Soul Keeper

SOUL

KEEPER

DANIEL D. MICKLE

Story and Artwork Copyright ©2007 by Daniel D. Mickle

Release for internet e-book publication:

Published by Daniel D. Mickle Oct. 2013 at Smashwords

Line Editor: Melissa Ringsted

The author asserts his moral rights under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including any photographic, electronic or mechanical methods without prior written permission of the author, except for brief quotations used in critical reviews and other non-commercial uses as permitted by copyright law.

This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to thank all those who helped me with thoughts and ideas for this and the other stories in this series, especially Ric and Ty Braden, and my son, Clint, who endured my going on and on about the stories. I would also like to thank Michaelann Smith and another author, Lucian Barnes, for their incites into how to navigate the ins and outs of independent paperback and e-book publishing, since I previously only knew the ways of traditional publishing. Furthermore, this book would contain many more errors, especially in the punctuation department, were it not for the excellent editing skills of Melissa Ringsted.

Finally, I wish to thank you, the reader, for buying my book. I hope you enjoy it and anxiously await the next book in the series, RETURN TO ABRAS.

Prologue

In the words of British writer, Arthur C. Clarke, Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. This little note is forewarning for my readers as to something about this series. In this first book, the ‘kids’ (the main characters), as well as those around them, think they are doing ‘magic’. The source of their special talents is lost in the ancient past, and so, given strange powers and abilities at twelve years old, how could they think anything else? It is not until you reach the second book that they begin to suspect that there could be more to their reality than classical magic. Could it be some sort of ancient, possibly alien, technology hidden within a shroud of mystery and posing as some delightfully inexplicable thing called magic? Those answers, lost in the distant past, will be unlocked as the series proceeds, so be patient.

The purpose of this prologue is to warn the reader not to get too complacent that this series will be just another venture into the mystical and whimsical world of magic. It will not. You might ponder questions like: ‘How many lifetimes do you have to spend on Earth before you are no longer considered an alien? Is one too many, or is 3500 not enough? The series, as a whole, is science fiction—not fantasy.

There will be many secrets along the way, most of them you will not even think to ask until you are reading along in a later book and something will occur to you that may have you saying, OH! That’s how that happened! and you may then picture the author with a sudden crafty grin." That said, sit back, relax, and read this first ‘magical’ journey of the world as seen through the eyes of four twelve year olds, their friends, and their families.

TABLE of CONTENTS

Copyright Page

Acknowledgements and Prologue

Chapter 1 – Danger in the Dark

Chapter 2 – Friendship Lost

Chapter 3 – Terrified Heart

Chapter 4 – A Rose by Any Other Name

Chapter 5 – A Dark-haired Stranger

Chapter 6 – The Wand Shop

Chapter 7 – Reeling at the Railing

Chapter 8 – The Castle

Chapter 9 – Friends Old and New

Chapter 10 – The White Lady

Chapter 11 – The Death of Amelexia

Chapter 12 – School Days, School Daze

Chapter 13 – Reunited Again for the First Time

Chapter 14 – Hope's Mirror

Chapter 15 – The Fox and the Grapes

Chapter 16 – Gift of the Nisse

Chapter 17 – Circle, Circle, Dot, Dot

Chapter 18 –Showdown

* About the Author *

Chapter 1 — Danger in the Dark

Something was wrong, terribly wrong. His dreams of spaceships and alien creatures quickly evaporated as the feeling of imminent danger awakened him. The small hairs rose on the back of Kevin’s neck as he sat up in bed. An unknown terror crept up his spine.

His eyes frantically scanned back and forth, but the darkness within his bedroom blocked his attempts to recognize any pattern in the blackness that did not belong. Suddenly, his breath caught in his throat.

There.

Two red dots. Could it be pieces of red plastic lying on his desk, perhaps taillights on one of his old car models?

No, his desk would be further to the right. Those red dots were more toward his closet door, as though some beast, hidden inside, had opened the door and peered out. With a strong mixture of fear and dread, Kevin was certain now that the redness came from a pair of unnatural eyes. Had they just moved, or was that his imagination? Some fiendish creature had been hiding in his closet, and thinking he was asleep, cautiously swung the door open, preparing to pounce on the sleeper.

The thing could surely see now that he was awake and looking at it.

Wait. What’s that?

Two more eyes appeared, as the first creature ventured further into his room. Now he was certain of what he perceived in the darkness. Only one set of eyes had been there before. He tried to control his breathing, as he felt a wave of tangible evil hit him. His dad wouldn’t be afraid; he was a strong guy. Unfortunately, for Kevin that seemed impossible.

The light switch was too far from his bed. Why couldn’t he have left a pocketknife or even his baseball bat close enough to reach? What weapon could he grab? Picking up a shoe would not do much good. Sliding his pillow slowly closer, he decided it might make a temporary shield. He had nothing else at hand. He saw no other choice but to challenge them. How would they react to the sound of a human voice? The whining of a little kid wouldn’t scare them at all. He knew he must sound convincing to scare these things away, but what could he say?

His dad was the strongest man he knew, so he tried to imitate that quiet, low-pitched, confident voice. I’m a very powerful wizard! he spoke loudly and clearly, trying to sound self-assured, all the while hoping his voice did not squeak. You’d better leave now, or I will turn you into… What could he threaten such a creature with that they would not want to be but that they would understand? He said the first thing that came into his mind. Puddles of mud!

That was so dumb, he thought. Puddles of mud? Couldn’t I have thought of something—anything—better than that? However silly his words seemed to him, they must have been good enough. Both pairs of glowing eyes looked toward each other and in a blink, they were gone. Those creatures must not want to spend eternity as wet dirt. No longer petrified by a sense of proximate evil, the thud of his heart still shook his bed.

They were gone. Had he only imagined those terrible red eyes? He was convinced he had not, and when they did not reappear after a vigil that seemed to take hours, his need for sleep took over.

Half propped up by his pillows, Kevin slept.

By the time he awoke the next morning, he had forgotten the eyes in the darkness. His neck was sore, but he had even forgotten his dream of being on a spaceship and fighting a war in space. The question of whether he would ever become king of the galaxy would have to wait for another time.

* * *

Not too many days later, but three hundred miles away, a different sort of encounter with odd creatures took place. Fresh blood speckled the front of a weathered old wooden chicken-coop. There are two more chickens dead this morning! Do you think it’s a weasel, Uncle Orv? Martin MacDuff asked of the elderly man beside him.

Nope. Not with all that blood and mess. No. Something slaughtered our chickens, but twern’t no weasel. Orval ‘Orv’ Savage eyed the scene with the wisdom of over six score of years. See how high up the wall the blood splattered? Something held that bird about four feet off the ground and slashed it apart. The old man’s jaw took a set to it, jutting out as it did when something was worrying him.

Small bits of feather floated in the air. Martin brushed some absentmindedly from the front of his checkered flannel shirt as he inspected the chicken-wire fence, without spotting a single hole. He shrugged and shook his head slowly. What do you think it was?

Goblins, Orv informed him. I have no doubts. Look here at this one… See them deep gashes? Something with long, sharp claws ripped that bird open. That’s goblin work, if I ever saw it. With his wooden wizard’s staff in his right hand, he took the bloodied remains of the two dead chickens in his left.

Martin asked, Why would they be killing our chickens? I thought goblins grew their own food in the underground…

There. Orv pointed out clawed footprints, where two goblins had leapt the fence. "Grew? That’s too nice of a way to put it. They don’t grow anything. Goblins are meat eaters, pure and simple. They capture their prey and keep it locked away in one of their tunnels, until they are ready to eat it," the elder man advised.

Yes, but these chickens were eaten right here, rather than taken underground to the goblin city.

That’s what’s odd about it, Orv concluded. They’re generally much more cautious, leastwise as long as I’ve been around.

A third man, quite small in stature, joined Orv and Martin. While he was human-shaped, he only came a few inches above the knees of the other two and was not actually human. They gave no notice of this. He was a well-known old friend. Likewise, they paid no attention to his mutilation of the English language. He spoke with confidence. We agreezes.... It was goblinses for sure. Rogueses, most likeliest. Theys is prob’ly outcasted of the goblinses community. Theys still has to eats, an’ this chicken-kitchen o’ yours is provided most closely and handyish.

Martin said, Regardless, my question still stands. Why are goblins killing our chickens? Why ours? Why here? Does it mean they are becoming a danger to us?

Orv’s grip tightened on his wizard’s staff as he gazed at Martin. That, my boy, is the big question, an’ I don’t have an answer.

Could we put a spell on the chicken coop to keep out the goblins? asked Martin.

Orv shook his head. Probably wouldn’t work. They can break through most ordinary protections.

What about a special spell, something extraordinary? Do we know anyone who can do a spell a goblin couldn’t break? Martin wondered.

Orv’s eyes flickered toward his small friend, known as Smidgen, before he answered. The headmaster at the school could do it, but I don’t know him too well. I wouldn’t expect him to drop what he’s doing and come down here to help us with our piddley farm worries. I mean, it’s not like a rogue goblin or two is a danger to the whole community, Orv concluded.

That be’s not necessaryish true. The little man raised a finger to emphasize his point. "But we can prob’ly does it for youse. I might knows a trick or two fer turning ‘round a goblins." Orv was glad Smidgen had volunteered. He didn’t dare let on to anyone what he knew of the small man’s magic.

That would be wonderful, Smidgen. As he began to speak, he thought of something. He added, "Providing, of course, it doesn’t keep us poor humans from getting to the chicken coop. Your spell wouldn’t do that, would it?" The small man grinned suddenly and tried unsuccessfully to look innocent.

Gazing around, he said, What a lovely day this be’s… Orv had caught him in a prank he would have thought exceptionally funny. All rights. We’s supposing, if we has to, we can makes it blocks no more than goblinses.

Thank you, Smidgen. I’d appreciate it. Say, if you’re not doing anything this evening, why don’t you join us at the house for dinner? Martin’s son, Billy, is having his birthday today. He’s just turned twelve and I know he’d love having you there.

That we might. That we might. They’ll be cakeses won’t there? Smidgeon turned back to peer again at the chicken coop, pausing only a second. "Youse knows, Orvie-boy, this anti-goblinses spell, it be’s something so easyish that even a humans could does it. If you wants to sticks around, I’ll teaches it to youse. After all, youse is almost as oldish as we is. It’s about time youse learnses a spell more usefullish than just stirrin’ soup or lightin’ a fire. Not that those isn’t important thingses, mind youse."

Orv had never learned spells like the children of other magical families. Over a hundred years earlier, when he got an invitation to attend magic school, his father decided that he needed Orval at home to work on the farm. With his older brother, Sherman, married and moved away, and the younger children still too small for real chores, the need for farm work forced Orv to drop out of school after the sixth grade. Technically, he was a wizard, but since he never went to magic school, he didn’t claim that title.

Rumor had it that his little friend, Smidgen, had taught him spells no human wizard had ever known. However, if anyone chanced to ask Orv, he would generally say something like, Oh, I may have learnt a spell or two in my time, but I’m no wizard. Not a proper one, anyway.

Where is your boy anyway, Marty? Orv asked. I have something special for him, it being his birthday and all.

Probably sitting at the table about now. Food should be ready; we ought to get inside.

You go on. Let me speak with Smidgen a minute or two, and I’ll be in. Martin thanked Smidgen for his help and headed into the house. Orv was glad for a moment alone with Smidgen. He wanted to ask Smidgen’s opinion on something he had made as a birthday present for Billy, but more importantly, he needed to ask advice about the goblins.

A short while later, Orv joined the rest of the family in the kitchen. He still held the two dead chickens. Here, Syvilly. I brought something for your cauldron.

Oh-no-you-don’t-Orval-Savage! That cauldron is strictly for magical work, not for cooking. You know that, his sister-in-law, Syvillia, scolded.

This IS magical work! Goblins slaughtered them. They’re contaminated. We can’t eat ‘em! He showed them the marks. I need to do a protection spell to keep the goblins away. Smidgen told me how to make a protective brew out of these birds and do a warding spell with ‘um.

Oh. That’s different. All right, you may use my cauldron. The old man walked to the cauldron and nervously began the brew. His grandnephew, Billy MacDuff, sat at the table.

Orv turned to speak to the boy. Happy Birthday, Billy. I had a couple ideas for things you might like to do today. What would you say to fishin’? Feel like walkin’ down to the river?

Do I? That would be great, Billy answered. Orv knew his brother’s grandson idolized him, but that was not a bad thing. He cared for Billy, too.

After we go to the river, we can pick some berries. I know where some are nice and ripe. That way, besides birthday cake, we can also have some shortcake or maybe a berry cobbler. He acted as if he was whispering, but the whisper was intentionally loud so everyone would hear. We just have to talk really nice to your mom or grandma and see if they’ll bake something.

His sister-in-law, Syvillia, spoke first. If you get me the berries, I will make something nice for dinner.

No one complained when Orv mentioned he’d invited Smidgen. The wee folk, Smidgen and his friends, were always welcome.

Billy spoke up. If we’re having so many guests tonight, we need to stretch the kitchen out.

We’ll take care of that when the time comes. Billy’s mother raised her head from the breakfast she was fixing. However, the chickens don’t stop laying just to celebrate your birthday. Go collect the eggs. She pointed toward the door.

I wish I knew a spell to get them the way Uncle Orv does, Billy grumbled, pushing back his chair, anticipating the terrible choking stench of the chicken coop.

His mother answered him, "No. Here is the magic you’re going to use. Ready? You will stand up and walk out to the chicken coop. You will pick up the eggs with your own two hands. Then you will bring them into the house, put them in the sink, and wash them gently. After that, you will hand them carefully to your mother without dropping even one. Magic is fine for a lot of things, but don’t get dependent on it." She shook her wooden spoon in his direction.

Orv saved him. I’ll get the eggs this morning.

Billy can do it, Uncle Orv.

It’s his birthday. Let him enjoy it. Besides… Orv paused a moment. Those goblins probably won’t come out in the daytime, but I’d still rather not have any children out by themselves, until we get a handle on this. Orv stood, motioning Billy to sit back down.

Billy was happy to oblige, but he looked cautiously at his mother before he did so. Are they dangerous, Uncle Orv?

I wish I could say no, but the truth is they are. We had battles with them a few hundred years back, when our people first came to these mountains. We won, but at a high cost in lives. If they’re gettin’ braver, they might decide to start that war up again, an’ they’re plenty dangerous.

Orv opened the kitchen door, picking up his walking stick, which was a staff that reached his impressive eyebrows. He raised the staff, closed his eyes, and said, "Ovi Prodite!" With his eyes closed, he pointed with the top of his staff toward several unseen spots. Setting his staff aside, he then picked up the egg basket and began catching eggs as they sailed slowly toward him.

Billy’s father, Martin, said, Oh, I forgot to mention that when I was in Rowanfell yesterday, I heard the Tannihills lost a valuable magic ring and are offering twenty-five gold doubloons reward if anyone finds it. It’s been in Mrs. Tannihill’s family for generations, I’m told.

Careless woman. Does she have any idea where she lost it? asked Syvillia.

She wasn’t sure. She had it on a chain around her neck when they went out for a walk. Once they got home, she noticed it was gone. They were up here on the hill somewhere, looking for wild ginseng. After that, they went on over the mountain to Rowanfell, did some shopping, had dinner at the Inn, and popped back home.

"So, they were on our property looking to steal some of our ginseng. They never would have admitted that, if she hadn’t lost her mother’s oh-so-precious ring, now would they? Syvillia muttered. Well then, it serves her right. If you do wrong, you have to pay a price. For that woman it’s long overdue, if you ask me. If you two do happen to find that ring while you are out, be sure she pays you every ‘Scent’ of that reward! An offer’s an offer. Don’t let her talk you down. If those skinflints are offering twenty-five doubloons, it is probably worth thousands!"

Billy’s grandmother didn’t like Mrs. Tannihill much, but she never said why. It was clear they’d had some sort of squabble in the past.

Billy began bouncing up and down in his seat, showing his excitement at the thought of finding the ring. Twenty-five gold pieces was a real pirate’s treasure for a boy his age. As Orv made the eggs rinse themselves at the kitchen sink, a question tumbled from Billy’s lips, How come Uncle Orv uses a staff instead of a wand? He doesn’t need it to walk with. Wands are much easier to carry.

"Maybe Uncle Orv just has it in case he needs it to lean on. He is pretty old, you know." His mother didn’t try to whisper, but she smiled at her uncle as she said it.

Her dad was Orv’s older brother, but he still got a grin on his face at his daughter’s comments.

You make that sound like I am about to fall over dead any second, Orv muttered with a mock look of distress on his face, clutched at his chest, and stumbled slightly as though having a heart attack.

Billy defended his uncle, "Uncle Orv’s stronger than I am. When we go walking up on the mountain, he’s the one with all the energy. He doesn’t ever seem to get tired."

Oh, I get tired, all right. At my age, it seems like I’m tired all the time, Uncle Orv commented. Betimes, I can fall asleep at a moment’s notice, but I’ll have plenty of time to rest someday. I’ve been eluding that ol’ Grim Reaper for ages. He’ll probably sneak up behind me some day and catch me when I’m looking the other direction. He does that to people sometimes.

Billy rephrased his question, "Uncle Orv, why do you walk with a staff? You aren’t crippled or anything."

As an old friend of mine, who was known to tip a jug on occasion, once told me, three legs are always better than two, especially when walkin’ on the mountain. Orv grinned, but then his eyes unfocused as he looked not at the room around him, but at a memory from his past. He paused. "As to crippled, that depends on who you ask. Back when I was in the army and we were fighting the Spanish in Cuba, they shot me in the hip. I was lucky to spot a sharp young nurse there who was one of us. I’d seen her slip a small wand out of her pocket when she thought nobody was watching. She used it to numb my hip and pulled that slug out with some sort of ‘sticky’ spell. Hurt like the dickens!

She said the bones still had to knit, so she made me drink boneset tea every day and rubbed on black-sap-salve that she made herself. She saved my leg.

He went on, "The army reckoned I wouldn’t be any further use to them ‘cause my official record said I was having my leg amputated at the hip. I think that witchy nurse put a forget-spell on the doctor to make him overlook me. She never did say.

When they said I could go home, I wasn’t about to tell them I was healing, ‘cause they’da sent me right back to the front lines to get shot all over again. I came back to the US by boat, got my official discharge, and let them carry me to the train station. He nodded emphatically.

You don’t have any limp or anything, Billy noted.

And I didn’t neither, once that cute little witchgirl fixed me up. I left the crutches they gave me sittin’ at the train station in Arlington, and I’ve never needed ‘em since. Orv paused a second. The nurse knew lots about healing herbs and potions to cure all sorts o’ ailments. It made me wish I’d gone to magic school.

He went on, Dad got a letter inviting me to go to the school when I was your age. He needed me at home for farm work, so he pulled me out of school altogether. That is probably why I went to the army. I was still young and wanted adventure.

Lavinia said, Sounds like you got your adventure.

Oh, yes. It was an adventure all right. More’n you know. He looked at Billy as he explained, I got shot with a seven-millimeter bullet out of one of them new Spanish Mausers they were usin’. Just ‘cause something’s non-magical, doesn’t mean it can’t be dangerous. Next thing I knew, I was waking up in a hospital tent. I was lucky. Orv’s eyes looked at a scene they could not see.

He went on, That nurse, Claudia, and I had some good long talks and shared considerable time together. Sherman coughed slightly and grinned but Orv continued, Since I knew she was magical like us, it gave us things to talk about. She was a volunteer, and could leave most anytime she wanted, so when I came home, she came with me. She was already old enough for marriage, but I was still sixteen, so we didn’t actually get married for near two years after that. She wanted a big wedding. You know how girls are. Altogether, over five hundred guests showed up. With such a large crowd, we had the wedding outdoors. Down at the Green by the river. What an event! They built us a great little house in the woods over that way. He pointed with his chin toward an old abandoned cottage in the trees about a half-mile south. He could see it quite clearly, even if they couldn’t.

Orv continued, As time went by, she taught me some about herbs and potions and such. If it weren’t for Claudia—and Smidgen—I wouldn’t know any magic at all, but I could have learned so much more. He shook his head, but kept talking. Which brings me to what I wanted to mention.

A letter floated toward Orv from the cupboard. He put it in front of Billy, but spoke to everyone in general.

Billy got a letter from the school this morning, inviting him to start classes this year. I, for one, think he needs to go. In all my life, I’ve never made up for not attending magic school. In fact, if I had been a better wizard, my Claudia wouldn’ta… He choked a little. Well, things woulda been different… Orv’s eyes suddenly became watery.

Billy’s grandfather filled in, Orv’s right. Billy should go be one of the regular students. Since our family owns the land that Greenbriar sits on, we’ll get most of it free, anyway. After all, it’s partly their fault we’re as land-poor as we are.

"We own the castle?" Billy asked, wide-eyed.

No, we own the land it sits on, Grandfather Savage corrected. He explained, "My grandfather served in the Revolutionary War. The country didn’t have much money, so they paid the soldiers with land deeds for their service.