The Soul Sphere: Book 02 - The Final Shard by David Adams Read Free Book Online

and fall of his chest stilled. His eyes he had lifted one last time to behold the stars, but they remained open in an empty stare. Gently, Tala closed Rande’s eyelids.
    “He is gone,” she said softly. The men walked over to kneel beside him.
    “At least he suffers no longer,” said Rowan.
    Jazda nodded but could not speak. Tears rolled down his cheeks and he bit his lip, trying not to sob.
    They each mourned in their own way for a time, then Rowan said a few quiet words to Tala. The elf went to Jazda and took his arm. “Rowan will bury him,” she said. “We should see to the horses.”
    “No, it is my responsibility. He was my charge, and his death is my pain and shame.”
    “There was nothing any of us could have done. But we can see that he rests in peace now.”
    “Please, Jazda,” said Rowan. “You were close to him. Let me do this.”
    “You are right to say we were close. He was like a son to me. That is why I must do it.”
    Rowan lowered his eyes and backed away while Jazda took the sword Rowan offered. “I’m sorry,” Jazda said to Rande’s still form as he lined the blade up across his neck. “I’m sorry for how hard your life was, and how hard your death was. But you can rest now. Forever.” Slowly he lifted the sword, then brought it sharply down.
     

 
    Chapter 3: Shadows and Shadowlands
     
    Lucien and Alexis traveled most of the night to put as much distance between themselves and the goblin battle as possible before they rested. A little before dawn they came to a rocky overhang, not quite a cave, but enough to shelter them from wandering eyes. To the west they could see other small formations of rock, and hills were apparent in the distance. They had reached the edge of the Great Plain. They rested for a while, dozing a bit but not really sleeping, then, seeing the sun rising in the sky, took a small bite of food and pressed on.
    They moved southwest, and as they did so the ground grew rocky and the soil more coarse. Whereas the Westerland was fertile, the goblin lands were more difficult to work for raising crops or animals. It was done, to be sure, but the goblins as a whole were hunters and warriors, and parties often traveled well south, north, or west to hunt game. To the east the land of men seemed a paradise, and in the past there had been open war between goblins and men, but now each kept mostly to their own lands and lived with an uneasy, informal peace. There was little trust, but at least there was no longer open aggression. Lucien often wondered what would happen when the game became scarcer, and hungry goblin eyes turned east once again. He could picture scenarios where he would have met Alexis or any of the others on a field of battle, and where the struggle to the death would have been against them rather than with them.
    They found a dirt path that had not been used for some time. Sparse vegetation had started to cover it up, but it was still easy enough to track and it went in the right direction, and as tired as the riders were, it gave the horses a simple line to follow so their riders could let their thoughts drift elsewhere.
    They plodded on past noon, a hot sun rising in the cloudless sky and making them drowsy in the saddle. Every so often a light breeze gently wafted by, pushing aside the closeness of a warm afternoon and teasing them with the subtle fragrance of newly blossoming spring flowers. But underneath there was a dark, wet smell, as of a deep, forgotten dwelling that had known death, a smell no flower’s scent could mask.
    A distant rumble sounded, just on the threshold of perception. Lucien had closed his eyes, the swaying of his horse hypnotic. He had shaken sleep off several times already, but now he was falling deeper, deeper. The thunder in the distance sounded soothing, making him think of rain pattering off the roof while he dozed snug under a pile of blankets. Thunder…
    Lucien’s eyes shot open and he was alert instantly. He scanned the