The Soul Sphere: Book 01 - The Shattered Sphere (5 page)

Rowan shook his head. “Then we can’t leave the horses tied here. We will have to set them free. We’ll send them back toward the farmers.”

Lucien weighed this decision against his own thoughts, and then decided to speak. “Not take them for food?” He seemed almost embarrassed at the question, but unable to resist asking.

“No,” Demetrius replied with a knowing smile, as he placed the shard back in his pouch. “We value horses too much to do that—at least until pressed by starvation. We should find enough game to get by. And even if not, they have been our companions.”

“Understand. I could not eat you, now that we travel together.” Lucien laughed at his own words, and was joined by the others, who seemed less than comfortable. “Joke. Goblins not eat human or elf flesh.” He grew more serious. “You heard stories, like farmers.”

“Perhaps,” admitted Demetrius. “Our races have fought along the border for centuries. We always said it was to protect ourselves and our land. I imagine your people did the same.”

“Yes,” said Lucien.

“Well, today we march against a common foe. It is a start. Maybe with time we will find we have more in common.”

They gathered their belongings and sent the horses back south with a slap on the hindquarters. Their pace was quick as they set out again, but within a few hours it began to slow as the ground softened beneath their feet and water began to pool around the soles of their boots. The trees became sparse and thin, their shallow roots starting to show through the spongy ground.

Tala led the way, never hesitating as to the direction she chose. Demetrius and Corson took the rear, falling a few paces back so they could talk.

“Do you trust him?” Corson asked.

Demetrius shrugged. “He could have easily left last night, or attacked us in the dark. I’m honestly not sure how we would fare against him in combat, even four against one. And he certainly could have done a great deal of harm to those farmers had he wanted to.”

Corson smiled. “All true. You didn’t answer my question, though.”

“And knowing you I have to or you’ll pester me all day,” Demetrius replied with a laugh. “I suppose I trust him as much as I can trust anyone these days. As much as I trust Rowan and Tala, who are still strangers to us. It’s easier to be at ease around what is fair to our own eyes—it is how we picture ‘good’ in our minds. I’ll try to look beyond Lucien’s exterior and my own prejudice. He is certainly no spy.”

“I think he was telling the truth, too. This must be hard for him. I know I wouldn’t want to be traveling with a party of goblins in their land.”

“Nor would I.”

A slow rain began to fall, large drops that splattered slowly at first but gave every indication of the deluge to come. “Well,” said Corson, “if a storm really breaks we won’t have to worry about soaking our feet by a misstep in this muck.”

Demetrius laughed as he pulled the hood of his cloak up. “You have a way of always seeing the good in everything.”

“Most things. I struggle when I look at you sometimes.”

“Perhaps it would help if you had more than half a brain left when you take away the part focused on Carolyn.”

Corson smiled at that, but the grin soon faded. “I hope she’s safe.”

“She’ll be fine. I’ve seen her handle a sword, which she does almost as well as she handles you.” Demetrius studied his friend for a moment. “I have to do this. It is all I have now. And now I have help. You should go to her, to watch over her and protect our home…”

“I can do more good here. Plus, once we’re done, someone will need to make sure you don’t exaggerate your exploits.”

“Me?” Demetrius asked with mock consternation. “I’ve heard you tell a few tales at the Dragon’s Tail Inn, the best ones when Carolyn is close enough to hear.”

“How else could a simple man like me hope to get such a fine woman to marry him?”

“Funny how you never use that ‘m’ word in her presence.”

“Saving it for when the time is right. If we get through this with our skins, I think that would qualify.”

Demetrius nodded his agreement.

“Do you ever wish you had married? Had a family?”

“At times, yes. I can picture a son or daughter on my knee, listening to me tell a tale before the fire, a wife in the corner smiling while she looks on, the smell of stew and fresh baked bread in the air.” He looked at Corson. “Is that a real possibility or just a dream, a painting one looks at and wishes to be in?”

“I think it can be real. Maybe not all the time…but for a moment, yes.”

“I hope it is for you, my friend. I gave myself over to service long ago, and I’ve been content to defend the king and his lands ever since. Now, I’m glad for the quest. It fills a void of purpose, now that the king…” He hesitated a moment before continuing. “I'm glad you came after me. I doubt I would have thrown myself on the first enemy sword I found, but still…”

Corson started to speak, but Demetrius held up a hand.

“I’m all right now. And at times like these I’m glad not to have a family to worry over. But I’ll fight for our people, our land, you, Carolyn, and your future children.”

“All twelve of them?”

Demetrius burst out laughing. “I would love to hear what Carolyn would have to say about that.”

“Then it’s good she’s not here.”

Demetrius clapped him on back, just as the rain became a steady downpour.

They slogged on until the sky started to darken further, the hidden sun slipping beneath the horizon. They shivered together through a cold, dispirited meal, not even bothering to try to light a fire. They talked a bit, about their homes and peoples, while tired muscles tried to loosen, then set the watch, adding Lucien to the rotation without question or comment. For good or ill, he was one of them now, and they would have him be a full member of the group. The ground was soft enough to make a comfortable bed, but the unrelenting rain and the chill kept good sleep at bay. By morning the rain had lessened to a drizzle, and tired though they were, they were all happy to break camp and get moving again.

The rain had abated by mid-morning, and the sky began to clear a bit, allowing the sun to peek out from time to time with its promise of warmth. The ground became less certain, their feet sinking noticeably deeper the further they went—except for Tala, who was lighter and had a lighter step as well. Any lingering doubt about whether they should have brought the horses was gone before they stopped for the noon meal.

They ate standing up, glad their clothes had finally begun to dry out. As they started out again, Corson took up a position next to Lucien. “I was thinking what we might do when we reach a town—after we’re done here in the swamp, I mean.”

“No understand,” Lucien said.

“Our travels will eventually lead us through one of our cities, where we’ll want to get a warm meal and a clean, dry bed, not to mention a bath.”

“How pleasant,” Lucien said in a voice that indicated indifference.

“But what I meant is I don’t want to see you left behind, hiding at the edge of town while we live it up. So I was considering how we might bring you along without causing too much of a stir.”

“How?” Lucien said in a low growl.

“We’ll just tell everyone you’re my older brother.”

Lucien glanced at Corson, whose face remained placid, but he saw a sparkle in the man’s eye. “Humans not bright, but they no believe that. We say you in accident, to explain why I handsome and you not.”

Corson laughed out loud and clapped Lucien on the back. “Demetrius and I managed to get in a few fights in our younger days with that claim. People thought we were playing them for fools.”

Lucien glanced back, as if to re-confirm that Demetrius’ skin was a dark brown, nothing at all like Corson’s white flesh. “Human colors easy to see—skin, eyes, hair. Otherwise look same.”

Corson laughed again. “I would say the same about goblins I suppose, but I—”

Lucien cut him off with a raised hand. He sniffed the air once, then again, then slowly turned to the right, his gaze going to a small copse of trees fifty yards off. “Hold,” he whispered.

The group silently drew weapons as Lucien moved toward the trees, his warblade ready. Demetrius started as if to go with him, but Lucien waved him back. At the edge of the thicket he hunched low, then continued forward until he vanished into the trees. There was a sudden thrashing sound and then silence again.

Lucien emerged wearing a grin and holding a small deer. He was greeted by the sight of his tense companions, standing as if ready to spring into battle, Tala’s bow nocked and the arrow aimed right at him. As one they exhaled, weapons dropping and faces slackening with relief.

Lucien misunderstood the looks. “Not friend like horse,” he said, hoping it was true.

“No,” said Demetrius. “And we are happy to know we will eat well for a while. I commend you on your hunting skills. We simply feared it might be something more threatening.”

“Goblins proud, not fools. Dark One’s helpers come, I will ask help, not go to fight alone.”

They dressed the deer quickly and in silence, the mention of the Dark One reminding them all of what they soon might face. The shard would be protected, and whatever form that protection took, they understood it could not be dealt with lightly.

That night they all struggled to sleep, each alone with thoughts and questions that would not still. If tomorrow was to be the day, they knew there was a chance that for one or more of them—perhaps for all of them—it might also be their last.

*          *          *

As they readied themselves the next morning, Tala asked Demetrius for the shard. “I will need to keep it near at hand.”

“We’re getting close,” he stated.

She nodded affirmation. “It may still be a time yet, but it is not far.”

They made slow progress, hampered by the worsening ground and their own apprehensions. Occasionally they leapt over ever-widening pools and stagnant canals of water, their boots staying soaked even when they were successful, their pants drenched to the knee when they were not. Rowan touched the rope that had held Lucien to the tree, thinking they might need it and thanking the Savior for it. As much as the swamp tried to force them apart, they fought to close ranks, to make sure help was at hand for each misstep, and to be ready to face whatever awaited them as a group.

Tala paused from time to time, closing her eyes while she held the shard delicately in her open palm, making course corrections as needed. The others always froze in place and waited in absolute silence while she did this. There was no doubt that the time needed for her to get her bearings was growing shorter. They were indeed closing in on their target.

They found a reasonably dry patch of ground upon which to pause for lunch. They ate but little and took their time doing so.

“Can you see what we might face?” Demetrius asked Tala.

“Not clearly. The spell gives direction well, but the images are only as flashes in the mind—water, mud, vines, and long, wet grass.

“Is it possible the shard rests somewhere at the bottom of this swamp?” asked Corson.

“If so, I could probably pull it up with a spell once we are close to it. But legend says the Dark One had his minions hide and guard the shards. If they have been left unattended it would be too simple a thing to retrieve them by magic. I do not think Solek is that careless or we that lucky.”

“Why Solek not keep pieces?” Lucien asked.

“The last thing he wants is for the pieces to come together,” said Rowan. “As long as they are scattered, the Dark One cannot be contained. What he didn’t know was that a piece was taken or missing, that it ended up in the possession of King Rodaan, and that that piece could lead someone to the others. Lacking that knowledge, he must feel invincible.”