Malator tried to sound comforting. The creature takes souls, he said.
I pondered that. “Yes.” I nodded. Maybe I was too afraid to figure it out. “So?”
Your soul is spoken for, Lukien.
“Spoken. .? Huh?”
You have me. I keep you alive in this world. The creature saw no soul in you to take.
I began to panic. “Malator. . where is my soul?”
Gone, Lukien. It’s been gone since Gilwyn gave you the amulet to keep you alive. It’s been gone since the day you died.
23
The rain began falling just after I left the canyon.
It had taken me two hours to reach the canyon on horseback. Without a mount, I knew I wouldn’t make Isowon before nightfall. I’d waited as long as I could for Malator to knit my fractured femur together, until it was strong enough for me to use. At first I was wobbly, still dazed over Zephyr and the news of my vanished soul. I even briefly considered continuing my hunt for Crezil. A stupid idea, since it would have taken days to reach its lair on foot. I’d have to return to the palace, I knew, and face Anton’s mercenaries. Once again, I’d have to tell them how I’d failed.
The rain only added to my misery, falling in fat drops from the clouds that appeared from nowhere. By then the horizon was filled with them, threatening a long, muddy slog home. A cool breeze struck me as I emerged from the canyon. I shivered in my battered armor. Crezil had crushed the bronze cuisse along my thigh I doubted even a blacksmith could fix it. Rain water soaked my eye patch, making the empty socket beneath it itch. In my lungs I could still feel the touch of Crezil’s fire, like a bad sunburn when I breathed. But I just kept walking, mindless, barely aware of my surroundings. Half a mile later, I paused in the middle of a field. I looked up, saw a flash of lightning, and couldn’t stop the question screaming from my lips.
“Where is it!”
A rumble of thunder was my only reply. Even Malator was silent.
“It can’t be gone,” I cried. “That’s impossible!” I pounded my breastplate. “I have a soul! I feel it. How can I be alive without one?”
My knees weakened, and I slumped to the dirt. But I kept my face skyward, hoping that heaven was up there, hiding my soul from me.
“What am I? Without a soul, am I alive? Dead? Someone tell me!”
You’re alive, Lukien. Weep for your soul but have no doubt about your life.
“I doubt!” I screamed. I raked my hands across my cheeks just to feel the blood. “I’m flesh alone!”
Living flesh! Alive!
“You’ve taken my soul, made me a puppet! Damn you, Malator. Damn all you Akari!”
I staggered up again, took a step or two, and tripped over my feet. My face hit the mud. Then I started laughing. “I should have known I didn’t have one! No man with a soul could do the things I’ve done!”
My laugh was demented, the worst kind of self pity. I rolled onto my back and imagined spitting in Malator’s face. I felt him inside me, right next to me, like he was putting an arm around my shoulder.
“Let go of me,” I seethed. “Your touch makes me sick.”
He held on to me with his invisible arm. His voice spoke gently to me. A soul is not all there is to being alive, Lukien. It is only half.
“The important half!”
No. Just the immortal half. It is the soul that keeps a person alive. When you died fighting Trager, you lost yours. Amaraz kept you alive. Then it was my turn.
Amaraz. The great Akari god. He was Gilwyn’s protector now. But the Eye had been mine first, before I ever passed the curse of immortality to Gilwyn.
“Does Gilwyn have a soul?” I wondered.
Gilwyn never died. You gave him the Eye of God before his soul fled. Trager killed you when you fought him. The Eye brought you back just in time. Too late for your soul, though. Do you remember when White-Eye lost her Akari?
I nodded. I wasn’t in Jador when that happened but knew the story well.
That’s how it was with your soul. White-Eye’s Akari vanished forever. Even souls can die, Lukien. They disappear. Yours is gone. It can never come back.
“What if I die? Here in this world, I mean? Will I be gone forever?”
Yes.
I sighed. “Then I can never be with Cassandra. All that time spent hoping to die. . just a waste of time. Why didn’t you ever tell me that, Malator? How dare you keep such secrets?”
Because you don’t trust me, Lukien.
“No, don’t do that! Don’t make this my fault!”
When we left Jador I told you I would be the only friend you need, and that you were meant for something special. All I’ve asked for in return is your trust, yet you won’t give it to me.
“I want my soul back.”
It is gone. Mourn for it if you must, but do not expect to get it back.
The rain pelted my face. All I could think of was Cassandra. Death had always been my great release. I could die in battle or just walk away from Malator and his accursed sword and then be with Cassandra. No more, though. I wasn’t just mortal now, I was something less than alive. Like one of Diriel’s dead men.
“I was wrong when I called you a slave, Malator,” I said. “I’m the slave. Your slave.”
Lukien. .
“First it was Amaraz, now you. The Akari-”
Hush! Someone’s coming.
I didn’t know if I should roll over or just lie there. Finally I whispered, “Where?”
Across the field, from the north. Five riders.
From the north. I twirled like a crocodile onto my belly. The weeds and rain obscured me, I hoped, enough for me to chance lifting my head. Across the field I saw them, five like Malator said, four of them dressed in soldiering clothes. They rode at an angle to my hiding spot, trotting closer on their miserable horses. I parted the grass with my hands for a better look. The dark uniforms made them easy to recognize.
“Akyrens.”
They came a bit closer. Now I could see the man in front. A giant, burly man with a bald head and unmistakable face. My stomach clenched.
Wrestler.
Already he was hunting us. Hunting Cricket, more precisely. My whole body tensed.
Don’t, warned Malator.
“That’s Wrestler!”
They don’t see you. Let them go.
“I can kill them.”
You can’t. You’re weak. Shut up and get down.
I knew he was right, but I didn’t lower my head. I just stared at Wrestler through the grass, sizing him up. Maybe the others would kill me, but I’d get to Wrestler first. I’d cut off his conceited head before they even saw me. They came closer, their only purpose to escape the rain. One of the group pointed to the canyon, seeking shelter I supposed. Wrestler shook his head and kept right on riding. He looked enormous, a black cloak around him, the kind an abbot might wear. His horse was enormous too, an ugly, snorting stallion with an arrogant gait.
How I wanted to kill him!
There’ll be another time, Lukien. You’ll get your chance.
I had my hand so tight around the sword my knuckles hurt. “Promise me that,” I whispered. “Just once, look into the future for me. Promise me I’ll get the chance to kill him.”
You will. I swear it.
His answer was so sure, so swift, I had to believe him. Gradually I lowered my head, hiding myself in the grass. I didn’t look up at all as I heard them approach. The hoof beats of their horses echoed through the ground. My heart thumped louder and louder as they neared. I listened, waited, even hoping a little that they’d find me. And then. .