Soul Energy : Chapter One

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Gaspard was bored. His master had locked him in highest tower room for three days without food, drink or entertainment as punishment for his slight loss of control at the feast. Cracks in the circular wall showed the strain the tower had suffered as a result of the punishment. The little furniture that adorned the room was strewn across the wooden floor, reduced to unrecognisable pieces of wood and stone. A smirk flashed briefly across Gaspard’s young but worn face as the memory of that night surfaced…2

The hall had been swept, and icy water from the Audes had been thrown across the floor to ensure the floor was fit for the Prince’s arrival. Newly woven, russet rugs had been laid with the utmost of care by the women upon both the flag-stoned floor and the granite walls. The scrubbed feast table was set out in the centre of the room, decked with enormous joints of venison, pork, and beef, supplemented by a rich variety of foreign foods unknown to Gaspard. 3

With the blood-red sun just sinking above the surrounding mountaintops, a horn’s bellow announced the arrival of the prince and his guard, armed to the teeth with notched blades, worn leather armour and punctured shields. Obviously the journey across the rugged mountaintops had taken their toll on these pitiful men. Gaspard viewed them with open scorn evident on his features as they dragged their road-weary feet to the table, eyes lighting up as they discovered the feast before them. 4

The prince, who had not bothered to announce himself, was limping slightly behind the horde of ravenous men his guard had become, wincing as his left foot brushed the floor with every second step. Even from where he stood on the balcony, a good thirty feet overlooking the hall, the stench of the festering wound still reached his crooked nose. From the corner of his eye, Gaspard saw that the host had still to notice the prince’s ailment, showing incompetence of the highest status, too immersed in stuffing his face full of pig meat. He scowled; this obese fool sitting in the host’s high-backed alder chair would not last long in this role, as had his predecessors. 5

The last five decades had spawned one incompetent ruler after another. Of course, Gaspard did not know this for sure; being only into his third decade, but his master had related the history of his clan during long candle-lit hours in the study, being taught the lore of the land, and whatever other remnants of information Karn decided was worth feeding his disciple. This often varied, depending on recent events, and of course what mood Karn was in at the time. As a result, inevitably Gaspard’s knowledge in some areas flourished, while in others it was full of patches. But he knew enough to understand the flow of power in his clan. This present ruler would be overthrown or assassinated within the next two months, he’d bet his sword on it. 6

As Gaspard watched the prince hobble to the table, he heard a name escape the lips of the host. “Cador”. His eyebrow arched in surprise, and he wondered what the implications this visit would mean to his future. The arrival of such an important figure could only bring bad tidings. Interesting.7

A cool breeze swept a wisp of auburn, shoulder-length hair across his face. A quick glance to the entrance confirmed that the double doors had not been shut after the prince. Obviously the servants had forgotten themselves in the midst of such a presence and sure enough, the two young boys who were on door-duty were to be seen at the table, sneaking food where they could from between the broad shoulders of the men. Time for a bit of fun.8

Gaspard quickly scanned the table with his almond shaped eyes, and found Karn seated to the left of their gracious host oblivious to his surroundings, his eyes on the tall slim woman with flowing ebony hair opposite him. He wouldn’t notice if he had been hit over the back of his gnarled head with a chair, let alone a bit of mischief. A furtive glance around the rest of the hall confirmed that he was unwatched. A wicked grin landed on his refined features, twisting them into something malignant. His eyes now on the boy who was now half under the table straining to reach a dropped steak, he calmly pointed his index finger at him, feeling the familiar silver nimbus form around his hand. A split second later, an unseen force kicked the boy in the behind, sending him crashing into the underneath of the table. While this derived some attention from the people surrounding the incident, Gaspard was partly glad and partly annoyed that his display had failed to create more of an impact. A dark shadow fell over his face, shadowing his azure eyes and casting a haunted look upon him. Unaware that Karn’s accusing eyes were now upon him, the interest in the woman feigned, he quickly drew a raw symbol in the air with two fingers, and with a mutter cast forth his creation towards the second boy, who was by the slim woman that had caught Karn’s attention. 9

In the back of his mind, Gaspard knew that this was risky, that it was much more likely to be noticed, but then, the risk is what made it fun. A shimmer in the air flew straight as an arrow towards the boy’s legs, and Gaspard leaned forward slightly in anticipation of the results. Closer the shimmer flew, everyone oblivious to it, which was just how he had designed it to be. The feeling of total control was exhilarating; the feeling that everything that had and would happen had been orchestrated by him, and him alone. But this feeling was short-lived. As he watched his piece of mischief grow ever closer to its target, it began to waver, and hit the ground barely a hair’s breadth from his boy’s foot. His forehead wrinkled in confusion; he never missed. The answer to his confusion came in a head-spinning blow to his forehead, sending him flying backwards from the balcony into the room behind to land in an undignified heap of expensive silk and livid fury on velvet curtains. 10

But despite his fury at the attack, Gaspard did not need to return to the balcony to know that his master’s eyes were burning with ice, and that the blow had only been cautionary: he’d suffered much worse in the past. The disfiguring scar across his chest served as a reminder of Karn’s power. Wisely he chose not to return to the balcony, knowing that there was nothing to be gained by it; no-one was aware of the incident that had just occurred, that much was obvious as the lull of sound remained unchanged, and Gaspard knew that his master would seek him later for reprimanding. So for now he withdrew, nursing his hurt pride more than anything else, preparing for the confrontation with his fears later on.11

“What did you think you were doing, you stupid, thoughtless, arrogant git?” Each pause was punctuated by a blow that would have crushed a normal man, but merely made Gaspard take one step back: he had been trained well. Haggard old man, one day soon your strength shall pale in comparison to mine. Karn could glimpse into the minds of lesser men, but Gaspard had learnt at an early age how to hide his true thoughts from the prying inner eyes of his master. It was how he had survived. Karn was valued by the Chief, as he could foresee when the seeds of a mutiny or unease might arise, and advise as too whether to eliminate the threat or not. If Karn had been able to see Gaspard’s inner-most thoughts, he would have long been rotting in a ditch five miles outside the city. Part of his teachings from Karn had been in relation to this. “The faces of men not only show the effects of external forces, but of internal as well. You can always see the truth in their eyes.”12

Karn continued to berate Gaspard, not losing him temper, but rather keeping his cool, which made it all the more terrifying; Gaspard was used to men losing his temper at him, it happened on regular occasions, he would just stand there until the storm of rage blew itself out. His master was another matter though; the storm would never rise with him. Instead, an icy front would emerge, one which was nearly impossible to escape from unharmed. On the rare occasions that he had been unfortunate enough to witness this cold rage, Gaspard had only been able to stand before his master, awaiting the inevitable punishment. This time was no different.13

He watched with the air of a dog with his tail between his legs as Karn paced the study before him. He had sought out Gaspard within ten minutes of the feast ending, not giving him the time to hide. This had been unexpected. This was the always the worst part, the part where Karn would say not a word, leaving Gaspard to squirm under the scrutiny, lowering his spirits. And then striking like a snake with his punishment. 14

“Gaspard you have no idea of the importance of that meeting do you?” 15

Not trusting his voice to stay steady, he merely shook his head, eyes boring a hole in the floor. Stepping forward so that his face was so close that Gaspard could smell the tang of the marinade that had been on the meat, he continued. 16

“The future of this land decided on the events that occurred earlier, and during it, all you could do was play childish games! Surely I taught you better than that. Could you not see how uneasy the chief was, how there was an undercurrent of tension flowing through the hall?” 17

Karn stepped back and continued to pace, lapsing into silence for the moment. 18

Gaspard might as well have been able to read minds like Karn though; his thoughts were painted on the canvas of his face for all to see. Or so he thought. His master whirled around as if struck by lightning. 19

“On top of that, you attempted a spell well beyond your current level of mastery, and ignoring the fact that you lost control of it you also unleashed it on an innocent bystander not ten feet away from Cador!” Gaspard winced at the fresh accusation. Yet again it seemed that he’d underestimated his master. He’d thought that cloaking the spell would hide the fact that he had lost control of it if Karn had happened to see it. Swathed in a coarsely-woven brown hooded cloak his teacher was often underestimated by thick-headed soldiers, suffering taunts such as ‘feeble cripple’ and ‘legless fool’. The insults varied every time as Karn would adopt another persona, as it were, sometimes feigning a crippled leg, sometimes feigning being drunk, although Gaspard was not entirely sure that he was just feigning the latter: Karn was very fond of his drink. 20

A sudden change in the atmosphere signified that Karn had come to a decision. Gaspard could see perfectly well in his mind’s eye what would happen now; Karn would get behind him, and sap his consciousness, for him to wake up in the familiar tower room, with a piece of parchment explaining his punishment, and then he would leave the tower to carry out whatever chores he had been assigned, until the time came for another lesson, where studying would continue as if nothing had ever happened. So he knew perfectly well that Karn would make his move in the next two seconds, but he also knew that he was unable to see him when he moved. He was too fast. So he made no attempt to stop him, allowing the inevitable to take place. It was less painful that way. The familiar rush of air ensued, Karn making no noise whatsoever. But that wasn’t quite true this time. Gaspard was able to make out a slight shimmer in the air, and could hear the swish of the cloak as Karn passed his field of vision. Taking strength from this revelation, Gaspard swung himself around to where he guessed Karn was and snapped his fist out. He discerned a brief intake of breath, then blackness clouded his vision and he crashed to the floor. 21

Which brought him back to his current situation. By his reckoning, one and a half days had passed so far. A long time to go without food. He slid his hand into his cloak and brought out the stale bread, salted pork and apples that he’d had the foresight to steal from under the chef’s nose before the feast. While he dined on the salted pork, he mulled over what had happened. Why would a visit from Cador bring such bad tiding? The name was not unfamiliar to Gaspard. Cador was somewhat a legend among the common people; tales of his exploits had spread far through the land, how he slew four great winged lizards with nothing more than a sharpened stake and a punctured shield. Nevertheless…22

Suddenly he lost his train of thought. He sensed rather than heard someone ascending the winding, worn staircase up the tower. He rose to his feet, his midnight blue linen shirt adorned with a silver dragon, hidden underneath his familiar crimson hooded cloak. It was obvious from the footsteps that it wasn’t Karn making a social visit. If he had been, Gaspard would not have been able to hear him coming. Also, by now laboured breathing could be heard; whoever was coming was out of shape. All the same, it didn’t hurt to be cautious. Making less noise than a cat, he padded to the left of the door, and waited in the shadows. 23