Shattered Soul Read online

  “Phemar. Overlord.” The words whispered from the corners, chasing the shadows away from them.

  Black figures scuttled away, slipping back into the fire.

  A horned, barely-seen beast tossed its horns and flared its nostrils, but it bowed its head and looked up from an almost submissive posture.

  “Damn you, Beulah!” Phemar snarled. “You have no business here!”

  “Your atrocities are felt in the spirit world.” Her voice whispered from the roof of the chamber. “You have taken someone not belonging to you.”

  “The warrior was marked a long time ago.” Taking a calming breath, the dark mystic hunched slightly, turning partly away.

  Fredrico was surprised to realize that somehow, for some reason, the mystic was wary of the witch woman. How interesting. Standing beside The Overlord’s throne, he watched closely.

  “The warrior was not yours to mark,” Beulah stated.

  “You cannot take her back.” Phemar glared at her.

  “No, I cannot.” Lifting her hand, she laid it upon the bowed head of the kneeling warrior. “But I can give her back her mind and her soul in one piece.”

  “She is ruined.” Phemar waved one hand, a piece of smouldering flesh spattering on the floor.

  “No soul is ruined, no soul cannot be brought back together.” The words drifted through on the fresh breeze that swept the rancid smell from the chamber. “Some souls need a little more, and that will come and help make them complete once more. For now, though, it’s the warrior I see to.”

  “You think you can reclaim her?” He sneered.

  Fredrico saw the flare of a falling star in Beulah’s left eye. How much power did this witch woman have? He didn’t remember her being so powerful the last time he saw her, when she’d come to the fortress with Sinya the space pirate. And he didn’t remember her quite like this, then again, different forces worked in strange ways, as he was well aware.

  Beulah gazed calmly at Phemar.

  “Witch woman,” The Overlord said quietly.

  She turned that calm face to him and Fredrico almost shuddered at the otherworldliness of her features. It was her, but not. It wafont not. s as though a different side of her was imposed over her own self.

  Two sides of a whole.

  Weird. But in a nice way. Made a change from weird in a terrifying way.

  “I need her,” The Overlord continued. “I need her body and soul.”

  “You never own someone, Overlord.” The words seeped up from the floor. “But I know why you need her.”

  “Then help me.”

  She looked at him, the flare of stars in her eyes almost brilliant.

  The Overlord’s pupils elongated. “Or I should say, help her to help me. And help me to keep the darkness in my control.”

  “You think you know much, Overlord, but you don’t know half of it,” Beulah said. “But one day you will. For now, I bring the warrior back whole. But note this, Phemar,” she turned her gaze to the dark mystic, “she will never be complete darkness.”

  “Her ties are to me!”

  “Your ties dragged her back, but it’s my ties that make her whole.”

  “What?” His head jerked, and for one awful second Fredrico thought he was actually going to get a look at a face he’d never wanted to see in his life.

  “Do it,” The Overlord stated.

  “No,” Phemar grated.

  The fire snapped, sparks splintering upwards at his rage. He tried to step forward but couldn’t get close to the light. It cast a sickly light across his decaying hands and he shuffled back into the darkness as the white light flared even brighter.

  Fredrico couldn’t see what happened. The light shone brighter and brighter, driving the darkness back until the whole chamber was lit so brightly he couldn’t keep his eyes open. Covering his eyes with his arm, he turned away.

  It suddenly felt as though things were in the chamber with them. Something slid around his neck, something chattered angrily in his ear. Bodies, so many bodies. An impression of hugeness, golden light, deep voices rising in a harmony of song. The sound of water trickling, space and air, sun and wind.

  Peace.

  He hadn’t known peace for so long.

  His heart yearned suddenly, reaching out, and without thinking he turned back towards the light and opened his eyes just a fraction. He was almost shocked to see that his arms were stretched out, his hands reaching.

  Something warm slid up his arm, seeped into him, and the flowery scent was inside him, seeking and searching, a little bright light that vanished as suddenly as the beautiful light did before his eyes.

  Blinking, feeling a sense of loss, he looked around.

  The light was gone. Beulah was gone. The stench of Phemar’s putrid flesh was back, and the shadows slunk out from the fire, crawling along the ground to hunker down in the corners.

  He could almost fancy that his soul gave a little cry of despair.

  Idiot. My path was set a long time ago. Focus on what is at hand or you’ll be dead in no time.

  He became aware of The Overlord and Veknor beside him, their eyes on the kneeling warrior.

  Phemar strode around the fire to stand directly in front of the warrior, glaring down at her. “Come, bitch warrior, show me if the witch womahine witchn could do what I could not.”

  She tipped her head back slowly and for the first time Fredrico saw sanity in the green depths of her eyes. Looking up at Phemar, the warrior pushed to her feet in a movement slow but fluid. Graceful.

  “My name,” she said in a husky voice, “is Rani. And I know what you did.” She thrust the dark mystic’s dagger straight into his stomach.

  He let loose a cry of pain and surprise.

  Veknor and Fredrico stiffened, immediately going on the defensive, but The Overlord held up one hand, stopping them from going to the dark mystic’s aid.

  For once Fredrico was in hearty agreement. It would make his day if the bastard died.

  Rani stepped forward, no fear on her beautiful face but fury in her eyes. The softness of her words belied the rage Fredrico could see in every line of her lithe, strong body. Standing so close to the dark mystic, she looked down into the depths of his hood without flinching.

  “You can’t kill me,” Phemar hissed wetly, blood slipping from both his stomach and his hood.

  “No, but I can hurt you.” She wrenched the dagger handle and the blade bit upwards. “I can hurt you bad.”

  Stepping back swiftly, she placed one foot against his stomach just below the dagger and shoved hard.

  He dislodged from the blade with a wet, sucking sound. Staggering back, hands clasped to his bleeding stomach, he hunched over and whispered indistinguishable words.

  Ignoring him, The Overlord continued to watch Rani with interest.

  Fredrico watched her warily.

  Turning towards them, Rani regarded them all steadily. Fury still burned in her eyes but it was controlled. Walking forward her steps were sure, her booted feet treading precisely on the stone floor.

  Fredrico tensed when her gaze landed on him and he made to draw his own dagger out, only to have The Overlord lay his small, cold hand over his to stop him. Her gaze never wavered as she strode right up to Fredrico. Reaching out, she grabbed his shirt. Holding the dagger in one hand, his shirt in the other, she looked down at him.

  He was tall, but the woman was half a head taller again. Having her gazing down at him should have made him even warier, but he just knew she wasn’t going to do anything stupid. He hoped. The Overlord seemed to think she was no threat, but hell, half the things he thought were no threat was enough to make Fredrico blanche. Or used to make him blanche. Not much did now.

  It took him by surprise when she gave his shirt a sharp tug, pulling it free from his pants. Bringing up the dagger, she wiped the bloodied blade on the hem of his shirt. Not once did she speak, but her gaze remained locked on his. Letting his shirt go, she tucked the dagger into the back of her split s
kirt, securing it in the waistband.

  Fredrico felt his lips twitch in amusement and admiration at her audacity.

  Only then did she switch her gaze to Veknor and he looked back at her with his usual stoic expression.

  Finally her gaze dropped to The Overlord where he sat on his throne between Fredrico and Veknor. Angling her head to the side a little, she studied him, and it was not friendly.

  The pupils in his pink eyes elongated before dilating, and then he smiled. “Warrior.”

  “My name,” she sas ee,” sid with deliberate punctuation, “is Rani.”

  “Rani.” He smiled thinly. “Welcome back.”

  She looked around the chamber slowly, at the shadows flittering in the corners, the barely visible horned beast that towered through the ceiling, Phemar still hunched over and then back to The Overlord.

  “Home was never like this.” Irony rang in her husky tones.

  “This chamber is only part of my home.” He gestured to Fredrico. “Show our guest to her chambers. Rani, you will have time to rest and clean up before we dine. No doubt you are hungry and wondering why you’re here.”

  “I know I shouldn’t be here.”

  “But you are.”

  “Yes.” She said it slowly, using that deliberate way she had of drawing out the word. “I am.”

  “I have a very good reason, but first you need to clean up. Fredrico.” The Overlord manoeuvred his throne towards the doorway. “Show Rani to her chambers.”

  Veknor glanced at Fredrico as he followed The Overlord from the chamber. He quirked a brow and there was a ghost of a smile on his face. Fredrico gave a little shrug in return.

  No doubt his friend would want all the details later of what transpired between him and the warrior.

  Once The Overlord and Veknor were gone, Fredrico turned to Rani. “Shall we?”

  He had to give it to her, the woman’s looks could speak volumes. She didn’t have to voice her thoughts, it was all there in her expression, and her expression left him in no doubt that she thought him lower than dirt.

  Curious despite himself, Fredrico led her from the chamber. She fell into step beside him and he glanced sideways at her.

  Gone were the shambling walk, the fighting, and the insanity. In its place strode a warrior confident of her every move.

  A warrior dragged back from the brink of death, pulled back by demonic hands.

  Dead warrior walking.

  No, she was very much a living, breathing warrior.

  Fredrico guided her down the winding stone corridor and up the wide, deep stairs that led upwards from the dungeons. The higher they went, the more sounds they could hear.

  Sighs, screams, the occasional sobs. Laughter. Hounds baying in the distance. The everyday sounds of The Overlord’s fortress in the Inner Sanctum. A place of horrors and dubious peace, where he ruled with a harsh hand and deep insight into the twisted minds of those who were forced to live in the Inner Sanctum.

  They left the dark passages behind and entered the elegance of wide corridors, red velvet drapes and gold-gilded chairs. Heavy wooden doors appeared here and there in the walls, and behind some of them lived the occupants of the fortress.

  Coming to a stop at one door, Fredrico opened it and walked inside. “This is your chamber from now on.” Turning, he looked at Rani as she entered behind him.

  Her gaze swept the room, and he knew what she saw. Rich furnishings, heavy wooden furniture, deep cushions, and paintings on the walls. She crossed to the window and pushed the heavy blue velvet drapes aside. A cool breeze swept through the room and she breathed deeply. In the distance were grey mountains shrouded in clouds. Thunder boomed. A light patter of rain started and she leaned out to look down to the cforown to ourtyard below.

  Standing back, Fredrico had a good view of her long legs, the play of feminine muscles as she braced her weight. Strong, lean, but with womanly curves, the Reeka sparked an interest in him that he hadn’t felt for quite a few years.

  Folding his arms, his hand came into contact with partially dried blood and he grimaced. Looking down, he shifted his hand away from the blood on his shirt. Phemar’s blood was now turning a dull black. The faint smell of rot clung to him. He’d have to shower and change, but even then he’d imagine the smell on him for a while yet.

  Rani stepped back and swung around on her heel.

  “Your bathroom is through that door.” Fredrico gestured to the far door. “Walk in robe beside it. Everything you could wish for is here. What you don’t have, you only need to ask for.”

  The light from the chandelier overhead caught her eyes and for a second Fredrico thought the brilliance shining in them was a tear, but her voice was steady when she replied, “You can’t give me what I want.”

  “Oh?”

  “Freedom.” Her lips twisted. “Freedom or death, that’s the Reeka war cry. But I didn’t get death and I don’t have my freedom.” Turning away, she stared back out the window. “Get out.”

  Fredrico left without another word.

  ~ * ~

  Bounty Hunters’ Ship

  Ceri shook with the pain. Curled up in the corner, she leaned against the stocky body of the hunter as he cradled her in his arms. Not a gentle cradling, but supportive.

  It felt as though every nerve ending shrieked in agony. Her hands shook so much she couldn’t hold the glass, and Abra steadied it as he lifted it to her lips and tipped the pain killer into her yet again.

  She swallowed the bitter mixture but somehow she just knew it wasn’t going to help. Rani. Rani is out there somewhere, and she’s hurting.

  The thought almost tore her apart. Was her sister hurting like she was? The pain, did they both suffer it? Did she have someone to help her?

  “Breath deep,” Abra ordered. “Slow your breathing, Ceri. Slow it.”

  She knew she should. She battled to obey but the agony threatened to tear her very breath from her body. The choppy, rasping sound of her breathing was harsh in the cabin.

  A hand under her chin tipped her head back and she opened her eyes to find herself looking hazily up into Abra’s face.

  His dark eyes glinted. “Look at me. Focus. Deep breaths, Ceri. Slow down. Slow down your breathing or you’ll really be in trouble. Focus.”

  Focus, hell. It was all she could do to even remember how to breathe. Pain tore through her, making her jerk in his arms, and he swore and braced her against him as she arched back.

  The red haze overtook her and the voices in the background almost faded to nothing as blackness stole through the red. Oblivion, yes, she would welcome oblivion. Anything to escape the pain.

  Her breathing started to slow, dragging through her, her heart beat growing steady.

  Steadier.

  Slower.

  Beat... beat...nd t... be beat...

  Skipped a beat. She could felt it skip a beat.

  Slower... so slow...

  “Ceri!” Someone was shaking her. “Goddamn it, Ceri! Don’t you stop!”

  Oblivion beckoned, sweet nothingness, no pain, no -

  A sharp jolt and she rocked.

  “Ceri! Open your eyes! Open your bloody eyes and look at me!”

  She didn’t want to. The pain was going... going... Limp, so very limp. Floating away on sea of soothing nothingness...

  Soft words filtered through the nothingness, and she almost didn’t hear them. “What?”

  A sting. Her cheek hurt. Another sting, forcing her upwards out of the soothing sea. She became aware of the voices, the deep vibration against her ear, and pain came back in a wash. She opened her eyes on a gasp.

  “Keep your eyes open.” Abra’s voice penetrated the darkness, bringing reality back in an unwelcome raking like nails on a board. “Look at me, Ceri. Look at me!”

  The pain wasn’t as bad and she was no longer curled up against it. Instead, she was lying on the floor with her head pillowed on Abra’s thighs. Ricna was kneeling at her other side and withdrawing a needle from h
er arm. Vane was holding a vial and drawing up another syringe full of liquid.

  “What...” She moistened her lips, tried to bring her thoughts into a resemblance of normalcy. “Abra...” Looking straight up, she saw that Abra’s face was upside down, and she blinked in confusion.

  Ricna and Vane stopped and looked down at her.

  “Ceri?” Abra queried.

  “Yes?” The pain was fading and she winced as she tried to sit upright.

  Abra didn’t bother with gentleness. Grabbing her under the arms, he hauled her into a sitting position but rested her against him so that her back was leaning on his chest, her head against his shoulder.

  Reclining against him, she took a deep breath and raised a trembling hand to her cheek. “Why does my cheek hurt?”

  Vane looked at Abra.

  “You bastard,” she croaked. “You hit me?”

  “Not me,” Vane denied quickly. “Abra.”

  She tilted her head back and looked up at Abra.

  His dark-eyed gaze raked across her face. “I was just trying to get you back.”

  “Back?”

  A muscle ticked in his square jaw. “You nearly died.”

  Well, shit. That wasn’t good. Ceri looked at Ricna, who held up the syringe and said, “Eastarl.”

  “Eastarl?”

  “It’s to quicken the heart if it gets too slow.”

  “Slow?”

  “You were down to ten beats a minute.” Ricna shrugged. “Respirations were five.”

  “You were dying,” Vane added.

  She could believe it. The pain had almost torn her apart. Sucking in a deep breath, Ceri became aware that Abra’s arm was across her stomach just beneath her breasts as he held her supported against him.

  Laying her hand on his arm, she was side tracked by the trembled y the ting of her fingers.

  “You were dying,” Abra caught her attention again. “But you shouldn’t have come back so perky.”

  “Perky? You call this perky?” She held up her shaking hand.

  “You’re awake and talking. The most we hoped for was stabilizing you, but you’re almost back to normal.” He shook his head, his braid slipping over his shoulder to tickle her cheek. “It’s not normal.”