EDGE: Stone Souls Book II

By J.A.L. Solski

Zoriya will end. Malicious curses and tormented shadows are an ever-present threat as characters fight battles and beliefs, and as nations come together to aid their fellow elves. Adaptation becomes a means for survival.

New allies and enemies arise. The Wraith Wan, new creatures, and shadows of spirits. Witches boasting magic of old, a Sa

• Language: English
• Publisher: JALS Books
• Release date: Jun 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9781777213435

Book preview

Chapter 1

Soft sandy tones reach out as far as the eye can see, beryl water crashes against the cliffside, and fluffy ivory clouds fill the sky.

The Wraith Wan waits at the entrance of a dark prismatic tower for hours. Their surroundings contrast the looming onyx column with its sharp angles and multitudinous facets. Like a gemstone, its many sides catch occasional glints of sunlight. The ominous tower appears to rise out of the ground, darker than the blackest moonless night, its eremetic existence creating a sense of foreboding.

They speak over the raging winds and churning white-capped waves. Everything is going as we hoped, Ignatius. We may be able to save these Stone Souls yet. Though I fear this is the end of this place.

Ignatius, the phoenix, coos in response.

The Wan strokes the top of Ignatius’ head, looking out at the vast expanse of desert dunes beyond their cliffside tower. Let’s pray to the gods and goddesses that we all escape the peril that awaits these lands.

Ignatius tilts their head up at their master and gazes up into the featureless face.

Gliding back to the grand tower, The Wraith Wan takes one final glance at the dusty landscape, knowing Vali and Ilva are on their way. It would seem I am the one that is indebted to you, Vali.

I couldn’t save you that day in Mila, yet you survived and remain ever as strong, and you’ve found Ilva—our long-lost Stone Soul.

You’re the first beacon of hope I’ve seen in countless centuries.

Chapter 2

Get behind me, Bior, Llyr urges as a great beast blocks their path.

It stalks, massive and cat-like, with predatory movements. It tenderly places one clawed foot in front of the other—closing the gap between them. Eyes glowing like fiery embers. Its gold and crimson wings appear slick in the afternoon sun, and its beak has an equally smooth shine. The fur lining its feathers blends at the shoulders into a dark umber.

Llyr and her son had been skirting the mountains for weeks, seeking refuge anywhere they could. The Sapphire elves were camping along the banks of Falil and Ivarseas, and would soon overtake Karna and Marka. Llyr knew they had to get away from the cities and towns of Zoriya before it started, and she sensed that the woods were not as safe as they seemed. She led them over the rocky cliffs and now, they are face to face with an enemy that may prove even more deadly than their royal Sapphire family.

Bior steps behind Llyr.

At that moment the creature lunges toward them.

Llyr grabs a rock on the ground at her feet, preparing herself to defend them. Just as she is about to swing the rock, the creature strikes her. Stinging sharp talons sink deep into her blue flesh. Indigo blood trickles down her limp arm.

Bior stands frozen in shock. The creature, relentless in its attack, continues swiping at the small elfling.

He watches helplessly as his mother is mauled.

Llyr kicks the beast hard in the chest after it opens the flesh over her ribcage.

Bior has to think of something. He wants to help his ma, yet he knows that he is no match for this great winged beast. He is a strong child, and his ability to rationalize in dire moments like this far exceeds that of any other elfling his age. He checks his surroundings for a way out. He spots something on a cliff above the pass to the right.

It’s a nest. She’s a mother. He wonders if the creature would understand speech.

Hey! Bior yells.

The creature stops crushing Llyr with its foreclaws, hunching forward like a feline holding a bug hostage.

These are your eggs, right? He points to the nest. He is several feet closer to it than the mother.

The fires start smouldering brighter within her catbird eyes.

Llyr chokes as blood runs from the corner of her mouth.

"Grrrrrrrrrrr," the griffin growls deep in her chest as she glares at the little blue elf.

"Let my mother go. I am her egg. You are both defending the same thing. We will leave, and your eggs will be safe. Your eggs need you as I need her." His eyes are pleading, but not blinking.

The ferocity in the mother griffin’s eyes does not melt away as Bior hoped. Her tail swishes back and forth, and it feels like his mother is lying there bleeding for an eternity.

Bior fights the urge to plead more, not wanting to seem weak, swallowing hard. He eyes the creature with a matching aggressive gaze. A look that says, Let her go. The creature shifts her shoulders, moving her clawed feet slowly off of Llyr.

Focusing all of her attention on Bior, the large winged catbird stalks toward him instead.

Bior sucks in a sharp breath.

Blood pools, coating the ground under Llyr’s face. She wheezes hard, attempting to get up. Her neck feels as though it’s become part of the dirt, her arms are like bags of sand, and every attempt at motion has her feeling faint. She can hear Bior.

Let us pass! We mean you no harm! Bior bellows bravely.

Bior, Llyr barely whispers.

The griffin looms over Bior, sniffing the air, still glaring.

Bior can smell her breath and see the texture of her feathers.

Her eyes are mere inches from his and she still brings them closer. As if she is peering into his very soul. She sniffs him.

A blue glow emanates from Bior as he holds his ground, focused and determined. Magic shivers over his skin, dark navy lit with an eclipse of pale blue. It inverts his colouring as it expands over his body. He never takes his eyes away, for the change in him is natural and practiced.

Fanning her wings, the griffin shoots straight for Llyr, then eases onto the ground. Before Bior can react with outrage or horror, the griffin bows several times, showing it means no harm. Bior quiets as the beast bears an unexpectedly grotesque face, drooling on Llyr.

Bior’s interest grows as he realizes the saliva is closing Llyr’s wounds. The beast is healing her.

Llyr stares up at the fellow mother with understanding before attempting to rise. It takes great effort. The saliva didn’t replenish the blood she lost, only healed the open skin. She feels dizzy and weak. She thinks she might collapse again.

Bior runs over as soon as his ma stands. Just in time to prevent her from falling and smacking her head on a rock. She is alive, and at this moment that is all he can think of. He is eager to move on, to distance themselves from the mother and her nest, so they might rest and recover. 

As the elfling drags his stumbling ma into the Vexian wastelands, the mother catbird’s eyes follow them with a mix of interest and caution. Luckily, the catbird herself does not.

We’re going to be okay, Ma. The thought soothes his mind as he struggles to support her superior weight.

Chapter 3

Lord Ediv paces back and forth in front of what had once been Alix’s canopy bed, avoiding the far wall where the late High Lady sits slumped against the cold stone. His unscarred eye roams the room, seeking the artifact. He is furious; something keeps pulling his body along. Confusion nags at him. He knows he is not himself, but he can do nothing about it. Believing any behaviours he performs are a product of his own cowardice and feelings of servitude, he admits defeat.

He gives in to them.

His body moves again.

He follows his own movements. Whether they are truly his or not, the urge pushes him to do so and he simply complies. His magnificent stone hammer weighs heavy on his back, and his armour clanks as he takes each step.

As a young elfling, Ediv was brought along on an overseas trade mission with Lady Alix and her company. She bartered him, a newly branded soldier, for war resources and his father did nothing. He just stood by with stone-cold eyes as his only son was sold off to work in the mines of Kujiki. This all happened only weeks after his mother had been coerced into handing the young Ediv over to his father. He had never experienced strict rules and obligations before his father and Kujiki. Livy had raised him wild, and sometimes he still missed the free little elfling he once was.

In the decades of being indentured, Ediv amassed followers. They led a rebellion to escape the island, wiping out every Steel elf in Kujiki. The entire race is believed to have been eradicated. But Ediv wonders if there are still elves on the island. Though none would know of the Steel artifact he had stolen in secret… when he had annihilated their king from within his own walls.

It was almost like Ediv’s subconscious had led that rebellion, not him. He had killed the king partly for revenge, but there was something more. Why did he kill the king, when he was surrendering? It didn’t feel like him, and it haunts Ediv that he was so young when his hands had been stained with Steel elf blood. The memory is dark, a void that sucks him into an abysmal state.

But there had been a voice in his mind that called him to do it.

A voice that wasn’t his own.

Why can I not seem to lead this rebellion? Why do I have such contrasting inhibitions here? I want to rise against the unjust, and yet… I do not. I did then, so why not now? I simply obey, and my mind twists with the choice to remain this way. Why?

His father had been neglectful and, on many accounts, physically violent. It was his own father who scarred Ediv’s eye with a harpoon, on the voyage to Kujiki. Without proper treatment, it had never healed well. It was bulging and pink, flowing in ripples over his eyebrow to his cheekbone.

When Ediv had returned to Zoriya from Kujiki, Alix boasted of his courage and leadership skills. She told him he would be a great asset to their cause. His father, still cold and distant and unable to care for his son, welcomed him home with no sign of remorse for his role in Ediv’s long suffering. They maintained a purely political relationship. A peaceful public face. They fought together for decades until his father had died in battle. Alix named Ediv Lord in his father’s place.

He had long believed that his mother, Livy, had left him to this fate. In his mind, he felt abandoned. The curious, mysterious old elf that birthed him had been there whenever she could, and then one day, she just vanished. He thought his child would have a special relationship with her. Better than the one he had. But when Ilva was still young, the woods had tempted her. Adventure and escape enchanted his daughter, as they had once enchanted him. He was glad to hear his daughter was safe from the elves of Falil. Now, he wonders if she still fares well, and ignores the voices in his subconscious that hiss when his heart reaches out for his child.

Ediv thinks constantly of his strange childhood. A wild little elfling in the woods with no shoes and unkempt hair plunged into a harsh world. His younger self is a stark contrast to the well-fitted armour and stately demeanour he possesses now.

Blinking around the room, Ediv kicks pieces of debris. As if kicking at the rubble and broken bed rails will rid him of the next memory that always comes up when he thinks about his past.

Lady Alix had Ediv sign a magical contract, something he naively thought was casual business between lords and ladies. In his callowness, he had given up rights to all of their lands, and his kind were forbidden from using their magic in the village unless for ceremonies. More so, they were now ruled by the Silver kingdom and paid regular taxes to the High Lady. There were many more conditions, clauses, and catches in the documents he signed; his life was not his own. The elves she ruled over were stripped of all their rights. He was responsible for bringing his citizens more misfortune than his father ever did. Through a single piece of cursed paper.

By all the gods and goddesses! Ediv growls in frustration, wishing he could have been the one to beat her into submission. Then the pull at his body happens again. Harder, it strains upon his psyche. Bonds of magic tear away from his mind.

An ages-long glamour finally falls. 

He no longer feels quite so many of the reservations that were rooting him in place. He glances—not at, but toward the body on the floor. One of the main reasons for the traumatic events he had been forced to endure. One of his many abusers.

Ediv is not as glad about her death as he thought he would be. It did not bring back his youth, his face, his friends… His wife. Syli. It did not give him back time, or change what was done. The only satisfaction he might have had was watching life leave her, but he wasn’t even granted that small vengeful wish. 

As Ediv turns to leave, he accidentally stares straight into Alix’s eyes. He spots something glinting on her face.

"Well isn’t this interesting," Ediv speaks lyrically as he pinches the dust off of Alix’s silver satin nightdress.

He lets it spill from his fingers to the floor.

Deity dust.

~

Dola marches through the gates to Marka. She had to walk the entire distance, as the only two stallions left of her fleet in Karna had been stolen when the chaos had started. She didn’t bother calming her citizens. She ignored the small elfling in the hall crying over his mother's body. Her only concern was: Where is my granddaughter?

Traitor! How dare she free my prisoners and steal from my keep. She has no idea what she’s done. She has crippled us. We will all perish now, and it will be entirely on her. Vali, you fool, you have doomed us all!

Thoughts still storming in Dola’s head, she shoves the incoherent civilians from her path, elbowing her way to the High Lady’s castle. Once inside, she rounds the staircase to the upper halls, her feet furiously slamming the steps as she ascends to the floor that holds Alix’s chamber. She opens the door to the landing as Ediv approaches it.

You! Ediv practically shouts as a few of his previously loitering guards gather behind him.

"You," Dola spits bitterly.

They eye each other, one with interest and one with contempt.

Ediv breaks the silence. Where are your guards? 

Dola lifts her head arrogantly. "I am alone. I am not so weak as to need an entourage. You, however, seem well-guarded, your lordship."

Ediv is furious that he shrinks under this elf’s scrutiny. Dola is quite intimidating with her beaky nose and thin assessing eyes, but so is he. Why does he feel the need to act so diplomatic with her?

He matches her height before boasting, I need none of these elves at my side. The elves eye each other behind him.

Dola needs this alliance. She is less concerned with Ediv's bragging and more concerned with her friend and mentor, Alix. She can no longer feel their bond. Where is High Lady Alix?

Dead, your ladyship, Ediv answers in an emotionless tone.

No. Dola breathes out as her features become tight and her mouth pulls into a hard line. How?

I’m not entirely sure, but it would appear a god or goddess is responsible. No! Why do I always do this? Why can’t I keep any secrets from her? Ediv is truly unstable, his emotions raging but unable to surface. Why can’t I fib or fight her? Gods and goddesses, do I ever long to fight her. I’d crush her controlling smirk right into her skull!

Dola knows how little control Ediv has right now and relishes in at least that fact. He can do her no harm unless she allows him to. She accumulates rage in her own heart now though, knowing Alix is gone. The pathetic worm. He didn’t even get here in time to stop this! Why do I need him?

Show me your power once more, Ediv. Show me why you’re a worthy pawn in the game I’m playing.

Ediv, I challenge you, she spits, grabbing at the sword’s hilt resting upon her hip.

Ediv lifts his stone hammer high and runs toward her, shouting, Challenge accepted!

In seconds, he is upon her, and Dola barely has time to unsheathe her blade. She swings wildly at every assault. It takes all her focus to deflect each attack. She quickly looks around to ensure it really is just the two of them fighting.

It is. The soldiers of Marka, who had cautiously followed these leaders upstairs, have retreated to other rooms or are backing into corners with their shields up.

Ediv bellows, energized by the duress he is causing his opponent. Confident, he brings his giant hammer down upon her. His voice is a shock that Dola absorbs as the hammer knocks the blade from her hand. The silver sword flies across the room and lands at the top of the tower staircase.

While everyone, including Ediv, is distracted by the sword spinning toward the step, Dola pulls out her dagger.

Ediv barely has a chance to register her movement. He only sees her arm thrust out, and then he feels the sharpness hit him. Blood runs down his bare abdomen. He grabs for where the knife entered the flesh and holds it in place as the blood seeps through his fingers. He pulls the knife out, unfazed. The entry point darkens to a stoney grey, the skin crackling and breaking apart like a slab of schist. Layers split and rearrange until his skin appears whole again. Then the skin softens, his bronzed abdomen shining and muscular again. Not a hint of a wound.

Dola scrambles backwards as this transformation takes place, then bolts for the tower. She snatches her sword before spiralling down the narrow staircase. She was certain she had the upper hand. But now, she is not so sure she knows what sort of powers the lord has. What was that?

She makes it almost a full floor lower, then she slips.

Sliding foot first, slamming her rump on several steps, heel catching as she tries to right herself. She tumbles forward, her body careening into the walls and stairs as she descends clumsily to the bottom. Laying at the base of the tower, crumpled, bruised, and bloody, Dola gets dizzy as she struggles to find breath. Shock finally registers on her features.

Ediv, who had run down the steps as soon as she had begun falling, is directly above her now.

"Finally," he grinds out, as he raises his battered hammer over his shoulder. Bracing the handle with both hands, he swings with all his might.

Chapter 4

As Ediv and Dola begin their fight, another one is still taking place outside.

Flaz, King of Vipsca—and of the Sapphire elves—waits at the front of the castle gates in Marka. Several elves stand to either side of the tall, thin king. His powder blue skin is illuminated by the sun, his frosty white hair braided ornately down his back, resting against a navy satin robe adorned heavily with embroidery. A small table before him is heaped with fruit and cheeses, as he remains sitting in a regal palanquin. Now and then he picks at the food delicately.

As he sits upon his outdoor throne, many of the soldiers not currently standing next to him are attempting to apprehend Stone and Silver elves. They are quite skilled at fighting without unnecessary bloodshed, even as many elves beg for their lives to be taken. 

Well, shall we go see how everyone inside is? The king stands tiredly, leaving the comfort of his transportable seat. He wanders up to the doors, waiting for someone to open them for him. He clears his throat when no one volunteers. Three guards scramble to open the doors as Flaz rolls his eyes skyward.

"Thank you," the king replies in a dramatically exaggerated tone.

Flaz flounces airily. One hand lifting his robe, the other held loftily in the air. His gait still bounces as he addresses his soldiers in mocked lethargic tones: You three, cover the lower floors and ensure no staff have been injured. Tell the stragglers outside to search the perimeter for anyone fleeing. You, over there, take your best soldiers to the top floors. Scout out the situation, and report back. Everyone else will stay with me here to search the main rooms off the entry hall. His hand bobs in each direction as he lists off his expectations.

The Sapphire soldiers dash to and fro, following Flaz’s orders. The group that went below finds many staff members and escorts them to various guarded homes in the city, where the rest of the civilians are being held for their safety. The soldiers outside fail to stop a handful of escaping kitchen staff, being knocked unconscious with frying pans and fire pokers.

Flaz follows the scouting group upstairs. They cannot quite push through the crowd in the far tower, but they can tell there is a fight going on. Quickly, they try to enter from the other stairwell. As they do, the group that had nearly finished searching the main floor starts moving up the first tower. In such an enclosed space it is easy to capture and carry off elf after elf.

As the scouting group goes to enter the second stairwell, they stop dead. In front of them, Ediv swings his hammer. It crumbles the stone steps. It was mere inches from crushing Dola.

Just when the chaos seems to reach its peak, it stops. Scream after scream is cut short by Ediv’s booming voice: Why? He is fully confounded as to why his hammer didn’t crush his opponent's bones. He never misses.

Is that you, Lord Ediv? Give him room please, friends, Flaz requests.

What of her? the head of the scouting party asks.

Who is it? Alix?

Dola announces in a commanding voice, Lady Dola. 

Flaz considers her. Ah yes, bring her too. Where is High Lady Alix?

Dead, Ediv mutters.

Pity. Flaz pouts.

The scouting party leader pushes Ediv and Dola through.

We had a deal! Ediv rumbles when he is close to the king.

Flaz sighs. We agreed that Alix was unfit to rule. I did what you asked and allied with you to protect all of Zoriya. I shall see to it that everyone is given equal opportunities to survive this madness. Is this not what you requested, your lordship? Flaz goads the lord gently, hiding the worry behind his eyes.

Dola glares at Ediv and whispers, You made a deal with him? I am surrounded by traitors! Dola wonders when and how the lord made this alliance. It seemed impossible that he would be able to do this without her knowing. She has ways of spying. She considers, with rising suspicion, what the true nature of the king and the lord’s relationship might be.

For what it’s worth, Flaz speaks solemnly, Alix wasn’t supposed to die.

Dola seethes. But she did.

Ediv growls in frustration, gripping his hammer tightly, readying himself.

I wouldn’t if I were you, Flaz coos.

Ediv swings for the king instead of Dola. Uncertain fury drives his body forward with the momentum of each thrust. He misses repeatedly and begins slowing down. This isn’t me! What is happening?

Flaz gently sidesteps every blow, then places a hand on Ediv’s shoulder. Shock erupts through Ediv. His body convulses. A blue-purple glow lights up Flaz’s fingers, strings of zappy light dancing from one tip to the other in a handheld lightning storm.

Ediv falls to the ground drooling, writhing, his body trembling yet rigid.

What did you just do? Dola asks.

"I’ve sent electrical currents through his body. He should be immobile for the rest of the day. Now, join me for some tea. Let us talk, my dear." Flaz speaks in a somewhat forced cheerful tone. As if he and Dola were old friends about to catch up on some gossip, and he had not just taken down one of the strongest warriors in all of Zoriya with a touch.

Dola, considering whether the king could take her out just as easily, follows him nervously to a table and chairs. The Sapphire soldiers had arranged the furniture and brought in the tray of food from the palanquin. Dola, sniffing curtly at the lack of wine, slams her body into the seat.

Flaz waves a