Soul Catcher Read online

  Soul Catcher

  Book One of the Soul Saga

  E. L. Todd

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this novel are either fictitious or are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2013 by E. L. Todd.

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13: 978-1492167617

  ISBN-10: 1492167614

  For Natascia,

  the friend I turned to for every decision and pestered to read my novel every second of the day, thank you for making me laugh until I cried, bringing me down to earth when I floated too high. Every criticism you gave was somehow pleasant, hilarious, no matter how serious you were. You believed in me from the beginning, alleviated my panic attacks, and reminded me that I was worth something. I can never express my gratitude for everything that you did, putting my work before your own, and always supporting me indefinitely. You were my first editor and the best any writer could have.

  My best friend, I bow to you.

  Table of Contents

  1. Severstein Sea

  2. Orgoom Forest

  3. Asylinth House

  4. Morkarh

  5. Roslyn Pass

  6. Roslyn

  7. Roslyn Thoroughfare

  8. House of Asylinth, Orgoom Forest

  9. Aleutian Keep, Letumian Province

  10. Severstein Sea

  11. Aleutian Keep, Letumian Province

  12. Severstein Sea

  13. Aequor Plains

  14. Severstein Sea

  15. Roslyn Keep

  16. Aequor Plains

  17. Serpentine Guild Hideaway

  18. Chamber of the Vast

  19. Vast Prison

  20. Aequor Forest

  21. Morkarh

  22. Aleutian Keep, Letumian Province

  23. Roslyn Thoroughfare

  24. The Hideaway

  25. Roslyn Thoroughfare

  26. Orgoom Forest

  27. Orgoom Forest

  28. Asylinth Cottage

  29. Asylinth House

  30. Aleutian Keep, Letumian Province

  31. Orgoom Forest

  32. Orgoom Forest

  33. Asylinth House

  34. Roslyn Palace

  35. Harbor of Orgoom Forest

  “Know thyself and to thine self be true.”

  -William Shakespeare, Hamlet

  Severstein Sea

  1

  A secluded grotto existed along the Severstein Sea, a secret location hidden by the jagged rocks and massive boulders from the Peaking Mountains. A convenient combination of the continuous heavy fog, magnified crashing of the ocean waves, and impenetrable access from the impassable mountains made it an ideal hiding place for someone who was running from any foe—which is why Aleco made it his home.

  The screeching wind that twisted through the crevasses of the mountains was magnified in volume by the circular curve of the rocks, which distorted the sound of the air, manipulating it to imitate the painful calls of dying men in battle. Any passerby who came too close was frightened by the voices and proceeded no further. Every man assumed the place to be haunted.

  The only exception to this fear was Aleco, who treasured the melancholy grotto as an asylum.

  The unseen blue sky was saturated with thick, gray clouds like the color of ancient stone. They swelled like a provoked puffer fish, holding back the oncoming raindrops until the very last moment of release. The sun was blocked by the suffocating rainclouds and left the landscape dim enough to be the darkened time of evening, but Aleco didn’t mind—he hated the sun. Bright and clear afternoons, where the sun sparkled in the sky and warmed the dry earth, were days Aleco never ventured outside his cave.

  He strode across the beach with silent footsteps, the strong muscles in his back forcing an upright posture, as he headed towards the unnoticeable slit in the rock that was the entrance to his lair. The details of his body were hidden from view by any person, for he always hid every patch of his skin from sight. The hood of his dark cloak concealed his face from the cold sting of the wind, his torso was adorned in heavy armor, and a black blade extended from his hip, which he named Stella, The Striker.

  Aleco sighed as he entered the homely cave. Candles were lit to illuminate the room, penetrating even the darkest corners of the rock. He removed his cloak and armor and placed them upon the bed, where he examined the clothing by candlelight. Heavy blood stains were soaked into the fabric that protected his chest. Aleco knew the blood did not belong to an enemy, rather the stain was from a wound of his own. He removed the soaked bandage he had quickly placed around his chest the day before, when he was fleeing the city. Being pursued by the province’s military, he didn’t have the time to make a better one.

  Aleco examined the wound and understood the severity of the cut. The blood leaking from the slit was oily black and bubbled from the injury like a diseased poison. The rancid smell of the tainted fluid burned his nostrils and caused his eyes to water. His affliction from the wound was heightened by his appraisal of the damage. It caused serious discomfort during his flight and now the sight of the tainted slice of skin made the pain unbearable. Aleco realized he had been stabbed by no ordinary blade, but a Kadnit Knife, a rare sword that could inflict fatal wounds. The truth flooded Aleco as he understood his predicament—he was going to die.

  He rushed to the chest at the foot of his small bed and rummaged through its contents, putting aside swords, battleaxes, and paper scrolls as he went. Aleco found what he sought; a small bottle of crushed, green leaves. He opened the container and began to rub the herbal leaves into the cut in his chest. Aleco sighed as the pain diminished.

  The herbal plant was not a cure, but it would buy him some time. He knew exactly what he needed to heal the fatal wound and prevent the poison from spreading through his entire body and eventually to his brain. Aleco would have to travel to Orgoom Forest in the morning, a day’s trip from his location, to find the herbal medicine that would spare his life.

  The Continent was a stretching landmass located at the northernmost point of the earth, causing the climate to be warm and dry in the summer season, but icy in the winter months. Aleco had to cross Roslyn thoroughfare, bypassing the city of Roslyn, before he could enter the guarded border of the forest. The land of the Continent had been in peace for many generations, but the times were changing. There was a duke in particular who wanted to see that peace end. Ever since their ancestors came to the Continent from Asylinth Island, they hadn’t been united as one people, choosing to establish their own rulers and laws for each segregated realm. The idea was initially innocent, but the escalating tensions raised arguments about trade agreements and other laws of the Continent. It would be simpler to have one king, but the last time they made that decision they had almost been destroyed.

  Aleco hated the weak government system and the various independent realms of their nation, especially since he was a wanted man in almost every province. The Duke of Aleutian would kill him the moment he caught him, but he wouldn’t need to if Aleco couldn’t remove the poison from his body. He needed to move forward but his body was too weak and his other injuries were too painful. He would travel to see the Nature Priest of Orgoom Forest, Father Giloth, in the morning. But for now, he would rest.

  Orgoom Forest

  2

  “While vegetation may appear docile and harmless to an ignorant student, such as you, they are in fact very dangerous,” instructed Father Giloth, as he examined the bleeding cut upon his student, Ryan.

  Ryan groaned as the Nature Priest applied pressure to the wound on his finger. He wrapped the end of Ryan’s shirt around the cut to stop the bleeding. The intense pain caught Ryan off guard. He didn’t expect a thorn to hurt so much. He loathed his tr
aining to become an apprentice in Orgoom Forest but had no other choice. He got the feeling that Father Giloth felt the same, even behind that beaming smile he always wore.

  Father Giloth left and returned with a bright, yellow flower and crushed the petals within his palm. “Give me your hand, Mr. Fetters.”

  Ryan obliged and Father Giloth rubbed the yellow particles into Ryan’s cut. The pain evaporated like boiling water.

  “Mr. Fetters, if you paid attention to my lecture, you would know that it was not the thorn that caused the pain to your finger, but rather the chemical released into your body that was the true culprit,” Father Giloth said pleasantly. He released Ryan’s hand. Ryan gazed at the scar that had formed over the skin of his fingertip. “Furthermore, if you had listened, you would also know that the Kaiden flower, the one I just administered to you, has phenomenal healing properties and the adept ability to counteract most poisons, even after being released into your system.” Father Giloth walked away from the meadow toward the little shack he called home. “If you remember nothing else I have ever taught you, please remember that,” he said without breaking his stride.

  His feet crunched against the wild grass as he walked, which was beginning to freeze at winter’s arrival. Every blade of grass, winged leaf of a tree, and stalk were a dense and deep green, casting the glade around the region with the vibrant hue. The only contrast was the weathered dirt path and the revolting flowers that shined their beautiful colors against the death of approaching frost. The old man inhaled the damp scent of the forest and cleansed his lungs of any pollution and his soul of any impurities. His eyes swept across the tall canopy of trees and spotted the chirping birds bounce from branch to branch, singing to one another.

  Orgoom Forest is the largest woodland of the Continent, full of Naturalists and Forester apprentices who wish to study and protect the holy forest and its secrets. Father Giloth had maintained his elected role as the Nature Priest of Orgoom Forest for many delightful years while he worshiped the forest and its gifts openly. He resided in the guarded home of the Chief Priest, where he lived a comfortable existence. Unfortunately, Father Giloth’s extended office made other aspiring Naturalists frustrated, since they too wanted the post, but had to wait for his imminent death before another could be elected. Father Giloth noticed the fierce competition between the Naturalists as they all attempted to prove their knowledge of forestry, star-mapping, plant and herb vegetation, and healing. It was his responsibility to choose one of the qualified Naturalists to assume his role in the event of his death. The Nature Priest felt rushed to make a decision because the excessive rivalry needed to end.

  Father Giloth approached the front door of his home and smiled at the guards that protected the forest grounds and his dwelling. He entered the humble house and shut the door behind him.

  A fire roared in the hearth of his study, warming the room with both heat and light. The walls were covered in treasured paintings made by his beloved students. A large mirror sat on top of the mantle and on either side of the fireplace were two wide windows. As he approached the fire, Father Giloth suddenly felt uneasy—he’d never started a fire.

  “Hope you don’t mind, Father,” the man said from his seat by the flames. He drained the last of the brandy and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He refilled his glass and swallowed the amber liquid in one drink. “I thought I would help myself.”

  Father Giloth didn’t seem surprised. He removed his cloak and sat behind his deep chestnut desk where he poured himself a glass of hot tea. Father Giloth glanced around the room. Every curtain was drawn shut and every door was locked. If Father Giloth was afraid, he didn’t show it. “What is it this time, Aleco?”

  Aleco was silent for a moment. “I am in need of a rare herbal cure.”

  “Which one would that be? Why haven’t you taken it directly from the fields? You would never be spotted.” Father Giloth gestured with his hands to the room, indicating his obvious trespassing. “Besides, you are skilled in botany and know exactly what you need,” he said. “I am useless to you.”

  “I wanted to see you, of course.” Aleco smiled and drained another glass.

  Father Giloth did not return the smile. “What happened, Aleco?”

  Aleco dropped his humor. He approached the desk and placed his empty glass on the dark wood. “I’ve been stabbed by a Kadnit Knife,” he said. He placed his palm over the injury. “I need something to rid my body of this deadly poison, but—I don’t know what I need to cure it,” he said through gritted teeth.

  Admitting a knowledge deficit was not his strongest point. Aleco always operated on his own. Even when a blinding poison had been forced into his eyes, he escaped the fortress he had been imprisoned in, which was guarded by twenty soldiers, and located the herbal remedy in the wild by touch alone. He was all he ever needed. “If anyone could help me, it would be you, unfortunately,” he continued. “So can you?”

  Father Giloth was silent for a moment. He pressed his fingers to his lips, as he always did in thought, and stared at his untouched tea. “I may be able to assist you; however, that depends on you, Aleco.”

  He sighed. “There’s always a catch, isn’t there?”

  “Yes, I suppose.”

  “What do you want in exchange for helping me?”

  “I want two things from you.”

  Aleco laughed. “Greedy, aren’t we?”

  Father Giloth said nothing and waited for his consent. Aleco knew his options were limited. He could agree to these silly terms or lose his life. “What are they?” he asked. He knew he was going to regret it.

  Father Giloth smiled and removed his fingertips from his lips. “Excellent. I was hoping you would agree,” he said. “Here is the first term of the agreement: Remove your hood so I can see your face. I haven’t seen it in many, many years.”

  “What? Are you kidding?”

  Father Giloth stared at Aleco’s concealed face. “Well?” he pressed.

  Aleco groaned as he pulled down his hood. Father Giloth stared at the crystal blue eyes and the pale color of his skin. The man appeared dark and desperate, fighting off the overwhelming despair that weighed on his soul every day. Father Giloth hadn’t seen the man appear happy once over these past twenty years; it made his heart ache.

  The old man smiled. “Much better,” he said. “Now, here is my second request—”

  “You want my trousers, too?”

  Father Giloth laughed. “Of course not,” he said. “I have a student who urgently needs to travel here. She is seeking asylum in my woods. Obviously, I cannot come to her aid because I am old and weary, and secondly, I have far too many responsibilities here,” the elderly man said. “I am rather fond of her. Will you fetch her for me? I understand you are skilled in this manner.”

  “I can’t,” he spat. “Almost every province is hunting me.”

  “Unjustly, I’m sure,” he said sarcastically.

  Aleco sighed at his jest. “I can’t escape a prison and babysit at the same time,” he said. “What is she fleeing from?”

  “I cannot say,” he said simply. Aleco rolled his eyes. He knew when he was being lied to. Aleco paced across the wooden floor, his dirty boots leaving a trail of filth in his wake. Father Giloth continued. “There isn’t time for consideration. Do you wish to live?”

  “You would never let me die,” Aleco challenged.

  “Do you wish to find out?”

  Asylinth House

  3

  Father Giloth was surprised Aleco had kept up the charade as long as he had. When the Nature Priest examined the wound, he saw the oily residue seep from the cut and drip down Aleco’s burning flesh as it fell. If Aleco arrived any later, he would be dead. Father Giloth was impressed that Aleco found a supplement to slow the poison. That also may have saved his life. He wanted to ask what Aleco had done to deserve such a nasty cut, but didn’t question him. He already suspected what had happened, and knew Aleco would never confide in him.

/>   The Nature Priest worked for many hours trying to vanquish the deadly liquid circulating in Aleco’s body while ignoring Aleco’s cries of pain. Eventually, Aleco passed out when the poison reached his heart. Father Giloth increased his pace as he tried to heal him, and asked the other Naturalists to assist. Finally, the poison was counteracted by combining with a remedy grown in their forest to form a chemical harmless to the body.

  Aleco woke up after the worst was over. The wound had coagulated and turned to a faint pink, looking like an ordinary stab mark. “This is a very nasty cut, Aleco,” Father Giloth said as he examined it. “It looks quite painful.”

  “Aren’t you smart?” Aleco said.

  Father Giloth inserted orange leaves into the cut and packed it under the skin, ensuring there would be no further infection. He showed no indication of being offended by Aleco’s attitude. Suddenly, Aleco winced in pain. “I’m sorry, my boy.” Father Giloth smiled. He wrapped Aleco’s bare chest with a clean linen wrap. “It should heal within a week,” he said as he stowed his supplies away. “And you’ll be as good as new.”

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  “You’re very welcome,” he said.

  Aleco redressed himself while Father Golith locked his supplies in the cabinet. Aleco rubbed his shoulder and was grateful for the absence of any pain. He realized he had to uphold his end of the ridiculous bargain. “Let’s get this over with,” he said. “Where must I go?”