The Way of the Soul (3 page)

But fifteen years was a long time. Though he did return once, she had no idea nor promise when he would come again. What if he did not return for twenty more years? What if when he returned she was too old to fight for him? Her whole life would have been wasted. But the Lord Harskill had commanded her to do these things — who was she to question him?

I shouldn’t let my mother get to me like this.

The autocar dropped her off at the Gull University Student Center with a familiar chime and the usual statement. “I hope you enjoyed my driving. Please tap into Autoreviews and leave a 5-star rating. Have a pleasant day.”

She headed back to her apartment. Her stomach gurgled — not from hunger, though. Whenever she had lunch with her mother, the unique brand of tension that woman created left Reon’s stomach in knots.

She watched the students walking from class to class, building to building, lugging their bags of supplies. It seemed rather mundane now. Her education was important, as part of her preparation for the Lord Harskill, but all these other people — what did they need to learn for? Just so they could make money? They were all such a minuscule piece of a massive universe that cared nothing about what their brains could do.

Shaking her head around the thought, Reon knew she needed to go punch a bag and spar for an hour. That would clear her mind. After, she would spend the evening praying to Lord Harskill and hope, like she did every night, that he would soon return. But first, she had to deal with her bubbling stomach.

By the time she entered her apartment, her discomfort had become urgency. She rushed to the bathroom, thrust down her pants, and sat just in time. Even without eating any lunch, her body still found things to evacuate.

As she cleaned up, she started to laugh softly. Here, more than anything, was proof that Dulmul was a fiction. Dulmul supposedly created everything to a specific and clear design. But Reon often thought that people were poorly designed. She could have done far better.

“At least, I would’ve made crapping less of a messy business.” The sound of her words echoing in the small bathroom brought another smile to her face. No doubt about it — if Dulmul existed, he failed in the god department. If Reon could figure out that the body was inefficient, then a god should have done so long before he created everything.

At least, Lord Harskill never claimed to have created the world.

She flushed the toilet, washed up, and left the bathroom — her state of mind improving as the pain in her stomach receded. But a second later, she wished she could run back to the toilet. Lord Harskill stood in the center of her room.

Reon fell to her knees and bowed her head.

“It’s time,” he said.

Her body shook. Despite all she had learned about controlling her muscles, she could not stop shaking. Then she realized tears flowed from her eyes. She gazed upward.

Lord Harskill frowned. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “I’m full of joy.” Her stomach felt fine, too.

Chapter 3

Malja

The portal closed behind them,
and before Malja could take in her surroundings, the groyle scampered away. Fawbry headed after it but stopped when his foot sank in the swampy muck. Heavy foliage and humid air pressed in on them. Without a word, Malja knew Fawbry saw what she saw — they could easily get lost in a place like this.

“Guess we should stick close together,” he said.

Malja walked by Fawbry, deeper into the swamp, her focus on the direction the groyle had gone. “Come on. Hopefully that little thing is running someplace useful.”

“What if it isn’t?”

“You got any other idea which way to go?”

Fawbry stepped forward. His foot created a horrible sucking sound as it pulled from the swamp. When he placed it down, he sank to his knees. “Oh, this is going to be a wonderful hike.”

They pressed onward, the only sounds the sloshing of the swamp and the repetition of Fawbry’s grunts. Malja felt a bit of sympathy for him — he didn’t have a do-kha to keep him dry and warm. In the past, her do-kha would soothe her aches and help heal her injuries. Maybe it no longer could. Maybe that’s why her muscles were sore all the time. Maybe her do-kha was dying.

She frowned. “Do you think that groyle told the truth?”

“You thinking Harskill set us up in a trap?”

“No. Maybe. I wasn’t thinking about him. I was asking because I’ve always thought of my do-kha as a living creature. I never really considered that it could be made somewhere.”

“Or that it was a female.”

“That, too.” Malja shuddered.

Fawbry sneezed into the water. “You should be more concerned about this swamp than whether your do-kha is male or female. Only Kryssta knows what kinds of diseases are in here.”

“Keep walking. I’m sure we’ll find the groyle soon.”

“Really? Because I haven’t seen a single clue as to where that thing went. I know you well. You’ll just keep walking until we hit something and then you’ll act like that was your intended target all along. But I’ve been with you long enough. We’re probably lost already and you won’t admit it.”

“Fawbry —”

“Don’t try to placate me.” He smacked the water, and when he pulled his hand back, a long weed clung to his fingers. “This world is disgusting. And I keep feeling things bumping into my legs.”

“I’m sure it will —”

“Stop it. I don’t need you to tell me how it’ll all work out. What does that even mean now? We’ve been on tons of worlds and all that ever happens is we don’t find Harskill. Accept it — you won’t find him until he wants to be found. And what are you going to do when he shows up? It’s not like you’ve ever actually told me what the point of all this hunting is. I mean, are you really going to kill him? Or is it going to be like all the times before where you want to kill him but you hold back because he’s your only connection to finding other Gate?”

Malja stomped over to Fawbry. “He had his chances. Many of them. And I’ve met other Gate. I’m not impressed. I don’t need them anymore. I just want to find Harskill and stop him from hurting anybody else.”

“Does that mean —”

“Yes. I want to kill him.”

Malja glared cold and hard — partially to shut Fawbry down, partially to quell her own thoughts. All her concerns over her shaking hands had to be locked away, set aside for calmer days. She would deal with it then — some calmer time in the future.

Under the pressure of Malja’s intense scrutiny, Fawbry did not back away. Though every day made him braver when confronting her, Malja still found it impressive to see him stand his ground. She could count on him to speak his mind to her.

She grabbed his face and saw fear fill his eyes. Pulling him close, she kissed the top of his head. “You’re a good friend. But don’t worry. This time, I will finish things.” Walking away, she smirked at the thought of his stunned face.

He splashed behind her as he raced to catch up. “If we’re really going to face Harskill at some point, I mean if we’re doing more than simply following his crumbs, then shouldn’t we bring Tommy along with us? He’d make this whole thing a lot easier.”

“He’s done enough.” Malja hoped that would stop Fawbry from pressing further, but he had brought this up before.

She wanted to say that Tommy was still a boy in her mind, that she had spent so many years protecting him and trying to limit his use of magic that the mere idea of putting him in a dangerous situation revolted her. Though he had proven to be one the most powerful magicians she had ever come across, though he had managed to control his power and appeared not to be losing his mind from using magic, she simply could not accept being the cause of his downfall, should it ever happen.

“He’s not a child anymore,” Fawbry said. “He’s married now.”

Malja barely opened her mouth to speak. “I know.”

“Then stop treating him —”

“You really think he should abandon his wife to traipse across world after world for us?”

“Not every world. But we could use his help here. And so what if he’s married? I didn’t mean that as an excuse for him. Heck, Hirasa and I will get married soon.”

Malja wanted to hold on to her anger, but the mention of Fawbry getting married caused her to stop walking so she could laugh. “You and Hirasa? What’s the hold up?”

“Why’s that funny?”

“She’s crazy about you. She would’ve married you the day Tommy and the Artisoll got married. So what’re you waiting on?”

Fawbry stared at her and uttered a few sounds. “Oh, forget it. Let’s keep walking.”

As he sloshed by Malja, she burst into more laughter. They moved deeper into the swamp and finally reached a section of semi-dry land. A clear footpath marked the way.

“We’re getting close,” Malja said.

“To what?”

She shrugged and followed the path. Only minutes later, she heard Fawbry yelp. Spinning back, she saw him fall up to his waist in the ground. The spot had looked solid when she walked by it, but when Fawbry stepped across, the area opened up into a soupy, muddy mess.

“Malja,” he whispered, and she heard the shake in his voice. “Something’s in here with me.”

Before she could respond, two long roots snaked up his chest, latched onto his shoulders, and yanked Fawbry below the surface. Malja whipped out Viper and leaped to the edge of the muddy pool. She stared at the liquid, searching for any sign of Fawbry or the creature that attacked him. She saw only dirt and leaves and insects crawling across the shifting mud.

“By Korstra,” she said and hacked a long branch off a nearby tree. Holding the branch at one end, she poked it into the mud near where she saw Fawbry go under. She churned the pool with slow circles of the branch.

Something tapped against the branch. It tapped again. Then a desperate hand pulled hard. Malja tightened her grip so as not to lose control and dug her feet into the ground. Whatever pulled back refused to yield. Small steps back, little by little. She would not lose. She refused.

Fawbry’s head broke the surface. He gasped and coughed. His hands clung to the branch even as the creature’s tendrils clung to him.

Malja wanted to jump forward and cut the tendrils off with Viper, but doing so would require that she let the branch go. She had no doubt that the creature would drag Fawbry back down before she could strike. But her muscles shook as she pulled back even further. Her do-kha tried to sooth her arms but she could only hold on to this stalemate for a little longer.

Her do-kha!

She pictured it reaching out to help Fawbry, and she latched upon the emotions of helping save her friend. The do-kha reacted at once. It peeled off of her arms and stretched out across the mud pool. It hardened above Fawbry.

“Grab it,” she yelled. She knew he didn’t want to let go of the branch, but he would have to find the courage or he would die. “I can’t hold on.”

The branch slipped an inch. That frightened Fawbry even more. He screamed and lurched out an arm, flailing until he bumped the do-kha. The moment he made contact, the do-kha wrapped around his hand and retracted back towards Malja. It moved with steady power, but the creature in the mud pool refused to give up its catch.

With Fawbry held secure by the do-kha, Malja let the branch go. She stood, and despite the awkwardness of moving while her clothing held Fawbry, she managed to get a firm stance while holding Viper. She walked toward Fawbry, the do-kha reforming around her arm as she closed in.

The creature yanked hard and Malja stumbled forward. No use in being cautious now. She rushed ahead and swiped at the tendrils. Fawbry shrieked. Malja growled. And the tendrils broke off into the pool. Fawbry scrambled several feet away, panting hard as he wiped mud from his face.

“See?” Malja said with a grin. “No need to bother Tommy. We did fine.”

She helped Fawbry to his feet, and after a few minutes, they trudged on. She knew Fawbry wanted Tommy with them more than ever. As her muscles spasmed along her arms, she agreed.

Chapter 4

Reon

Reon clutched Lord Harskill’s neck
tight as he carried her through the portal. Back in her bedroom, he had demonstrated the portal’s deadliness by tossing a book into it. Only a burnt odor had been left. But with his special suit — he called it a do-kha — Lord Harskill promised he would protect her.

Going through the portal had left Reon’s stomach twisted and her skin tingling. The trip had been instantaneous. She began in her bedroom, and with one step, Lord Harskill had brought her into a massive warehouse that reeked of fish. As he set her down, her knees buckled.

“It’s hard the first few times,” Lord Harskill said with a smile that eased Reon. “Eventually, your body adjusts and you may even find the sensation comfortable.”

He waited a few minutes while she walked in a circle. Each step brought with it a rush of blood through her muscles as if her entire body had gone to sleep and only awoke with her movement. After the tiny daggers running along her body subsided, when she had regained her muscle control and strength, she nodded.