The Chosen Soul (20 page)

Even Raven knew that the man in leather armor should have been leveled by that

spell. His body should be crushed, or blown apart, or, at the very least, on fire.

Yet, there he stood. Utterly unaffected.

And in the next instant, he attacked.

-

158 -

The Chosen Soul

He pulled his sword from his back with such speed that Raven could barely see it

happening. The elf in black robes, the one the stranger had called ‘Cruor’, waved his

hands in the air once more. A shimmering wall of magic appeared between he and his

attacker, a sort of barrier made of nothing but solidified air.

The man with the sword swung and his blade collided with the force field, sending

sparks shooting in every direction. Then he hit it again, and again, three times, four times more, until finally, the barrier began to fall.

Cruor’s cat-like eyes widened and he took a step back. He raised one arm in his

opponent’s direction and spoke a few short archaic words. When nothing happened and

the man came forward, sword at the ready, he stepped back once again.

The man with the sword shook his head. “I told you already, elf. Your magic will not

work on me. Now, I wonder," he spoke slowly, calmly, as he continued to step forward,

his long sword gleaming in the shafts of light that streamed through the trees overhead.

“Does your prince know what designs you have against his woman?”

Cruor’s gaze narrowed then. His eyes flitted from his attacker’s face to the insignia

on his chest. Comprehension dawned in his eyes and he looked back up. “Tanith.” He

hissed, a sly smile returning to his features.

The man with the sword nodded once again. “At your service.”

Cruor shook his head. “Astriel must have hired you to retrieve her. I’m surprised he

didn’t simply recover her himself.”

“He must have had his reasons.”

“Tell me, what interest could the prince possibly have in the Chosen Soul?”

- 159 -

Heather Killough-Walden

This time, the bounty hunter did not answer. He simply shook his head and lunged

forward, his sword coming down in a swift, deadly arc.

Cruor was there in one instant and gone in the next.

Raven gasped. The bounty hunter straightened. His body stilled, his head cocked to

one side. He was listening.

In the next moment, he was spinning, his sword coming up in an expert block as

Cruor appeared behind him, dressed this time in leather armor that matched the bounty

hunter’s, all the way down to the insignia on his chest. In his hands was a long sword of

the same make as Tanith’s, and he was swinging it down upon his opponent’s head with

mastered skill and grace.

Tanith blocked the weapon’s descent and sparks shot off of their blades as they

collided and slid along one another. Again, Cruor attacked and again Tanith blocked.

The two began to circle each other, the sound of their swords clashing ringing out

through the forest. So many sparks shot off of their blades that Raven was half afraid the

underbrush would catch fire.

Use your powers, damn it! Get out of here!

Raven blinked. She was certain this time that the voice inside her head had not been

her own. It was the man in black leather – the one the elf had called ‘Tanith’. She knew it with every fiber of her being. Somehow, he was communicating with her in silence,

inside her mind, and for a moment the realization kept her frozen.

Now!

She jumped at the sudden bellow in her mind and her breathing quickened. She

looked at the red-skinned beast to her right and then at the one to her left. They were

-

160 -

The Chosen Soul

impossibly well muscled, clearly very strong and the green blazes in their inhuman eyes

was entirely unnerving.

Yet, Raven knew that this was her chance. Should Cruor win this battle, she would

be his prisoner once again, and she’d already learned that she was no match for the elf.

She closed her eyes and tried to calm her breathing, even as the continued sound of

sword battle raged a few yards away. She thought of Winter, of her father, of Caina. She

concentrated on the blood rushing through her veins. A devil’s blood, powerful, deadly.

She thought of the soul deep down in her core. The stolen soul. And a part of it, her

father’s.

She began to chant, silently at first, whispering the words inside her mind like a

prayer.

Her power answered the call. Slowly, tentatively, it began to rise, to spiral up from

down deep within herself, to stretch and flow and ebb to her extremities, pooling within

her fingers and toes, building behind her closed eyes.

When she opened her eyes again, it was to find that everything had turned a very

deep shade of blue. It was almost as if clouds had covered the sky and blotted out the sun, but Raven knew that it was only from her side, only through her own eyes that the world

appeared that way.

And then she turned her gaze once more upon the red-skinned creature to her right.

He turned his green glowing eyes upon her and they widened perceptibly.

Raven could not help what happened next. She smiled, feeling her incisors lengthen,

and began to chant out loud. Her fingernails began to grow, becoming sharp and hard like

- 161 -

Heather Killough-Walden

the blades of daggers. Without thinking, she curled the claws into her captor’s wrist and

dug in deep.

He howled in pain and drew back from her, releasing her right arm, which she

instantly swung around to rake across her other captor’s face. He too cried out in agony

and backpedaled, releasing her other arm.

Raven took several long steps back and willed the rest of her change. This time it

came fast and furious, her wings exploded from her back in a show of black raven’s

feathers and expanded to their full wing span within short seconds. Her form grew taller,

her skin darkened, and her hair went from pitch black to shocking white in the space of a

few heartbeats.

She beat her wings once against the air and rose several feet off of the ground.

And then she hesitated. The battle between the two men raged below, neither

seeming to have obtained an upper hand.

Get out of here!

Tanith’s voice was back, loud and clear inside her ear drums. She blinked, beat her

wings once again, and rose out of the field even as the two demonic creatures she’d

attacked with her claws began to scream at one another in some unknown language. One

was pulling a bow from a large satchel on his horse. But long before he’d had a chance to

nock an arrow, she was gone.

Raven, now in the form of Winter, flew over the tree tops, her body shaking, her

heart hammering, her mind spinning wildly out of control. She lost track of time, flying

as fast as she could, in no particular direction, just wanting to put distance between

herself and her assailants.

-

162 -

The Chosen Soul

Finally, as the adrenaline began to leave her body and she realized that she was lost,

she peered down into the forest and searched for a clearing.

In a few moments, she spotted a small watering hole and brought her wings closer

together, allowing herself to fall softly, slowly, to the ground.

- 163 -

Heather Killough-Walden

The Chosen Soul – Chapter Fourteen

Astriel returned to the library’s vaults the next morning. He wanted the book that

Jaren had been reading. He hadn’t thought to ask for it when he’d cornered her in one of

the reading rooms, and besides, it would have aroused the Blue Robe’s suspicion if he

had. However, the truth was, it was the only book he’d been able to find that spoke at all

of the Chosen Soul, and Astriel’s curiosity was beyond piqued.

Since he’d first laid eyes on the raven-haired beauty in that ridiculous little tavern, he

had been able to concentrate on little else. Astriel normally dealt with such frustrations by visiting the courtesan’s quarters. However, lately, such visits had been to no avail. Much

to his vexation, and the resentment of his father’s concubines, none of them seemed…

appealing
any longer. He desired no one but the one who had escaped him. The daughter of Malphas. The Chosen Soul.

He’d since learned her name, Raven, and the name of her fair-haired brother, Loki.

In fact, he’d spent his time learning as much about her as possible.

Astriel had lived a very many years and his connections ran deep. He’d managed to

obtain information about the woman that he doubted even
she
knew. He knew where she was born, who her parents were, what had caused her to leave her little village. He smiled

at the thought of her realizing her powers for the first time. And then his demeanor once

again darkened at the thought of the men who had attacked her, forcing her unwilling

hand.

They’d learned the hard way that she was Dark Royalty.

-

164 -

The Chosen Soul

The morning was calm and silent. The prince of the elves moved quietly through the

underground halls and entered the familiar reading room that he had encountered Jaren in

the day before.

The book was not on the table as it had been then. Astriel moved around the room,

his eyes roaming over the titles written on the spines of books on the shelves. When he

did not find it there, he began to search the shadows beneath the chairs and desks.

Finally, he had to admit that the book was no longer in the room. The Blue Robe

must have taken it with her. Astriel’s gaze narrowed. He would have to pay her another

visit.

*****

Loki clutched the crumpled note in his fist. He closed his eyes and shook his head.

He and the other acolytes had been searching all morning. She wasn’t in the field where

she said she’d be. It had only taken a few minutes to run to the location and check. Other

than a few hoof-trampled blades of grass, there was no indication of what might have

happened to her.

Loki put his hands over his face and bowed his head. Never before in his life had he

felt so helpless.

Or so angry. At that moment, he both loved and hated his sister. She hadn’t listened

to him. He’d known Adonides could not be trusted. She’d said it herself – something bad

was going to happen – and yet, she was too stubborn to consider, even for a moment, that

whatever it was might be avoided by not acting rashly.

- 165 -

Heather Killough-Walden

She’d gone off alone. And Raven always managed to tow trouble closely along

behind her.

He opened his eyes and looked up to find himself gazing at the giant bronze sun at

the front of the temple. He was alone in the prayer room. The acolytes had gone into the

city to search for Raven. Loki had not gone with them, as he was not yet certain what

would happen if one of the elves caught site of either him or his sister.

So, he was left alone at the temple.

He sat in the silence and stared up at the shining bronze symbol of Haledon’s power.

An idea presented itself. He could try the search spell on his own. Loki glanced

down at the note in his hand and then stood from where he’d been kneeling in the aisle.

Maelix would insist that he wasn’t ready. But what did he have to lose?

He took a deep breath and moved to the front of the temple, where the viewing pool

was located. Viewing pools were nothing more than large stone bowls, filled with clear

water. They were the central component in many forms of magic and various spells. No

temple or tower where mages resided would be without one.

Loki shrugged off his cloak and rolled up the cuffs of his white traveling shirt. He

searched his recollection for the exact words Maelix had uttered. He closed his eyes,

repeating the words in his head, echoing their sound along the walls of his memory, until

he was certain that he had them correct.

He opened his eyes, held his hands over the bowl, and dropped Raven’s note into its

depths. It floated there for a moment, leaking black quill ink into the water. When it

began to sink, he spoke, “
Comperio expiscor invenio reperio sector
”.

“She is none of your concern, priest.”

-

166 -

The Chosen Soul

Loki jolted at the intrusion of the deep voice and spun to face the temple’s entrance.

His eyes widened. There, just inside the temple doors, stood a tall male devil, his skin the color of coal, his eyes burning yellow as two suns, his giant bat-like wings spread to their full, massive breadth.

“You’re lucky that you’re here,” the devil said as he came forward, gesturing to the

building around them. “At least you’ll be with your god when you die.” The fiend smiled,

bright white fangs contrasting deeply with his ebony skin. He moved slowly, steadily

toward the altar.

Loki took a step back. There was no time to ponder who this devil was or why he

was here. There was barely time enough for comprehension. The fiend was going to kill

him. Loki was alone and without a weapon. He had to defend himself somehow.

He tried stalling. “Who are you?”

The fiend shook his head. “Names hold power, priest. Why would I give you such

over me?”

“I’m not a priest.”

“You’re more of a priest than are most of Haledon’s acolytes,” the devil answered

calmly, coolly. He continued to move forward. Loki took another tentative step back. He