he was involved or that he had betrayed you. Perhaps he convinced whoever helped him that what they were doing was the right thing. It doesn’t make much difference to me. They need to be dealt with to protect my home, so I’ll deal with them.”