Free The Coldstone Conflict by David Lee Stone

voice boomed. “He’s tough as nails, is Gordo. ’Sides, he’s got me bruvva wiv ’im.”
    “Good. So tell me … where are we going, exactly?”
    “Dullitch.”
    “I see.” Diek allowed a couple of minutes to drift by in silence. Then he said: “Er … is that wise?”
    “ ’Ow d’you mean?”
    “Well, it’s just that you said there was a wizard on the throne.”
    “So what?”
    “So … if he’s changed you into a-a-a voice in a box, he must be pretty powerful!”
    “I can kill ’ny wizard goin’, me.”
    “Yes, I believe you probably could have—back when you were, well, you. But it’s different now, isn’t it? You’re just a voice in a box and, as such, it’s pretty stupid to go walking back into the city, isn’t it?”
    “You callin’ me stupid?”
    “No! I’m just saying that maybe we should think about things first, that’s all. Besides, I have your box, so it’s up to me really.”
    “We’re goin’ to Dullitch.”
    “I don’t think—”
    “We’re goin’ to Dullitch or else.”
    Diek stopped dead, glaring down at the box.
    “Or else what? What exactly do you think you’re going to do? Mist me up?”
    “I’ll kick yer teeth out the back of yer ’ead.”
    “Go on then!”
    “I’m gonna.”
    “GO ON THEN! DO IT!” Diek waited a few seconds, his teeth clenched in anticipation. “You can’t, can you?”
    Silence.
    “Well, can you?”
    More silence.
    “Right, then. So you can just shut up: I’ll decide where we’re going.”
    “Just make sure it’s somewhere you don’ mind bein’ buried.”
    “I think,” Diek started, ignoring the last remark, “that we should go and see my parents. Yes, that’s where we’ll go—back to Little Irkesome.” He smiled at the thought. “Which way is it?”
    “Dunno.”
    “Oh, come on. Don’t be immature: just tell me.”
    “Nah, I don’ ’member.”
    “If you don’t tell me, I’m going to put your box down and leave you here.”
    “You wouldn’ dare.”
    “Try me.”
    Diek smiled to himself and crouched down to deposit the box on the jungle floor. He was preparing to demonstrate the second part of his bluff, when he heard the sound of marching feet: lots of them.
    Diek quickly regained his footing and spun around just as the vanguard of the troglodyte warband came into view.

Nine
    G ORDO AND GAPE MARCHED mindlessly through the deserted streets of Dullitch, two giant caskets suspended on a chain between them. Their master’s orders had been clear: they were to knock on every door in the city, draw out every able-bodied man and remove his soul. This was achieved by dunking their heads into the smaller casket, waiting until their souls were expelled, then performing the same procedure with the second casket in order for them to receive their new inhabitants.
    Vanquish had explained that the deposit and imprisonment of the old souls was necessary in order to hold sway over the victim’s bodies. If the body died, the soul would be released.
    However, the dark god’s voice still rang in their ears, be certain to make the exchange swift—a body left too long vacated will automatically attract the return of its true soul.
    The citizens would resist, of course: both dark servants were looking forward to that. These people were weak, after all, and there were thousands of them.
    Above them, the great dragons flapped noisily, their presence a deterrent to even the most determined of rebels. One by one, the people of Dullitch would be subdued. In due course, they would rise up and fight for their new master …
    Diek Wustapha dived behind a nearby tree and crouched as low to the floor of the jungle as his fear of insects would allow.
    “I knew you wouldn’ ’ave the guts to leave me,” Groan’s voice bragged.
    “Shhh!”
    “Don’ shhh me.”
    “There’s an army coming through!”
    “Eh?”
    “An army, on the march: I can see them!”
    “How many?”
    “I’m not sure. Looks to be … about a hundred or