Raging Sea and Trembling Earth: Disciples of the Horned One Volume Two (Soul Force Saga Book 2) by James Wisher
Authors: James Wisher
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of black glass. Connor’s distorted image stared back at him. In the center of the room a stone table sat empty.
This had to be the vault mentioned in the book he’d found in the pyramid. Connor’s impatient gaze flew around the room. The crystal had to be here somewhere. He passed over tomes of power that crackled with corrupt energy, rune-marked gems so sodden with power they made his little black diamond back home seem a pale thing. Skulls seemed to form the bulk of the collection, inhuman, warped things with overlong jaws, too many teeth, horns and bone spurs.
Connor had never understood the warlock fascination with collecting skulls. He had several of his own of course, but he’d never found any particular use for them, beyond decoration. He glanced over yet another skull, this one resembling a cross between a crocodile and a cobra.
The next niche held a midnight-blue crystal the size of his fist. It looked like such a mundane thing compared to the more exotic artifacts filling the vault. Connor ran a hand over the glass protecting the crystal.
After all his years of searching he’d found it at last, the soul bleed crystal, the key to his ascension. Connor slammed his fist into the glass. It didn’t so much as flex. He should have known it wouldn’t be so simple. He sent a focused blast of hellfire into the barrier.
The glass turned inky black then spat his power back at him magnified tenfold. Connor flew across the vault and slammed into the wall. The room spun and when he reached around and touched his head Connor found thick, black blood. He scrambled to his feet, healing the minor injury as he went.
Connor hadn’t come this far just to let a sheet of glass stand between him and his prize. He considered blasting it again, then rubbed the healed wound. Maybe a more subtle approach. He studied the runes cut into the glass. It seemed runes were always the key. Maybe he could find another rune of opening.
Five minutes of searching later Connor found it, or rather he found a perfectly round opening in the pattern where the rune should have been. He punched the glass with no more success than the first time. There had to be a secret, something he’d missed.
Connor abandoned the sealed niche and paced the room as he thought. What was it? What wasn’t he seeing? He paused when he passed in front of the mirror for the twentieth time. His reflection looked strange. He raised his hand and the reflection followed, but with a lag.
Frowning, Connor moved closer to the mirror. The closer he got the more distorted his reflection became. When he met his reflected gaze the eyes in the mirror were black and hollow instead of red and glowing.
“Who are you?”
His reflection smiled even though Connor’s expression hadn’t changed. “Took you long enough to notice. Even the paladin noticed me faster than you.”
The spirit shook its head. “Sad what’s become of the new generation of warlocks. In King Alexious’s day you wouldn’t have even qualified to serve as his court jester.”
Connor clenched his fist and glared at the spirit.
“What, are you going to try punching the mirror? That worked out so well for you the first two times you tried it with the barrier glass.”
Connor took a breath and found his center. His shoulders relaxed and he unclenched his fist. “Tell me, spirit, how do I open the niches and retrieve the item I desire?”
The spirit shook its head again. “You really are an idiot. You need the key.”
“Where might I find the key?” Connor asked with exaggerated patience.
“That bitch took it with her when she forced her way past the guardian. She’s hiding out up in the throne room. Hey, how did you get past her barrier?”
“It only keeps out demons. I’ve still got enough mortal in me to slip through.”
“Tell you what. You kill the paladin and fetch the key back here and I’ll let you talk to the master.”
“The Horned One?” Connor hardly believed his good
This had to be the vault mentioned in the book he’d found in the pyramid. Connor’s impatient gaze flew around the room. The crystal had to be here somewhere. He passed over tomes of power that crackled with corrupt energy, rune-marked gems so sodden with power they made his little black diamond back home seem a pale thing. Skulls seemed to form the bulk of the collection, inhuman, warped things with overlong jaws, too many teeth, horns and bone spurs.
Connor had never understood the warlock fascination with collecting skulls. He had several of his own of course, but he’d never found any particular use for them, beyond decoration. He glanced over yet another skull, this one resembling a cross between a crocodile and a cobra.
The next niche held a midnight-blue crystal the size of his fist. It looked like such a mundane thing compared to the more exotic artifacts filling the vault. Connor ran a hand over the glass protecting the crystal.
After all his years of searching he’d found it at last, the soul bleed crystal, the key to his ascension. Connor slammed his fist into the glass. It didn’t so much as flex. He should have known it wouldn’t be so simple. He sent a focused blast of hellfire into the barrier.
The glass turned inky black then spat his power back at him magnified tenfold. Connor flew across the vault and slammed into the wall. The room spun and when he reached around and touched his head Connor found thick, black blood. He scrambled to his feet, healing the minor injury as he went.
Connor hadn’t come this far just to let a sheet of glass stand between him and his prize. He considered blasting it again, then rubbed the healed wound. Maybe a more subtle approach. He studied the runes cut into the glass. It seemed runes were always the key. Maybe he could find another rune of opening.
Five minutes of searching later Connor found it, or rather he found a perfectly round opening in the pattern where the rune should have been. He punched the glass with no more success than the first time. There had to be a secret, something he’d missed.
Connor abandoned the sealed niche and paced the room as he thought. What was it? What wasn’t he seeing? He paused when he passed in front of the mirror for the twentieth time. His reflection looked strange. He raised his hand and the reflection followed, but with a lag.
Frowning, Connor moved closer to the mirror. The closer he got the more distorted his reflection became. When he met his reflected gaze the eyes in the mirror were black and hollow instead of red and glowing.
“Who are you?”
His reflection smiled even though Connor’s expression hadn’t changed. “Took you long enough to notice. Even the paladin noticed me faster than you.”
The spirit shook its head. “Sad what’s become of the new generation of warlocks. In King Alexious’s day you wouldn’t have even qualified to serve as his court jester.”
Connor clenched his fist and glared at the spirit.
“What, are you going to try punching the mirror? That worked out so well for you the first two times you tried it with the barrier glass.”
Connor took a breath and found his center. His shoulders relaxed and he unclenched his fist. “Tell me, spirit, how do I open the niches and retrieve the item I desire?”
The spirit shook its head again. “You really are an idiot. You need the key.”
“Where might I find the key?” Connor asked with exaggerated patience.
“That bitch took it with her when she forced her way past the guardian. She’s hiding out up in the throne room. Hey, how did you get past her barrier?”
“It only keeps out demons. I’ve still got enough mortal in me to slip through.”
“Tell you what. You kill the paladin and fetch the key back here and I’ll let you talk to the master.”
“The Horned One?” Connor hardly believed his good
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