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Praise for Ed's previous novel, Lost in Translation:

"Edward Willett has arrived, and SF is the richer for it." -  Robert J. Sawyer, Hugo Award-winning author of Hominids

"A believable, absorbing, thought-provoking and highly enjoyable read." - Kathy Tyers, Author of the Firebird trilogy, Star Wars: The Truce at Bakura, and Star Wars: Balance Point

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Soulworm
Published by Royal Fireworks Press

Shortlisted for the Brenda MacDonald Riches Award for best first book,
1997 Saskatchewan Book Awards

CHAPTER ONE

The lights of the car slashed through the deluge, twin spears of illumination impaling falling raindrops that glittered silver against the blackness of the wet pavement, the wet sky, the wet world.

The engine screamed as the driver's right foot pressed harder.  A green number flickered on the dash, jumped upward by twos and threes.  The boy at the wheel laughed.  The girl snuggled close at his right laughed with him.  The girl in the back seat did not.  Mouth dry, she clung to the upholstery.  The scornful eyes of the boy mocked her in the rear-view mirror.  "Having fun?" he yelled, jerking the wheel from side to side.  Tires squealed and the car lurched drunkenly.

But then he must have seen the terror on the backseat passenger's face, for his eyes flicked back to the road ahead--or where the road had been.

Still accelerating, the car shot off the curve and arced through the air.  Its nose dropped lazily, smashed through a barbed-wire fence, then plowed into the muddy summerfallow field beyond.  The car flipped onto its back, skidded sideways in the mire, and rolled six times in a welter of mud and water, tortured metal and breaking glass, leaving a trail of torn earth and scattered bits of chrome and steel.

It ended on its back, in a growing puddle of oil and gasoline.  A pickup truck squealed to a stop on the curve just as the wreck burst into flames, burning eagerly despite the rain.

As the horrified driver of the pickup leaped out, he saw in the lurid light two figures on opposite sides of the wreck, one lying deathly still, the other sitting in the mud, slowly rocking back and forth.

All too clearly, he also saw a third figure, trapped in the driver's seat, enveloped in fire.

#

Fire, leaping and crackling, encircled the two old women like a wall.  Flames and heat-shivered air obscured them, but Liothel, though at the very back of the crowd of Acolytes, could plainly discern the exorcism's progress.

I ought to be able to, she thought.  I've watched enough of them.

The old woman on the right, brought bound to Wardfast Mykia only that morning, began to sway, her face screwed tight in pain or concentration.  Her hands, tied together with scarlet rope, clenched and unclenched spasmodically, and Liothel, seeing that, knew the climax was near.

The Exorcist, a taller woman wearing the blue robe of a Warder, stood statue-still, face calm, eyes closed.  Not all Exorcists were so composed as they went about their task, Liothel knew; but then, Yvandel was Mykia's Exorcist Mother.  She was supposed to be the best.

Just in front of Liothel a gaggle of Acolytes squirmed and elbowed and whispered.  "I can't see--can you see?"  "I can't see either."  "What's going on?"  "Is it over yet?"  "Where's the soulworm?"

Liothel resisted the impulse to swat them from behind.  It wasn't her place; though she was years older, she, too, was only an Acolyte--and they knew it very well, and would be only too happy to remind her, probably for several days, if she overstepped her authority.  For a moment even her clear view of proceedings galled her; the only reason she could see so well was that she stood a full head taller than any of the others.  Her gray Acolyte's robe had had to be specially made for her.  She should already be a Warder...

The empty eyes of Blind Maris, the Wardfast Sentinel, who stood at her post by the courtyard gate only a few feet away, swung toward Liothel, who hastily touched forehead, mouth and chest in the Warders' Sign.  Such resentful thoughts were dangerous this near an about-to-be-exorcised soulworm, no matter how brightly the Circle of Fire burned!

And it burned very bright indeed, as Second Warrior Teressa added more fuel to the flaming trench surrounding Yvandel and the soulworm-possessed.  Like Liothel, Teressa knew the exorcism was almost complete--

Suddenly the possessed woman stiffened, then collapsed; but her shadow remained standing.

The fidgety young Acolytes quieted, staring; Liothel shivered, even though she had seen it so many times.  A thin, wavering cry seemed to echo around the courtyard, though Liothel knew the sound was only in their minds.  Yvandel remained unmoving and unmoved.

The shadow-shape spun in place, losing form, dwindling.  It darted at Yvandel, but could not touch her; reached out for its former host, and found her likewise unassailable.  And all the while the flames leaped around it, their light burning it away, evaporating it, driving it into...

...nothingness.

The shadow was gone.  The flames sank.  And Yvandel knelt beside the other woman, who opened her eyes...and smiled.

A sigh ran around the courtyard, a sigh interrupted by the deep voice of Guardian Mother Alamyr, who had watched all from an overlooking balcony.  "One hour of meditation.  Then meet with your tutors to discuss what you have seen."  She tapped her white staff of office three times.  "I declare this gathering of the Warders of Mykia ended."

The Acolytes scattered in twos and threes, voices rising in excited chatter.  Liothel, alone as usual, was stopped at the gate by Blind Maris.  "No meditation for you, young lady," said the old woman.  She reached out with uncanny accuracy and took the sleeve of Liothel's robe.  "I'll not have you brooding.  You come with me--there's a bit of work you can help me with.  Avondia?"

"Here, mistress."  A young Warder, the same age as Liothel, appeared on the other side of the gate.

"I think we've kept that new applicant waiting long enough.  While we Test her, this lass," she nodded toward Liothel, "will serve as recorder.  She needs to think of something besides how put-upon she is."

"I wasn't--" Liothel began.

"I Read you," Blind Maris said.  "You were."

Liothel swallowed her protest, and followed the Sentinel and her apprentice down the twisting, narrow lane between high stone walls that led from the Courtyard of Exorcism to the Gatehouse.  What would it be like, she wondered, to be able to reach into other people's minds and sense their thoughts?  There could be no secrets from the Sentinel.

Maybe it's no wonder she lives in the Gatehouse, as far as possible from the Keep, Liothel thought, and felt a little ashamed for thinking--and a lot more ashamed when Avondia glanced back at her, for Avondia, of course, shared her mistress's gift.

Liothel dropped back a little more, though only the Creator knew how far was far enough to keep Maris or even Avondia from reading her mind.  She and Avondia used to be friends, when they were both Acolytes--before Avondia's latent Talent had manifested itself two years before, and she had become Apprentice Sentinel.  Now she was a Warder, and Liothel--

"Acolyte, please try to keep up," Avondia snapped, and Liothel's mouth tightened.  Discord of any kind was fertile ground for the Enemy--but Avondia did not make it easy for Liothel to think kind thoughts.

Avondia led the way through a back entrance to the Gatehouse, down a narrow, dusty corridor, and finally through a barred door into the Chamber of Testing, a large, octagonal room.  A gold-embossed eight-pointed star gleamed at the centre of a marble floor hollowed and polished by the nervously shuffling feet of the thousands who had faced Blind Maris or her predecessors there over the centuries.

Liothel sat at the writing desk off to one side, and took out the massive, leather-bound Book of Records, a pen and a bottle of ink.  Blind Maris, meanwhile, heaved herself into the carved wooden chair that faced the large bronze door in the opposite wall, and nodded to her apprentice.

Avondia opened the door, went out, and returned with a girl a little younger than Liothel; a girl Liothel disliked on sight.

For one thing, she reeked of sweat, fear, blood and smoke--especially smoke.  Liothel wrinkled her nose and thought if she were applying to the Warders, she would at least take a dip in the nearest river first.  Clean body, clean soul, said Jara, the Acolytes' chief tutor, when their pre-dinner washing had been just a bit rushed...

But Jara was not there, and Blind Maris, whose nose was sharp as a hound's, seemed not to notice the stench, though Avondia frowned slightly from her place beside the door.  Liothel schooled her expression to neutrality and concentrated on recording every word spoken.

"Your name is Kalia," Blind Maris stated, and the applicant's eyes widened at this first taste of the Sentinel's power.  "You come to us from Yvol's Hold.  A long journey, for one so young.  How many summers have you, Kalia of Yvol's Hold?"

"Sixteen," said the girl, her voice strong and confident.  Her short, ragged blonde hair, probably cut with the sheathed knife at her waist, made her look more like a boy a year younger, Liothel thought.  And she had little of a woman's shape to alter that opinion.  Though part of that might be due to short rations.  Kalia's face was as gaunt as though she had not eaten in days...

"You are hungry, Kalia," said the Sentinel.  "Hungry, and cold, too, I'd wager, with the first snow already come and gone and the days dying.  Why do you come here, to Wardfast Mykia, instead of going to Wardfast Hethro, which is close by Yvol's Hold?"

"I come here because the war party that pillaged my home rode toward Wardfast Hethro," Kalia snapped, and Liothel's mouth quirked.  It did no good to become angry with the Sentinel.  It only told her more of what she wanted to know.

"And how much of your desire to be a Warder is really only a wish to be warm and fed?" Blind Maris pressed.  "And where will it go when the sun returns and the sap rises?  Do you know the oaths we take, lass?  One is to be celibate--an oath that means little to most Acolytes, at least at first, but you are years older than our usual applicants, and you are no maiden. I Read that clearly."

"It happened," said Kalia flatly.  "There was no child, there was no second time, and I have regretted it since.  I am prepared for that sacrifice."

"Hmmm.  Well, fear not, young Kalia.  Here you will find no young men to tempt you from your rash promise."

The girl's thin, strained face lit up.  "You're going to accept me?"

"Indeed."

"But you've only spoken with me for a few minutes--you've asked almost nothing--"

"I have heard what I needed to hear, in your voice, and, more importantly, in your heart.  I do not Test you on what you say, child, but on what you don't say.  Acolyte Kalia, welcome to Mykia."  She embraced the girl, whose eyes shone in the light of the lamps hung beneath the silver dome of the ceiling.

Avondia gave Blind Maris a troubled look, even took half a step forward--then became aware of Liothel's eyes on her and quickly stepped back.  Nevertheless, Maris turned her own head slightly, and said warmly to Kalia, "If you'll wait in the anteroom outside for a few minutes, I'll send someone to show you to your quarters and explain how we live here in Wardfast Mykia."

"Yes, my--"  Kalia blinked.  "Umm, please, ma'am, what do I call you?"

"I am the Sentinel," said Blind Maris.  Liothel sensed the extra emphasis she put on that proclamation, and obviously Avondia did, too; her mouth tightened.

"Yes, Sentinel.  Thank you.  Thank you!"  Kalia almost ran from the room.

At once Blind Maris turned to Liothel.  "You may cease recording, child."  Liothel laid aside her pen and carefully blotted the page before closing the Book.

  "Which Warder shall I get to take charge of Kalia, Sentinel?" she asked, thinking she was glad it would not be--

"I think you would be the most appropriate choice," said Blind Maris.

Liothel stared.  "I?  But, Sentinel, I'm only an Acolyte--"

"And were feeling sorry for yourself in that regard only moments ago, were you not?  Liothel, there are tasks other than the use of the Talents that are also important to the Wardfast.  You have a latent Talent, as does that girl I just Tested, or you would not be an Acolyte.  Just because it is late manifesting does not make you any less vital to Mykia.  Perhaps this small task will help you understand that.  Besides, you have lived here since you were a baby and are most familiar with our ways.  Who better to welcome Kalia?  Particularly since she is closer to your age than to the other Acolytes."

"But, Sentinel--"

"And also, Liothel," said Blind Maris inexorably, turning her blank, but somehow penetrating, gaze on her, "I Read your unkind feelings toward this girl who has come to us homeless and frightened, bereft of all family and friends.  She is alone in this world.  She needs our compassion.  You need to learn to give it."

Liothel felt ashamed.  She had been unkind and unfair toward Kalia, about whom she knew almost nothing.  It bothered her--she had never thought herself one to make snap judgments about people.

"I think it is because Kalia is so near your own age that you have these unworthy feelings," said the Sentinel, again uncannily picking up on her thoughts.  "You have always been either younger or older than the other Acolytes.  Deep in your heart you fear Kalia could somehow be your competitor, could take your place in our affections.  Search your feelings and see if this is not so--and overcome it.  It will strengthen you as a Warder."

Liothel made the Warder's Sign, knowing Maris would sense it, even though she could not see.  "Your wisdom, as always, enriches me."

"My wisdom, I fear, is not something universally agreed upon," Maris said drily, inclining her head toward Avondia, who frowned and looked down.  "Go to Kalia, child.  Make her welcome."

"Yes, Sentinel."  Liothel crossed the eight-pointed star to the door.

As Avondia strode past her in the opposite direction, Liothel heard Maris's patient sigh.  "So, Apprentice, tell me what it is you sense that you think I have not."

"It was only a tinge of darkness on the fifth level, Sentinel, but I swear..."

Liothel went through the bronze door, and its closing cut off the increasingly technical exchange.  For a moment she stood there, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the much dimmer light of the single oil lamp that lit the short hall to the antechamber, and thought about what Maris had said.  Could she actually be jealous of someone she had never met until now, a boyish girl with ragged hair and dirty clothes stinking of battle?

"No!" her surface mind proclaimed fiercely...but "yes," whispered a quieter voice within, and there she found the truth.  Yes, she could be jealous, jealous of a girl who at least had known her parents, had known friends and laughter and the normal life of a village instead of the daily sameness of life in the Wardfast, had even known the touch of a man...all things she had never known, would never know; things that had been taken from her when, as an infant, she had been left at the gate of Wardfast Mykia, and the Sentinel had sensed, even then, in her unformed mind, her potential Talent.

She shook her head.  So, she was jealous.  Facing that unpleasant truth, she could move beyond it.  She had to move beyond it, to become a Warder when (if, whispered a voice from even further within) her Talent manifested.  There could be no hidden envies, no masked rivalries, among the Warders.  Such emotions were the food of the soulworms, the Enemy.

But as she strode down the hallway and stepped through a blue-curtained archway into the antechamber, and saw and smelled Kalia again, she realized simply facing her emotions was not the same as banishing them, for the instant dislike she had felt on first seeing the other girl rose in her once more.

"Kalia," she said, in as warm a tone as she could manage.  "My name is Liothel.  I am also an Acolyte.  I welcome you to Mykia."

"I saw you--in the other room."  Kalia stood up from the embroidered green-velvet couch that was the antechamber's principal furnishing and smiled tentatively.  "You were writing down everything that was said, weren't you?"

"The words of every Testing are written in the Book of Records.  The deeper Testing, the Sentinel writes in her heart."

"I really didn't understand that," said Kalia.  "What was she testing for?"

Liothel opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by Avondia, who emerged through the curtain, thrusting it aside almost angrily.  "We test for potential Talent--and for possession by the Enemy."

Kalia's eyes widened.  "Soulworms?"

"Those of us with the talent of Testing can sense them lurking inside a mind--and the Sentinel is the greatest Tester in the Wardfast."  Her eyes never left Kalia's face.

"Soulworms," Kalia repeated slowly.  "Of course.  You had to know if I were demon-possessed--"

"They're not demons," Liothel broke in, disturbed by Avondia's strange manner and even more by the absence of Blind Maris.  Avondia was never to leave her mistress's side--never!  Liothel was no Sentinel, but even she knew that.  "That's what the superstitious call them.  Warders know better.  There's no doubt they are evil, but they aren't supernatural in any way.  They're created beings, like you and me, or hounds and horses.  They live to eat and to reproduce.  Unfortunately--"

"Unfortunately," Avondia said softly, "they thrive on the negative emotions--anger, lust, and hate.  They infiltrate their victims, influence their actions, stimulate these emotions in their host and others around them, and feed, and grow; and when the time is right, in a paroxysm of physical violence, they spawn, and a single soulworm becomes nine, or 10, or a dozen or more, and the cycle repeats."  She suddenly stepped forward and touched Kalia's forehead.  The girl jerked away, startled, and Avondia stood as if transfixed for a moment before lowering her hand.  "It is our greatest dread," she whispered, "that one day a soulworm will infiltrate a Wardfast."  And with that she strode past them, through the door to the rest of the Gatehouse.

Kalia stared after her.  "What was that all about?"

"I don't know."  Liothel glanced back at the curtained arch leading to the Chamber of Testing, then became aware of Kalia's curious gaze, cleared her throat and turned around.  "I think it's time I showed you around," she said, crossing to the door.  "Starting with the baths!"

#

Updated November 29, 2001