The SoulNecklace Stories by R. L. Stedman

Author:R. L. Stedman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Waverley Productions

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I stumbled over the man by accident. Half-hidden under a cairn of rock, he lay beside a damp, mossy wall. The golden light of the forest arched all about him, but where the man lay all was dark.

There was something compelling about this man. In the shimmer of golden light, it was hard to see his face, hidden as it was beneath the stone’s shadow. One of the army, he had the same slim beard and long mustaches, the brown-yellow skin. Who was he? A long, half-healed cut, a knife slash from forehead to jaw, puckered his skin and twisted his face. I felt I knew him.

He was badly injured. Blood oozed through a dirty bandage, tied roughly on his bare chest and the pulse at his throat was barely obvious. He smelt; not just dirt and sweat, but with the sweet, sickly smell of rotting flesh.

As I looked at him the golden dreamlight of the forest seemed to fade. Merging into the shadow of the rock, the injured man appeared to vanish. A dark man, hidden in darkness.

As though he knew I was watching him, he stirred. Opening his eyes, he smiled at me. Said something – “Morque’ A greeting? A curse? A name? Yes - a name.

Oh, I knew him now.

TeSin. I’d met this man before. He was the general, the Noyan, who watched men and women die with no more concern than if the weather had changed. I knew this, because in my dream I had become him; I had shared his emotions. He was cold, hard. But once there had been someone he loved. His wife, Morque. She had died, giving birth to their son. I knew this, because he, I, still grieved.

Less than a month ago he’d tried to kill me. And I would have killed him, had Will not attacked first, struck him in the ribs, and twisted the blade to cause injury. As we were trained to do. TeSin must be a strong man, to linger so.

Not for much longer. His eyes were glazing and his breathing slowed. Near to death, it would be a relief for him to slip away. And why should I care? He’d not cared for others.

But so many men had died today – could not one survive?

Angrily, I pulled light from the forest and wove it around him, until he seemed cocooned in gold, like a strange caterpillar waiting to hatch. He said nothing, but through the tissue of golden light I saw his eyes open. His face relaxed. He smiled; a gentle curving of the lips, and he sighed. I sighed also. He might live now. Had I done right? Suddenly, I didn’t care. It felt right to stop a death.

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