The Old Soul
Mike Wever
Riegel
stood at the edge of the Waning Sea.
Once there had been the Great Sea, and the spot where he stood would
have been a pretty beach, but the Great Sea was gone and a dry wasteland lay in
its place. Legend said that the
Dark King had stolen the waters, tainted them with blood from his fallen
enemies, and formed them into the hordes that made up his evil army.
He
could turn back here. He could
toss the medallion into the wastes and be done with it. Having come this far, no one would
doubt his courage. And many would
doubt his sanity if he took even one step into the Waning Sea. But he had made a promise, and that
promise called him forward.
The
medallion sat in a pocket sewn into a leather strap tied around his left
wrist. It was a simple iron disc
stamped with a character from some language no longer spoken. A faint green glow shown in the
grooves, barely perceptible in the harsh daylight. Elder, the soul which was trapped inside the medallion, was
awake.
His
ears opened to the old soul as his eyes fell upon the medallion and he heard it
singing. The song was ancient,
perhaps older than mankind, and sung in a language no man understood. But the meaning was clear enough. It cried out for the sea that was no longer
here. It sang to its kin. It longed for its home. Riegel understood the song.
"I
hear you," he said. "I
hear you well, and I ask you to hear me." The singing quieted somewhat and Riegel was glad. At least he still had some control over
it. "I am here to keep my
promise. We will go into the
Waning Sea to discover if anything is left of your home. I beg you to remember that this is no
longer the Great Sea that you once knew.
It has changed and it is dangerous. Don't call out for your lost brothers. I don't know what will answer."
The
song changed, coming now in waves with each quieter than the one before
it. It reminded Riegel of a child
who has cried himself to exhaustion and is falling asleep, but is not yet ready
to give up on the tears. It had
been weeks since the old soul had done even so much as sing and it may well
have been exhausted.
Soon
the song was done and the glow left the medallion. Riegel looked over his shoulder at the distant horizon. Somewhere far back there was his home,
the place where he belonged but Elder did not. The long war still raged there and the armies of mankind now
fought without their greatest champion.
The thing on Riegel's wrist had made him so strong and fearful that
rumors of his approach were enough to send enemy hordes running, but its powers
were nearly exhausted. Riegel
could no longer play the part of the champion and it was time for him to do the
only thing the old soul had ever asked of him.
He
took one step into the Waning Sea and stopped. Was it his imagination that strange, inhuman eyes had
suddenly fallen on him? He hoped
so. But he untied the safety strap
over his sword just the same.
The
feeling that he was being watched stayed with him as he walked the day away,
marching resolutely to the east.
It became constant and familiar, like the feel of his clothes against
his skin. By the time the light
began to fade and he stopped to eat, he barely registered the feeling at all.
The
old soul woke up as he made a crude sandwich from dried meat and drier
bread. "Good evening,"
Riegel said. Elder warbled a few
notes of greeting and then dropped into a slow, ominous funeral dirge.
"I
know," he said, becoming wary again even as he marveled at the soul's
increasing recovery of its old abilities.
"I've felt it all day long.
As a matter of fact, I had almost forgotten about it. Do you think someone is following
us?"
The
song continued unchanged. It
didn't know.
"Well,
I've been walking all day," Riegel said. "I'm tired.
I'm going to eat my sandwich and go to sleep. Will you stand guard for me?"
Elder
broke into a whimsical march and Riegel suddenly pictured a soldier with his
hat at a cocky angle and his arm thrown up into a salute so perfect it could
only be a parody. He smiled. It had been a long time since Elder had
sent him a picture. He returned
the salute and the picture disappeared.
Riegel
finished his meal and lay down on the hard ground which still retained some of
the heat from the day. He fell
asleep easily, trusting the old soul to watch over him.
He
awoke early as he always did, and set about his routine before the sun was more
than a promise of light in the eastern sky. He ate a small breakfast of the stale bread and allowed
himself a few sips from one of his canteens. It was nearly dry.
There were two more full canteens and he hoped they would last him. He had filled them four mornings ago
and hadn't seen water since. It
seemed the dry rot of the Waning Sea was spreading into the land around it.
After
this simple breakfast, he stowed his food and canteens away and set off walking
east once more. The feeling of
being watched was still there and he looked around as he walked. There was no chance of ambush. The land was flat and he would be able
to see someone approaching long before they could be a threat.
Riegel
trudged onward with the sun first climbing above him and then falling away
behind him. The old soul woke up
suddenly as the sun neared the horizon.
It wailed like a bugler warning of a sudden attack. Riegel realized that the feeling of
being watched had grown very strong.
"What
is it?"
A
vision appeared to him, stronger than the soldier from the night before. Even as he studied the vision, he
marveled at its clarity. Elder was
definitely growing stronger once again.
He
saw two men hiding in a hole in the shadow of a large rock. Only their heads and shoulders were
visible, but that was enough. The
bald, tattooed scalps and many piercings marked the men as fetchers. He had learned of them during his
training, but had never expected to see one face to face. They lived only in the Waning Sea and
served the dark masters who ruled there.
He knew then that he was indeed watched. No one came upon fetchers by accident.
He
kept walking and glanced around, trying to spy the rock they hid behind. He couldn't find it.
"Where
are they?" he asked.
In
his mind, the view began to move.
It pulled away from the two fetchers and the rock, accelerating quickly
until it was flying over the flat desert.
Then it stopped suddenly and he saw himself in his mind. This was one of the old soul's old
tricks. He looked in the direction
he saw in his mind and could make out the rock far in the distance. Just barely. He hoped the fetchers didn't have their own type of far
sight.
They
would have set up a trap. There
would be a hole somewhere ahead of him, so cleverly disguised that even Elder
might not see it. And if he fell
into the hole, he would be carried to the one who had sent the fetchers. There was no telling how large the hole
would be and it could be anywhere.
There
was only one way to go. Riegel
turned toward the rock and set off at a resolute pace. He could once more see the pair of
fetchers in his mind's eye. He
smiled to see the look on the face of one of the pair when he peeked around the
rock to check on his prey and saw it stalking toward him. He could make the rock out clearly by
that time, although he hadn't been able to pick out the fetcher's face at the
edge of it. He pulled his sword
and carried it loosely in his right hand as he strode on.
His
view of the fetchers began to fade as more magic flowed out from the
medallion. His arms felt
stronger. His sight grew sharper. Time seemed to slow around him as his
reflexes quickened. It was that
same old magic. Battle magic.
He
couldn't make out the faces of the two behind the rock, but he could see their
gestures. They were arguing. That was good. It meant the trap wasn't between him
and them. Likely one of them
thought they could save themselves by running and the other thought that a
quickly-laid trap was the only way to survive. They were both wrong.
The
view in his mind disappeared as he closed on the rock. He could now see the rock clearly with
his eyes and he could make out the frantic whispered argument.
One
of the bald heads suddenly popped up over the top of the rock. The fetcher locked eyes with Riegel for
a split second and turned to run.
Riegel was a quick runner naturally and his legs moved even faster when
the old soul took over. The chase
would be a matter of only a few seconds.
But the other fetcher was chanting behind him. How long did he have before a new trap was laid? Seconds? Less? And where
would it be? He couldn't know the
answers so he pushed the questions aside and raised his sword as he closed on
the runner.
The
one behind the rock was nearing the end of his chant, judging by the fevered
pitch. Riegel had almost caught up
to the runner. He pulled his sword
back for the strike but the runner came to a sudden halt, waving his arms
wildly for balance although he stood on solid ground. And then the one behind the rock screamed a final word and a
black spot appeared before the runner.
It quickly began to spread out and Riegel understood. The fetcher waiting at the rock had
made his cowardly partner into bait and he had had fallen for it.
The
runner regained his balance and leaped straight up. The hole opened up beneath him but he did not fall into
it. Instead, he hung in the air at
the top of his leap, looking relieved and smug as the hole grew ever larger
beneath him.
Riegel
had picked up too much speed to stop short, but Elder wouldn't let him
down. It switched its power to a
different set of muscles and Riegel launched himself into the air. He raised his sword over his head and
let loose his war cry. It would be
close, but he would make it if luck was with him. Judging by the widening eyes and disappearing grin on the
tattooed face of the fetcher, they both thought it would be.
Riegel
stretched himself out, reaching for all the distance he could get. He was parallel to the ground and so
far above it that he almost looked to be flying. When he reached the top of his leap he threw his sword arm
away from his body and spun in the air.
It
was close. The fetcher leaned
back, twisting his head away as the sword swung toward him. But the old soul was with Riegel,
working better than it had for months.
Riegel spun faster than he should have and his body twisted in a way
that was very painful but added two inches to his reach, and the blade sliced
through warm flesh.
The
fetcher's power fled out of his body.
He tried to scream as he fell into the black emptiness, but could manage
only a weak hissing sound from the gash in his throat. A green light flashed and the trap and
fetcher were both gone.
There
was just time for a fragmented memory to dance through Riegel's head—an
instructor droning through one of the endless lectures, saying, "They can
make the holes but they can't travel through them, you see."—before
the packed dirt came up to meet him.
He tucked his head and arms forward and rolled, ending on his back. Then he was over and up on his feet.
The
remaining fetcher cowered in the shadow of the rock. His eyes rolled wildly in his head, searching for some means
of escape. Riegel marched toward
him, smiling grimly. He felt the
slight warmth of the medallion on his wrist and relished in the sight of the
cowed and cowering enemy before him.
"What's
your name, baldy?" he called out.
The fetcher's eyes finally came to a rest as they stared at Riegel.
"My
name is Elkin," he said.
"You
were sent to capture me, weren't you Elkin?"
"Please
don't kill me. I only do what I am
told."
Riegel
realized he was still holding his sword while the blood of this fetcher's
partner dripped off the tip. He
wiped the sword against his pants and seated it in it's sheath.
"I
don't intend to kill you," he said.
Not while you are still useful, he thought to himself. Or did Elder think it?
At times like this, it was hard to tell the difference. "Were you sent here for me or
not?"
"Yes,
sir." The fetcher began to
look hopeful. Perhaps he thought
he could make it home in one piece yet.
"Where
would you send me, fetcher?"
"To
my lord, sir. King Siskin."
The
Dark King. Riegel's blood grew
cold at the thought that the chief enemy of men had spared him so much
attention.
"I
didn't ask you who you would send me to," Riegel said. "I asked you where." He laid his hand on the hilt of his
sword. "This will be a short
conversation indeed if you can't answer the questions I ask."
The
fetcher's eyes locked on the hilt of the sword and widened. Riegel thought that if they opened any
wider, his eyeballs might fall right out of his head.
"Sorry,
sir!" the fetcher cried.
"My lord is at Castle Denn, on the island Dennor in the Waning
Sea. That is where I was to send
you."
"And
what does he want with me there?"
"You
have entered the Waning Sea. You
must die."
Riegel
shook his head. "I don't
intend to die in a place like this.
You said the Dark King is on an island. There is still water in the Waning Sea?"
"Not
water, sir. Blood. The blood of the righteous, they
say."
"LIES!" Riegel's head rang with the
scream. It seemed Elder had once
again found its voice, and years of quiet hadn't lessened its speaking
power. Riegel ignored it and
continued talking to his prisoner.
"Have you seen this sea of blood for yourself, Elkin?"
The
fetcher nodded his head enthusiastically.
"Yes, yes! I have,
sir."
"HE
LIES!" Riegel began to
remember that the old soul was not always a boon. He wished it to be quiet. And, surprisingly, it was.
"I
would like to see that," he said to the fetcher. "Is it far?"
The
fetcher considered the question for a few seconds before answering, perhaps
trying to guess his captor's walking speed. Perhaps trying to think up a plausible lie. "Three days walk from here,"
he said. "Maybe only two if
you walk hard."
Riegel
dropped his pack on the ground and began to rummage through it. "Oh, we will," he said. "We will walk very hard."
"We,
sir?"
Riegel
nodded. "You and me,
Elkin. We're going to take a trip
to the seaside."
"You
really want me to go with you, sir?"
The
fetcher's ingratiating way of talking was beginning to try Riegel's
patience. He found what he was
looking for and looked up to find the fetcher studying him with a worried
expression on his face.
Riegel
smiled again. "I do," he
said. Then he lifted a short
length of rope from his pack and added, "In fact, I insist on it."
The
fetcher shook his head wildly, causing the many hoops in his ears to jangle
together as he cried out.
"No, sir! Please, no! I would only slow you down!"
Probably, Riegel thought. It may be four days or more before
we see the sea. If you weren't
lying about the distance, that is. Aloud, he
said, "That will be as it will.
But of course I can't leave you here. Put out your hand."
Elkin's
head ceased its emphatic denial and his chin slumped against his chest. "It'll hurt," he whined. But his right hand came up. Riegel looped one end of the rope
around the hand and tied a quick knot.
Then he did the same to his left hand using a slightly different
knot. The rope lay just above the
leather strap that held the thing.
"I've
bound us with Orrin's knot," he told the fetcher. "My end is tight enough that it
won't slip off but loose enough to be comfortable. Your end is the same.
However, if the rope is pulled, your end will tighten while mine will
not. Do you understand?"
"Yes,"
Elkin moaned. "To attempt to
escape is to bring pain. To lag
behind is the same. But as long as
I step along with you I will be without pain."
"You
do understand."
In
a small voice, Elkin added, "No pain. But still bound."
Riegel
smiled again. This was not the
same smile he showed in battle, but it was no more heartening. "You understand very well,"
he said. "Which way do we
go?"
"East."
Riegel
nodded and picked up his pack. He
took a step to the east but Elkin didn't move. Riegel took another step and the length of rope between them
was drawn taught. It would be
unpleasant to Elkin, but not yet painful.
Still he didn't move.
"Why
won't you leave me?" Elkin whined.
"Because
you've placed at least one trap, and maybe more," Riegel said. "Alone, I may fall into one and
find myself lying at the feet of the Dark King. But touching the trap would kill you. So we stay together. Where I go, you follow. If you don't wish to die—and I
can see that you don't—you'll keep us out of any of your traps."
Elkin
nodded sadly. The rope slackened
once again as he stepped to his place just behind his captor and they set off.
They
came upon the trap less than a quarter mile from the rock the pair had been
cowering behind. Riegel never
would have seen it. If Elder could
detect it, it gave no warning.
Riegel and Elkin were walking along when the fetcher suddenly cried out
for him to stop. Riegel stopped
and looked around, seeing nothing but the same packed dirt and rocks stretching
to the horizon all around him.
"There
it is, sir," Elkin said.
"Right in front of you.
Three more steps and you'll tumble into it, taking me with you."
Riegel
stared down at the ground before him, trying to see something of the trap. "Can you close it?"
"No,
sir," Elkin said. "Once
set, a trap remains until it has caught its prey."
"Then
we go around. How far?"
"Two
miles either way."
Riegel
brought his head up suddenly, searching for a lie in the fetcher's face, but he
saw none. He had no reason to
lie. Still, Riegel had trouble
believing the claim. "The
trap is four miles long?"
The
fetcher, unable to bear Riegel's stare, dropped his head and nodded. He said softly, "We were not to
let you go."
"And
if you did?"
"Then
we might as well jump into the trap ourselves. Being torn apart by a trap is horrible, but better than what
awaited us if we returned without delivering you."
Riegel
didn't doubt it. He had heard many
tales about the horror of the Dark King.
"Is there anything we can feed to the trap to force it to
close?" he asked.
"Yes,"
the fetcher replied.
"You. Or me. Any human would set off the trap. Any fetcher as well, as you saw with
Keli."
Riegel
nodded. "Neither one of us is
going in that trap, though. I need
you with me to ensure I don't stumble into another one you laid further
on."
"There
are no more," the fetcher said.
"We failed, and no more were sent behind us. There was no need. We've never failed to bring in our
catch before."
The
defeated tone in Elkin's voice told Riegel that he was telling the truth. But he had been wrong before, and this
was nothing to take chances about.
He meant to take Elder to what remained of the Great Sea as he had promised. He had no desire to stand before the
throne of the Dark King, with the old soul's aid or without it.
"Come
on," he said. "Show me
the way around."
The
fetcher did indeed slow him down.
They walked north for nearly an hour before Elkin said it was safe for
them to turn east once more. The
sun was setting by then but Riegel pushed them on for two hours in the dark,
not stopping until he felt he had reached the spot where he would have made
camp at sundown if he hadn't been tethered to the whining thing on the other
end of the rope. Of course the
fetcher needed food and water as well.
Riegel could have let him suffer, but that would only slow him even
more. He allowed Elkin a
half-ration of food and water and the fetcher thanked him for the meal in his
usual subservient manner. The
second canteen was now only two-thirds full. At this rate, he would be out of water by the time he made
it to the sea and there would be nothing left for the trip back.
It
appeared that Elder had worn itself out with the unusual exertion of aiding
Riegel in the small skirmish. It
had not awakened by the time the sun set and continued sleeping as Riegel
prepared their meager supper. But
it did dream. They were sweet
dreams of frolicking with friends and laying down with lovers. These dreams spilled over to fill
Riegel's head after he laid down and he slept more soundly than he had in
years.
Riegel
awoke in the morning to find the fetcher gone. But he was only alone in the physical sense. The old soul was awake and singing a
happy morning song.
"Why
are you so happy?" Riegel asked.
"The fetcher made off in the night." And he was amazed to hear a response in his head.
"It
is a beautiful day," the soul said.
"We will see the Great Sea before the sun sets."
Words! A smile crept onto Riegel's face as he
tried to remember how long it had been since Elder had spoken to him. There were the shouted denials of the
fetcher's words last night. Before
that, it had been a year. At
least. Worry about the escaped
prisoner was forgotten in his delight.
"Will
we indeed?" he asked.
"Yes,
we will. The sea is closer than
the fetcher would have had us believe.
I can feel it."
"But
he's gone. What if he's laid more
traps?"
"He
has not." The thing was
gaining tone in its voice. It
sounded smug.
A
scene bloomed in Riegel's head.
The
fetcher sleeps soundly on the hard ground next to his captor and the medallion
on his captor's wrist begins to glow.
The fetcher's eyes open but are empty, as if he is still sleeping. He sits up and begins working at the
knot around his arm. It takes
nearly an hour for Elkin to work his arm out of the rope. He seems to sleep through the whole
process as Riegel does next to him.
"You
let him go!" Riegel jumped to
his feet and screamed in indignation at the thing he wore. "You let that sniveling, conniving
bastard free!"
But
the vision is not done.
The
fetcher moves through the desert.
His pace is slow at first, but speeds up as he goes along. He begins jogging, then running, and
finally breaks into an all-out sprint through the dark. And through all of it, his eyes continue
that same still-sleeping stare.
And
suddenly, time slowed down. Riegel
realized that the old soul was relishing the moment.
Elkin's
eyes suddenly clear. He is fully
awake but not yet aware of where he is.
He gapes down at his running feet with a nearly comical look of surprise
on his painted face. Then he looks
up and the confused surprise changes to horrified knowledge. He realizes where he is and what he is
doing. At that very moment, his
feet stop running, for now they are falling. They disappear into the ground for a moment and then the
ground is no longer there. It is
replaced with a deep, black trench nearly ten yards wide and stretching into
the far distance in both directions.
The fetcher tumbles into his trap.
The
next thing should have been over in the time it would take Riegel to
blink. But he saw everything in
slow, horrible detail.
The
fetcher's limbs and head separate from his body. Incredible pain is drawn on his face, which continues to
writhe as green light pours out of his body. At first the light flows from the six pieces of the fetcher
as blood would from Riegel. Then
it expands and soon it is all-encompassing. When the light fades, the trench and the fetcher are both
gone. There is only a calm piece
of land under the starry desert night.
Riegel,
who had seen much death and who had, in fact, drawn and quartered a man when it
was his turn to play executioner, felt his knees give out. He fell down on all fours as the
contents of his stomach were expelled in a burning stream. It was not the things he saw that
brought this reaction, but the things he felt. For he had witnessed no execution of a criminal, but a
sport. He knew the satisfaction,
dread fascination and even joy that the old soul felt in seeing the fetcher torn
apart. His mind summoned forth the
legend of the Waning Sea and the long reach of the Dark King, trying to make a
connection that he refused to see.
"It's
time to move." Riegel
breathed slowly over a steaming pool of his own vomit, weak knees and elbows
trembling. "We will reach the
sea today and see what is there."
Riegel
got to his feet. He started east
without bothering with breakfast and walked through the day without food or
water. He walked hard, looking at
nothing except the sun to make sure he kept to the east. He ignored the old soul's increasingly
strident demands to speak with him.
He was afraid that if he talked, his terrible suspicions would come out.
He
began to smell the Waning Sea an hour before he reached it and knew that although
Elkin had been a sneak and a coward, he hadn't been a liar. Riegel was quite familiar with the
smell of blood, although he had never smelled it so strongly before.
When
he finally stood before the true Waning Sea, he saw that it was not water dyed
red by blood as the legends suggested, but blood itself. As Riegel looked out over the Waning
Sea, he began to feel that it was no longer waning. He was somehow sure that this spot had been bone dry this
same time last year. It made
sense. The war continued in the
north. Many young men were dying
every day to keep evil at bay, and it is the blood of heroes and innocents that
makes up the Waning Sea.
Now
that he stood before it, the call of the Waning Sea was so strong that it
filled the old soul's mind and overflowed into Riegel's own. It was dark and vicious. It spoke of killing—of blood
spilled in defense, in vengeance, in sport. It called out for those who would feed it.
"This
is wrong," the thing cried in his head. "This isn't the Great Sea. These aren't my brothers calling me."
"They
are," Riegel said. He could
no longer escape the realization that had come to him. "The souls of the Great Sea have
been corrupted by the Dark King's magic.
They've been blinded by lies of honor and revenge and glory. The lies all mean the same thing:
death. The sea has been fed
well."
"But
my brothers and I are tied together.
Surely I would have felt their corruption."
"I
don't think any of you felt it. I
certainly did not."
"What
do you mean?"
Riegel
looked out at the red expanse, stretching to the far horizon. How many of his friends were out
there? How many companions had he
seen fall in battle? He imagined
their blood flowing from wounds, dripping into the ground and eventually making
its way here. How many good men
had died in defense of home and family and served only to add to the power of
the Dark King?
"The
sea has been fed well," Riegel repeated. "And we have helped serve the meal. It is time for you to join your
brothers."
Riegel
untied the strap from his wrist and struggled not to join in as he felt the old
soul weeping in his mind. Although
he had stopped well back from the waves, they were now almost lapping at his
boots. He laid the strap in the
sand and then unbuckled his sword belt and laid it next to the strap. Then he took a step back to wait for
the Waning Sea to envelop them. It
didn't take long.
He
turned away from the red waves which reached greedily toward his boots and
started the long walk back to the lands of men. He wasn't sure that he belonged there now any more than the
old soul had. He was no longer the
boy who had marched in the autumn parade and dreamed of becoming a soldier. He had become the greatest champion of
mankind and an unwitting servant of the Dark King. Now, perhaps he could be a savior.
Mike Wever is a new writer to the fantasy/sci-fi scene,
with another story appearing in the July issue of Dawn Sky. He lives
in Lincoln, Nebraska with his supportive wife, three understanding children, and
one high-strung cat.
Cover—"Sword Angel," and Illustrations by Melinda S.
Reynolds, Copyright 2005
Melinda is a self-taught artist and writer; drawing came first,
writing second. Her favorite genres are fantasy and sci-fi because
of the depth of imagination.
