Cries of a Wounded Soul

Chapter 3

The night sky spread itself out above in vast mysterious beauty, displaying countless points of light, as if a heavenly chorus of souls. The twin moons, Ulmar and Ulsa, cast subtle golden light from opposite horizons in their perpetual race across the sky, creating opposing shadows from the lone twisted pine that stood watch beside me. Some say the Magic came from the stars and moons. Perhaps. On nights like this, they did seem magical.

Years of discarded pine needles made for an adequate mattress and a wool blanket sheltered me from the deepening chill. Tomorrow by afternoon, I should arrive in the capital city. With belly pleasantly full of roasted gamebird, topped off with a sweetcake that Mother snuck into my pack, I slipped into restful slumber.

The dreamer came again.

Her mental sobs, as if a terrified child, lost and abandoned, shook me from across the void. I sensed the surrounding Darkness as it clawed at her soul with restless anger and shared the pain.

As before, I reached out across space and magic barrier to the dreamer. Aria. Are you there? She did not answer, but from the pause in her sobs, I sensed she heard me. I journey to Kharse to find Obeus. Perhaps he may know how to help you.

What is your name, kind sir? She said in a weak mental voice.

Tomas. But a lowly blacksmith from a small village.

I find you not at all lowly, Tomas. You are everything to me. For you give me hope when I have none.

As a mental shudder overtook her, I said, Rest easy now, Aria. We shall find a way. Rest.

Through our link, I shared the wondrous night sky scene above me. Then, digging into my memory, I retrieved images of happiness and beauty: emerald leaves shimmering and tall green grass swaying in a gentle summer breeze; the sweet tart taste of an apple ripe from the tree; gleeful children splashing in a cool, trickling stream. She drifted off to a deep numb sleep, and I to a fitful one.

*****

I arrived in time for the festivities, passing easily through the iron and wooden gates of Kharse among a throng of revelers. They celebrated the Darkness Fall and the Sacrifice, twenty-two years ago to the day. Aria's sacrifice. But I did not feel like celebrating.

Entertainers and revelers from across the Muirea Realm filled the common area within the high stone walls. Not to be outdone, rowdy drunks jammed the taverns, drinking barrels of overpriced ale. Sellers flew colorful banners and food vendors wafted enticing aromas in the gentle breeze while music from wandering minstrels ebbed over the crowd din. Dancers and jugglers displayed their talent in flashes of motion and color.

In me, the festivities only produced sadness. They knew not the depth of her suffering.

The crowds ushered me toward the king's palace, a stone block monstrosity that dominated the inner square. Elaborate carvings chronicling glorious events in history, while ignoring those not so glorious, decorated the walls below arched windows. Colorful, blue-striped flags fluttered in the wind from atop the round towers at each corner. I made my way to the outskirts of the gathering and leaned against a small tree.

With a blare of trumpets, the king marched out onto the balcony overlooking the square. King Reza the Great, he called himself. An imposing man and handsome by most measures, the king preened above the quieted crowd. A purple cape of the finest fabric adorned his shoulders and a golden crown his head. A long auburn beard covered much of his face. With an ego more massive than his frame, he reveled as the center of attention.

Nearby, a rumpled man that smelled of old ale nudged his companion. "Hark, henceforth comes Reza the Greatless," he mocked with a false nobleman's voice. The other wisely shushed him. The King's men were known to be violently intolerant to such spoken insolence.

"Welcome, friends and loyal countrymen!" the king bellowed from his perch with outstretched arms. I wondered if he realized some of his countrymen were not so loyal.

A boisterous speech followed, marking the occasion. When the king came to the Sacrifice, he lauded more his father, who died in the battle, than Aria. My fists clenched. Lest I unwisely shouted an angry retort, I left the gathering to seek Magus Obeus. He was strangely absent from the nobles and mages, who watched from comfortable seating under an awning.

The Magus lived in a large house, although much less imposing than the king's palace. A head-high rock wall surrounded the house and landscaped courtyard. Just further on, near the outer city wall, were rows of military barracks and a well-worn training ground.

A blue uniformed soldier guarded access to the Magus' house. He leaned against a stone archway, blocking the way through the wall to a large wooden door. As I approached, he stiffened, while shifting a long pike from one hand to the other and narrowing his eyes.

I said, "I seek audience with Magus Obeus."

"The Magus is not available," the guard replied brusquely.

"Sir, I have important information. About Aria," I pleaded.

"Be gone. The Magus will not see the likes of you."

"But--"

The guard snarled as he lowered his pike, the tip a hand width from my face. "Are you dim, man? I said be gone!"

With a sigh, I withdrew. There would be no convincing this guard. But I would not be deterred, instead settling on a different strategy, one perhaps unwise: I would simply sneak in.

Taking a long circular route, I came up to the compound wall from behind, where a grove of trees hid me from easy view. I stashed my satchel, bow, and knife beneath a low thorny bush. Walking in uninvited was bad enough, no use compounding my troubles by carrying weapons.

Gathering courage and tossing aside misgivings, I hefted myself up and peeked over the wall, then scrambled over it. Strange that no guards patrolled the area, but when I noticed the subtle shimmer, I understood. A magical barrier, like an invisible wall, stood before me. No arrow, stone, or man could pass, as surely as if it were made of plate armor. A Mage as powerful as the Magus would have no problem creating it. The Fury within me stirred as I approached.

More out of curiosity, I reached out to touch it. I gasped as my hand passed through the barrier, tingling like countless tiny pins pricking my skin. My hand blurred on the other side as if through a film of water. Why did the Magic not hinder me?

Deciding not to question my luck, I simply walked through and made my way to an open back window. Parting two fluttering fine curtains, I climbed inside the house. Right into Magus Obeus's library. A wooden desk sat in the middle between two candle topped pedestals. Bookcases lined the walls, cluttered with all sorts of old books and memorabilia.

A weathered old face with a long white beard jerked up from an open book at the desk, eyes widening. He wore a simple brown robe over a body leaned with age. "How did you get in here?"

I bowed. "Magus, sir, I am--"

"Guards!" he shouted, interrupting my introduction. The door slammed against the backstop as three guards burst in. "Remove this intruder!"

One guard grappled me from behind. Being strong and with some wrestling skill, I easily spun in his grasp and executed a hip throw, sending the guard to the floor with a thud. The other two guards were on me at once, one at each arm.

As the guards drug me away, I called out. "Please sir, it is about Aria. She sent me to you."

Obeus bared his teeth and rage shot from his narrowed brown eyes. "How dare you speak that name!" He motioned to a guard while turning away. "Give him a thorough thrashing for good measure."

Wedging my feet against the doorframe to halt my removal, I made one last appeal by repeating Aria's message. "Willow song!"

Obeus froze, then turned his head back to me. Gone was the rage in his eyes, replaced with distant grief. His mouth dropped open, and he spoke in a faint airy voice, "What did you say?"