The Soul Sphere: Book 01 - The Shattered Sphere (17 page)

Lucien grunted but said nothing.

“Tala, is there some bit of hand waving you can do to get us through this one?” Corson asked with an exaggerated expression of hopefulness, like a school boy asking for a present.

She chuckled, but the serious look soon returned. “I’m afraid my parlor tricks won’t be much good here.”

“Fire,” Demetrius said.

“That might do the trick,” said Tala. “Let me have a torch.”

While Demetrius pulled a torch from his pack, Lucien asked, “What good that do? Have too few.”

“But the wood in this forest is dry,” Demetrius replied. “We could build up a pile of limbs and branches around the nest and light the whole thing off.”

Tala got the torch going and pressed it against the halved insect at her feet. Its skin charred swiftly, giving off a sour stench. She rose, reared back with the torch held over her shoulder in a throwing position, and asked, “Ready?” Getting a nod from Demetrius, she flung the torch into the nest.

The creatures let out high-pitched screams of pain and confusion as the fire landed among them. The nest boiled for a moment with vigorous activity before the torch blinked out, smothered under the creatures’ slithering bodies. If the little beasts had any sense of where the attack came from or any intention of responding to it, they kept it hidden.

“We should work in teams of two,” Demetrius said, taking charge as the plan took shape in his mind. “One placing the wood, the other ready with a weapon in case it’s needed. We should encircle the whole nest. Start several feet distant, then move the wood closer as the pile grows. Let’s gather as much wood as we can before we start building. We want to keep our time near the nest as brief as possible.”

Wood was easy enough to find in this ancient forest, and the nearly impenetrable canopy above kept the fallen, dead branches and twigs dry and ready to burn. The nest was centered in a cleared area of decent size for this dense forest, but not so large that Demetrius could be certain they wouldn’t be starting a much larger fire than desired. He admitted as much in reply to a question from Rowan. “We’ll need to clear as much brush away as we can, maybe even turn up the dirt to make a small break. But if the living trees burn as quickly as the dead limbs, and they catch fire…”

“Then we’ll go out in a blaze of glory,” said Corson.

The work was quick but heavy. Alexis was actually happy to feel the internal warmth bloom from the effort, to feel the sweat on her brow again after so many weeks traveling in chilly air. And the activity, the act of doing, was infinitely better than the journey through the black wood, and the dread of waiting for what might lie unseen in the dark.

The nest had returned to its normal state, the extinguished torch forgotten and the newcomers ignored. Occasionally one of the creatures drifted toward the growing pile of wood, but the movement was random and without purpose, and always it turned back to the close comfort of its brothers and sisters. A healthy stack of wood soon surrounded the nest. “That should do,” said Demetrius. “Let’s clear the brush away as best we can.”

They worked as they had on the pile, Demetrius, Rowan, and Alexis doing the labor, Corson, Tala, and Lucien guarding them with ready weapons. The ground was hard and dry, and resisted their efforts to dig a small trench. “Let’s hope we don’t need it,” said Demetrius. “It is time.”

They lit three torches, encircled the area with their weapons drawn, and then touched off the pile of dead wood. It kindled quickly, and a roaring blaze soon reared up.

The heat grew, forcing Corson back a step. The keening screams of the creatures reached his ears. He glimpsed them between the flames, their writhing more frantic, the heat pressing in on them from all sides.

Lucien took a larger limb and pushed the burning wood closer to the nest, then flipped the branch over the blaze so the thicker portion fell amongst the creatures, drawing the scorching flames with it. The large insects began to panic, some daring the flames where they withered quickly as they met a fiery end.

Rowan joined the others in keeping new wood on the raging inferno and forcing it ever closer to the nest. The screams were almost sickening, pain and the anguish of death in each piercing note. Rowan had always feared being burned alive—just the thought of it touched a fearful place deep inside that no beast or sword ever could. He checked the surrounding trees while wiping sweat not caused by the heat of the blaze from his face, and he prayed for the safety of his companions as well as himself. He wasn’t sure he could say he pitied the dying creatures, but those screams…

The new wood drew the fire further inward, and the nest was now completely enveloped. The pile settled as it burned, melting toward the ground or directly into the hole which led to the nest’s subterranean portion. A few of the creatures found their way out of the flames, but these were met with sharp steel.

They tossed new wood onto the blaze over the pit, the flames licking up to new heights. Alexis checked the woods, which seemed less daunting now, lit by a greater light than they had had for days. The trees shone with the reflected glow of the growing bonfire, but no stray spark had lit any of them off. Alexis knew if that happened they could do little to stop the fire from spreading out of control, and that they might meet the same gruesome fate as the insects.

Alexis turned her eyes back to the blaze just as it exploded. In a flash of sparks, burning wood and insects were tossed up and out. Like a striking viper an insect lunged from the nest, in form like the others but much larger, rising well over Alexis’ head even though some of its body remained hidden below the surface. It fell directly toward her, its mandibles snapping and its legs flailing, looking for something to grab onto to pull itself clear of the fire. Alexis had less than an instant to react, but her spear was before her and she only needed to brace herself.

The monster impaled itself on the spear, its own speed and weight driving the metal tip deeper into its body than Alexis could have thrust it. Thick black blood oozed down the shaft of the weapon and onto Alexis’ hands and arms. It thrashed violently, trying to get loose, trying to shake free of the thing that held it fast and kept its mandibles a few inches away from its enemy.

Alexis strained every muscle to keep her balance and maintain her grip. The blood continued to pour from the wound, making the wooden shaft slick.

The creature screamed, a high-pitched siren that could shatter glass. It bent its head so that its four eyes focused all their baleful rage on Alexis. Its yell was directed right into her face, and carried the foul stench of rot and decay with it.

Alexis loosed her own scream, a Lorgrasian war cry. For a lingering moment they held those screams, warriors locked in a fatal embrace.

The creature snapped again with its mandibles, still unable to close the gap between the razor-sharp appendages and the flesh that was so near. Its legs reached in vain for the woman that held it at bay. Its lower body burned and shriveled, caught in the fire that still raged around them.

Alexis could see its strength starting to ebb, and she held her position, knowing time was on her side. Finally help arrived, Demetrius hacking the creature just below where the spear had entered, severing its body in three strokes. Alexis took what was left and thrust it into the flames. She watched it wither and burn, her eyes ablaze with a fire that was more than solely a reflection of what was before her.

Insect bodies were strewn about the area, many burned, some sliced by weapons after they had been thrown clear of the fire while still alive. Rowan worked furiously to stamp out the burning embers that had been tossed outward, and used his cloak to put out one small blaze that threatened to get out of control. In a matter of minutes everything flung from the bonfire had been quieted, and the roaring central fire burned deeper into the nest. The screams of the insects stilled.

Corson slid next to Alexis, his face stained with soot and sweat. “You dealt well with ‘Mama.’ ”

“Thank you,” Alexis replied as she flicked the thick black blood from her hands. “I was fortunate.”

“That it sprang right at you? I wouldn’t want your luck.”

“That my spear was in front of me. If it had been at my side…”

“Being prepared is not luck,” Tala said. She took a long look at the fire settling further into the nest. “We should wait for it to burn out on its own. Make sure nothing living yet stirs below.”

Alexis smiled softly. “You will get no argument from me. I have had my fill of fighting what lives below.”

“Spear serves you well,” Lucien said, raising his warblade in salute. He gave Alexis a slight bow.

Alexis understood the gesture, and the respect it conveyed. “I am honored, Lucien.”

“Is the shard still in the pit?” Demetrius asked. “As much as was thrown clear when that monster—.”

“Mama,” Corson said, as if correcting his friend.

Demetrius shook his head, but his lips betrayed him with a smirk. “ ‘Mama’ then. My point is that the shard may no longer be below.”

Tala was beginning to dig into her pouch for the partial Sphere when a flash of movement caught her eye. One of the insects, half charred black, still clung to life. It struck at Tala’s leg with what little strength it had left, and was neatly cleaved in two by Lucien’s warblade for its last, spiteful act. But the mandibles had found their mark, driving through the thick leather of Tala’s boot and biting into the flesh just above her right ankle.

Tala gave a small shout, more from surprise than pain. She shook the thing off easily, its muscles gone lax in death.

“I sorry,” Lucien said, his eyes large and his expression pained. “I should be quicker.”

“Nonsense,” Tala replied. “I am thankful you were as swift as you were.” She gave a little grimace, then, seeing the concerned faces of the group, she said, “Just stings a bit.” She finished retrieving the Soul Sphere from her pouch, cast her spell, and then said, “It remains centered in the nest, about two feet beneath the surface. As the fire dies, it should be easy enough to fish out.”

She stepped away from the nest-centered blaze, but could not escape the eyes of her companions. “I am fine,” she told them, trying to sound more certain than she felt. The wound was beginning to burn and send sharp pains shivering up her leg.

Rowan diverted his eyes from Tala. He had been studying her face, and could see the pain and fear she was trying to mask. He waited until the others had busied themselves watching the fire or scouring the small clearing for any other half-alive insects, then worked his way over to Tala. “I’m no healer, but I might be able to help if I can look at the wound.”

She made to protest, but was wracked by a sudden wave of agony. Reluctantly she sat on the ground and removed her boot, muffling a cry as she did so.

Rowan started to suck air between his teeth as he saw the injury, but caught himself. He offered Tala an ineffective smile instead.

The puncture wounds were small, one on each side of the leg, but the skin around them had already gone to deep purple, almost to black where the holes were. Rowan thought he could see the swelling getting worse even as he watched.

Tala winced as the paladin gently laid his hands on the wound. He closed his eyes in prayer, channeling healing power through himself. Strain started to show on his face after a few moments. He pulled his hands away with a soft sigh.

“I can do no more,” he said, struggling to meet her eyes. Thin black fluid ran from the two punctures. “For now,” he added.

“The pain is less,” she said. “Thank you.”

He nodded, then tore off part of his bedroll and bound the leg with it, tying it off hard below the knee to try to slow the spread of the poison they did not understand, but which they both knew was in Tala’s body.

As the fire waned, Corson drew closer to the nest, trying to ignore the stench given off by the roasted creatures. “I don’t think they’d make a good supper,” he said to no one in particular. Inside the pit the flames were dying out, but the embers still glowed a golden red and the heat that rose from the hole prevented him from taking any more than a very swift look inside.