The Third Soul Omnibus Two Read online

“Father,” said Jenny. “Lord Raelum, this is Harren, my father.”

  Harren looked at Jenny, then at Raelum, a frown spreading over his face.

  “Jenny,” said Harren. He took Jenny’s arm and eased her into the gate. “I’m glad you are safe.”

  “This is Lord Raelum, father,” said Jenny. “I fell and twisted my ankle. A pack of ghouls would have slain me, but for him.”

  “He is possessed!” said Harold. “Slay him, quickly, before he brings evil on us!”

  “He is a Paladin,” said Jenny. “He killed the ghouls with a sword of fire!”

  “Look at his eyes,” said Harren. “He must have bewitched you.”

  “No,” said Raelum. He drew his sword and turned the sword so the mark of the sword-and-rose faced the villagers. “You may think as you wish, but I am a Silver Knight. I took oaths on the hilt of this sword, given to me by my lord as he lay dying.”

  “Then if you are not possessed, you are demonborn,” said Harren. “Your mother was possessed when she bore you?”

  “I know not,” said Raelum, “but I assume so.”

  “Ah,” said Harren. “So you never knew your father?” Raelum said nothing. “A bastard, and demonborn at that. Yes, a fine Paladin, no doubt.”

  “Father!” said Jenny. “He saved my life. Let him rest here for the night.”

  “No,” said Harren. “I shall not endanger our folk. Watkins, Harold. Please take my daughter to my house.”

  “Come, girl,” said Watkins, taking her by the arm. “You need rest.”

  Jenny looked over her shoulder at Raelum. “Thank you.” Then she vanished into the village.

  “I don’t care what you think,” said Raelum.

  “Indeed not,” said Harren. “I’ll bid you farewell, demonborn. Never come here again.”

  “Hold,” said Raelum. “I’ll go, and you’ll likely never see me again, but answer some questions first. You owe me that much for your daughter’s life.”

  “I owe you nothing,” said Harren. “But if it will speed you on your way, then ask.”

  “A man,” said Raelum. “About your height, with lordly bearing, clad in red robes, traveling in the company of many silent men. Have you seen him?”

  Harren lifted an eyebrow. “I have seen such a man, though he came to our gates alone.”

  “When?” said Raelum.

  “A week past,” said Harren. “He came just before sunset. I thought it suspicious. Men of good purpose do not travel alone in the woods,” his eyes narrowed, “and he seemed…odd. Uncanny, almost.” He shook his head. “I bid him go, and quickly. He asked about the ruined keep north of the village. I told him the place was cursed. He laughed at me and went on his way.” Harren titled his head to the side. “Do you know him?”

  “You are fortunate he did not kill you,” said Raelum, “you and all your folk.”

  Harren scoffed. “We are able to defend ourselves from one man.”

  “You would not have needed to defend against him, but his powers,” said Raelum, “and they are deadly.”

  “And you are his servant, hmm?” said Harren. “A devil seeking his master?”

  “My master is dead,” said Raelum, “and I answer to no man.”

  He left the village behind, ignoring Harren’s scornful, fearful stare.

  Chapter 3 - Thief of Khauldun

  Raelum walked into the forest until he found a boulder that blocked the wind. Small heaps of stones lay nearby, no doubt cleared from Coldbrook’s fields every spring. A few minutes’ work made a ring of stones large enough for a good fire.

  Raelum drew a small hatchet from his pack and chopped firewood, the labor keeping the cold at bay. He piled the wood, made a spark with flint and his dagger, and managed to get a fire going. He sighed in relief and leaned towards the fire, soaking in the heat.

  For most men, spending the night out of doors was suicide, but Raelum had done it more times than he could recall. The fire might attract ghouls, or even wolves, but Raelum had no choice. Without a fire, he would freeze to death and rise as a ghoul himself.

  Besides, he knew ways to minimize the risk. He drew his sword, laid it across his knees, and reached for the Light. It welled up in him, shimmering across his right hand, and Raelum rubbed his aching shoulder. Warmth eased through him, and the ache vanished.

  “The Light is the gift of the Divine to the Knights of the Silver Order,” Sir Oliver had often said. “A way we can defend ourselves from the demons of the astral world. Some Adepts claim the Light is a natural force, a manifestation of the world, but they are wrong. It is a gift, and must be used as such.”

  Raelum sighed in relief and extended his senses. He felt a few minor ghouls some miles distant, but nothing nearby. Morick and his ghouls must have claimed the area. In time, some other ghouls would claim the land, but it was safe enough for now.

  Raelum pulled some cold bread from his pack and gulped it down without pleasure. He wished he had demanded some food from Harren. Perhaps Raelum should have stolen some food.

  “No,” he muttered. He might be demonborn, a street thief from Khauldun’s warrens, but now he was a Silver Knight. He would not violate his oaths.

  “Red-eyed devil,” he murmured, head lowering against his chest. He had heard that so many times. When had heard it first?

  Raelum drifted off to sleep and dreamed.

  ###

  The sun blazed over Khauldun’s narrow streets. It was always hot here, unlike the cold northern lands where Raelum hunted Marsile ten years later.

  Now Raelum was a ragged waif like hundreds of others skulking the streets, a gaunt eight-year-old boy in ragged pants and a filthy blanket. He wore the blanket like a cloak pulled low over his eyes. He knew from bitter experience that men would try to kill him if they saw his eyes. Scars marked his thin chest and arms from previous attempts.

  “Be gone, you red-eyed devil!” bawled a fat merchant in silken robes. Behind him two bodyguards hefted iron-studded cudgels. Raelum stared at the merchant, hating him. Why should the merchant waddle through the streets, bulging with fat, while Raelum’s stomach twisted with hunger? What had the merchant done to earn his wealth?

  “Get gone, rat,” said a bodyguard, swinging a cudgel. Raelum dashed away. No one paid him any heed as he darted through the thronging streets. The sun scorched the brown walls of the buildings, and his bare feet made no noise against the hot street. He glimpsed a group of grim Khauldish men in white robes and turbans, scimitars at their belts, their golden brooches shaped like coiled chains. Raelum knew slavers when he saw them, and huddled in the shadows until they passed.

  After the slavers departed, Raelum went on his way. The narrow street opened into a large plaza, the Factors’ Market. A pair of scowling guards in scale mail and spiked helmets stood before the Market, watching for any beggars or thieves. They would have no compunctions about gutting a lone beggar boy.

  But Raelum’s stomach twisted with pain. He had not eaten in days. He settled into the shadows and waited, watching the passing carts.

  A large wagon lumbered past, pulled by a pair of oxen. A man with a whip sat on the driver’s bench, bawling curses at man and beast alike. Raelum darted into the street, rolled under the cart, and seized the axle. He clung to it like a rat, and the cart carried him into the Factors’ Market.

  The cart shuddered to a stop, and the driver climbed down. A babble of a dozen different languages rose from the market as men bought and sold and haggled. Raelum rolled out from under the wagon, unnoticed.

  He moved through the Factors’ Market like a ghost, snatching an apple here, a sausage there, his filthy blanket serving as a sack for his plundered goods. After he finished, Raelum knotted the blanket and slipped under the wagon. An hour later the driver climbed back the seat, muttering curses, and snapped the oxen into motion. It took every bit of self-control Raelum could muster to keep from tearing into the food then and there.

  The wagon stopped somewhere in the back alleyways of Khaul
dun. Raelum scrambled out and disappeared into the warrens, trying to ignore his hunger. Some other desperate fool might try to steal his food if he ate now. Raelum would wait until he reached the safety of his haven before he stuffed himself.

  How his stomach growled!

  The streets sloped towards the seawall and the harbor. Raelum darted through a maze of warehouses and stopped at the edge of the seawall, a hundred feet over the water. A pile of abandoned crates sat here, and in the largest, Raelum had made a lair for himself. He settled in and faced the vast blue expanse of the sea. He loved to look at it. It was such a contrast to Khauldun’s hot, dry streets.

  Thought fled from his mind as he tore open the blanket and began feasting. Not a single crumb slipped from his fingers. He had not eaten so well in months…

  “A daring piece of work, my brave monkey.”

  Raelum leapt to his feet, fingers hooked into claws. A dark man in a black cloak leaned against the crates, hand resting on a dagger at his belt.

  “Very daring,” said the dark man. “If the guards had seen you, they would have…” His voice trailed off.

  “It’s mine,” hissed Raelum.

  “By all the gods,” said the dark man, taking a step back. “Your eyes. Are you possessed? Or some Adept’s spawn? Well? Answer!”

  “I’m,” Raelum thought it over, “I’m hungry.”

  The man laughed. “Aye? I can understand that. Maybe you’re naught but another ragged orphan. It matters not. What matters is that you owe me two parts of the food you took.”

  “What?” snarled Raelum. “I took it! It’s mine!”

  “Oh, certainly,” said the dark man. “But the Factors’ Market is mine. Have you heard of me? No? I am Black Kaheen. I rule the thieves, beggars, pickpockets, and whores of Factors’ Market and the neighboring districts. You’re a rogue thief, boy. I do not tolerate rogues. Best give me my two shares.”

  “No,” said Raelum.

  Black Kaheen grinned. “Aye?” He drew his dagger. “Then I’ll have to kill you. Or…better yet, sell you to the slavers. Yes.” He moved closer, looming over Raelum. “I should profit from this whole business…”

  Raelum’s legs exploded like springs. His head, shoulders, and fists rammed into Black Kaheen’s stomach. The man’s breath exploded out of him, his eyes bulging in surprise. He fought to regain his balance, raising the dagger high.

  His expression changed to naked fear as he toppled over the seawall. Raelum snatched the fallen dagger and looked around. He would have to escape before the guards, or worse, Black Kaheen’s associates, discovered the corpse…

  “Boy! Boy!”

  Raelum poked his head over the seawall. Black Kaheen clung to the rough stone, his arms trembling with strain. His black cloak snapped in a breeze from the harbor.

  “Boy,” rasped Black Kaheen, “pull me up.”

  Raelum picked up a loose stone and prepared to throw it into Black Kaheen’s face. “Why?”

  “I will reward you,” said Black Kaheen.

  “No,” said Raelum, lifting the rock.

  “Wait!”

  “You’ll say anything to save your life,” said Raelum.

  Black Kaheen’s smirked. “True. Now, pull me up!”

  “No,” said Raelum.

  “I’ll let you keep the food,” said Black Kaheen.

  “If I kill you,” said Raelum. “I’ll keep the food anyway.”

  Black Kaheen slipped an inch. “Then what do you want, boy? Name it.”

  “Just the food,” said Raelum.

  “Food?” rasped Black Kaheen. “Aye, you’ll have food. I’ll grant you a privilege. You may steal food from the Factors’ Market, from anywhere in my domain, without paying my share.”

  “You’ll grant me this?” said Raelum. “Like you’re a lord? You’re just a man hanging from his fingers.” Sweat beaded on Black Kaheen’s forehead. “You can’t give me anything. But I’ve got something.” He reversed the dagger and tapped Black Kaheen’s fingers with the hilt. “I’ve got your life. What will you give me?”

  Black Kaheen managed to laugh. “You’ve grit, boy. Very well. I’ll give you the right to steal food without tithe, and in exchange you’ll give me my life.”

  “More on that,” said Raelum. “I’ll give you your life.” Black Kaheen almost lost his grip. “And you’ll swear not to take mine, or to hurt me, and to let me steal all the food I wish without your share. And then I’ll give your life back.”

  “Fine,” spat Black Kaheen. “Now pull me up!”

  “Swear it on the law of thieves,” said Raelum.

  “I swear! I swear!” Black Kaheen began to slide. “I can’t hold…”

  Raelum put down the dagger and the rock and grabbed Black Kaheen’s hand. With every muscle straining, Raelum managed to pull him up. Black Kaheen seized the lip of the wall and flopped onto his back.

  Raelum scooped up the rock and the dagger.

  “By all the gods,” coughed Black Kaheen, “outwitted by some ragged beggar boy. Just as well I decided to take you myself. My lieutenants would have had my head, if they’d seen this.”

  “You want the dagger back?” said Raelum.

  “Nay,” said Black Kaheen, “nay, keep it, I’ve many more.” He looked at Raelum. “You’re a clever little rat. And you’ve nerve, also. I’d never believed a street-rat would jump me.”

  “So I suppose you’ll try to kill me now?” said Raelum, reversing the dagger.

  “What? Nay!” said Black Kaheen. “I swore, did I not?” He smiled. “Seek me out, should you grow hungry again. I have a use for a clever street-rat.” He undid his cloak and swirled it around Raelum’s shoulders. “Perhaps we shall meet again, aye?”

  He strolled away.

  Raelum stared after him for a while, waiting for treachery. When none came he shrugged and returned to his feast, wrapped in his new cloak.

  ###

  Raelum awoke to the moan of the winter wind.

  He blinked away the shards of memory. His fire had died down to smoke and embers. He rolled to his feet, shaking snow from Black Kaheen’s cloak, and put the remainder of the wood into the fire. With Black Kaheen’s dagger, still sharp after ten years, he whittled fresh kindling and had the fire going again.

  Raelum shivered and held his cold hands to the fire. He did not miss Khauldun, did not miss the dusty streets and blazing sun. But at least it had not been cold! He had never even seen snow until his fourteenth year.

  The overcast sky lightened as the sun came up. Raelum sighed, put out the fire, and prepared to leave.

  A twig snapped, and Raelum turned and extended his senses. No demons wandered nearby. Wolves, perhaps? Or human bandits?

  Jenny of Coldbrook came into sight, wrapped in a heavy cloak, a sack slung over her shoulder.

  “You should not wander these woods alone,” said Raelum.

  Jenny said nothing.

  “Your ankle?” said Raelum.

  “Better,” said Jenny. “I can walk, but, oh, it’s sore.” She stopped a few feet from him and held out the sack. “Here.”

  Raelum took the bag. The canvas sack held bread, winter sausages, wheels of cheese, and bundles of jerky and bacon.

  “A generous gift,” said Raelum. “Can your village spare it? The winter is hard.”

  “Aye,” said Jenny, “the harvest was good, and we’ve much to spare. My father will never notice.”

  “Thank you,” said Raelum.

  “It wasn’t right,” said Jenny, “the way my father treated you. And this man you’re chasing. He was heading into the east. There are only a few more villages that way…and then nothing. Naught but demons and the Ashborn and worse. If you’re to go that way, you’ll need supplies.”

  “A magnificent gift,” said Raelum, transferring the provender to his own pack. “Again, I thank you.”

  “This man you chase…Marsile?” said Jenny. Raelum nodded. “Why are you looking for him?”

  “I’m going to kill him,” s
aid Raelum.

  Jenny said nothing as he worked. Raelum was only a week behind Marsile. No sense in letting Marsile lengthen that lead.

  “I wish you well, my lord,” said Jenny at last. “Take care, I beg.”

  “I might,” said Raelum. He offered her a tight smile, shouldered his pack, and continued on his way.

  Chapter 4 - The Ruined Keep

  Jenny had given Raelum a lot of food, and his pack dug into his shoulders with new weight. Raelum didn’t mind.

  The weight would vanish all too soon.

  He made his way back to the road, circling a safe distance from Coldbrook. If the villagers saw him again, they might do something rash.

  A mile later a low wall of loose stone ran alongside the road. It encircled the village’s graveyard. Crude headstones of wood and stone marked the graves, and a columbarium stood in the center of the yard. Here the villagers buried the ashes of their dead, lest demons inhabit the corpses and raise them as ghouls.

  Raelum let his demonborn senses sweep over the graveyard, seeking for any ghouls sheltering in the graves. He found none. Not even Marsile could raise a ghoul from ashes.

  From the graveyard the road continued east. A narrow trail, almost overgrown, wove northward between the trees. Raelum took the northern trail. Marsile had taken the eastern road, no doubt.

  But he suspected his foe had first made a small detour.

  The ground rose, boulders jutting from the earth. A hill loomed ahead, crowned by a crumbling, square tower. It looked like hundreds of other keeps Raelum had seen, homes to landed knights and petty lords.

  The air seemed colder, and Raelum extended his senses, letting them wash over the tower. He felt the icy presence of demons within the keep, their dark power hanging over the place like smoke.

  Oh, yes, Marsile would have been drawn here.

  Raelum drew his sword and started to climb. The blade began to shimmer with a haze of white fire. He stepped over the tower’s long-crumbled door and into the keep. His sword’s flame threw back the darkness, revealing a long-abandoned hall, piles of leaves rotting in the corners, the flagstones covered in a rime of ice.