The Way of the Soul (4 page)

“I’m ready,” she said.

The warehouse reached three stories into the air. Boxes filled half of it. The other half remained empty. Reon heard water lapping against wood — the docks outside.

She turned to Lord Harskill. “Are we still in the city?”

Lord Harskill stood with his hands clasped behind his back and a gentle smile on his lips. Reon imagined this was what a proud parent looked like.

“You are among a very special few chosen by me to become my warriors. Many years back, I promised you that when the time came, I would call upon you. That time has arrived. But before I can reveal your purpose, you must prove your worthiness. All of you that I chose, whom I visited at such a young age, I have followed your progress. Many of you failed to believe I even existed.”

Reon dropped to her knees. “Never, my Lord. I’ve always believed in you. I never doubted.”

“Stand. You do not need to bow to me. Prove your worthiness, pass my tests, and take your rightful place by my side. Others will bow to you.”

Rising to her feet, Reon said, “Yes, my Lord. Anything you ask, I will do.”

Lord Harskill stepped closer and gestured towards his sleek, black clothing. “This do-kha is unique and special. Gods like me receive one at birth. It grows with us. It becomes part of us. And it accentuates our great power.”

“There are other gods besides you?”

“My dear, as it is, there are not enough gods to rule over the infinite worlds out there. But that will change. Patience. You’ll see and understand soon. For now, learn. The do-kha needs a person worthy of it, and though you are quite old to be forming this bond, it is your first great test.”

From behind a crate, Lord Harskill produced a metal canister. He strolled to the middle of the warehouse’s empty section and set the canister down. He unscrewed the top. It made a dull, scratching sound that echoed off the cavernous walls. With grace and care, he placed the top aside and lifted the canister. He paused long enough to look at Reon with a sly grin and then poured the contents of the canister onto the floor.

A thick, black mass like tar oozed out. Lord Harskill backed away, and Reon noticed a warm aroma like freshly baked bread.

When Lord Harskill stopped, he said, “All you simply have to do is be accepted by the do-kha. Open your thoughts to it. Allow it to become part of you.”

A hard ball of ice formed in her chest, and she shivered. The moment she had prepared for her entire life had finally arrived. Years of praying and training by herself, years of debating and fighting with her parents, years of hoping that she would not disappoint her god, and now, if she failed in this task, it would all be destroyed.

She wanted to throw up.

Though the black goo looked innocuous, Reon did not doubt its power. The Lord Harskill had said all gods wore the do-kha, which meant it had to be a great and mighty thing. Thoughts of numerous gods and endless worlds flooded her mind. She turned away and breathed deeply, trying to clear her thoughts. Only one thing mattered —
being accepted by the do-kha.

When she turned back with her face set like a statue, she approached the do-kha. After only three steps, it shimmered. From the center of the black goo, a thick piece rose with a sound like glass frozen to the point of cracking. It looked like a tree trunk — thick and strong. Branches grew out, but they all reached in the same direction. Toward Reon.

She put out her hand, the tips of her fingers close but not touching the do-kha. Before she could look at Lord Harskill, before she could even think to ask a question, the do-kha snapped forward. All of it rushed off the ground, up her arm, and down her body like a cold shower cascading over her skin. She inhaled sharply. The chill air reached down like knives into her lungs.

“Open your thoughts. Do not fight it,” Lord Harskill said.

Reon obeyed. Her eyes rolled up, and though she knew she fell backward, she never felt her body hit the floor. Instead, she continued to drop, like falling down a well into the darkness with only one pinpoint of light visible. It rushed upon her. So bright — blinding.

And then she floated on her bedroom ceiling. Below, she saw an eight-year-old Reon. The little girl sat on her bed holding two dolls — one blond, one brunette. Reon watched and knew this exact moment. She would never forget it.

Only moments before, she had endured a massive argument with her parents about the fact that she knew Dulmul was a false god. The entire year since Lord Harskill appeared before her had been filled with fights like this. Locked in her room, she stared at these dolls and thought about herself.

It was at that moment, she decided she must live two lives while waiting for the Lord Harskill’s return. Her outer life would be one of compliance with her parents and their Dulmulim religion. Her inner life, her real life, would be one in which she prepared for the return of her Lord Harskill.

“Good,” Lord Harskill said. “Now, let the do-kha connect even deeper. To your deepest, most precious feelings. Hide nothing.”

Reon felt her body drift through the ceiling and back into the darkness. She thought about how many years she managed this duplicitous life. Even before she saw the pinpoint of light that would return her to the bedroom ceiling, she knew what she would see next. The moment she realized she could no longer live two lives. The first time Lord Harskill returned.

She was seventeen. He arrived in the middle of the night. She bowed before him, ready to serve in any way he asked. But her time had not come yet. He said he only wanted to make sure that she still followed, still believed in him.

Her deep passion and faith in the Lord Harskill overcame her. She stood and disrobed. She offered her virginity to her Lord.

Floating on the ceiling, Reon watched as the Lord Harskill took her to bed and deflowered her with a sensitive, gentle touch. It was a glorious night. She had heard from other girls at school that the first time hurt. But with the Lord Harskill, it had been nothing but the purest of pleasure. All the thrills of a narrow victory mixed with the gentle wonder of floating at sea.

“Now, my dear, open yourself to your darkest thoughts,” Lord Harskill said. “Look into your heart. Let the do-kha see what it is you fear you’re capable of. What is it that you dare not desire? Show the do-kha the ugliest side of you.”

The thought hit Reon with startling ferocity. She heard screams, pleading, and the wet splash of blood. When she saw the pinpoint of light, part of Reon held back. She knew what those sounds meant. She had no desire to visit that dark dream.

The light did not rush in. It did not get closer at all.
Is it responding to me?
If so, she didn’t have to witness the horrid scene awaiting her.

But if she stayed in the darkness, she would fail this test. She would not be chosen. But if she did go, she would see the monster.

“I will trust in my Lord,” she whispered and allowed her body to enter the light.

This time she floated not on her bedroom ceiling, but rather she hovered above the kitchen. Her mother lay on the breakfast table staring up at her. A shattered plate of eggs littered the floor. Her mother’s body had been sliced open, organs and bones visible. Her eyes could open no wider. The terror trembling on her open lips could become no worse. The poor woman screamed and cried, but that only pleased her torturer.

Reon had no need to see the blood-soaked girl causing all this pain — she knew it was herself. She had dreamed this foul scene many times.

When Reon next opened her eyes, she could feel the floor against her back. Warmth covered her body like a favorite blanket. The icy ball of fear that had lodged in her chest now thawed. Lord Harskill reached down to help her up.

As she lifted her arms, she saw the black do-kha upon her skin like the sleeve of a shirt. She glanced downward. It covered her entire body. The clothes she had worn were folded neatly in a pile on the floor. She would no longer need them.

Lord Harskill put his arm around her shoulder and squeezed once before letting her go. “Congratulations. You now have a do-kha, and you are one step closer to being powerful, mighty, and with me.”

Reon lowered to one knee and held the Lord’s hand. “I am yours to command.”

“Eventually. But first you must learn to command your do-kha. You must learn its power. It has quite a lot. Ultimately, you must learn to create your own portal.” Lord Harskill waved his hand off to the left and a portal opened with a sizzle.

Looking in, Reon could see a lush swamp. She wondered where that land existed.

The Lord smiled. “Come. Your next test awaits.” He walked through the portal without her. From the other side, he looked back and waved her on.

She thought of the book he had tossed into the portal before, thought of how it had incinerated and left behind a bitter, burnt odor. She would have to trust her do-kha to protect her now. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes, and ran through ... straight into the Lord’s arms.

Her stomach still twisted, her skin still tingled, but as he had promised, the sensations had lessened from the first time. Surveying the area, Reon could not place any of the tree types.

“Where are we? Is this the Afflee Swamp? Or are we on the other side of the world? The Takeeg?”

“No, my dear. We are not even on your world. This is a whole different universe.” Before those words could settle in Reon’s mind, the Lord continued. “You must learn to use your do-kha. Listen to it. Command it. Use your emotions — your thoughts and feelings together. It will respond. Once you have achieved that, you merely have to ask it to open a portal while you picture your bedroom at home. Then step through. I’ll be waiting.”

With that Lord Harskill opened another portal. Reon did not recognize the location — perhaps another universe.

“Be careful,” the Lord said. “There are other challenges to be found here.”

“I will face whatever you ask me to. I will succeed.”

“I hope so. Perhaps your greatest challenge lies down that path.” And the Lord was gone.

Reon gazed down the path. Wide leaves and snaking vines formed a tunnel of vegetation. She did not hesitate. Reon walked forward to face whatever Lord Harskill asked of her.

Chapter 5

Malja

The path they followed
bent and twisted through the swamps with no apparent reason. Still, Malja pushed on. Little footprints in the mud confirmed that the groyles had created this path through years of tramping along. While some animal tracks dotted the way, the groyle prints dominated. So, Malja kept moving forward.

Besides, she could think of no other way to go. Except home. But to give up now, after putting in so much time and effort — she refused to accept that.

Fawbry grunted as they ducked under a fallen tree draped with furry, blue moss. “Remind me to get married when we go back. I don’t care what married life is like anymore. It’s got to be better than slogging through this smelly place.”

Malja wrinkled her nose. She had done a good job of ignoring the rotting odors, but Fawbry’s mention of it brought the stench rushing back. She was about to tell him to close his mouth when she heard voices up ahead.

She halted and dropped to a low crouch. That got Fawbry quiet. Muscles in her lower back complained, but she stayed still in her bent position. When the pain subsided, she used the flat of her blade to lower a few enormous leaves in front of her.

Two groyles stood beside a large metal pipe. The pipe had been painted red long ago, most of the color had faded or peeled away, and one end ran back into the swamp as far as Malja could see. The other end buried into the ground a few feet away. The groyles struggled with a rusty wheel that connected to the pipe.

“Why we always do this job?” one groyle said.

The other groaned as it put all of its weight onto the unyielding wheel. “You too dumb for better job.”

“You here too.”

“I in charge of you.”

“Not so.”

“So.”

“Not so.”

“So.”

“No groyle in charge just one groyle. That dumb.”

The groyle fighting the wheel finally let go. It stretched three of its arms back and used the fourth to rub at a few of its eyes. “This wheel stuck. Let’s go to Rumak. He know to fix it.”

The other groyle lowered its head and shivered. “Rumak won’t help.”

The first groyle placed a hand on the other’s back and stroked. “No trouble. It be fine.”

They exchanged an uncertain look before climbing atop the pipe. Having four legs made balancing easy. They skittered along the pipe, moving fast into the darkness of the swamp.

Malja waited a few moments in case they returned. Then she stood and walked over to the pipe. Fawbry plopped down where the pipe went below ground and leaned his back against the cool metal.

“Oh, it feels good to get off my feet. They’re aching.”

Malja checked out the wheel. “What do you think this is for?”

“It’s a valve wheel. Controls the flow of —”

“I know what a valve wheel is. I meant the pipe.”