The Way of the Soul (18 page)

Malja looked from Fawbry to Owl and then back to the pulsing orange glow on the horizon. Her fingers tightened into fists. “Harskill.”

Chapter 18

Reon

Taking a deep breath,
Reon gazed down the edge of the gorge. Lord Harskill had informed her that magic had been used to create this crack in the ground wide enough to prevent easy passage across. A flimsy, rope bridge had been strung between the two sides. It looked worn and unreliable. Fields stretched out the rest of the way. A copse of trees hung back behind Reon. Directly across the gap, she saw the ruined building that Lord Harskill called the Library.

It was an odd sight. An old, wrecked building formed of scavenged ruins — concrete, wood, glass, and pipes — that looked more like a twisted column with a barbed crown than a place for books and learning. This javelin of a building stood upon a wide marble platform. Wider, marble stairs led up from the ground. Dead vines clung to the sides. Reon spotted drainage pipes and what might have been a vent. All remnants of a civilization that once thrived until, so she was told, an abuse of magic ripped an apocalyptic force across this land.

“Who knows?” Lord Harskill said. “It may have all started right here.”

It certainly seemed possible. Pulses of energy shot upward into the air like fireworks that never exploded. On the platform, four monks sat cross-legged and meditating — two black and bald, one brown and fat, one pale and wrinkled. Reon looked closer and noticed that they actually floated inches above the marble. In the center of it all, a few feet in front of the Library’s spire, floating a full head above the others, Reon saw a young, blond man. He had lean muscle covered with tattoos and a look of concentration more focused than she had ever seen — even amongst her martial arts masters or Lord Harskill himself.

Freen kicked a stone down into the gorge, arched his back, and stretched his arms. “Four monks and a boy? That’s it?”

Lord Harskill said, “That boy could shred you into pieces. Might even be able to do so from all the way over there.”

Freen checked to see if Lord Harskill was joking, then stepped back several paces.

Lord Harskill turned around. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of him. But that young monk who went running off a little bit ago, he’ll be informing others that we’re here. We must be ready. You and Sola need to go do your part. The rest of you are to wait.”

“Sola’s already on her way. We’ve got that all taken care of.”

“Good. Because that boy, Tommy — his being here means that Malja’s here, too.”

From behind, Bell Wake growled. “I knew it. This is all about her.”

“This is about saving all of the universes. Not some Gate who has refused us on numerous occasions.”

“She’s only refused you.”

Malja? But Reon had defeated her by stealing the Soul of the Sun. How could Malja still be a consideration?

Bell Wake read Reon’s face. “Still think you have a chance to be Queen? Still want to kill me for it? Wouldn’t matter. Old Harskill here has his eyes set on only one woman. It’s been that way for years.”

“Malja is not my goal,” Lord Harskill said with fury burning out his words. “The Library is all that matters. We gain control of that and we become the ultimate power.”

Bell crooked an eyebrow towards Reon. “See? He never says he won’t make her Queen. He’s in love with her, and it’s clouding his judgment.”

Lord Harskill lifted his arm and made a fist. His do-kha swirled around his hand. “Are you no longer interested in helping me?”

With a nonchalant wave, Bell said, “Relax. I still want the same thing I came here for — to be a god. I just thought your little girl ought to know where she actually stood.”

Reon watched the sly grin on Bell’s face. Perhaps what she said about Malja had been merely a way to goad Reon. But Lord Harskill’s reaction had too much power behind it, too much passion. Was all this promise of being Queen nothing more than a bribe that he had no intention of fulfilling? Bell Wake seemed to think so.

Unbeckoned, the memory of sleeping with Lord Harskill flashed in Reon’s head. She wanted to run off into the trees, find a river or lake, and wash off the sullied feeling coating her skin. Why would a god do these things? As the hot sun burned down on the back of her neck, she wondered if Lord Harskill would ever make his intentions clear. Or would she have to wait until everything fell apart around her?

She shook off her thoughts. Who was she to question her god? He was the powerful one. He was the one who had lifted her out of a mundane life — though, he was also the one who put her there to begin with.

Reon dropped to the ground and placed her head in her hands.

“What are you doing?” Bell Wake asked.

Reon did not bother to look up. “Lord Harskill says we must wait. So, I’ll wait.”

“But you won’t have to wait long.” Bell looked off to the horizon. Coming up from the west, dust kicked up over a wide area. “See that, little Reon? I’ll bet you anything, good old Malja’s leading that force. You better get ready.”

Reon stood, keeping her eyes on the moving dust plumes. She would be ready. She had escaped Malja once — it had been her victory but an escape nonetheless. This time, she would not run. This time, she would kill the woman. Then Lord Harskill would have to make her Queen.

Chapter 19

Malja

About halfway up the grass
and dirt hill, Malja ordered her troop of young monks to halt. She knew this landscape well. Further on, the land flattened leading toward the Library. She didn’t want Harskill to know the small size of her army or their meager condition. So, she had them spread out while marching and let the dust muddy the air above them.

But now, they would have to wait out of sight. If needed, they would be able to reach her fast enough. Plus, the young monks needed some time to find their courage. She would rather they had it while running into battle.

Reading her mind, Fawbry said, “Perhaps I should stay with them. Give them a little moral fortitude to go with the courage they’ll need.” He tapped his copy of the Book of Kryssta. “Besides, I’ve seen enough of Harskill to last a lifetime.”

Malja didn’t need to answer. Fawbry walked back to the group of monks and got down on one knee. As the young monks circled around him, their faces eager and nervous, he opened his book and read aloud.

To follow Kryssta is to follow the soul.

To follow the soul is to stand for Right.

To stand for Right is to follow Kryssta.

“Come,” Malja said to Owl. “He can handle this.”

Malja and Owl marched up the hill and onto the plain. The pulsing Library gave off a loud
whomp
with each burst of magic. As they walked by, Malja glanced at Tommy but he showed no sign of recognition. She took no offense and felt better knowing his full attention focused on keeping the Library intact.

The four monks assisting him looked far more stressed. She recognized the two dark-skinned monks — Dravid and Terren, if she remembered correctly. Sweat beaded on their bald heads.

Owl’s hands tapped over his weapons as if to make sure they were still there. His chin pointed across the flimsy bridge. “That him? Harskill?”

“And his little whore. Don’t underestimate either of them. I’ve fought them both, and they each are more than they appear.”

“Don’t worry. I never judge upon appearances.”

They walked out across the bridge. Despite a slight swaying with the breeze, the bridge held fine. Harskill and Reon approached from the other side. While the woman tried to keep her face stoic and cold, Malja could see the anger twitching beneath the surface. Harskill, on the other hand, looked confident and calm as always. Stopping in the middle of the bridge, he extended his greetings. He turned sideways to Malja and Owl and finished with a slight bow.

Malja planted her feet wide and crossed her arms. “I don’t suppose you would show your appreciation for me by turning around and leaving.”

Harskill mocked offense. “Why must we start with that kind of thing? Tell me, how are your friends? Tommy and the silly one — Fedry? Fadry?”

“Fawbry.”

“Yes. How have they been?”

“You mean since the last world we met you at, that you tried to destroy, that we had to fight you off with an army?”

Harskill looked over Malja’s shoulder, eying up Owl’s reaction. “She exaggerates. It’s true we’ve had some squabbles in the various places we’ve been, but our goals are similar. We both want to bring peace to all the worlds.”

Malja could hear Owl’s disgust as he said, “From what I understand, your idea of peace is a dictatorship.”

“I see you’re learning etiquette from Malja.” Harskill turned his head slightly toward Reon. “You see? These are the kinds of heathens out there. Offer them something good and solid and secure in their world and all they see is the malicious and the wrong.”

Reon glared at Malja. “She’s just mad because I bested her.”

Malja refused the bait. Harskill’s minions could taunt her all day. She didn’t care. What mattered was what Harskill decided to do.

He watched her for a moment as the bridge creaked. She couldn’t read his face. Perhaps he recalled all their previous battles. Perhaps he remembered that she beat him each time. Perhaps he recalled all his proposals of marriage. Perhaps he remembered all the times she rejected him.

For a brief moment, a scowl crossed his face. As fast as it formed, he forced his mouth into a broad smile. In a soft tone, he said, “Why is it that we keep meeting on opposite sides, when all I want is to be your friend and ally?”

“That’s because you keep doing evil things.”

Reon took one step closer. “Watch what you say.” Her do-kha stretched down over her hands to form the familiar blades.

Malja did not flinch. “No matter how fast you think you are, do you really think you can outmaneuver a bullet?”

The steady click of a cocking gun echoed along the gorge walls. Malja saw the dangerous edge of a handgun’s muzzle over her shoulder. Two barrels, one atop the other, threatened to rip Reon’s head from her shoulders. Malja swore she could hear Owl grinning.

Though Reon kept her do-kha blades at the ready, she did step back. One step. That was fine by Malja. The message had been received. Besides, she had no desire for that gun to be blasting away right by her ear. Her do-kha would try to protect her by covering her head, but Malja wasn’t sure the suit would be fast enough to prevent her from going deaf.

Harskill said, “I’m disappointed. I had hoped we could be more cordial. But you only seem to become ruder each time we meet.”

“The way you go around destroying everything I care about and murdering those I know might have something to do with that.”

“Since you don’t want to talk as one Gate to another, then let me be blunt. I demand unfettered access to the Library. I will take nothing less.”

“Never will happen.”

Harskill thrust his fist into the air. From the tree line, two Gate emerged, each astride a konapol. That alone spoke to their strength. Konapols were vicious, wild animals that did not take well to being domesticated. These were huge creatures with thin, gray fur over toned muscles and comical, wrinkled faces that hid vicious teeth. In battle, these animals could be far more dangerous than the riders — except when the riders were Gate.

Behind the konapols, a small army of beasts followed — mighty colacks with their hardshell foreheads; green talisi that could cut through trees with their deadly claws; three giant gorgut towering over all with their hairy, gray skin and pungent stink; and at least a hundred men and women from the various gangs, all sporting patchwork armor and weaponry. What Harskill’s army lacked in size and skill, it clearly made up in brute strength. In one glance, Malja knew her monks were not anywhere near ready for this.

Harskill rolled his shoulders as if loosening up for the fight. “Now, you know me well enough. I would prefer to avoid bloodshed, but I have no problem should it become necessary.”

“I have no doubt.”

“Out of respect for you and all the times we’ve shared, I’m going to give you one day to come to your senses. If you still deny me access to the Library, then you can face all of that which waits behind me.”

“One day? Can your magic not keep them under control any longer than that?”

Harskill smirked. “Does it matter? Either way, when the time comes, those creatures will dismember you all with great pleasure. Oh, and I still get into the Library anyway. Think on it.”

Before Malja could respond, Harskill turned and walked back. Reon followed close behind. Malja knew better than to shout out a retort. It would sound weak and look weaker.

Walking back towards the Library, her legs shook as the bridge swayed.

“You okay?” Owl asked.

Malja clenched her jaw. She didn’t need Owl seeing any signs of weakness. “I’m fine. Just a bit confused why Harskill is giving us this time.”