Shards of the Soul: The Witches of Elder Wood, #3

By NK Fuller

After freeing Prince Sylvio from his prison, Marcisse is shocked to learn that King Salamon isn't dead, just trapped in a shattered cursed mirror. With the final battle between witches and warlocks on the horizon, they need as many allies as possible.

In order to free one of the most powerful Kings that Acremon has ever known, Marcisse and Prince Sylvio have to travel the whole of the land to find each shard of the mirror and piece it back together. With time running out, can they navigate the furthest and most dangerous corners of the realm to retrieve them? Or is it too late?

When Marcisse slips back into her own realm of Nurtophia, she's desperate for the kings and queens to discover the priesthoods true identity. Being a lowly peasant, trying to prove it will not be easy.

With the fate of both worlds resting in her hands, Marcisse has the unenviable task of righting both. The coven believes she's destined for greatness but with the dawning reality of what is about to befall her, she begins to buckle.

Anxious to see Nutrophia's story reach its conclusion, Marcisse prepares to give it her all in the war to end all wars.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nathan Fuller
• Release date: Jun 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201787493

Book preview

The Shards of the Soul

Witches of Elder Wood Book 3

By NK Fuller

Copyright 2021 © NK Fuller

Please note that the author is English so spelling is in British English.

Sign up to my mailing list for updates: NK Fuller Website

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Other Books

Copyright

Chapter One

I couldn't tear my eyes away. Even as the Seelie fluttered around healing my throbbing body with their tears, I gazed as the newly recovered Sylvio, knelt beside me with the mirrored shard in his hands.

Nearly there! Elysanna announced, the last of her tears flowing down her cheeks and onto my face.

Like a diminishing furnace, the white hot pain ebbed away.

Does that feel any better? Mother smoothed down the wild strands of hair that had been whipped up by the winds.

Much.

Seeing the people standing around me, all staring, was disconcerting. I never liked being centre of attention and all the concerned expressions was too much.

Awkwardly heaving myself up, I was eager to escape their unsettling glares.

Easy does it, Elysanna warned. It may take some time before you are fully restored.

I...honestly... I feel fine. I mustered a half smile.

Estelda had been healed first and now beamed down at me. Her sharp features creased upon seeing me return to full health.

So where to next? Sylvio stood up.

To obtain greater numbers on our side against the warlocks, we need to go to the home of the trolls. Uriul combed her curly blonde mane with her fingers as she spoke.

My mind buzzed with images of smelly, unrefined overgrown beings with tusks as big as elephants. At least the image gave me my first proper laugh for a while.

But what about my father? Shouldn't we collect the pieces of the mirror to bring him back from his entrapment from the reflection first? Sylvio asked hurriedly.

Hmmm... Mother rested her hand under her chin, pondering on something. Sylvio, where did you say the warlocks entombed your father?

The academy! Both Sylvio and I said at the same time.

Her blue eyes didn't know who to address first as they darted between the pair of us.

Well then, it looks like we'll be heading their first, then. Us witches know that when a curse is bound, clues can always be found at the point of origin.

One small problem. Sylvio pointed out the obvious. On our journey here to the far island, we lost our rowing boat to the waves. How do you propose we get back to the mainland?

My eyes shot from him to my mother's, curious to catch her answer. I never did find out how the witches had made the crossing. A small smile crept on her face.

When everyone is well rested enough, we'll show Marcisse and Sylvio how it's done.

Fiora clapped like a seal waiting for its reward. Oh, you're in for a real treat!

––––––––

Walking back to the other side of the mossy ledge, the fair weather gave a good view to the elongated peak of the dark, uniquely shaped columns that I loathed clambering over.

We can fly, so we'll meet you over there, Elysanna called down, as they floated over the edge.

With their brightly coloured wings catching the sun's rays behind us, they left a trail of glittery dust in their wake that the wind carried back to us.

Wands at the ready! Mother called out.

In perfect procession, the coven lined along the edge. Wands extending from their sleeves, they waited a moment. My heart jumped. What would they do?

Delithicos. This time Mother didn't shout, but a whisper was carried by the breeze.

At once, the ends of their wands glowed a rouge pink. Instead of straight beams, each of the discharging lights twirled around one another's into a magnificent funnelling spiral that extended to make contact with Acremon's mainland.

Sylvio squeezed my hand as we looked between one another and the phenomenon happening before us. Shapes rapidly formed within the patterns as the lines began to straighten.

A rope bridge made entirely of magic! I gasped.

Told you it was good. Fiora gave a haughty, but humorous grin.

What are we waiting for? Gweneviere beckoned everyone with a wave. Let's cross!

One by one, we stepped onto the magical bridge. Although I'd hated the heights of the last one, the power that emanated, put me at ease. Unlike real rope that is rough, the pink links were smooth to touch. I could feel the pulsing of power through me as each glide of my hand steadied myself. Transfixed in the crossing, I swore I could make out the outlines of the hippocampus' fins below, but I couldn't be certain. Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me.

Careful stepping off. Sylvio's hand brushed the small of my back as we joined the others back on the safety of land.

Considering that just moments ago I thought that I'd lost him, the slight of his touch was healing to my soul.

So what next? I looked to Alessandra and Hally before turning to my mother.

We go back to where we tethered the horses, Mother answered, catching my eye.

A flashback singed my synapses to the last time we were on horseback. Encountering the siren was not something I wanted to repeat. I turned to Fiora, remembering the option that backfired on her. Swallowing hard, I followed the others into the thickness of the wood.

––––––––

The steeds, they're alright! Fiora and I both ran to stroke the manes of the nearest two. Tethered to a few unspoiled apple trees near a small stream, they clearly had access to fresh food and drinking water.

What did you expect, dear? Witches don't abuse animals, you know! It was good to hear Uriul's sense of humour returning. 

Let's rest before riding, Mother announced.

The ground dry enough to sit on, some went to freshen up in the stream whilst others picked from the fruit trees. The Seelie sat along the water's edge, frolicking like they were back in their natural habitat.

Pulling a juicy red apple from the branch, I crunched straight into it. Its hardness squirting forth fresh juice, my tongue danced at its zesty flavour.

Taking his own apple, Sylvio sauntered beside me and pulled an apple that dangled just above my head. Having a near death experience heightens one's taste buds even more, you know. He possessed that mischievous glint in his eye that I loved so much. If it wasn't for what needed to be done, I'd have been happy to stay in this part of the wood for longer.

Arghhh! A high pitched scream ripped me right out of my romantic notions.

Running to stand together, the Seelie hovered above our heads. But who was missing? I hurriedly counted the heads, but everyone was here. So who screamed?

Then I spotted Fiora, almost concealed by the splaying fingers of an oak branch.

There! I pointed right at her. Breaking from the circle, I ran to her, disturbing the crisp, brown leaves on the floor as I went.

As I called out to ask her what was wrong, the sight of her sudden paleness stole my words.

Clutching her stomach like someone who had emptied its contents, she hardly breathed as she stared at the ground.

What's wrong, Fiora? I'd forgotten just how deep Sylvio's voice was as he caught up behind me.

I followed her eyes to the ground. A half bitten apple had rolled just beyond her feet.

I think...I'm going to be sick, she muttered as her body convulsed.

Grabbing the offending fruit, I inspected it. No wonder she felt ill! Deep in the apple's core, dark holes housed countless crawling maggots.

Eurgh! I leapt back as I kicked it away.

What was wrong with it? Mother frowned as she and the others caught up to gather around to comfort Fiora.

It's the realm, Sylvio said, tilting his head forward. The disease is spreading. If we don't defeat the warlocks soon, nothing will grow.

––––––––

Another day and a half of riding and we were finally nearing the outskirts of the capital, Zalbruth. The long journey was exhausting; my thighs were singing with pain from being in the saddle so long. It wasn't all bad, though. As Sylvio didn't have a horse, he rode with me, which meant I got to run my hands along his fine waist as he insisted on being the front rider.

We're near. Sylvio pointed through the last of the trees. The edge of this part of the city eerily quiet, the horses’ whinnies were the only sounds to be heard as we tethered them to a sturdy oak tree. As we navigated the steepness of the forest's edge to meet the cobbles, I relished in the quietness. In its decay, the timber, stone and post and beam buildings had begun to be reclaimed by the roots and vines of the forest.

Why has this part of the city been left to rot? I asked, as we made our way around the boarded up houses.

Even though the warlocks had defeated my father on that fateful day, they still ordered the people to leave for fear of the king's magical arts being taken up by anyone else, Sylvio called back. With Belrose being the centre of all that is good, it was a threat to them. Closure of the academy seemed the obvious thing.

As we passed the derelict taverns and inns, it was hard to imagine that there ever was life here.

So engrossed with conversations with the coven and the Seelie, as we passed through the city, the sight of the towering, black, iron gates, jarred me.

Set between two pillars with the inscriptions of the words art and learning, they were connected to two high walls that enclosed the inner courtyard within a huge square. Pressing my fingers on the bars, I looked up to the building where the gargoyle guarded walls met in its centre.

It's incredible. Elysanna and the Seelie floated right through the bars, naturally.

How do we get in? Estelda pouted as she inspected the gate.

Everyone step back, Sylvio demanded. With an intent look in his eyes, he looked to the intricate spikes atop of the gate. Asher iyre meve delentenimous.

My eyes flew open at the fluency of the unknown language he uttered.

The ancient tongue of the old wizards. He winked.

It was good to see that he hadn't lost any of that arrogance. Sometimes.

A gold line rose from the spikes and downward to the floor. With a clink, one side of the gate opened. Behind us, Mother and the coven gasped audibly.

What did the words mean? I almost skipped beside him as we made our way in.

Masters of magic, grant us entry.

Impressive.

I'm surprised it still worked!

I didn't answer as we approached the old fountain that was central to the courtyard. Immortalised in cracked stone was a bearded man, his cloak moved by action as he brandished his wand.

Was that...him? I felt afraid to ask.

His gaze downcast, Sylvio knelt to brush away the dirt and climbers from the plaque that found their way through the cobbles below.

I tilted my head to read the faded inscription. To the greatest teacher there ever was, King Salamon. Donated to the school by yours truly, R.M.

Who is R.M? Gweneviere's voice disturbed the moment.

Shaking his head, Sylvio slowly stood up.

My gaze rose from his lips to focus on the faint moisture in his eyes. He missed his father, but I doubt he'd admit it.

Father never told me who it was, only that it was given by one of the best students he'd ever taught.

Although I knew no one by those initials, it still didn't stop me from rifling through the files of everyone I'd ever known, spoken to or encountered that might've had the slightest connection to those initials.

We best get going. Mother sounded breathless in her concern.

Splitting around the statue, we continued along the path lined with stone ornamental vases, leading to the monumental building opposite us on the far side. My heart sank a little at the sight of the large empty jug shaped vases that housed only thistles and twigs. How beautiful they must have looked when they housed blooming flowers.

Turning my gaze from them to the magnificent building in front of me, I craned my neck to take in all of its vastness. Near the top of the towers, either side of the structure, were two circular rose windows. Set within the wheeled panes must've been thousands of individual sections of beautiful stained glass. My breath was well and truly stolen, and clearly so were the fairies as they soared up to peer through.

Above the doorway was a shaping of two hands clasping a wand with the name of the academy etched in bold beneath it. Some of the letters were difficult to decipher, as a few chunks had crumbled away.

With a creak of the door, Sylvio led the way inside. A green marble wall framed by a white arch, greeted us.

As the last of the coven rushed through the door, they brought with them crunchy brown leaves that blew about the corridor. Looking both left and right, we were standing in a seemingly never ending passage of cobwebs.

This way! Sylvio beckoned, unexpectedly trotting left.

My heart hammered against my chest, and the lower pit of my stomach rumbled, reminding me of my lack of food as we ran past the blur of matching wooden hinged doors. Unseen from the entrance was a stairwell that was set well back in a large recess within the wall that sloped into a spiral. Picking up my long peasant dress, I did my best to keep up with him. As I took flight, I had to be careful to avoid the strewn books with pages ripped out that blighted our path.

Just what part of the academy are we going to? Mother could barely speak as she panted.

The observatory! Sylvio called back over the heads and to the fairies that flew between them.

At the top of the stairs, walnut handles led in both directions. In his sharp turn, Sylvio had to steady himself with his arms as he skidded to the right.

My throat almost sealing shut, I hoped that the observatory wasn't much further. Passing side tables with dusty ornaments, we finally arrived at another staircase. Unlike the last wide steps, these were narrow and high.

Careful, ladies! Uriul's voice echoed behind me.

With my legs ready to buckle, I was glad when we reached the top. Nothing like I was expecting for an observatory, the room only had a few windows resembling an old attic. In the far corner, there was a table with old coloured bottles that were linked by the slopes of glossy spider webs. Either side of the table, tall, black, sconces still housed a few stubby candles. I wondered when they were last lit. Was it the night King Salamon's soul was bound to the mirror?

Sylvio's eyes glassed over as he fixed his gaze to the corner on the left. I stepped closer to see what he was glaring at, and before I could ask, I noted the golden, ornate frame of a mirror with remnants of glass still jagged around its edges. It was the mirror, it had to be.

It's so strange to be back here after all these years. He sighed.

Do you remember your father's teachings, well? I lightly ran my fingers along the hardness of his shoulders.

His Adam's apple appeared to get stuck in his throat in his delayed answer.  Yes... He and the other tutors. This was where I first learned about the planetary alignments. Miss Hibby was a strict tutor, always making sure I wasn't dozing off. She was tiny, but my word, did she have a temper. We called her the tiny dragon. A small smile was born from his pensiveness as he finally turned away from our cracked reflections and back to me. It was hard to imagine that this shell of a place was where the wizard king was forcibly removed from power. It seemed so unassuming to be the scene of such a monumental event.

His hand slid into mine whilst the others milled around the rest of the room's contents. A giddy chuckle escaped my throat, like we were children doing something we ought not to.

What happened to the other tutors? Did they flee? Alessandra had obviously overheard him as her red hair flew into view to stand beside us.

Not quite... There it was again, that pause that never flowed to anything good. After the warlocks banished my father into the mirror, they murdered every tutor that tried to stop them.

A lump of my own forming in my throat, I didn't know of any words to comfort him. In my emotional absence, Alessandra rubbed his arm before returning to talk to the others.

My eyes leaving his, I looked up to see that both sides of the roof sloped down to eight wonky dormers with lead cross windows within them. Beside one of the windows, I noticed something covered with an old beige sheet.

Take a look for yourself. Sylvio's breath on my neck stirred me.

The footfalls of the coven searching the room disturbed the old wooden floor that creaked in protest.

Elysanna and the Seelie emitted small squeals as the flew over to look at the empty bottles.

Making my way over to the concealed object, my fingers hovered, pinching the light cloth. With my breath held, I whipped off the sheet in one swift movement. As I tore off the veil