The Lost Souls: The Sevenwars Trilogy, #2

By Sage Marrow

Level-headed Wenny may be a hero's younger sister, but she certainly isn't thrilled to find herself in the thick of things when she's kidnapped. Her abductor is desperate to find a friend though, and it's her special capabilities that just may finally track the long-lost prince, even within Lostland, and finally break a curse that Seven Wars herself has woven.

A boring life with no responsibility is just what Orren likes. It's his bossy mother who's to blame for his being propelled into an adventure he could hardly have prepared for, let alone asked for. Duty doesn't care about reluctance however, and he finds that his part in the difficulties ahead can't be ignored.

Joining Team Spooky may not have been their decision, but there's no going back now. Not when Seven Wars has plenty of chaos stirring...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sage Marrow
• Release date: Oct 13, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215414408

Book preview

Prologue

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‘...that abandoned all, such men will fall, that dared to become gods.’

The words fell flat into the great, empty expanse above, her high voice drowned out almost completely. But still, she closed her eyes and savored them. She worshipped the tale of heartache, envisioning proud, glittering kingdoms falling to rubble. It was all due to the heinous whims of men with crowns and women entangled in pride’s grasp that, in a previous war, now only relived with hushed words and firelight, four kingdoms had fallen.

She wasn’t known to be spiteful for nothing.

In the wake of her own disaster, the ancient, well-known tragedy consumed her thoughts as she paced along the shore, heedless of the stones biting into her bare soles or the wind shipping salt-spray across her skin. With her heart rendered to nothing but jagged shrapnel inside her, and tearstains pinching her cheeks as they dried, she imagined she could hear the screams of those long ago battles. From the painful, tattered remains of her soul, she could almost breathe in the copper stench of blood.

Oh yes, it had all been possible to begin with because of blood. If it could bring the mightiest of the seven to ruin, it could surely abolish the naive existence of one mere, imprudent prince.

The waves bursting apart on the rocks she stood on gleamed like spilled ink, rushing on its course only to be driven back, kept in its bounds. People, she knew, were precisely the same. They were ever scurrying towards a destination, always angrily determined to reach it no matter how many times they were thrown back. Always fated to break and shrivel and recoil, again and again.

That very human nature would serve her, unwavering in its supply of energies waiting to be molded. Such a source was costly, perhaps, but dependable—and very, very powerful. The price for it was of no concern to her whatsoever.

Pathetic, she decided, and yet, so absolutely perfect for corruption.

Sweetly unaware of their approaching demise, they danced in a magically lit hall beneath a canopy of gauze, and the sea breeze would clink the chimes made of crystal figurines of the gods to its own sort of music. How safe they felt, twirling in time with their partners, grasping hold of the ones they cared for. Soon to be severed. She untangled her fingers from her long honey-colored hair, spilling in coiling tendrils behind her in the wind, damp with sea-spray.

Will you stop me? she whispered, looking to the stars through her lashes. Her golden eyes stung from the salt of the ocean. I rather think that you can’t.

She pried her chapped lips apart to scream at the wind defiantly, breaking into a shrieking laugh, and this time, her voice was not drowned out by the rhythm of the waves.

Chapter 1

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Life in the kingdom of Suhren was uneventful, once you got used to the occasional flooding at the bay and magical explosions from sorcerer mishaps. The salty tang in the air and the infestation of gulls suited me. The routine of things could be stifling as a noblewoman’s son, but the bay always took care of the sense of overbearing confinement. I’d stand with the wind howling beneath my extended arms and think about absolutely nothing.

Orren, my mother had told me countless times, usually with the perfunctory shaking of a finger in my face, you are my only child and all I have left of your father. You bear a long line of aristocracy on your shoulders. Live up to it.

It hadn’t been easy for me, growing up as the son of a fallen war hero. Everyone’s expectations for your life were ridiculously, dramatically high—I was never going to please anybody. So I suppose it was a good thing I never cared to. I had some laziness settled deep in my bones, but it sure wasn’t hurting anyone.

Besides, I had obediently stood in the mass that waited outside the queen’s palace to greet the new Berinam ambassador. The uniform I wore itched nastily and I chanced an impolite scratch in an even ruder area. No one saw anyway, concerned as they were with Emera Berrou’s arrival, all clambering for the first glimpse as she came nearer on horseback. Rumors had preceded her presence, telling of a spectacular adventure with Berinam’s own former prince. If they were true, as I was inclined to believe along with the majority of everyone else, I thought it a small surprise that the new king loved her. People usually swooned for courageous characteristics.

I finally saw her and was surprised by her small frame, expecting someone strong and intimidating, given what I had heard; but her aura was easy to feel even for a magic-less person like me. Her wind-tangled hair was a deep auburn, her skin pale, though slightly sunburned, completely opposite of my own dark color. She was pretty enough, I guess, with bright brown eyes fringed with thick lashes that seemed to try and take in everyone in the crowd at once. Mostly though, she looked tired, which didn’t surprise me, as she must have ridden straight from Montarra to us.

But then, the reason she had come was a pressing one, and so there was no time wasted as we were led into the amphitheater that served as the assembly room, on the farthest wing of the palace. Even half-filled as it was, the ambassador showed her inexperience to her position for a split moment as she swallowed, looking around before accepting her seat at the head table. As the convention started, a breeze wafted in from the large, open window at the front of the room, lulling me further into a doze. The queen’s two head councilmen began the convention, and the sight of their frames being dwarfed by the statue of the gods behind them made me laugh. Until my mother’s stern look shut me up and I returned to boredom. Nallon tended to carry on, which didn’t help me pay attention. Beside him, his brother, Preese, would willingly fill any voids in his speech, all in all creating a very dull introduction. A glance towards Emera showed me that she felt the same. Well, either that, or she was more tired than I had guessed.

Uriela, the sole monarch of Suhran, dressed in a flowing gown of royal yellow and green, drummed her fingers on her armchair. Her hair was coiled across one shoulder, of a lighter shade of red than the ambassador’s. Her years of ruling as a widow showed around her teal eyes. Now, with a spreading yawn, she spoke lightly, interrupting the man’s droning.

Please sit, she said, flapping a hand his way. No need to make this gathering last any longer than it needs to. With a smile, she turned to Emera. The strands of pearls looped from one ear to the other across her brow, connecting to her circlet-crown, swung as she moved. My dear, I’m so glad to see you, though I am sorry you have had to make this trip; I can see that Montarra’s ambassador has tired of the matter already and left you to work alone. Perhaps now we can make this journey finally end for you so you may return home after so many weeks. If you would, tell us what news you have brought from Montarra.

Thank you, your majesty. Emera smoothed down her riding trousers and vest. Splattered with trail grime as she was, out of place in the pristine room, she held her shoulders square and her chin high. I was hardly abandoned, though. Some urgent things have come up and Juyen thought it best to remain in his home country. Their wisemen were not able to tell me much beyond confirming that Raylek is really Spite’s brother and it was she who set a curse on him.

The one which you broke. Ursila leaned against her hand, amused.

I stared at Emera from where I sat near the front, incredulous. She had gone through all that effort just to hear what she already knew? I would have long since given up and returned home. A sharp look out of the corner of my mother’s eye told me she knew my thoughts and I stopped fidgeting. The gemstones on her head-wrap shone like her dark satin skin as she looked away.

I’m sorry to hear they told you so little, the queen continued. They knew nothing of Spite’s mirror or its whereabouts?

None could say anything on the topic.

Uriela pressed the tips of her fingers together, looking out over them. I hate to tell you, dear one, that they need to be reminded of the urgency of locating this mirror. And that the bauble which was once yours is probably the only thing that is capable of rendering it powerless.

The golden sphere was never actually mine— Emera began.

It was. Isn’t that how you defeated Raylek? The queen flicked a strand of hair out of her eyes. Montarra should have given it back to you, but no matter. What their queen does is beyond my own authority. The matter at hand is whether or not we can count on Berinam’s support in finding this mirror.

Spook—I mean Idan will agree to help, I’m sure. He wants her defeated as much as you do. Emera bit her lower lip. Though, your majesty, I don’t fully understand yet what this mirror is or why it’s so important to Spite.

Uriela snorted sharply. Seven Wars values it, which makes it dangerous. To be truthful, I don’t know its full capacity. Perhaps one of my councilmen can enlighten us...?

Preese practically bolted from his seat, bowing low to the queen. I would do so with pleasure, your highness, as would Nallon, if we but knew what you don’t already. His hands twisted his cap mercilessly. Ever since you have received that unsigned letter warning you of its existence, we have searched farther and wider than this girl—he flagged the hat in Emera’s direction—has done.

Uriela sat back, flinging her hands up in defeat. Does no one know? With a sigh, she rubbed her brow beneath the pearls, adding, I won’t send you back to Montarra alone, Emera. Due to its importance, we will take part in this search. Queen Jamine will surely hand over the bauble once she realizes that too.

Thank you, your majesty. Help would be greatly appreciated.

The queen surveyed the room for a moment. Well? Have we any takers? Do the noble of my country not sit before me?

Somewhere in the quiet room, a man coughed once. Feet shuffled, breaths were held, and the nervous tension in the room made me itchy from head to toe. My mother was, to my surprise, looking my way with both her eyebrows lifted in expectation.

Well, son? she snapped, impatient.

What? I ducked as she reached out to twist my ear, avoiding her from years of practice.

Stand up, she ordered. Stand your lazy bones up and do something good while you have the chance.

I gaped at her. You can’t be serious about this.

I most certainly am. Back was the stiff finger, shaking right before my nose, and I went cross-eyed looking at it. You were born for more, Orren, so go claim it.

Mother, I don’t think I’m the right one to—aah! I shot up from my seat as she pinched me on the bottom, clapping a hand to the spot as I scowled at her. Why’d you—?

Orren Hunns, is it?

Gulping, I looked to Nollun as he stepped towards me, tapping a rolled sheave of parchment against one hand. I hastily dropped my hands from my behind. Yes sir.

Are you volunteering to take part in this task?

Um... A sweep of my eyes around the room showed that not only was no one else standing, but all eyes were fixed on me. Which was enough to make me wish I had bothered to wear an unwrinkled shirt like I had been told to do but didn’t. I... I’m going to pass out. Yes. I guess I am.

Then get up here, boy, and be quick about it.

Scrambling up the stairs to the dais with all the grace of a newly-hatched turtle, I stood at attention before the councilmen, ignoring the fact that both their faces read doom as they appraised me. A light touch at my elbow brought me around and I saw that Emera had moved to stand beside me, giving me a small smile of support. I nodded to her in gratitude, clenching my clammy palms.

I don’t even really know who this Spite person is, I whispered.

I’ll explain. Eme shot a glance towards the councilmen. I’ll explain that and a lot more later.

Uriela stood, sweeping out the train of her skirts behind her as she stepped out to meet us in the center of the dais. Orren, do you agree to the task before you? The mirror of Spite must be found and brought back to me.

She may as well have asked me to turn the sky bright orange for how little the task made sense and seemed so impossible besides. Of their own will, my eyes strayed to where my mother sat. Her face was serene as she gazed back, but the tightness of her knuckles clenched in her lap gave away what she was truly feeling. Somehow, that gave me the courage to look to the queen and draw in a steadying breath. 

Yes, I’ll help, I said.

No sooner had the words left my mouth than the roof above us cracked with a deafening sound. As everyone gasped, looking up in astonishment, a web of fissures spread out from the center, broke inward, and chunks of stone came tumbling down. Screams rose up to meet them and panic made the room swarm like an anthill that had been kicked. The queen was immediately surrounded, ushered out from under the falling stone. As the ground began to thunder beneath my feet and those on the dais began to stagger, Emera grabbed hold of my arm and dragged me after her, surprising me with her strength.

We’ve got to get out without being seen, she called back over her shoulder. Lead the way! She ducked the next moment, covering her head as the stone blocks hit the ground, breaking into chips that skittered everywhere and clouds of choking white dust.

I lifted my head from my arm where I had been thrown off my feet, trying to see through the swarming crowd and the mess of grounded ceiling. I felt like I had cotton stuffed in my ears, turning every sound thick and sluggish. Mother? Gaining my feet, I offered a hand to Emera, pulling her up easily before I turned to scan the area.

Is that her? The ambassador pointed towards a huddle of people clogging one of the many stairways that led to the exits. Among them, a woman with a sparkling head-wrap was directing the frightened crowd.

I nodded, opening my mouth to call out to her. The words died in an instant as the large window at the forefront of the room shattered; shards soared out, met with several cries of pain. Emera grimaced as she carefully dislodged a piece that had bit into the back of her arm, tossing it to the ground.

Do you know what’s going on? I asked her. She was less frightened than everyone scrambling around me, grim and angry. Several screams turned my attention back to the dais and I followed their gazes to the broken window, reeling back when I saw what they did: figures dressed completely in white, like a second skin covering even their faces that hid all color and distinction from the world, were dropping to the ground. They snatched at those closest to them, holding them up to their feature-less heads before dropping them and moving on. Hunting.

Let’s go. Emera shoved me into motion. I balked, looking to my mother, but she was already gone and since we were drawing the strange figures after us, I began to run ahead. Her footsteps behind me spurred me towards the nearest stairway, and I halted at the bottom, motioning for her to go past. Looking back, my gut twisted as I saw the strange, faceless people drawing to where we were. A frantic look around showed I had few options, but I still picked up fist-sized stones and began to throw. The few that managed to make contact hardly slowed their approach and I gave it up, turning to climb the stairs as fast as I was able.

Emera barged through the doorway at the top, slamming them shut the moment I was through. I helped her to slide the thick wooden beam into place to lie across both doors. They groaned the next moment from a heavy collision, straining at their hinges, and we stumbled back, watching to see if the beam held.

They’ll eventually give up and go through the other openings, I realized, turning to inspect the landscape. The palace grounds were decorative, full of winding paths and flower beds, but with no adequate hiding place. My shoulders sagged. Great. Looks like we’ll have to run some more.

Which direction are the stables at?

I pointed south-east tentatively. That way, I think. If we can reach them we can—whoa!

I’m sure your queen won’t mind if you take a horse, Emera said, pulling me along until I lengthened my stride to run properly and she let me go. Given that you’ve agreed to look for that mirror and all.

About that— I started to say, but stopped when the pounding of feet behind us made me glance back. Oh gods, that’s not good.

Emera paled beside me as she looked too. The ground was crawling with the white-bodied men and women sprinting after us, moving in impossibly smooth motions on all fours like dogs.

What are they? I asked, forcing myself to speed up.

Don’t know, she gasped. Need help.

Right on cue, as if they had been waiting for her permission, yellow-garbed sorcerers appeared around the bend we took, in formation on the pathway as it delved between two rows of trees. Little figurines of the gods, carved of glass or wood, dangled from gray strips of fabric tied down their upper arms. Fiery blasts erupted from their hands, smelling of heat and metal as they roared over our heads to explode behind us. The attacks were met with terrible yelps as they hit their target. We staggered past them, pausing for a moment behind a thick trunk to catch our breath. Peering out from behind the bark, I winced as I took in the fight, watching yellow clothes swirl and white, faceless figures dodging flames that licked the ground.

If I had to guess, Emera said, I’d say that they belong to Spite.

Are they trying to stop us from going after the mirror?

I don’t know. Maybe.

I gestured with my chin for us to keep moving and