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

to see Damus lowering his flute from his lips to speak. “Nesshin lore tells of Zadok’s murder at the hands of Thera his child. When the first Well dimmed, a thought entered the hearts of wicked men to seek out those whose souls bore fragments of Thera’s own. Over long years they gathered nine victims—human and Gen, male and female, innocent and vicious—and marred their souls to revive the Queen of the Void. Her power ignited the Great Fire.”
    Xander was the first to speak—tentatively, like a pupil correcting his master. “Your knowledge of my people’s faith is impressive, but neither our scriptures nor our priests mention Thera’s revival by wicked men. Where did you hear that story?”
    “From someone who was there.” Damus’ voice and eyes remained steady. “I’ve also heard stories of Hazeroth. He’s said to have been a prince in ancient Thysia who unpeopled whole countries in a string of vain wars. For that, they made him a prince in hell.”
    “If the Isnashi told the truth—” Xander stopped himself before he spoke the rest of his thought: His kind may be hunting my clan! Afraid that voicing his fear would make it real, he said instead, “then the Night Gen are a threat to us all.”
    “Indeed.” The pontifex’s hand on Xander’s shoulder hinted that the old priest knew what had gone unsaid. “But if they truly have ships that fly between spheres, how can we hope to resist them?”
    “Perhaps my Brotherhood can atone for its sins,” Arcanadeus said, holding his rolled-up map aloft like Nessh raising storms with his staff. “If means to oppose the Night Tribe’s conquest exist on Mithgar, they will be found at Teran Nazim.”
    Please let that be true, Xander prayed silently. And let us find them in time!

8
    Medvia lay silent in the rosy glow of dawn as Xander led Arcanadeus, Damus, and Nahel to the town’s south gate. The odd band stood in the dusty street—the treacherous paths awaiting them ruled out horses—waiting for the barricade to open.
    “Why aren’t we going west?” asked Nahel. “That’s where the pass is.”
    “This is why.” Xander drew in the dust with his new spear—a gift included among the tent, rope, and provisions supplied by the pontifex. First he made a dot. “This is Medvia.” He moved the spear about a foot and raked it downward in a zigzag line that curved around to the right, fencing in the dot from below and to the left.
    “These are the mountains,” Xander continued, indicating an interruption in the line to the dot’s left. “That is the main pass.” Punctuating the dirt below the line’s eastward curve he said, “That’s the Salmeara Valley. Crossing the western pass; then backtracking south and east takes many days.”
    Days my people may not have…
    Xander paused, aware that all eyes were watching him. Feeling equally proud and anxious, he hovered the spear’s point over a smaller gap just below and to the right of the dot. “A lesser-known pass lies to the south. Using it will cut our journey in half.”
    Arcanadeus placed a soft hand on Xander’s back. “An auspicious start,” the Master said. “You’re in for a double share if this keeps up.”
    Damus gently elbowed Nahel in the ribs. “What did I say about the Nesshin?”
    Suppressing a smile, Xander wondered if the men of his tribe felt the same satisfaction when the Council acknowledged their worth.
    Two guards descended from the stone sentry box. They each spared only a sidelong glance at the motley expedition before heaving the wooden gate open.
    Xander strode forward holding his freshly shorn head high. He was leading men back into the same desert he’d fled the day before, and he meant to prove he wasn’t afraid. Though he wouldn’t admit it, the proof wasn’t for his companions, or even himself. It was for his father.
    Who was still out there somewhere amid the endless dunes.
     
    The first few hours passed easily, thanks to Damus’ lively songs. Arcanadeus