Read Online Souldancer (Soul Cycle Book 2) by Brian Niemeier - Free Book Online

servants. His own memory of a harrowing chase through the desert night evoked fears he dared not name.
    Protests filled the circle. “Pontifex,” said one of the priests, “this is a brazen fraud! The dog-thing is no malakh, but a demon in league with the heathen Gen. He moves the corpse, making it prophesy falsely.”
    Xander looked from Nahel, who stood dumbstruck beside the dead Isnashi , to the muttering circle of priests. The air felt heavy with the sort of unease that precipitated violence, but his thoughts were far away; somewhere in the desert.
    Arcanadeus approached the circle. He spoke quietly at first, but at last he shouted over the clamor. “And if it speaks truly—what then?”
    The priests’ outraged voices drowned out Arcanadeus again until the pontifex cried, “Let him speak!”
    The Steersman bowed. “My good men. You speak in defense of your creed, and that is wise. But count the cost of rash judgment. God may speak through unbelievers, and willful ignorance of prophecy is a sin.”
    “We need no guildsman’s lecture on sin,” said one of the priests. “We—not you—are charged to discern the truth of oracles.”
    “I share your love of truth,” Arcanadeus said. “Is it untrue that strange days are upon us? Which of you believed in skin-changing Gen before one was brought here dead and bound? You doubt its witness; perhaps rightly. But heed its warning, and at worst you suffer embarrassment. Ignore its warning, and you may forfeit your lives.”
    A susurrus of muttered agreement filled the gathering.
    “Continue, friend malakh,” the pontifex said.
    Nahel continued. “The Night Tribe serves Shaiel?”
    “He has promised to give us this sphere,” said the corpse. “In return we seek the master’s kin—the hosts of the Souldancer.”
    Nahel’s face became dour. “What does he want with them?”
    The Isnashi’s laughter was cowed and gloating at the same time. “The Night Tribe disdains piety, but not enough to question a god! You should know better, malakh.”
    “I know that Thera’s the goddess of the Void,” said Nahel. “And last I checked, she was dead. Whoever Shaiel is, he’s putting you on.”
    “Whatever you think you know,” the Isnashi said, “my master already owns this world. His coddling of Mithgar’s humans will end when the Night Tribe takes possession.”
    Wild fear drove Xander to the center of the circle where the dead Isnashi lay. The cold raised gooseflesh on his skin, and sulfur stung his nose. It took an effort to keep his words from running together. “You hunted me in the desert! Do you know what has become of my clan?”
    A chuckle oozed from the corpse’s blackened lips. The flame in its mouth gleamed like sapphires under a full moon. Xander heard shouting behind him. He turned but had only enough time to see the priest he’d knocked down in his mad rush struggling to stand with Damus’ aid.
    “The circle is broken.” The Isnashi’s voice dripped with malice that froze Xander where he stood. Invisible arms squeezed his chest.
    I cannot breathe, Xander realized—an idle thought that aroused dull resignation instead of terror.
    With a feral growl, Nahel severed the Isnashi’s head. The blue flame died, and the corpse crumbled into a pile of ash. Xander folded to the sandy ground, gulping down draughts of air.
    A furry hand gripped Xander’s arm and hoisted him to his feet. “Breaking the circle broke the binding,” said Nahel. “You gotta be more careful.”
    The pontifex rushed forward and laid his hands on Xander’s chest and forehead.
    “Is he all right?” asked Nahel.
    The pontifex heaved a deep sigh. “The unclean spirit has departed.”
    “A blessing, to be sure,” Arcanadeus said, “though he leaves devilish puzzles in his wake.”
    “Who are the hosts of the Souldancer?” Xander wondered aloud. In the silence that followed, he realized that everyone was staring at him.
    A shrill note split the night. Every head turned