The Chosen Soul (27 page)

onto the waiting docks.

Raven stared at the ships. She’d heard stories about them when she was little. But

she’d never seen actually seen one before. She stood there in awe, her mouth open, her

eyes sparkling. They were beautiful.

“Amazing,” she whispered.

“Aye. That’s just what we was thinkin’, lass.”

Raven’s attention snapped to and she glanced away from the giant ships to notice

that half a dozen men had stopped what they were doing and were now in the process of

circling and surrounding her and Adonides.

Adonides pulled her closer to him as four of the rogues stepped out in front of them,

the other two breaking away to move around behind.

-

218 -

The Chosen Soul

Raven’s pulse sped up painfully and all that she’d eaten only moments before

threatened to rise to the occasion.

“My, my. What ‘ave we ‘ere?” one of them asked, his eyes raking over Raven’s tall,

lithe form. He grinned in a grotesque visage that proudly displayed his lack of dental

hygiene. Raven could not suppress the groan that escaped her constricted throat and she

unconsciously scooted even closer to Adonides.

“How did a man like you manage to snag such a delectable little morsel, eh?”

another asked Adonides, his eyes glittering frantically. For his part, Adonides simply

leveled him with a calm and somewhat chilling gaze.

“I believe it only fair to give you some kind of warning before she kills you,”

Adonides said. His voice steady and low.

The men paused in their tracks and glanced at one another. That apparently hadn’t

been what they were expecting to hear. The one who had just spoken threw back his head

and laughed outright, the sound grating across Raven’s nerves like sandpaper.

Another smiled and shook his head. “What’s she gonna do, eh? Pleasure us all to

death?”

At that, the others roared with laughter.

Raven glanced at Adonides. He did not look at her. Instead, his hand trailed over her

arm to her hand, where his finger tapped against the shining black ring she wore.

Raven closed her eyes. He wanted her to use her power.

Right now.

To save them.

But she didn’t even know what the ring was supposed to do!

- 219 -

Heather Killough-Walden

She heard something crunch under a boot behind them and she spun around, her

wrist flying free of Adonides’s grasp. The two men who had circled behind them were a

mere yard away. She gasped and took a stumbling step back.

In her peripheral vision, she could see Adonides face off against another two of the

rogues, turning his back to her as he did so.

At that moment, someone grabbed Raven’s shoulder from behind. In less than a

second flat, all reason and logical sense of fear flew, like a colorful swarm of insane

butterflies, out the windows of her complicated mind. She spun around, a flurry of jet

black hair and building electricity, and impulsively lashed out with the torrent of

emotions that had been building within her over the past week.

The man who had accosted her let out a shriek of surprise when she faced him with

solid black eyes, from corner to corner. But he could not step away from her as he

suddenly found his feet were held fast in the mud of the street. He glanced down,

confused, to see that the sludge had solidified –
frozen
– and that he was shin-deep in petrified muck. The rime on the street was spreading quickly, and the chill was

mercilessly climbing up his legs. He gasped and swallowed and stared back up at Raven.

She mercilessly narrowed her iniquitous black gaze and heard him whimper softly.

The man before her was young. No older than she was. But his body was too lean,

his eyes too shaded, his mouth set in a line a little too cruel, a little too depraved. She looked into his bloodshot blue eyes and she wondered, for half a second, where his soul

would go when he died.

And then she struck.

-

220 -

The Chosen Soul

Her fingers had grown into iron claws. She drew back and then plunged them into his

midsection, burying them fist-deep.

In her mind, she heard the sound of chanting.

Sauronalastra Ernoscolaram Cruernal Diemon…

They were silent, unspoken words pulled from the bowels of every realm, ancient

and infernal, primordial in their power. They echoed, without thought, against the

chambers of her consciousness, feeding a dark and dangerous power into her physical

form.

The rest of the men surrounding them had ceased in their advance, and were now

watching the raven-haired beauty with expressions of abject horror and disbelief.

Totolemanti saurona ruwimon Cruernal Diemon…

As Raven calmly pulled her long claws from the dying man’s bloody abdomen and

let him drop to the frozen ground, the sky began to snow. The few remaining people on

the boardwalks on either side of the street stopped what they were doing and gazed

upward.

The ring pulsed hot, heavy and evil on her finger.

Necrozium Farranolsa Umberantis Sauronalastra…

Raven’s body began to glow. It was an eerie luminescence that grew and expanded,

filling a perimeter around her with a light that was nothing less than a portent to death.

She blazed with a power that now knew life, had been given conception.

She smiled.

Release
.

- 221 -

Heather Killough-Walden

There was a splitting intensity, strength torn from the fabric of existence, and Raven

arched her back as manifested cold energy arced out from her body and coursed through

the charged air, striking each of the six men who’d confronted them, driving relentlessly

through their chests.

Wearing grotesque expressions of silent and painful protest, the half-dozen thugs

rose several feet from the ground, helplessly attached to their chords of writhing cold,

their bodies freezing from the inside out. Ice crystals formed upon their clothes, spreading across the flesh of their exposed hands and necks. No sound emitted from their frozen

throats, but abject terror registered openly in their eyes.

Thunder crashed around them, as the clouds grew darker and the temperature

dropped. Gigantic intricate flakes fell, millions at a time, to the frozen earth and stuck, building and piling, until the stunned residents of Bridgeport found themselves standing

in quickly cumulating drifts of snow.

As the people watched the beautiful woman with the black hair and black eyes work

a horrible magic upon the town and its residents, Adonides slowly smiled.

When Raven finally dropped her now dead, gelid victims to the frozen, snow-piled

ground, Adonides moved forward, coming to stand silently at her side.

The thunder slowed and quieted. The clouds began to lighten, and the heavy snow

fall settled into occasional flurries. Raven closed her eyes, as the furious intensity of her magic began to wane, leaving her unsteady on her long legs. She raised her hands to

cover her face, and her cold iron claws sunk back into the flesh from which they had

sprouted. The skin on her cheeks and forehead was hot where it pressed against her

-

222 -

The Chosen Soul

palms, and she realized she’d been swooning when Adonides’s arms suddenly came

about her for support.

She moved her hands and gazed up at him. Her eyes were back to normal, but the

look of fear within their dark depths was fierce.

“What have I done, Adonides?”

“What you had to do.”

She fell then, into a waiting darkness, having been utterly and completely drained,

both physically and magically. Her body closed its eyes and slept.

Adonides lifted her easily into his arms and then, before all of the people who stood

aghast, watching, he allowed his form to alter, once again becoming a tall, black, winged

devil.

His yellow gold eyes peered down at the sleeping woman in his arms. She was

beautiful beyond compare. He smiled a fang-toothed smile. All was going precisely as

planned. The men she’d killed sold their souls to Malphas long ago. Raven had delivered

them to her father, using her own immense power. The ring was doing its job most

effectively.

But best of all, when she awoke, she would need to feed.

And he would be there to help her.

Adonides chuckled softly as he wrapped his wings around them both and drew in his

power. Then he and his beautiful charge vanished from the streets of Bridgeport.

*****

“I’m sorry, my lord. She is still being shielded from our sight.”

- 223 -

Heather Killough-Walden

“I know.”

Cruor paced the large dark chamber, the firelight from the torches along the wall

casting strange shadows across his handsome face. His blue eyes burned with untold

emotion. His robes had been cast aside for black leather breeches and a loose black shirt.

His long black hair was tied back from his face and black riding gloves covered his

hands. His boots echoed loudly as he strode slowly back and forth through the room, his

thoughts dark and scheming.

“Keep the spell open until her protector’s strength subsides. No shield can last

forever. The moment it drops, inform me of her location.”

“Yes, my lord.”

-

224 -

The Chosen Soul

The Chosen Soul – Chapter Nineteen

Drake rubbed his wrists where the silver restraints had bit and cut into his skin. He

could feel the prince watching him from across the room, along with Malveis, the captain

of the elven guard, and the elven princess, Zeta.

Drake glanced up, met each of their gazes, and then sat back in the tall wooden chair.

He looked around the room. There was only one entrance, a single door, and there were

no windows. The room’s furniture consisted of a round table, six chairs, and a viewing

pool.

The four of them were alone, but Drake knew two guards waited just outside the

door, and two more were within ear-shot down the corridor.

Astriel came forward from where he’d been leaning against the wall, his arms

crossed over his chest. He moved to the table and slowly waved his hand over its surface,

palm-down. A map gradually appeared on the surface of the table.

"As I told you before, Drake. Your task is to go after the Corrigan Dagger, find it,

take it, and use it to kill Gray Beard before he kills Raven." He looked down at the map and pointed at a small light that marked a location at the center of the Draca Desert. "The Corrigan is kept here in an iron repository beneath Draca’s Tomb.”

“Have you ever ventured into the Draca Desert, Tanith?” asked Malveis, his voice

low, his eyes boring into the bounty hunter.

Drake glanced up and met the captain’s gaze, his smile slow, slight, and calm. He

couldn’t help but be reminded that only hours ago, he’d mentioned the very same desert

to Grolsch, for a very different reason. They stared at one another, neither of them

speaking.

- 225 -

Heather Killough-Walden

“I suspect he has been a lot of places, captain,” said Zeta, her violet eyes watching

Drake in a much different manner. Drake turned his gaze upon her, and his silver eyes

flashed. She smiled.

“The tomb consists of various layers, all of which are guarded,” Astriel continued, as

if the other three had not spoken. “Our ancestors were known to use traps, as well as

magic and more mundane deterrents such as monsters."

"Remind me again why you are so certain this dagger will kill Curor," Drake said.

Astriel looked up at the bounty hunter. "The Corrigan Dagger was forged eons ago

from the purest iron and fortified with ancient magic that ensured death to any pierced

with its blade. Due to its deadly nature, the elves of old had ordered the dagger hidden

away, in a cave lined with iron ore, where no elf would ever be able to venture. As you

know, iron is caustic to our people." His hand unconsciously strayed to his chest, where, through his royal vestments, he felt the four risen claw marks left behind by Raven’s iron

talons. "The cave was also reinforced with traps and wards of elven magic which

fortunately for you, Tanith, you are able to withstand."

The thought of the cave being enchanted with elven magic did not bother Drake in

the slightest, however the particular kind of magic the dagger held made him uneasy as

he was more than familiar with it. It was the same idea behind the Arrow of Astaroth, the

arrow that had pierced much too close to his heart and had nearly cost him his life.

The Corrigan Dagger was meant to kill elves.

The Arrow of Astaroth was meant to kill devils.

Both were impliments of death, forged with a particular race in mind. And that made

him uncomfortable. Magic borne of such determined purpose was not to be taken lightly.

-

226 -

The Chosen Soul

However, he would be dead if it were not for the elves and the healing their prince

had afforded him.

In the end, he had little choice but to accept the Prince's challenge and go after the

dagger.

Astriel waved his hand once more over the table. "This is what you will be looking

for." The table's surface shimmered and changed to reveal an image of a large dagger, its blade bisected into two wicked points, its grip wrapped in what appeared to be snow