A Soldier's Life - 247 - Soul Prison

Chapter 247: Soul Prison

The path along the river was much slower moving the next day than if we had remained on the ancient trade road. Still, I didn’t want to risk being spotted by the wyvern. Maveith didn’t complain about our route. At least the wyvern would have kept lesser predators from violating its hunting grounds. The only threat my earth pulse returned was a cluster of giant trapdoor spiders. They were not even that large, just the size of a large cat.

After a few hours, Maveith relaxed as well and started cleaning the coins we found by the wagons. We were both moving fairly silently; my earth pulse was very effective, and Maveith needed something to occupy his time. “Most of these coins are from the Endless Dark,” Maveith said softly, keeping his voice as low as possible.

“What? Are they goblin coins, then?” I asked, half interested. My knowledge of the Endless Dark was limited. My current focus was on scanning the banks of the river with earth pulses.

“A few are goblin coins, but most of them have dark elf scripts and images.” Maveith handed me one of the silver coins. He had cleaned most of the dirt off it. He was right, it was Elvish with a date stamped and Ishaena Esari, which translated into City of Pure Blue Stone. On the other side was the face of a female elf. Time had flattened the relief, and I was not familiar with the Elven calendar.

“How do you know they are dark elves? The elven language is the same as the surface elves.” I asked, handing him back the coin.

Maveith took the coin and rubbed it a little more with a cloth before answering. “The elf matriarch pictured on the coin is Novaneae Dralahidoe. She rules a dark elf city on the other continent in the Endless Dark, Ishaena Esari. When I left my home, I picked up a lot of threads of knowledge. One of the human cities I passed through traded with the Dark Elves. The dark elves only trade in their coin as the humans mix impurities into theirs.” He held up the coin, “I recognize this coin.”

Maveith hadn’t seen the coins we got in the wagon chest, and I never saw them after they had been cleaned. Most of the coins in the Telhian Empire were either Telhian coins or blank dungeon coins found in reward chests. There was some consistency with other empires in the denominations, but the Telhian Imperial Reserve collected foreign coins and reminted them with Telhian images.

I only knew this was because merchants preferred dungeon coins due to their high purity over Telhian-minted coins, similar to what Maveith had indicated with the dark elves’ preference for their own coins.

“Are the dark elves evil?” I asked Maveith to continue the conversation as a distraction.

Maveith let out a long exhale, which told me he was thinking about how to answer. “I know very little of them and have only seen a few in my travels. Actually, the dark elves are not dark. Their skin is mostly pale to alabaster in tone. They are called dark elves because they live in the Endless Dark. Their hair is as white as their skin, but the ones I have seen dye their hair various colors as a status symbol. Their warriors always dye their hair black.” He paused as he reached for old knowledge. “They are not friendly to the elves on the surface, but I do not know the reason. Maybe Raelia would know.” Maveith said the last as a hint that perhaps he wanted to see her again.

“We are not going to visit Raelia. If I can avoid it, I will never enter Bartiradian lands. We have to be thirty miles north of Caelora by now. Let’s move back to the trade road,” I said as I started angling us back. Orienteering was not easy without landmarks, and the Aganterao River was my only reference. The trade road ran parallel to the river all the way to Telha.

As we stepped onto the ancient road, I immediately frowned as I kneeled and studied the road. Konstantin had mentioned one evening the stone pavers were spelled so no vegetation would grow on them. Still, the canopy had encroached above, and the road was heavily shaded and covered in most places in soft soil likely from decades of composting leaves.

Maveith was kneeling with me. “Most tracks are headed south,” he voiced what I had already seen written in the soft layer of dirt. “These wagon, horse, and footprints must be from the First Citizen’s expedition.” I nodded in agreement.

My eyes studied those tracks that were not heading south—three sets of prints, probably all men. One man was dragging his right leg. Maveith was patient while I studied and walked the tracks heading north toward the capital. “They abandoned everything as they do not appear encumbered. Two of the men are injured. One has a serious leg injury, and the other has an upper-body injury.”

Maveith cocked his eyebrow in question. I pointed, “This set of prints has the man dragging his right leg, and this set has uneven steps and is favoring his right side.” I demonstrated how I pictured the men walking from how the tracks spoke to me.

“You have gotten more skilled at reading tracks than I,” Maveith said in appreciation. I just nodded absently at his praise. In the Hounds, I had learned to track people so I could hunt them.

“The tracks are probably just over a day old. We are going to catch them before they reach the capital,” I said, digesting the idea I might have to kill the men. Maveith remained quiet, waiting for me to make a decision on the fate of the men on the road. I removed the blood compass and channeled aether into it. Castile’s sample was still pulling southeast toward Caranhagan. I had more samples for Castile that I could use, but I hated resetting the blood compass to see if Boris was alive.

I sat on a log and opened the compass. Maveith stood over me and remained alert while I meticulously cleaned the artifact, heated it, and retrieved a new sample. Maveith hovered, interested in what I was doing but not interrupting me. A half-hour later, I closed the compass and channeled my aether into the device. The compass pulled modestly north, and I judged the pull. “First Citizen Boris is one of the men ahead of us.”

Maveith looked appreciatively at the compass and then up the road, “What do you want to do?”

“I am only getting one pull on the compass, and he is less than thirty miles ahead of us because of the strength of the pull. They can’t see a goliath,” I focused on Maveith to see if he objected to me killing Boris. I had no love for Boris and would probably be doing Duchess Veronica a favor if I killed her brother.

Maveith didn’t object but had a pertinent question. “What are we going to do when we get the capital, then?” Maveith asked. “I do not wish to be sent into your space, Eryk.”

I sighed. “No time would pass for you, but I understand. We will cross the Aganterao River, and you can wait with Ginger on the northern coast. We will pick you up once I have chartered an Adventurer’s Guild ship.” I explained my loose plan.

Maveith looked at Ginger, who cocked her head in question as well from hearing her name. I could tell he didn’t like my plan, but we had few options to get out of Telhian lands without passing warring armies.

I looked at the tracks, the sky, and the road behind us, coming to a decision. “Stay back a quarter mile, Maveith. I will walk Ginger forward and confront the men.” Maveith’s face pinched in displeasure at being left behind. “I can handle myself, Maveith. I have an aether shield amulet and my bag of tricks,” I assured him. I showed him the aether shield amulet to prove my point and started walking ahead. Maveith waited unhappily, and Ginger looked back at him as we opened up the distance, confused.

I handed Ginger an apple to soothe her, “Don’t worry, Maveith will catch up, girl.” I moved on a fast walk, checking the tracks every hour, and it appeared the men were resting frequently. As night approached, I halted and waited for Maveith to catch up. Ginger was excited to have our pack back together, nudging Maveith like she was scolding him for being slow.

“They are not far ahead, Maveith. The last urine stain on the tree was still wet and pungent. I just wanted to let you know.” Maveith nodded, and I walked away again with a confused Ginger.

Two miles later, in the deep twilight, my earth speak pulse found the three men thirty feet off the road. I walked slowly and waited for them to reveal themselves. Boris’ crass voice cut the air, “We have bows trained on you, traveler. Leave your horse and head back the way you came.” Although my pulse gave me a fuzzy image of them, I knew none of them had bows.

I was chewing on some tough jerky as I spoke. “Bandits on this road?” I asked, amused. I had deepened my voice, and he had not recognized me.

“I am not a bandit,” Boris barked in a raspy pain. “I am First Citizen Boris Angella, and I am commandeering your mount.”

I stood and waited for the three men to make their way onto the road. One man had his leg splinted and had an empty scabbard on his hip—his sword was another lesser runic weapon in the moonlight. Boris held his dungeon-forged weapon but had his ribs wrapped. The third man looked uninjured but frail and definitely not a warrior. No weapons and no shoulder musculature—maybe this was the necromancer.

In my deep voice, I sought information: “Duchess Veronica did say her brother was stealing from the Emperor. She asked me to go keep an eye on him and report.”

The three men looked at each other, a bit confused, and Boris spoke for them. “How did my sister find out about my expedition?” Boris said with vitriol.

This was interesting information, and I was glad I had taken the time to talk. “She has her own spies in Count Cato’s household,” I said dismissively. I balled up the chewed jerky in my mouth and spit out the salty glob on the ground. I could sense it was getting close to the time to dance.

Boris sounded a little desperate, “One hundred gold for your horse and your silence.” Boris stepped closer and the uninjured man started to form a spell form in his hands, indicating their intentions. Magebane appeared in my hands, and I released Ginger’s reins. Boris was a good swordsman, but he must have broken ribs as I easily deflected his blade and slashed above his knee, cutting deeply into his quad. Even his hardened skin couldn’t stop the magebane.

The mage’s spell splashed across my aetheric shield as the amulet worked. The blue flash of the shield lit up the surroundings briefly and highlighted my face. My disguise had deep reddish brown rubbed into my hair and beard, and my face had some dark shadows that made me look older. Still, the recognition flashed on Boris’ face.

“You!” He stumbled back as if he had seen a ghost. “Kill him!” The mage was confused by the aether shield, and their third companion could barely stand. Boris’ stoneskin spell form was already dissipating from the aether poison from the blade. I didn’t hesitate to move past Boris to reach the mage. I slashed his arm as he tried to ineptly to block it. I then turned on the third man, who was limping backward. I moved into him, blocking a feeble strike with an air shield and then a lightning stab to his throat.

I turned to face the crippled Boris and incapacitated mage while pulling out a glowstone. That should alert Maveith to come forward. “What did you do to me?” Boris rasped angrily as he struggled to use his aether and remain standing.

I ignored his pleas and asked the mage, “Are you the necromancer?” He nodded fearfully.

“So, tell me what a soul prison is?” I asked calmly. 

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