Time of the Stonechosen (The Soulstone Prophecy Book 2) Read online

  “His word is law,” Finngyr called to the pages. He disengaged the riding harness with a practiced slam of his fist. Safu lowered her head at the sound and in one movement Finngyr swung his leg over the saddle and slid down.

  He was already removing his pack and hammer when the two pages, both barely old enough to be called beardlings, raced up behind him and bowed deeply at the waist.

  “His word his law, Knight Justice,” they intoned in unison.

  “See to Safu. Her nest is at the top.” Finngyr pointed to the fourth level. He heard a groan at his announcement. The exercise pages received from climbing up and down the numerous ladders in the stable was just as much a part of their training as learning to handle the order's steeds. That sort of dissension would've never been tolerated when he was a page.

  Finngyr turned and stared at them, but could not determine which one made his disappointment known.

  “She will need to have her talons cut as well,” he added, eyeing each of them for any further signs of discontent.

  The pages bowed in unison.

  Satisfied, he walked past them. One of the most difficult and dangerous jobs involving the griffons was cutting back the talons on their front claws. Behind him Finngyr heard a satisfying thump as the innocent page repaid his partner, who stifled the resulting moan.

  It was good to be home. Finngyr needed to pray, to give thanks for his safe arrival. Then, he would report to Lord Captain Danuk and consult the Book of Hjurl, particularly the Prophecies of the Vessels. They needed to know he encountered a true stonechosen and not just a potential vessel. He needed to discover which forbidden city the stonechosen now journeyed towards. Then he would know where to hunt.

  He would find Ghile of Last Hamlet. And this time he would not escape.

  Part I

  1

  The Ghost Fens

  This time I'm going to win.

  Ghile summoned his force shield just in time to parry the overhead strike of the huge stone axe. The weight behind Two Elks' swing jarred Ghile's arm, sending white-hot pain racing up and into his shoulder. Ghile doubted he could lift the axe, let alone swing it with such force.

  “Good. Use your magic,” Two Elks said.

  Two Elks followed the deflected strike with another and another. Each driving Ghile further down, buckling his knees. He felt like a stake being driven into the ground by a mallet.

  Ghile tightened his grip on Uncle Toren's fang blade. No, my fang blade, he thought. He waited for the next blow to land and then followed it with a quick lunge, ducking around the side of his force shield.

  Two Elks must have anticipated the move. He released his two handed grip on the axe and struck the back of Ghile's blade wielding hand with a sharp slap of his own. The blade broke free of his grip and spun across the clearing to stick next to where Riff was lounging.

  “Hey!” Riff shouted. He gave them both a withering stare.

  Ghile shrugged and offered a weak smile.

  Something slammed into his calves. The sodden ground rushed up to greet him in a wet embrace of reeds and moss. Even though the spot they chose to rest for the day was on high ground, the damp of the Ghost Fens still leached up into the soil. Ghile thanked the All Mother for the soft landing as he lay flat on his back and stared into the bluish mists above him.

  “Hand too strong on blade,” Two Elks said.

  He was still in a crouch from the move he used to sweep Ghile's legs. He finished his sentence by bringing his axe over his head in a killing blow and stopped it just short of separating Ghile's head from his shoulders.

  “Look at enemy, watch eyes.” Two Elks gestured towards his own eyes and then proffered a hand to Ghile.

  Of his companions, Two Elks was the oldest, having seen maybe thirty years. He was also difficult for Ghile to understand. Ghile didn't know if this was due to Two Elks' weak grasp of their language and he just couldn't find the words to express himself or if he was naturally just a quiet person.

  He was the first Nordlah Plains barbarian Ghile had ever met. They might all be as stoic for all he knew. The vast plains Two Elks called home lay to the west of the Cradle of the Gods, beyond the Redwood. If all the barbarians were like Two Elks, they were a tall and hardy people indeed.

  “You think too much before you do,” Two Elks said.

  Ghile nodded and exhaled a deep breath, hoping the pain in his back and shoulders would exit with the air. This was the seventh fighting lesson in as many days. They trained with both blade and spear, with Two Elks taking his promise to train Ghile to use the fangblade to heart.

  He still found it hard to believe Uncle Toren gave up the knife. Only Fangs, guardians of the Cradle, were presented these enchanted dwarf forged blades. No human was allowed to craft metal, by dwarven law. A human, other than a Fang, found in possession of an enchanted blade risked death at the hands of the dwarves.

  Ghile looked to where the fang blade landed. The deer antler handle struck a sharp contrast to the surrounding moss, only a portion of the blade's shining steel above the ground.

  Two Elks shook his offered hand over Ghile. “Up. We go again.”

  The blade pulled Ghile's thoughts to his uncle and his family. How he missed them.

  But, there was nothing for it now. He was Stonechosen and he was going to have to learn to fight. Even if it killed him. Well, even if Two Elks killed him.

  Ghile cleared his thoughts and reached into himself. It was almost second nature to find the inner force and focus it with his will. He was aware of every sound around him. The Ghost Fens were alive with croaking frogs and chirping crickets. The hum of hovering midges, hunting for exposed skin, fought for his attention. He let their droning fall away and looked inward.

  He pushed out with his force shield, forcing it against the ground beneath him, using it to propel his body. He flew forward towards the fangblade, using the momentum, he curled into a roll and came up into the defensive fighting stance Two Elks taught him only days before; his body turned slightly, presenting a smaller target to his opponent, the blade held in his hands before him.

  Two Elks nodded. “Good.”

  “That's enough, Two Elks,” Gaidel said. There was a tone of command in her voice, young though she was, which left little doubt Ghile's lesson was now done.

  She leaned against a nearby tree from where she'd been watching. Tree might have been too generous a word. Her slight weight was enough to cause it to lean, threatening to pull free and fall into the glowing water a short distance below.

  The Ghost Fens were named from the cold bluish glow found in any water which pooled and stagnated long enough. That and the heat robbing mist which hung low over it like a damp woolen blanket left out overnight.

  “He needs to rest. It will be dark in another couple hours,” Gaidel said.

  “Explain to me again, Revered Daughter, why we are traveling by night?” Riff asked.

  Ghile frowned at the way Riff drew out Revered Daughter. Riff questioned every decision the druid made since leaving the Cradle, determined to chip away at any authority she tried to instill over the group.

  Gaidel was only a couple of years older than Ghile, but even so, she had a way of carrying herself, a way of standing and speaking which made Ghile naturally defer to her.

  Her long red hair was pulled back in a tight braid, further accentuating her bare scalp, the entire front half shaved, from ear to ear. The strange blue curving tattoos, which marked her as a Redwood Druid, flowed across her scalp in place of hair.

  Above all others, druids, were respected by people of the Cradle. It was the druids who saved the human race from extinction back during the Great Purge. Ghile now knew they had once been priestesses of the Hungering God, or Haurtu, the God of Learning and Wisdom as he was known back then.

  But, it was their prayers to the All Mother which awoke her and resulted in her stopping the decimation of his race over a thousand years before. No small wonder they were known as the Daughters of the All Mothe
r and treated with such reverence. Ghile eyed Riff.

  Well, by most anyway.

  “It will be easier for the Cullers to spot us if we move by day,” Gaidel said.

  Riff nodded at her answer before she even finished speaking. It was the same answer she gave each time he asked the question. Riff plucked another pinkish mushroom from a clump near where he was lounging and squeezed it between his fingers.

  Riff discovered that particular variety of mushroom on their second day in the fens. When squeezed they emitted a wet flatulent sound which still made Ghile snicker, despite the disapproving stares it drew from Gaidel.

  She closed her eyes and took a deep steadying breath, waiting for Riff's deliberate long pause to end. Riff watched her like a cat pawing at a mouse.

  “I understand that,” Riff finally said. “But I don't see how anything could see us through this thrice damned mist, day or night.”

  Ghile watched Two Elks, who already found his fur blankets and began laying them out across a patch of somewhat dry reeds and thick spongy grass, having grown accustomed to this type of banter between Gaidel and Riff. His guardianship of Gaidel did not seem to extend to protecting her from being teased. Not that Ghile felt she needed it. She more than held her own against Riff's taunts.

  “It is not up for debate, sorcerer's apprentice,” Gaidel said. She didn't draw out Riff's title, not willing to be baited this time.

  Riff leaned back, shaking his head. He fished for another mushroom.

  Ghile cleaned the fangblade on his leggings and took care sliding it into its sheath. He sat down near Riff. They had both gathered reeds and piled them into bedding when they made camp earlier that morning. Ghile had plenty of sleep already and didn't understand why Gaidel felt he needed more. Over the past days she often asked him how he felt or if he was in need of a rest. Ghile didn't think she gifted the other two with the same attention. He pondered over this more than once.

  Ghile watched Daughter Gaidel as she spoke to Two Elks in hushed tones, idly scratching Ast, one of his two valehounds, who lay near her. The two valehounds, Ast and Cuz, were his father's hounds, but they were his now. Where they never listened to any of his commands before, the power of the soulstones embedded in his chest allowed him to feel their thoughts and touch their minds. He focused and the two hounds raised their heads, eyes watching him.

  “She can't get enough of me,” Riff said, punctuating his statement with another squashed mushroom.

  Ghile rolled his eyes and laughed. “Obviously.”

  “You are getting better, Sheepherder. You almost had him that time,” Riff said.

  “Really?” Ghile asked. He thought he was getting better. The fangblade didn't feel as awkward in his hand anymore.

  Riff laughed and rolled his eyes in imitation of Ghile. “No.”

  Ghile picked up a clump of moss and threw it at him.

  “Be careful, do you not see my feet are bare?” Riff said.

  Ghile leaned back and rested the back of his head on his hands. He wasn't tired, but if he didn't make an effort of at least appearing to rest, he knew he would draw Gaidel's ire. He shook his head at Riff's comment.

  “Do you threaten me with your stench, Sorcerer?”

  Riff smirked and rolled over to lean toward Ghile. “A sorcerer does not only hold a source in his hands. He but needs it to touch some part of him to use it to cast. So be warned.”

  Ghile smiled at the mock seriousness in Riff's tone. He knew Riff could hurl fire and control water, but knew he could control earth and metal, too. Riff even said a strong sorcerer could control air. Though, Ghile had never seen Master Almoriz, Riff's mentor, do that.

  “I will take your words to heart, great sorcerer,” Ghile said with the same mock seriousness. He bowed his head and held his palms out and turned upwards toward the sky in a show of respect.

  “See that you do,” Riff said. He leaned back and crossed his arms behind his head and closed his eyes with a sigh of contentment.

  The way Riff relaxed there in the middle of the Ghost Fens, Ghile would have thought he rested upon a warm fur laid before a hearth. He was happy Riff came with them. The two of them joked often and neither the wet of the fen or its annoying insects could dampen their spirits. This was the first time Ghile had left the Cradle. True, he'd not seen much yet, they still had not reached the bottom of the many tiered levels of the Ghost Fens, but Ghile was out of the Cradle and gone was the bleak future he feared as a sheepherder in Upper Vale.

  The Ghost Fens were not the way any sane human would chose to leave their valley home. Normally, they would have traveled down out of the vales and past Lakeside on the shores of Crystal Lake, then into the Redwood that covered the lowlands of the mountain valley. Onwards they would have went, past Redwood Village, where Riff and Gaidel were from and then descend the cliffs near South Falls. Then they would arrive in the portion of the Redwoods his people called, the Drops.

  Not that many would make the journey. He never had. He had heard tales of those places around the hearth fire, having never ventured further than Lakeside himself. Even fewer would dare risk traveling further than the Drops.

  It was against Dwarven law for humans to travel unaccompanied between settlements. Only druids, their shieldwardens and sorcerers were permitted outside the settlements.

  Their dwarven overseers left little doubt how dangerous the wilds were. The dwarven human catchers were the least of one's worries in the wilds. Nordlah barbarians roamed the plains along with blood thirsty orcs and vargan prowled the forests.

  Not even the dwarves took that route. They used the Underways, tunnels of their own making which reached throughout the empire. Ghile had never seen it, but knew one opened up under the stone Bastion in Lakeside. The Underways were the domain of the dwarves.

  Ghile's path lead in a different direction. The Ghost Fens were a more direct route, which gave them the added bonus of secrecy. No one traveled through the Ghost Fens to leave the Cradle and for good reason. There were no real trails to speak of and the fens were broken into tiers, much like giant steps, with treacherous cliffs separating each level. The waters from Crystal Lake flowed down onto each level where it gathered before spilling over to the lower level.

  They had been wading through thick swamp grass and reeds pushed up against pools of water for over a week now. During the day, they sheltered in the many copses of willow and alder that found purchase on the infrequent levels of higher ground. Each time they came to another one of the waterfall covered cliffs which divided the tiers, they had to use rope to lower themselves down.

  Ghile feared the Ghost Fens got their name from the ghosts of all the souls who became lost and drowned. But the answer was revealed to them on the first night when the sun set and the waters began to glow with the same soft blue as the waters of Crystal Lake. This combined with the perpetual mist clinging stubbornly to the fens both day and night. Ghile could see how legends of ghosts began.

  The group broke their fast in the evening with hard bread and cheese. Riff moved between them and with a touch and softly whispered incantation, removed all the damp from their clothes. It never lasted long, but it was like having a dry change of clothes each day. Between Riff's ability and Gaidel's healing touch, for the others at least, Ghile felt confident the natural dangers of the fens would not stop them.

  They had only been trudging through the blue mists a short time before they reached the edge of their current tier.

  “Don't drop me!” Riff called from below.

  Ghile leaned out over the edge to get a better view. Riff hung from the end of the rope about half way between Ghile and Two Elks above, and a waiting Gaidel below. Ast and Cuz sniffed the ground near her, still wearing the patchwork leather harnesses Two Elks had hastily fashioned to help lower them down.

  “Stop complaining, Riff. Two Elks isn't even straining,” Ghile said.

  It was true, the barbarian slowly lowered out sections of the thick rope hand over hand. His lar
ge corded muscles were taut, but his expression was relaxed.

  “The sorcerer is light. Daughter Gaidel was heavier,” Two Elks said.

  Ghile laughed even though he wasn't sure Two Elks meant it as a joke.

  “I'm down,” Riff called from below. Two Elks took the now slack rope and tied it to a nearby jut of rock.

  “I lower you, Stonechosen, then climb down. I no need rope,” Two Elks said. He gave the rope a few tugs to test his handiwork.

  Ghile shook his head. “We have been over this, Two Elks. We need the rope and there is no need for you to risk yourself.”

  Two Elks shrugged and shouldered his large kite shield. He backed over the edge, looking behind him as he descended.

  It took Two Elks half the time to make the climb than it took to lower Riff. Ghile heard the call from below and began untying the rope.

  At first, Riff accused Ghile of just showing off, but Ghile knew it was more for practice. The more he used his new powers gifted to him by the soulstones, the more control he had over them. Ghile called and then dropped the rope over the edge, knowing Two Elks was already gathering it on the other end.

  Ghile retrieved his spear leaning on the rock face next to him and stepped out over the edge.

  The wind swept past him as he gained momentum. He plummeted towards the upturned faces of his companions. Before his new powers he would have been terrified, flailing his arms and screaming all the way down, but now he just watched the ground approach, using his arms to keep himself upright.

  With only moments to spare, Ghile pushed with his mind and felt the invisible force extend from the bottoms of his feet. In his mind, it was like a billowing cloud spreading out thick below him. He felt the force as it reached the ground. He allowed it to slowly give way under the pressure. He quickly slowed and bent his knees into a crouch to absorb some of the fall. He concentrated on the force until the strain was too great and he was only a couple of feet above the reeds before releasing it. He dropped the remainder of the distance and landed on the soft ground with a muffled squish.