The Stone of Sorrows

  The Stone of Sorrows

  By Greg James

  Copyright © Greg James 2013

  Published by GJA Publications Ltd

  London, UK

  First Edition published December 2013

  All rights reserved.

  The right of the author to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Any reproduction, resale or unauthorised use of the material or artwork herein is therefore prohibited.

  Disclaimer: The persons, places and events depicted in this work are fictional and any resemblance to those living or dead is unintentional.

  Dedication

  ~ For Rebecca Katherine Magee ~

  ~ May your life be one without sorrow ~

  Prologue

  Kiley Bean didn’t know where she was.

  One minute she had been in the lounge of her home in Okeechobee, the next she was standing in a dome-shaped cavern that stank of sulphur and rot. There was light, dull and ominous, but she wasn’t sure where it was coming from. And she was surrounded by hooded figures squatting around ornately carved circular patterns that decorated the cavern floor. The stone was warm under her bare feet, and she could feel a slight rhythm passing through it, like an enormous heartbeat that was gigantic enough to split a mountain to its roots if the pulse picked up much more. One of the hooded figures stood before her, his black-gloved fingers clutching a staff surmounted by a polished skull. A single horn topped the skull and winked obsidian in the low light.

  “Where the hell am I?”

  “This world is Seythe, sister of the Flame.”

  “Flame? What flame?”

  “Your bloodkin. Known to you as Sarah Bean.”

  “Sarah? Where is she? I want to see her.”

  The figure hissed in the darkness of its hood. Kiley hadn’t seen the face yet, and something told her she didn’t want to. Had she fallen asleep on the couch? Was this a dream?

  “She knows much more than you think, and is much more than you could hope her to be. Sarah Bean is the Living Flame, a daughter of prophecy.”

  Kiley swallowed hard as the figure went on.

  “She holds the power of a Goddess in her breast, chosen by destiny to hold a power and strength that should have been mine—”

  This couldn’t be real. It had to be a dream.

  “Cuh-come on, really? Are you serious? My sister is the chosen one ... or something? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  A silence descended in the cavern and she felt the great heartbeat underfoot pause as well. The figure before her took a long, sibilant breath and then said a few words quietly, “None mock me.”

  Suddenly, Kiley was flying through the air—flying fast. Her back slammed into the jagged rock wall of the cavern. Her lungs emptied as if she had been punched in the gut, and she curled in on herself as the figure drifted across the stone floor toward her. He held the staff aloft, gesturing at her with its bone-capped heel. She couldn’t breathe. Not one mouthful of air would pass her lips, no matter how hard she tried to swallow some down to replenish her crumpled lungs.

  “None laugh at me, bitchling. None mock me. Ever. Do you understand? I am E’blis, Lord of the Fallen. Once, I was the Creator of Men in this world. You are the sister of the Living Flame and you will obey me, or I shall drive the breath from your body forever and leave you here to rot.”

  With that, the spell was broken. Kiley heaved in heavy breaths of air, her body shivering as the fuzziness and clouds of dark colour that had been swimming into her senses began to fade.

  He hurt me. This is real, she thought, this is far too real.

  Getting to her knees, still dry-heaving, she looked up at E’blis towering over her. One thought alone went through her mind: Oh, Sarah, where are you? What’ve they done to you?

  Chapter One

  “What do you mean it won’t work?”

  Jedda Ferra faced Sarah Bean. They were alone in Jedda’s bedchamber, formerly that of Lady Warden Ianna. Jedda was considering what Sarah had just told her, with less than good grace.

  “I’m sorry, Jedda, but the Sword does not work that way.”

  “The legends say those who wield the Sword of Sighs can travel from place to place with but a step, no matter the distance. I remember them well.”

  “And it does work that way, but only if I know the place; otherwise, I could have travelled to K’th’li’li just like that.”

  Jedda ran a hand through her long black hair and glowered. “Then we have to travel overland to Lo’a’pan, and cross the Grassland Plains once more. They are a wasteland since the Fellspawn army swept through. There is no telling what’s out there and what ill forces may delay us.”

  Sarah nodded. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know where this Lo’a’pan is. From what you’ve all told me, the Kay’lo have always kept it well-hidden, so no one here will know its whereabouts either.”

  Jedda answered with a silent nod. She had hoped this would be easier than it was turning out to be, but obstacles were arising already. She remembered something her father had once said.

  Kings and Queens ride over hard ground more often than soft, Jedda. And it is when you are on the hard ground that people will make their judgement of you.

  After a few moments, Jedda spoke again. “It will lose us time—precious time—that is what worries me most. The longer it takes to find Lo’a’pan, the longer Highmount must hold out against the Fallen One’s hordes. And the more they grow, the less likely it is that the Kay’lo will be able to lift whatever siege is bound to threaten the gates. You slew Malus, Sarah. The Necrodragon was one of the greatest prizes the Fallen One possessed—the last of the true Dragons, not a cocoon-grown monstrosity like the rest of his creations. He will want revenge for that loss, and with Wyrlsorn gone, E’blis himself will be commanding the attack. Do you feel ready yet to face the Prince of Pain?”

  “No,” said Sarah, “I don’t ... not yet.”

  Jedda rubbed at her eyes. “Then I must stay. You must go into the Grasslands alone.”

  “Jedda—”

  “Sarah, you have saved us, but this is still not your world. You were not born to Seythe. The Fallen One gave me a glimpse of your mind when I was under his control. You are from a stone world with metal bones that I do not understand.”

  “But I-I want you with me,” Sarah argued. “I don’t know how to negotiate with the Kay’lo. D’you remember what happened to us the last time, what they did to me and to Ossen?”

  “I do,” Jedda replied. “But I have to remain here. The people in Highmount ... not all of them are soldiers and too few that are have waged war against so fearsome a foe. They need me more than you do. Without me, they will lose hope. They will think I have fled to save my skin.”

  Sarah bit at her lip and shuffled her feet. “Can you send someone with me, Jedda? Someone who can help me talk to the Kay’lo?”

  Jedda nodded and placed her hand on the shorter girl’s shoulder. “Of course, my friend. I owe you my life. You will not walk away from here without companions to protect you.”

  “Thank you,” Sarah said.

  Jedda gasped as the Living Flame, a girl who was a source of fear as much as awe, embraced her tightly.

  No one else would dare be so familiar, thought Jedda.

  “Goodnight, Jedda.” Sarah retired to her own chamber, leaving the Princess alone with her thoughts.

  Jedda thought that perhaps the world Sarah Bean came from was not just a place of stone and metal bones after all.

  Chapter Two

  Sarah was asleep. She knew that much, but she didn’t know where she was as she wandered the dark hallways of her dream. She came out into a c
hamber carved from the very blackest stone and lit by black flames that poured from their sconces. The flames were outlined by waning halos of sickly white, which created a tomb-like atmosphere. Sarah could feel eyes upon her—eyes that were patiently watching and waiting.

  The far end of the chamber materialised as more sconces burst into life. A throne of gleaming skulls and polished bones sat at the end, and a robed figure sat upon it. The shadow of the hood fell low and heavy, hiding the face within. The figure’s left hand jerked a length of hessian, and a form came tumbling out from the shadow cast by the throne.

  “Kiley!” Sarah cried out.

  Her sister stared blankly ahead. Her eyes were pale and unmoving. The hooded figure on the throne began to glow.

  “Welcome to my halls, O Flame.”

  She recognised the voice. She knew who was invading her dreams.

  “E’blis, what have you done to my sister?”

  “Imprisoned her. That is all, for now. She is my plaything, and a source of nourishment also. Her soul is almost as delicious as yours. To think, she could have been born with the Flame instead of you. How she must envy you now that she is my dog on leash.”

  To emphasise his point, he pulled hard on the rope until the noose around Kiley’s neck tightened painfully.

  “Stop that! Let her go.”

  “I don’t think so. No. As long as she is my prisoner, I have power over you. Your sister’s life is now dependent upon your obedience to me.”

  “If you do not let her go I will—”

  “You will do what, O Flame? You are powerful, yes, and you grow stronger by the day, but you are still a child compared to me. Even less than that really. You are not A’aron, and you never will be, whereas I am a God.”

  “You were a God. You fell, E’blis. I saw it happen. You serve the Fallen One. You’ll never rise above Him. You don’t have the power anymore.”

  “Do not test me, child, while I hold one of your blood as my captive. I can weave everlasting agony into her body. I can make every cell scream from dawn until dusk and I can keep her alive though she may beg me for death.”

  “You leave her alone. Your quarrel is with me, not her.”

  Sarah could feel her heart pounding. She couldn’t believe she was saying this to him. He had grown and developed his powers over thousands of years. She barely had a grasp on what she could do with the Flame. But Kiley was her sister; she had to help her.

  “My quarrel is with you and your blood, O Flame. And if this sister of the Flame can be useful to me than so shall it be. Her survival and sanity are entirely dependent upon your conduct.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, O Flame, that I have an offer I wish to make.”

  “An offer?”

  “Yes. In exchange for the life of your bloodkin, I want you to perform a simple task.”

  “What?”

  “Betray the Kay’lo to me.”

  Sarah’s tongue froze in her throat.

  “Betray them to me, O Flame. Walk into Lo’a’pan and unleash your power. I will sense it. I will send allies to crush the last hope of Highmount and the Three Kingdoms. After this is done, I will release your sister into your care. You may the use that ... sword to travel home.”

  “Betray them ... ”

  “Were they not cruel enough to you the last time, O Flame? Do you feel so kindly towards former captors and abusers that you would defy me and risk the life of your kin? Were you so fond of the odour of Rosara carna?”

  “Let her go, E’blis. I won’t do it.”

  “Will you not? You would let her die for a world you were not even born into. Very well.”

  E’blis tightened his fingers on the rope and livid lines of force travelled down its length before bursting across Kiley in soundless waves. Kiley’s mouth opened in silent suffering, and her eyes widened, running with tears.

  “A few moments longer, O Flame, and those tears will turn to blood.”

  “Stop it!”

  “Only if I have your word, O Flame. Your solemn, binding word.”

  “No! You lie! You always lie! You’ll kill her anyway!”

  “You would prefer me to slay her now? Before your eyes? You wish to see her blood and soul pour out to succour me and His Shadow?”

  “No! Stop! Please! I’ll do it! I’ll do it!”

  “I have your word?”

  “Yes! I’ll ... betray ... them to you.”

  “Good.”

  The energy washing over Kiley evaporated, and she was still again. She was shaking and sweating but alive. Sarah’s heart ached at the sight and what she had agreed to do. She turned her gaze back to E’blis.

  “We have a bargain, E’blis.”

  “We do.”

  “If you break it, I will kill you.”

  “We shall see, O Flame. We shall see. Begone.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Sarah awoke, blinking fiercely, in the darkness of her bedchamber. The sheets were knotted around her arms and legs, and she was soaked with a cold, oily sweat. A bad taste filled her mouth and she could feel tears blossoming in her eyes. She looked up into the shadows above and murmured under her breath, “I’m sorry, Momma. I had to do it. To save Kiley.”

  Chapter Three

  Jedda did not dream that night, but that was because she did not sleep. She had not even undressed for bed. She sat in her soiled clothes, the smell of blood and battle pricking at her nostrils, and watched the dying embers of the fireplace as she wondered at what she was now. She was ruler of Highmount. Every body and soul within its walls was under her protection. The thought staggered and terrified her. The scope of her responsibility made her want to scream and weep at the same time. An army would be marching already, now that Highmount had fallen back into her hands. No, more than one army. The forces already spread throughout the Three Kingdoms would be gathered against her, and E’blis would send more abominations from the Nightlands across the Grassland Plains. Highmount would be crushed between the two. The people within its walls were a motley assembly of old soldiers, young Watchers, courtiers, and Earlfolk who had been summoned for Mikka Wyrlsorn’s coronation.

  They were no army, but they were all she had. She tried to call up more words of wisdom from her father as the last of the firelight died, but nothing came, so Jedda stamped to her feet and left her bedchamber.

  She had to see Venna.

  ~ ~ ~

  The Healing Room was warm and quiet. The air was scented with herbs: angelwort, groveflower, and toadmoss. It reminded Jedda of autumn at twilight, of happier, more innocent times. Three of the beds in the room were occupied, their patients being tended by Herb-Sisters with tired eyes. They had worked near to collapse to ensure all those wounded during the battle were cared for, but some charges could not be restored to health by the Herb-Sisters’ craft, only preserved by it until something happened—either, a miracle, or death.

  The three beds were occupied by Venna, Ianna, and Mistress Ruth. Each stared empty-eyed into space, their faces occasionally twitching and their eyelids blinking as if they were struggling to recall something they had lost. Such was the curse of the Mind-Reavers. Every memory each had was gone, and with it their souls—the nature of who they were. They were scoured clean on the inside, little more than the dead, only with beating hearts. Jedda gnawed on a knuckle as she stepped unsteadily to the bedside of her sister. Little Venna had endured so much and remained so strong. The loss of their mother to the Grey Touch, and then her own legs shrivelling as the sickness was passed to her. She had borne Ianna’s beatings and Mikka Wyrlsorn’s tortures, only to end up like this.

  Empty.

  “Where is the justice?” Jedda whispered. “Where is the hope for us against such evil?”

  One of the Herb-sisters replied, “Hope and justice wait to be unearthed, your Majesty. But they are buried deep these days.”

  “Then,” said Jedda, “I must dig all the harder for them.”

  Chapter Four


  Kiley kept quiet as two of the robed figures led her down through the Shadowhorn’s catacombs. If she kept quiet, maybe they would leave her alone and not hurt her again. Her skin itched from the air in the place. Her wrists and ankles ached from the leather thongs binding them. She hoped they wouldn’t cut her skin. She didn’t want to catch something here, some disease. The creatures leading her were sick, she could feel it in their hands as they led her along. Their skin was soft and wet. It felt like jello. Something was wrong with them and this place. It was all dirty and diseased, inside and out. She could feel it in her gut. Something was here. Trapped. Buried. It was eating its way out like a worm gnawing through a rotten apple’s core. Everything was warped by its presence. These creatures served it; she was sure of that.

  Where are you, Sarah?

  What have they done to you?

  They threw her into a cell. The door they closed behind her looked like it was made of rotten wood that would shatter easily. She heard them chanting and muttering outside. After they left, Kiley placed a hand on the door and pushed. She pushed hard. After a minute, she pushed again. The door was as firm and hard as iron.

  Magic. Robed men. Monsters sleeping under mountains. It was all getting too much. She felt a headache growing behind her eyes. When she closed her eyes, awful, gnawing shapes with too many teeth swam behind them. She opened her eyes again and spun around in the cell, just in time to see an awful shape stumbling towards her. She opened her mouth to scream.

  “No. Please, don’t scream, child.”

  The old man’s face was incredibly wrinkled and incredibly kind. His soft eyes settled on her and his lips curved into a smile. “I know you.”

  Kiley shifted on her feet, unsure. “You do?”

  “I do. Your eyes are darker, as is your hair, and it has more of a curl to it, but I can see who you are. You are my Sarah’s sister.”