The Chosen Soul (21 page)

quickly searched his surroundings for something he could use. He kept talking.

“Is that why you want to kill me?”

The devil shrugged, all nonchalance. “It’s reason enough.”

Loki shook his head. “No. This has something to do with Raven.”

The devil laughed. “All right, I’ll admit as much. But then, doesn’t everything?”

- 167 -

Heather Killough-Walden

At that, the devil beat his wings once and rose into the air. Loki immediately shot to

his right and turned toward the back wall where Haledon’s axes hung below the giant

bronze sun.

Just as the devil swooped down on him from above, Loki pulled the weapons from

their places. There was an odd sucking sound as they were removed from their hooks, and

they felt very warm, nearly hot, in Loki’s hands. He spun around, swinging them out in

an expert ark, which surprised even himself considering this was only the second time

he’d ever held axes in his hands.

The blades sliced into the devil’s chest, and the fiend wailed in pain. He shot

backward, his wings beating heavily in the warm air, the deep furrows in his flesh leaking

thick dark red blood.

The fiend glanced down at his wounds and then looked back up at Loki. He roared in

anger and agony and then lunged forward once more, this time with claws fully extended

and fangs elongated. His eyes flashed yellow, burning fury.

Loki dropped and rolled just as the devil’s claws made mad swipes at his face. The

axes felt as if they were humming in his grip, and he felt a surge of energy lift him off of the ground and spin him around to once again face his attacker.

The devil turned, eyed him carefully and landed softly. He then began to chant, and

the archaic words filled the temple with blasphemous magic. A cold blast shot out from

the devil’s outstretched hands and barreled through the air toward Loki’s stock-still form.

Loki did not know what else to do but close his eyes and raise his arms before his

face. The axes in his hands formed a near perfect circle with their blades, and as the cold

-

168 -

The Chosen Soul

blast slammed into them, it was repelled forcefully so that it bounced back and away,

covering everything within ten feet in every direction in a thick coating of rime.

Loki opened his eyes and peered about. The benches and altar were buried beneath

several inches of ice. The axes had deflected the spell. Loki stared down at them. They

hummed with energy, and their blades shone in the light that streamed through the

windows and skylight.

Across the room, the tall, wounded devil stood still, watching Loki carefully. As he

folded his massive wings gracefully behind his back, an icon of absolute evil, standing

amidst an ice flow of his creation, it dawned on Loki who he was.

“You’re Adonides.”

The devil smiled a terrible smile and bowed his head. “Correct.”

At that moment, the doors to the temple once again flew open and in ran several

acolytes, including Maelix. They skidded to a halt at the scene that laid out before them.

Once they took in the presence of the devil and the icy destruction, they looked up at

Loki and then stared, wide-eyed, at the shining, sharp axes in his hands.

Maelix took a shaky step forward, but could go no further. His eyes shot from the

axe blades to the wounds on the devil’s chest. The expression of shock on his face

deepened.

Loki turned his attention back to the devil. His heart was racing as he waited for the

Abaddonian to make another move.

Adonides eyed the acolytes and then settled his gaze upon Loki once more. “We will

meet again soon, priest. Until then...” He opened his wings, beat them once, spoke a

single arcane word, and in a flash of blue-white light, he was gone.

- 169 -

Heather Killough-Walden

The ice in the temple began to melt. It withdrew from its original span with

crackling, popping noises and water began to drip from the bottoms of the benches.

Maelix continued to stare at Loki and the axes in his grip.

Loki looked down at the weapons. He had the horrible sinking feeling that he’d done

something terribly wrong. “I’m sorry, Maelix...”

Maelix slowly shook his head. He came forward, walking down the long aisle alone,

the other acolytes remaining by the open doors. “Loki, this temple is made of nothing

more than wood and stone. Yet, it has stood for thousands of years. The reason for its in-

destruction is resting in the palms of your hands.”

Loki looked down at the axes and then back up again.

Maelix continued, taking slow steps toward him. “In every temple of Haledon across

the Terran realm, there exists weapons much like these. Alike in every way but one. The

others are mere decoration. These are not.” He approached Loki and stood directly before

him. He glanced down at the axes, which Loki held out to him.

“No. They are not mine, Loki. Twenty years ago, I tried, as does every acolyte of

Haledon who comes to this temple, to pull them from the wall. And I failed. These are the

weapons that Haledon’s avatar used against the Death Mage so many, many years ago.”

He paused, and Loki knew, with absolute certainty, in his gut and in his soul, what he was

going to say next.

“No one has been able to remove them but you. They are therefore yours.” He

smiled, and it was a smile both warm and awe-struck. “Loki, you are Haledon’s

champion.”

-

170 -

The Chosen Soul

*****

Drake of Tanith walked through the small dark tavern, his eyes focused on a figure

that sat at the very last table, against the wall, its face hidden in shadow.

He approached the table and stared down at the solemn figure.

“I thought the elves banned scum like you from Kriver long ago.”

The figure finished swallowing whatever he was drinking and set down his mug

softly. “Aye, they did. I guess I forgot to pay attention.”

Drake looked once over his shoulder toward the door and then proceeded to remove

his sword from his back and lower himself gracefully into the one other chair at the table.

“What are you doing here? I thought you had a quarry to catch,” the figure in

shadows asked.

“I did. The plan has changed.”

“Oh?” The shadowy form straightened and leaned forward, his face coming into the

light. His skin held a strange greenish hue and his brown eyes were hooded by a heavy

brow. His canines were sharp and pronounced and met with elongated tusk-like teeth on

his lower jaw. His ears were pointed, resembling those of an elf’s, and his dark brown

hair was long, braided on either side and held with bone beads.

“Already turned them in, did you?”

“No.”

The green-skinned man’s eyes narrowed. “What are you about, Tanith?”

“I need a favor.”

The man snorted and picked up his tankard of ale. “What else is new?”

“Don’t go martyr on me, Grolsch. You owe me more favors than I can count.”

- 171 -

Heather Killough-Walden

His green-skinned companion laughed at that and shrugged. “That’s what you bought

into when you decided to become my friend. Besides,” he added and then took another

swig of his drink, “I keep you on your toes.”

Drake smiled and leaned back as a serving wench set a new mug of ale in front of

him.

“Can I get you anything else, handsome?” she asked as his molten silvery eyes

locked with hers. He shook his head. Once.

Her smile disappeared and she spun on her heel and left.

Grolsch laughed again and finished off his drink. “You made her leave before I could

get another mug of ale, you son of a bitch. Why the hell do you always have to be so

scary, anyway?”

“It’s in my blood.”

“Boy, you’re not kidding.”

Drake picked up his drink and took a long pull. He normally did not imbibe. But

something inside of him was on edge, off, nervous. It wasn’t like him to lose any control,

whatsoever, over his emotions. He had been doing his job for a very long time. He was

good at what he did. The best. He’d never failed to bring in a quarry. Not once. He had a

reputation to uphold.

And Raven Grey was about to blow it all to Hell.

“Grolsch, I need you to take her from me.”

Grolsch stared at him.

“Who?”

“The woman I’ve been paid to bring in.”

-

172 -

The Chosen Soul

“Ummm… What?” Grolsch’s brow furrowed and his head cocked to one side, his

eyes squinting as if he truly did not understand.

“You heard me. I need you to take her out of my hands. I can’t turn her in.”

Grolsch’s eyes widened. “You’re joking, aren’t you?”

“No.”

The green-skinned man leaned forward again and his voice softened. He looked

nervous. “Drake, you’ve been doing this a very, very long time. You’ve never had a

problem with your mark. What is going on?”

Drake did not answer right away. He was not sure what to say. What should he tell

his friend? That he’d never seen a woman as beautiful as Raven in all his long life? That,

from the moment he’d laid eyes on her in the prince’s viewing pool, he had been capable

of thinking of nothing else? That, as he was researching his quarry, he’d learned she was

the daughter of Malphas
and
she was the Chosen Soul… And that made her more special than Grolsch could imagine…

“I have my reasons, Grolsch. Not the least of which is the prince. He’s the one

paying me. And he doesn’t deserve her.”

Grolsch’s large brow lifted in renewed interest. “Oh?” He leaned back again and

eyed his friend carefully. “I’ve known you for a long time, Tanith. You’ve never behaved

like this before. There’s something about her you’re not telling me. What is she, your

sister or something?”

Drake looked up from his mug to meet his friend’s inquisitive gaze. “No. We are not

related in any way whatsoever.” It was true. However, if Grolsch knew how close he’d

come to the truth with that guess, he would have choked.

- 173 -

Heather Killough-Walden

Grolsch nodded slowly. “I agree with you that the prince doesn’t deserve much of

anything at all, much less a woman. But what makes this mortal so different?”

“For one thing, she isn’t mortal. And she attacked him.” Drake quickly added,

hoping his friend’s attention would glide over the mortal thing and head straight into the

topic of her attack, as he did so love to fight.

“She
attacked
him? A
woman
attacked the E
lf Prince
?” Grolsch threw back his head and barked out laughter. “By the gods, I wish I’d been there to see
that
!”

Drake sat silently, watching his companion.

Grolsch stopped laughing and settled down again. “Aye, she’ll be lucky if she isn’t

executed for such a thing. If she’s fortunate, she’s pretty and her looks’ll keep her from

the Blue Robe’s Ring. Then again, knowing what she’d face if she wasn’t killed, the Ring

might be better.”

Drake’s jaw tensed. Grolsch had never seen Raven, so his comment about her beauty

did not surprise him. However, his talk of the Blue Robe’s execution Ring set Drake even

more on edge than he had already been. For now, he could not get the images of the

forsaken ritual out of his head. Any time a mortal acted up in such a way as to deserve

execution, it was the Blue Robes, the elven mages, who handled the punishment. The

Ring was just that. A ring of land, roped off with magic, in which the condemned was

placed.

Then, depending on the prisoner’s particular crime, either a single spell or a chain of

spells were cast. The victim might die quickly. Or he might die a slow, gruesome and

agonizing death.

-

174 -

The Chosen Soul

Worse was the knowledge that the Prince had absolutely no intention of killing

Raven. She was, singularly, the most stunningly gorgeous woman to walk upon the

Terran realm, and Drake had no doubt that the Prince also knew she was both the

daughter of Malphas and the Chosen Soul. No, he wasn’t going to kill her.

On the contrary, he had other things in mind.

Not that Drake could blame the man.

Grolsch quieted down and watched the bounty hunter in silence. Several more

moments passed before the large man sighed and shrugged. “Very well. I’ll take her. But

no one in their right minds is going to believe that an ork was able to take quarry away

from Drake of Tanith.”

“I’ll take care of that part.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. All right.” Grolsch leaned over the table and took Drake’s drink from

him. “You weren’t drinking it anyway.” He took a big swig and placed it back upon the

table. “Just what did you want me to do with her once I’ve got her?”

“Take her to the Draca Desert.”

Again the ork barked with laughter and shook his head. “Right! Now I know you’ve

lost your ever-loving mind. No mortal can survive in that desert.” He eyed Drake

carefully. “Why would I take her into that place? She’ll die!”

“No. You won’t take her
into
the desert. You’ll take her
to
it. I’ll meet you a half-day’s ride from the valley leading into it. I’ll take over from there.”

Grolsch’s eyes got very large. “Oh my.”

Drake stilled.

“You’re going to keep her.”

- 175 -

Heather Killough-Walden