The Soul Sphere: Book 01 - The Shattered Sphere Read Online Free

her own turns on foot. The past day she had ridden because of the energy the spellcasting had drained from her, but today she was recovered. Her step was light and sure, and the four soon settled into a steady rhythm and made good progress. The weather was kind, the sun passing unhindered by clouds through a crisp autumn sky.
    “At least the Dark One does not affect the weather” Corson said, breathing deep the clean, cool air. “At least not here…not today…not right now. You don’t suppose he can hear when someone uses his name?”
    “Not unless he’s standing within earshot,” Rowan said.
    Demetrius laughed. “Well, let’s be thankful for small favors.”
    Nothing about the land brought laughter. None of the humble dwellings they passed showed signs of human life, although farm animals were seen here and there. The leaves on the trees had faded from green, but had yet to burst into their fall splendor, the grass was a muted beige color, and even the soil had a sickly gray tinge to it. After having observed this in silence for some time, Rowan said, “It is as if the land itself is poisoned.”
    “I wish this was simply the way things were in Delving,” said Demetrius. “But I noticed the change even as the Dead Legion marched into Corindor.”
    “Do you think the crops will grow next spring?” Corson asked. When no one answered he went on. “I mean assuming we can plant, and that we have land to plant on…” He uttered a sharp bitter laugh.
    “We should focus on our own task,” said Demetrius. “Let’s hope we are fortunate enough to concern ourselves with planting when spring arrives.”
    The road continued mainly north, sometimes east, and by the fifth day had become more of a trail than a road. Around noon, as the sun peaked in another perfect sky—the weather had been all they could hope for—they came upon a small farm, different from the others only in that a woman could be seen feeding a few scrawny chickens and a man knelt repairing a worn wooden cart. As they approached, the woman sank back toward the house.
    “If you’re thinking to rob us,” said the man, “we’ve not much. But we won’t try to stop you. Just leave us in peace.”
    “ ‘Rob you’?” repeated Rowan.
    The man seemed to fully take them in now, especially Rowan. “Excuse me, your grace. I did not see your markings.” He gestured at the cross on Rowan’s chest.
    “Rowan is my name. We mean you no harm.”
    “If you say so, I believe it. Never had problems with any of you wearing the mark. Wish I could say the same for everyone in service of the king.”
    “Soldiers giving you trouble?”
    “Brigands wearing the king’s cloth, more like,” the woman barked. The man motioned at her and she went inside wearing a scowl.
    “These are hard times,” the man said. “A man can’t be sure who to trust. There have been some soldiers through, mostly south of here. Fleeing from the Dead Legion. A few helped themselves to what we had, or to that of farmers like us. Called it ‘taxes to fight the war.’ ”
    “I am sorry,” said Rowan. “You are right when you say these are hard times. For everyone, king’s servant or farmer.”
    “I don’t doubt it.”
    “The homes south of here are abandoned, it seems. Odd, given only a few hungry soldiers.”
    “Oh, that wasn’t because of the soldiers, not directly anyway. It was what the soldiers said. About the Dark One’s army coming this way. And you could see a fear in their eyes—the soldiers’, that is—that they were scared, more scared than they would have been about any living army. A man might run from a living foe, but he won’t have the desperate, hunted look these men had—like they knew there was nowhere they could go where they were really safe.”
    “You mentioned the farmers leaving…”
    “Oh, right. Folks around here know they can’t defend their homes from these Dead, so we moved to the fringes of the swamps north of here until the danger