The Chosen Soul (26 page)

She gritted her teeth then and yanked her body away from him. He let her go.

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Heather Killough-Walden

“Yes!” she answered, her teeth bared. “Yes, I know!” She continued as she turned

away from him. “Tanith told me everything.” She hugged herself and, at that moment,

appeared so small and helpless that Adonides’s protective instinct reared its head inside

of him.

He circled around her and gazed down at her.

She did not look up. He took a deep breath and sighed. He held the arrow out in front

of him, low enough that she could see it. Drake’s blood still stained its wicked tip. “Do

you see the symbol on the point?” He paused, allowing her eyes to find the etched

markings. “This arrow is meant to kill our kind, your Highness. You, me. Abaddonians.”

There was a moment of silence and stillness. He continued. “The ork was obviously

a friend of the bounty hunter’s, and this was in his possession. He sure as hell wasn’t

counting on me showing up, and if he’d meant to kill you, he would have done so while

Tanith and I were fighting. Which meant he was going to use it on his friend. The set up

was staged.”

He fell silent and waited for comprehension to set in. He knew when it had because

she looked up, eyes wide with understanding.

Adonides nodded, slowly.

“He wasn’t going to turn me in.” She spoke softly, slowly. “He was going to let the

ork take me from him and then tell the prince that he’d been attacked… with this arrow.”

Her beautiful eyes widened even further, her brow furrowed. “Which means he knew it

would work on him.”

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“An untruth is far more believable when accompanied by a grave wound.” Adonides

finished the line of reasoning. “Tanith has not told you everything, after all. In fact, I

suspect he told you next to nothing about himself. Am I right?”

She didn’t answer. He hadn’t expected her to.

“The bounty hunter is more than he appears to be. At the very least, he is one of us.”

She remained silent but he could tell a plethora of thoughts chased each other through her

brain. He would give just about anything at that moment to be able to hear them. But it

was not something he was capable of doing with her. He knew. He’d already tried. She

could call out to him in her mind, but he could not communicate with her.

Raven bit her lip and then pulled her gaze away from his once again. “What does it

matter? He’s probably dying anyhow. I’m sure that makes you happy.”

Adonides’s gaze narrowed. There was only one thing he could think of at that

moment that would please him more than knowing Drake of Tanith was dead. His blood

burned at the thought of it as he peered down at her, with her glorious waterfall of jet-

black hair, her perfect, lithe body, her innocent, stolen soul.

His body tensed. “We have a history, I admit. But it is unimportant.” He moved

away from her then, needing to put space between them. As he did so, he hurriedly

erected a shielding spell over their location, knowing it would not be long before

someone else began searching for her. When the shield was up, he felt the first pang of

his weakening hunger, a hiccup-like lapse in his power, and knew that the spell would not

last long unless he soon fed.

Which made Raven’s nearness all the more unbearable.

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Adonides forcefully pushed certain thoughts from his brain and reached into the

pocket beneath his black shirt to pull out the Ring of Halcyon.

Then he turned to face Raven. “Give me your hand.”

She looked up at him. To her credit, she didn’t ask why. Adonides was pleased she

knew enough to trust that he would not hurt her. She held out her right hand and he gently

took it in his.

As she watched, he slowly slipped the shining black ring on her middle finger.

She gasped as its magic suddenly raced through her and he prepared to catch her

should she fall. He’d heard of the ring’s potency and was unsure of how it would affect

her.

But she did not fall. Instead, her eyes grew wide and she took a step back. She gazed

down at the ring on her finger as it began to pulse, a blue-black light that grew and

dimmed in time with her heartbeat.

“What is it?”

“A gift from your father.”

*****

Drake’s body hurt. It burned, it ached, the muscles were stretched taut and on fire.

His head swam and his eyelids were very heavy, but he forced them open and then tried

not to retch as the blurry world spun before his eyes.

He snapped them shut again and groaned low in his throat. Even through the haze of

pain, he knew that he wasn’t alone. He could feel the elf there, close by, sense his power

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and the heat of his barely checked fury like roiling waves of sinister magic, rushing over

his fevered skin, even hotter than the poison that now burned through his veins.

“Comfortable?”

Drake would have laughed, had he been able to find enough breath. His arms and

legs were pulled to their limits, clamped down with manacles of pure silver, heavy and

cold. They’d already begun to bite into his skin. The arrow had done its damage, its

magic coursing through his body like toxic venom, eating him up from the core.

There had been times in his long life when he’d been less comfortable than he was

now. But not many.

Again, slowly and gingerly, he opened his eyes. His surroundings gradually cleared.

Astriel stood several feet away. He was alone and unarmed. He was leaning casually

against a rack of weapons. No… Not weapons, he realized. Tools. Sharp and twisted.

Drake closed his eyes again, not at all looking forward to what was sure to come.

“Where is she?” His tone was calm, utterly belying the rage Drake knew was just

beneath the surface.

“I honestly don’t know,” Drake answered, impressed at himself that he’d been able

to string several coherent words together in this state. He tried a few more. “Why don’t

you cast a spell?” He coughed then, and tasted blood.

Astriel pushed off of the rack of torture devices and sighed. “Don’t think I haven’t

tried.” The elf turned to look over his shoulder at the myriad of morbid implements laid

out on the shelf behind him.

“Standard procedure when we need information from a mortal would be to leave the

individual alone with the Blue Robes for a few hours until the knowledge was obtained.”

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He said as he perused the instruments. “However, seeing as how you’re neither mortal

nor subject to elven magic…”

This time, Drake did laugh. It sent him into a coughing fit that left him barely able to

breathe. He could feel Astriel watching him intently.

“I would like only one thing more than to run you through and be done with it right

here and now, Tanith,” Astriel said, his boots echoing loudly on the blood-stained floor as he slowly moved to stand directly in front of the bounty hunter. “You’re lucky I want it

bad enough to let you live.”

Drake couldn’t blame him.

“Where is she?”

“I told you,” Drake said again, the arrow’s vicious magic filling him with more and

more exhaustion and pain. “I don’t know. Adonides took her. Cruor will probably find

her next.”

“What makes you so sure?”

Drake tried not to smile as he said, “Because he’s right under your nose you fool.

He's the Master Mage of the Blue Robes, the one you call Gray Beard."

He began to cough again and, this time, blood trickled from the corner of his mouth

when he was finished. He closed his eyes against the pain that suddenly gripped his chest.

He felt as if his lungs were being squeezed in an iron-clawed fist.

The Prince was quiet.

Drake knew that he was dying. Adonides had managed to get close enough, deep

enough, with the arrow that its magic would soon stop his heart. Somewhere, in the back

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of his mind, he wondered what his father would do when he learned that his only son was

dead. Drake almost smiled at the thought of depriving him of his precious heir.

And then he felt his heart skip.
Once…twice
. In his mind’s eye, he pictured Raven.

Her large, dark eyes, her smooth, fair skin…
A third time
… Her lips, full and the color of strawberries…
Four…

The beating slowed and Drake’s extremities went numb.

And then he felt something on his lips. Cool, like glass.

It was glass. Then a liquid slid past his lips and over his tongue. It tingled and

soothed. He swallowed.

His heart sped up. His back arched. His stomach began to warm, and then to burn

like fire. The fire spread from his midsection outward, tracing trails of scorching heat

through his veins, across muscle and bone, to the tips of his fingers and toes. He cried

out.

Eventually, Drake relaxed against his restraints, his body covered in sweat, his

breathing ragged.

He was not going to die.

“No, Tanith. It seems you’ll live.”

Drake opened his eyes and gazed down at Astriel. Molten silver met ice blue and

held.

“Now then,” the Prince continued. “I have a job for you."

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Heather Killough-Walden

The Chosen Soul – Chapter Eighteen

Raven stared at the ring that pulsed on her middle finger. If it were possible, she

would swear it felt both warm and cool upon her flesh. When she gazed at it, she was

reminded of refreshing stream water on a hot summer’s day and of a warm hearth fire in

the dead of winter. It was comforting, and it fit as if it belonged on her finger alone.

She pulled her eyes from it and glanced up at Adonides. He was staring at her

patiently.

“What does it do?” she asked then and turned her attention back to the ring.

“It guides you. Teaches you. I will show you how to use it shortly but first I thought

you would like to see the ocean."

"The ocean? But Trimontium is no where near the ocean"

"That's true, however we are no longer in Trimontium."

“Where are we then?”

“Bridgeport. Isca is a half-day’s ride from here."

Isca was a sea port a full week away, by horse or carriage, from the capital city of

Trimontium. She and her brother had been planning on traveling to Isca. They’d known

that Trimontium was no longer safe for them and that Isca was the next largest town.

However, they had been planning on a month-long trip.

“You transported us half-way across Kriver?”

“Yes. You’ll be able to do the same with practice.”

Raven shook her head. “I can’t even imagine such a thing. Right now, I can barely

manage to untie a rope using my magic.”

Adonides placed a warm hand at her lower back. “Give yourself time.”

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They approached the gates of the large town and, because neither of them were

openly carrying weapons, the guards let them pass without pause. Raven could feel their

open stares ogling her as she passed between them. She knew her kind of beauty was

different, perhaps exotic, but she wondered whether she would ever grow used to that

kind of blatant attention from men.

“Just give me the word and I’ll roast them for supper,” Adonides whispered beside

her. She glanced up, but the smile on his face made her relax. He was teasing. However,

there
was
that curious flash of promise in his eyes.

“Access to the shore is at the end of this street here,” he told her as he steered her

down a busy street filled with vendors. Raven’s eyes roamed over the carts and their

wares, taking in the woven rugs, the colorful tunics, and the eccentric jewelry of all

makes, shapes and sizes.

“Do you see anything you like?”

Raven turned to Adonides. He’d been watching her closely. She smiled and shook

her head. “At the moment, I don’t even own a house. I would have no where to put

anything I purchased.” She laughed then. “I also have no money.”

Adonides’s face grew serious, his green eyes flashing. “You need only ask, and you

can have anything you desire, my lady. Money is not an issue.”

Raven decided to let the subject drop, as, for some reason, it left her feeling slightly

embarrassed. Instead, she turned her attention to the large docks that were now coming

into view as they neared the end of the street. Raven was getting excited for she had

never seen the ocean before.

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As they approached the dock district, Adonides placed a hand on her shoulder and

pulled her to a halt. “Wait. Stop and listen.”

Raven stilled.

“Do you hear that?”

She listened. In the distance, she could hear a roaring sound. It was like hard-falling

rain on a thatch roof during a summer’s storm. It grew louder and then softer and then

louder again. It ebbed and receded. She nodded. “Yes. What is it?”

“The shore.” He took her gently by the arm and weaved her in between dock workers

and traders as the men and women completed their business for the day and headed

toward their homes.

They rounded a bend to face the open dock. Two large ships obscured the view to the

sea, and their planks were lowered as merchants slowly emptied their cargo, two by two,