26 The Soul Stone

THE ANCIENT PORTAL lay thirty miles north of Icarthya city within the foothills of the Wunn Mountains. After four hours trekking uphill through forest, having abandoned their sydarags to forage, and their lone grolg meaning they had to carry their supplies, Threadfin and his companions discovered what they sought within an ancient ring of standing stones. At first, there was no sign of anything but dirt in the clearing, nothing growing.

Virtue had, after some coaxing, told them of the portal. Of course, she’d insisted Striga leave her presence before saying anything at all. It remained a sore point with the Torment, who followed at the rear, face like a bruised thunderhead. It seemed angels and Torments did not get along. Who knew?

‘Is this the place, then?’ Threadfin asked of their captive-turned-guide.

‘You revere angels?’ she countered, catching him off guard, and leaving him tongue-tied. ‘I have had no personal interaction with the undead before, but I know of you, Threadfin Todder. We all do.’

Wait, they all know of me? He tried to think of a reply, which wouldn’t offend, but decided on the truth. ‘Um, I once did but not anymore. Still, I have respect for your kind. I hope that does not sadden you.’

She smiled, just a brief glimpse, but it was enough to warm his cold dead flesh. ‘I am glad you feel this way. We are not worthy of worship, as I constantly told Volcanus, but he was always stubborn where mortals were concerned. He never viewed humanity as worthy.’

‘You know him well?’

‘You could say that.’

‘Why have you agreed to help us?’ I’m not sure I would’ve, considering how we met.

She raised an eyebrow. ‘I am not Volcanus. But do you mean, apart from being hunted and captured, and put in a position where it was hard to refuse?’

Unfortunately, he couldn’t disagree with her analysis of the previous day’s events. He had explained the situation to her, and why they needed to find the Despoiler. It turned out however, that when he had touched her hand, she had learned everything she needed to. It had been enough to convince her she could trust him.

Halting at the circle’s edge, waiting for the others to catch up, she reached up to touch his cheek. ‘I like you, Threadfin Todder. For one of the undead, you have a warm heart. A heart that deserves love. One day, you will find her again, and the world will look much brighter.’

Again, he was left speechless, mouth opening and closing like a landed fish. There was only one her the angel could mean, but she was dead. And a warm heart? His was a cold shrivelled thing. Angels were weird.

‘Are you two going to stand there all day?’ Lyrin demanded with a hiss as she reached them. ‘There is a Torment back there hellbent on murdering someone, anyone, if you two don’t get a move on.’

Virtue stepped past him and inside the circle. The ground at her feet transformed from dead grass to stone with a ripple of air. Perhaps it has been hidden from their sight and there all along, or maybe it had existed in a mirror world, which only someone like she could access. Threadfin didn’t have a clue, but he saw great potential in such a spell. If he could figure out a way to replicate it. I could hide all sorts of things from Nipper, including a lot expensive stuff. Hell’s Teeth, I could hide Nipper.

The grooves in the stone’s surface were dark and deep. Stood on its southern edge, Threadfin judged its diameter at least twenty feet. It was lightly dusted with soil and old leaves, but the thick markings were visible. A pentagram.

‘It is a soul stone,’ Virtue whispered to him, as he joined her inside the circle. They all appeared reluctant, including Beezer, but after a few moments they all stood upon its surface.

Beezer, Lyrin, and even Pole, stood close to Virtue, as Striga finally arrived. Neither Threadfin nor the others intended to leave her alone with the Torment.

He’d ordered both Vilt and Grudge to remain in Icarthya. He’d tried leaving Pole with them, but the stubborn fool had refused to listen. He feared none of the breathers would survive what came next, but at least now he had just Podral to worry about.

‘Beats walking through mirrors, I guess,’ his Darken muttered, looking nervous.

‘I told you not to come, didn’t I?’ Threadfin replied. ‘You should have stayed in Icarthya. I can’t protect you like I used to.’

‘Huh,’ said the Darken. ‘I thought it was to protect your ass I’m here.’

‘I don’t need protecting, Pod.’

‘Wonder how it works?’ His friend was ignoring him, down on one knee to touch the deep groves with his fingers.

‘Now you take an interest in magic?’ the mage hissed, wanting to kick him.

‘Well, this here is angelic magic, right? Beats that undead stuff you’re into any day in my book. I mean, if angels made it, it must be good, right?’

Threadfin felt lost for words. It took every bit of willpower to remain calm, and not screech like a lunatic.

‘What will you do to him,’ Virtue asked of Threadfin, distracting him from whatever nasty retort he’d been about to think of, ‘once you’ve found him?’

‘Huh?’

‘Volcanus. What will you do to him? I will not let you go any further until I’ve had an honest answer.’ She glared over at Striga. ‘No matter the cost.’

The fact she thinks we can do anything to the most ancient of all angels, is interesting. ‘Didn’t you, ah, see that when you ...?’

‘I cannot see the future, but I can sense it. I sense something ill is about to befall him. What is your answer?’

It was Lyrin who gave it. ‘We need Volcanus to agree to help Threadfin. There is no one else who can. We also need to secure the Crystal Sword. Others are hunting for it, and if they get it ...’

‘Volcanus has managed to hide the Sword for thousands of years, without any help from you.’

Beezer folded his arms with a grunt. ‘Even so. Times have changed, and the Darkness eats away at the Spectrum like rot. The threat has evolved. At the very least, he must be warned.’

‘You are wasting time,’ Striga spat, stomping across the soul stone to examine its opposite edge. She waved a muscular arm at the angel. ‘She’s delaying us on purpose. This is all a trick.’

‘At least, you just seek to remove the Grim from your soul,’ said the angel, looking deep into Threadfin’s eyes as though she might be able to catch sight of the infestation. She appeared not to hear or see Striga, which infuriated the Torment further.

‘The sooner the better.’

‘Volcanus might help you, for a price, but he will never give up the Sword, not to anyone. It is his by right, the first shard he made. In this, you all ask too much.’

‘Well, how do we use this?’ demanded Lyrin pointing at the soul stone. ‘We must follow Volcanus wherever he has gone to. We can worry over the details later.’

‘You can try to find him,’ the angel said, ‘but it is not easy when he doesn’t wish to be found. I do not know his mind in this. The soul stone is for anyone with angelic blood, but Volcanus can pass in and out of this world at will without it.’

‘Sounds familiar,’ said Threadfin.

‘Yeah,’ said Pole, through gritted teeth. ‘We all got fond memories of them trips. I live for walking through mirrors, I do. You know, I’m not so sure about this now I’m stood here.’

Virtue offered Threadfin a wry smile. ‘Your gift, granted to you from the Aura, is not quite the same, but it comes close in method. Angels are not bound by such physical laws as mortals.’

‘The vampires,’ Threadfin muttered.

‘What about them?’ asked Lyrin.

‘You said others are hunting for the sword. They’re hunting for it. I’ve seen them searching entire worlds. Maybe I’m mad, but I—

‘Definitely mad,’ interrupted Pole. ‘I’ve been telling you for years.’

‘Perhaps a touch eccentric,’ offered Virtue with a slight smile, which warmed Threadfin in a way he was getting used to.

Lyrin coughed, and virals not needing to breathe, never coughed, unless it was to regurgitate something. ‘We need to get this over with.’

Threadfin shook himself. ‘Yes, yes, of course.’

‘Say what you need to say, Todder,’ growled Beezer, ‘and then let the poor girl get on with it, or we shall be stood here until Tartaros ends us all.’

Threadfin scowled at Beezer, but then glanced over at Striga. ‘I have a strong feeling the vampires will soon find the Sword, or at least it’s location. Call it a hunch. We will encounter Wormwood and thousands of vampires very soon.’

‘Huh,’ said Pole, scratching at the white scar on his face, ‘well that puts a different spin on things, don’t it? You lot sure we’ve thought this plan through?’

Virtue turned pale, and Threadfin noted even Striga had halted her furious stomping about. ‘What name did you speak?’ the angel hissed.

‘Wormwood,’ said Lyrin with a frown, which did nothing for her ravaged features. Made them look worse in fact. ‘To our knowledge, he leads the vampires.’

‘Yes,’ Beezer agreed. ‘An especially intelligent and vicious vampire. Unheard of until recently but by all accounts, already infamous.’

Virtue’s eyes widened. ‘Volcanus believes someone called the Red Prince leads their horde.’

Threadfin shook his head. ‘Nope, all that changed. There was a coup and Wither lost. I have it on the highest authority, trust me.’ Unless Manic and Mania had lied, which was always a possibility with those two. ‘Why? Who is Wormwood?’

Virtue was shaking. ‘You ... you don’t understand,’ she said. ‘None of you do.’

‘Actually,’ said Striga, ‘I do. Wormwood is an ancient.’

Pole looked as confused as everyone else. ‘Is that some sort of elder vampire or something?’

‘No, no,’ cried Virtue, ‘Wormwood is not a vampire at all! He’s an angel. He was an Amerae, though few dare speak that name anymore. He is now one of the Fallen, and the sworn enemy of Volcanus.’

‘Worse still,’ said Striga with an edge to her voice, ‘he’s Volcanus’ long-lost brother.’

‘Oh, I see,’ said Threadfin. Manic and Mania had wanted me to go against Wormwood with the horde. Sneaky bastards. Drop us right in the middle of the oldest family feud in existence. Glad I avoided that then.

‘Are we just going to stand here until the sun sets?’ asked Pole, before he then asked, ‘Is that it? Does this soul stone need moonlight or something?’

Virtue looked at each of them in turn, before answering. ‘No, but it does require blood.’

‡

THE REST OF THEM STOOD in a group, while Lyrin paced across the stone circle, fists on hips, examining its surface with a glare that should’ve melted it.

Pole threw up his hands. ‘Well, I guess we’re not going anywhere then.’

‘Are you certain?’ demanded Beezer, turning his sunken eyes on Virtue. He had lowered the hood of his black dalba, and Threadfin wished he hadn’t. He looked like he had just climbed out of the grave, his features in worse condition than Lyrin’s, part of his face having caved in.

Their angelic prisoner looked weaker, worn down. ‘Much of angelic lore is hidden from the mortal worlds. I tell you what I know. I did not create this portal. I just use it.’

‘Blood,’ Threadfin said.

‘Blood,’ Virtue agreed. ‘And since this is so, I cannot say what will happen to any undead who chance to cross this boundary. This is your choice, not mine.’

‘How much blood though?’ asked Pole. When everyone turned to stare at him, he shifted his feet uncomfortably. ‘Well, I mean does it require a few drops, one for each, or are we talking rivers of the stuff? Just askin’ is all, you know, since ...’

Threadfin realised what he was worried about, and rolled his eyes for dramatic effect. ‘Not your blood, you dolt. A Darken you may be, but you’re no angel. Trust me on that.’

‘Oh, I see.’ He offered Virtue a sympathetic look.

The angel sighed, though her face had developed a determined set. ‘For one of angelic blood to pass through this stone, a small amount suffices, but there are many of you and no one else of angelic blood to aid me ... and there is an added complication.’

Lyrin looked resigned. ‘Some of us are virals. We cannot pass through.’

Virtue shook her head. ‘I do not know if you can or not. That is the problem. It is unheard of.’

‘What of me?’ asked Striga.

Threadfin glared at the Torment, wondering if this plan was the right one. ‘Do you want her to answer that?’

Striga snarled and cursed in a tongue he didn’t know. ‘I want the same thing you all do. I came for my master, yes, but even I agree we must stop Wormwood.’

Threadfin took a few steps towards her, wishing he had use of his magic. ‘You seek the Crystal Sword for yourself, Striga. Don’t bother denying it. Maybe you do mean to save your master, or perhaps you mean to make certain he never rises again, but don’t deny the lure of such power.’

Striga remained calm in the face of his accusations, which was odd. ‘I do not deny anything, undead one, nor will I confirm anything. I could, however, accuse you of the same thing.’

‘It may take much blood to make this happen,’ was all the angel would say.

‘In other words,’ said Beezer, ‘you may not survive.’

Virtue grimaced. ‘This flesh may not, but my soul will. However, it may not come to that.’

Pole was looking sick as he turned to Threadfin. ‘We cannot ask her to do this. It isn’t right. I got my hard lines in the dirt, and you know them well.’

Threadfin felt the same, but he wasn’t sure he was in charge of this group. It wasn’t just Beezer he had to worry about, but Striga too. Not like I can use my magic if it all goes awry. Not with the Grim lurking in my shadow. He thought he heard a distant chuckle, but decided it was his imagination. Choosing to believe as he wished was a peculiar talent of his. Unfortunately, it sometimes led to some rude awakenings. He hated those.

‘How many of us,’ he asked of Virtue, ‘virals included, do you think you can manage without ... harming yourself?’

Virtue’s expression was of slight surprise, and relief. ‘I could handle two virals and one of the living.’ She glanced at Pole, and it was obvious she assumed he would be going with Threadfin and perhaps Lyrin. It hardly needed to be said, she did not intend to bring the Torment. Unfortunately, Striga understood too.

‘I am coming,’ she bellowed, looming over them. ‘I will not be denied in this.’

‘It may kill her,’ Threadfin pointed out. ‘Striga, I don’t think you want that. No matter what you say.’ He paused, and then added, ‘I promise you Wormwood won’t have the Sword. You have my word.’

‘There are other ways,’ the Torment snarled. ‘I will not be denied.’ She then turned, and stormed from the stone circle.

Beezer took a step back from the circle too. ‘I will remain and keep a watch on her to make certain she does nothing unpredictable.’

‘How do you know she didn’t want to kill Virtue?’ whispered Pole in his ear.

Threadfin shrugged. ‘It’s called a gamble, Pod.’

‘And what would you have done had it gone arse-ways?’

Threadfin glanced at his friend, while keeping an eye on Striga, making certain she left. ‘You don’t think I actually know what I’m doing, do you?’

‘Guess not, but you know, I trust you all the same. Weird, isn’t it?’

Virtue motioned for them to stand in the centre and to hold hands, which they did, with Beezer looking on. ‘Whatever you do,’ she instructed them, ‘do not let go. If you do, you will not survive.’

Stood in the middle, the angel cut a deep slice into one arm and then the second one. Blood dribbled and spattered the stone, in bright red droplets. With the blood, a tendril of light emerged from her hands, as the veins in her body pulsed with liquid fire. He’d seen it before, when an angel named Canaan Pen Luthus had tried to take his soul.

‘Wait, wait,’ snapped Threadfin, feeling a surge of panic. He hated not being in control. They could end up anywhere. ‘Where is it we are going to? You never said.’

Virtue’s eyes met his, face unreadable, as the blood mingled with the light of her power, filling the grooves of the stone. ‘To a place called, Elysium.’

The pentagram and the intricate design at the stone’s centre filled with light, as though the sun was trapped inside. It was then the growls reached Threadfin’s ears. Racing toward the soul-stone were a dozen vampires.

Distorted limbs and elongated jaws, the clot was almost within reach. Beezer wasted no time in releasing his magic, dirt fountaining upward beneath them. Striga appeared from nowhere and the Torment’s dark magic also ripped into their number. Her horns bristled as her size increased along with her ferocity. She picked one up, its gnashing teeth inches from her neck, and ripped it in half. Yep, thought Threadfin, she’s definitely not happy.

‘Get out of here!’ she roared over one shoulder, and then Threadfin realised there were more. Dozens, scores, as they appeared from everywhere to encircle the soul-stone. For now, their predatory gazes were locked on the Torment, but that wouldn’t last.

Threadfin felt, rather than saw Lyrin’s magic rise to a crescendo of dark power. She let it loose, webs of viralic magic ensnaring the foremost of the vampires. The web snapped taut and vampiric flesh was neatly sliced into dozens of chunks, causing Threadfin to wince. He’d always known it wasn’t good to get on Lyrin’s bad side.

Beezer, still outside of the circle, added his own web to mingle and join with Lyrin’s. Striga turned and gave them an appreciative glance, but her eyes widened, and she gave a warning shout.

At the last possible moment, as Lyrin launched a second assault, someone or something collided with Threadfin, breaking his grip on her hand. A vampire was upon her, teeth sinking into her neck. Beezer leapt into the circle towards her, his power incinerating the vampire and scorching Lyrin in the process. He was inside the circle now, holding on to her, as Threadfin found her hand at the last possible second.

Then, the world was consumed in white fire, as their cries were devoured by the soul stone.