Soulblade: An Epic Fantasy Adventure Romance (A Dance of Fire and Shadow Book 4)
Soulblade: Chapter 20

ZANDAR RETURNS SILENTLY after dark to encircle our camp once more in a defensive ring of glowing scales. I’m grateful for his protection. He seems unaffected by the gloom hanging over the rest of us. All I can sense is his restless excitement at being able to explore so much new territory. Once more I wrestle with the dilemma of whether to send him home, but the pervasive sense of threat is too much. I ask him to stay close for the rest of this journey.

You wish me to keep sufficient distance for your pathetic nervous horses to remain calm?

“Of course. Thank you for your consideration.”

The fog is thick the following morning but I can tell he is very close, concealed by the heavy swirling whiteness.

When the gaunt silhouette of the ruined city of Duhokan finally emerges from the marsh-fog, I know I do not want to go anywhere near the place. I glance across at Marin and I can tell from the set of his jaw that he feels the same––but he has no hesitation, focused only on our mission to replace the source of evil in this festering devastation. He urges his horse forward, leading the way along a wide avenue between dripping mildewed pillars and walls.

The city is silent except for the scuttering feet of rats. I hear the occasional tread of something much larger, lurking inside the darkened buildings. Human shapes, many of them, hide in the shadows, tracking our progress through the wet, foggy desolation.

The distant howling scream of a jackal has Lupine snarling defensively, the hair on her neck bristling in the gloom. I guide my horse carefully, avoiding swampy pools lying like traps in the ruined streets. Fleeting glimpses of slimy things lurking beneath the surface make the horses skittish and nervous. Above, vultures and crows gather on the crumbling walls, probably anticipating their next meal. It feels as if ghouls and ghosts flit through the dripping archways.

Marin reins in and turns to face us. “Whatever it was that destroyed the Mage Citadel to the south of here so many centuries ago… it has to be what also corrupted Nagal and the whole of Rapathia––and what has been affecting us for the last two days. Now we have to work together, replace this thing, destroy it.”

I glance apprehensively at the Rapathian.

Diplomacy be damned. I can’t trust him.

“The five of us can rely on Eldrin discipline to resist this plague of despair. How do we replace a way to work with Dragar?”

I refrain from adding that we need to be sure he doesn’t suddenly decide to kill us just when things get difficult. I’m sure the others are thinking the same thing. The defeated Rapathian commander may be unarmed but there are plenty of rocks available from these crumbling buildings.

Marin’s expression gives nothing away as he turns to our disagreeable associate. “General Dragar, it matters not what you currently think of us, or that we were deadly enemies until recently. You have always been steadfast in your loyalty to your own country and I know you are here to save it. For that, you need our help. Do I have your word that you will work with us on this until we have seen it through?”

A long silence. Finally Dragar answers. “You have it.”

It feels strange, but I have the same sense as I did with Shadow, that this may be a grudging acceptance but expediency makes it genuine. I think Dragar will keep his word.

Marin seems to believe it too. He turns his horse and moves forward.

“Stay together. Watch for threats.”

Tall shapes loom in the fog. Giant carved statues tower above us, worn by weather, stained by moss and lichen.

I move closer to flank Marin’s horse. “Look. Those huge carvings. They’re like the one near the place of the Shadowblade in the forest near Caerlen. And in the desert, an ancient statue of Nissanda stands outside one of the entrances to Rahimar. I saw it when I was there, training with the Nishan.”

He stares at the ghostly shapes for a few moments.

“I have never seen anything like this, except for the drawing in one of Jaren’s scrolls. What do you think it means?”

“I think it’s part of something that happened when the Power Mages gained partial control over the Elementals. Maybe it started a new religion in the affected regions.”

He slows his pace and looks around. “So we should look for a temple?”

“Maybe. I have never seen any temples in Samaran, just shrines to the Five Warriors. The huge carving near the Shadowblade’s place of exile in the forest seemed different, maybe only the focus of a local cult or gathering. In Annubia, the statue was part of Rahimar, the place of power itself.”

“Which means it could have taken any form here.” Marin looks to Dragar for answers. “General? Is Rapathia a country of temples?”

Dragar takes his time, frowning as he studies the tall shapes disappearing into the fog above us.

“These carvings look much older than the ones in Komopolit, the capital. But they are similar. My guess is that they guard the way to a central temple like the one in my own city. It should be directly ahead.” He rides ahead, perhaps feeling that this last part of the mission should be his responsibility.

In a mere few minutes the massive hulk of the temple emerges through the mist, flanked on either side by more enormous stone statues. The road we are following must once have been a long, straight avenue leading directly to the great arched entrance towering far above our heads. The wooden doors have long since rotted away, leaving only rusting hinges at the top of the seven wide steps leading up to the dark portal.

As I stare into the inky blackness within, the feeling of dread that has been growing inside me starts to take form. I can see ghostly shapes flitting through the shadowy interior, weaving between worn pillars and fallen masonry.

I dismount, handing my reins to Brac as the others follow suit. “Marin, the source is in there. If you stay here and watch my back, I’ll go in––”

“No!” Two strides and he is at my side, restraining me from going further. “Stay here. I should do this.”

I glance again at the dark entranceway that embodies everything I have always feared and yet I still don’t know why. Part of me longs to simply accept Marin’s orders. He is captain of this mission, for all the comradeship and informality of Eldrin tradition. But something tells me that like it or not, I am the only one who has any chance of surviving whatever is in there. I search for a convincing reason to persuade him to change his mind.

“Marin, if you look beyond the desolation, you can see that Duhokan was once a great and prosperous city with this temple at its very heart. People from all around would flock to it, drawn by its beauty and grandeur, inspired by their devotions to whatever deity was represented and respected within.”

He shakes his head, the look of horror on his face no longer carefully concealed. “Then it could not have housed whatever evil currently lurks within those walls. I can feel it from here. It drives people away in fear and loathing.”

“Exactly. I think this place was taken over by something else. All those vague warnings in Jaren’s archives… Something happened when the Mages in the Citadel learned how to draw on the power of the Elementals. It doesn’t matter so much what it was, only that we replace a way to stop the effects of it slowly spreading further.”

“You haven’t explained why it should be you taking this risk.”

“Because there is a more tangible form of danger out here and I need you and the others watching my back.” I have been catching glimpses of dark forms flitting from shadow to shadow between the ruins and the crumbling statues.

As Marin follows my gaze, he sees them too.

“Fine. I understand. But I sense that whatever is inside there, it is far worse.”

I don’t have the words to explain. All I know is that the feeling of transparency I experienced back at Maratic has returned, leaving me once more unsure whether my hands will even grip my blades or simply pass through them. I can’t be certain, but it feels like I have an affinity with the flitting, lurking creatures dominating the space inside the doomed temple.

Marin’s voice, close to my ear, urgent and worried.

“Ariel, call Zandar before you rush in and do anything foolish. He is ancient enough to know more about this.”

I don’t need to call him. As soon as my thoughts turn his way, he is there, his scales rumbling over the uneven cobblestones as he slithers forward, low to the ground. Brac struggles to calm horses already fearful about everything in this place. He drags them over to the side and tethers them to a stone column. I catch a glimpse of Lupine lurking behind the nervous beasts but at least the dragon does not radiate feelings of fear.

“Zandar, will you guard me as I go inside this place?”

No.

“Do you have a reason? What can you tell me about what is inside?”

I already told you. Elementals are the essence of the earth, the power of sun and darkness, ice and fire, water and sand. How could you possibly think that any of us could enter the world of spirits?

“Do you know what happened here? Why the city fell into ruin?”

The Power Mages took too much, always curious, always wanting more, until they tore the veil, awoke the terror.

“Don’t talk in riddles. I need to know what is in there.”

That is all I know. All I heard from Nissanda when she fled to my home in Rahimar.

I open my mouth to ask again but he turns away and coils himself around one of the massive carvings, a great spiral of fire glowing through the dank mist.

Marin’s grip tightens on my arm. “If even Zandar is afraid to go in there, I’m not risking you on your own.”

I take a step toward the entrance. “He’s not afraid. He’s saying it simply isn’t possible. And I have this feeling that none of you would last very long if you tried to go inside––”

The flitting shapes of this city are coming out from between the shadowy buildings and into the open, stalking through the spaces between the statues. Most look like men, but they are twice the size even of Brac, pale and lumpen, with staring eyes and mottled skin. Behind them are other creatures that might once have been of this land but are now monstrous parodies of the animal forms they might once have had, with claws, fangs and scales…

Dragar wrenches one of the long rusted hinges from its moorings in the rotted doorpost and grips it in both hands. He steps between us and the advancing horde,

“I will try to hold them off while you do what you have to do inside that temple.”

Dragar might be a total pain to travel with but he is not lacking in courage. Luckily Marin saves him from taking courage over the line that divides it from foolhardiness.

“General! You won’t get far with that lump of rusty iron.” He waits until Dragar turns and then tosses him his father’s sword. “It is a weapon with lineage. Do it justice.”

Dragar catches it neatly and raises it in a brief salute before charging at the nearest monster and plunging the heavy blade into its scraggly throat. The Eldrin close ranks and the hiss of drawn crysteel echoes from the surrounding walls.

“Ariel, go! If you think you understand how to deal with whatever is in there, do it now.” Marin turns away and leads the other four in a calculated advance against the attackers. I watch for a few moments, frozen to the spot, fearing that the severing of his Soulblade connection will mean instant death.

Brac and Deris flank close on either side of him, while Nem guards his back. I can tell from the way Marin moves that he feels the deadweight of the blades, but his natural strength merges with his years of hard training and he would still be a match for the best warriors of the Samaran army.

But will it be enough to defeat a horde of savage hell-beasts?

Dragar slices the head from another giant creature and looks round at the coordinated fight breaking out a few yards to his right. A brief nod of admiration, and he moves across to join the defensive shield of weapons.

A flash of insight has me watching the scene with new eyes. Never mind the years of training and adapted power that hones the battle-skills of a Mage-warrior. What ultimately makes the difference is the deep loyalty and friendship that binds the Eldrin in everything, even the most desperate adversity.

When you fight for love, it is more powerful than anything!

And it took an old enemy like Dragar to see it and admire it before I could really understand the difference it can make.

It hurts to leave them fighting against such terrible odds but somehow I know that the only way they will survive this is for me to deal with the source.

I face the darkness, take a deep breath, and run into the temple.