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Authors: Heather Killough-Walden

BOOK: The Chosen Soul
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“If you take me to the castle, Gray Beard will find me there. He will kill me and take

my soul,” she said, her head still down.

Drake said nothing beside her. Finally, she looked up at him. And jumped to her feet.

He was staring at her intently and in one gloved fist, he held a rope. It was a light

purple color and was constructed of some strange silken fiber that reflected the light at

odd angles. It looked soft but it also looked very strong and Raven was willing to bet he

planned on using it on her.

“Don’t do this, Tanith. It isn’t worth whatever he is giving you. Can’t you see that?”

“It’s what I do, Princess. Please don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

Raven watched him as various emotions chased each other across his handsome face.

She searched her brain for something, anything, she could say that would make him

change his mind.

“Drake, when Cruor kills me, he’ll kill you too. He’ll kill everyone. You said so

yourself.”

When he looked up again, he gazed at her through the tops of his eyes and the look

was so determined that it was positively terrifying. She hadn’t been able to reach him. He

was taking her in no matter what.

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Heather Killough-Walden

Raven took a step back, simultaneously speaking the words to a spell that Adonides

had used the day before.

Drake swore under his breath and before Raven knew what he was doing, he’d

reached out and grabbed her, his movements so fast they were an indiscernible blur of

motion. He spun her around and pulled her back against his chest, bringing her arms

together behind her as he did so. In less than a few seconds, he had the rope around her

wrists and his gloved hand over her mouth.

Her breaths came quick and shallow, her eyes teared up and she fought not to allow

the whimper of terror she felt inside to rise within her throat.

She felt his breath at her ear and then heard his voice, low and menacing.

“Don’t fight me, Princess. You won’t win.”

He was lifting her then, carrying her across the clearing to his horse. He held her fast

against his own body, preventing her from struggling in any manner.

“Let her go, Tanith.”

Drake stilled.

Raven felt him tense, listening. She recognized the voice instantly.

Adonides…
Finally!

*****

Grolsch pulled his horse to a stop several hundred yards from the opening of the

clearing where Drake had told him he and Raven would be. He dismounted and tied the

stallion’s reigns to a thick branch. Then he pulled a small silk-wrapped bundle from the

inside pocket of his brown leather armor and proceeded to unwrap it.

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The Chosen Soul

A single arrowhead, forged of pitch-black metal and tipped in what appeared to be

red gold, sat in the palm of his gloved hand. He gazed down at it. A symbol etched into

one side of the small straight broad head depicted nine concentric circles, the inner-most

circle plated blood-red.

Grolsch took a deep breath and pulled a long straight arrow shaft from his quiver. He

placed the arrowhead to the tip of the shaft and, after a moment’s hesitation, spoke a

single arcane word.

The arrowhead began to heat up in his hands. He gritted his teeth and held it and the

shaft steady. It burned, even through the leather protection of his gloves. There was a soft cracking sound and the arrowhead molded to the tip of the shaft, merging tightly.

Symbols then began to appear in red along the tapered cedar. Long lines of archaic text,

deep crimson as blood, wrote themselves across the shaft until there was no more space.

Then the arrowhead cooled and Grolsch stared down at the weapon.

It was more deadly than most people could imagine.

“Just try not to kill me with it, Grolsch. Let’s aim for severely injured and call it

good…”

Grolsch swallowed. His damned hand was shaking. There was no doubt in his mind

that his friend had pretty much lost his sanity over this woman.

“She’d better be worth it,” he growled under his breath and then pulled his bow off

of his shoulder and headed toward the pond.

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Heather Killough-Walden

The Chosen Soul – Chapter Seventeen

“I said, let her go.”

“I heard you the first time,” Drake said calmly, maintaining his tight grip. Inwardly,

he swore. His shielding spell must have worn off. This was not going at all as planned.

Slowly, he set Raven down in front of him and grabbed hold of one of her arms, just

above the wrist.

As he’d expected, Raven instantly tried to pull away from him. He held her fast and

turned to face the winged devil across the clearing.

Adonides came forward, his golden eyes blazing, his white fangs bared. Drake knew

the Abaddonian well. He’d dealt with him before. Of course, those had been far different

circumstances.

“Adonides, how is your sister these days?”

The devil’s gaze narrowed and his wings twitched. He took a step forward, but just

then, the trees parted once again and out stepped the ork.

Drake groaned inwardly.

Grolsch’s eyes widened. Drake’s gaze flitted from the ork’s face to the bow in his

hands, and the arrow that was so dangerously nocked and held between two gloved

fingers.

Adonides turned and peered at the ork. Then looked at Drake.

No one spoke.

And then, in a sudden explosion of movement, Grolsch lifted the bow and aimed at

the winged devil, releasing the arrow into the air. At the same time, Adonides leapt and

beat his wings once hard, rising several feet off of the ground. Drake shoved Raven to the

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The Chosen Soul

sand a few feet away and dove for the arrow he knew was going to miss Adonides by

several inches.

But Adonides beat him to it, bringing his wings together quickly and falling fast

enough to pluck the arrow directly from the air as it tried to sail past him. Drake saw the Abaddonian begin to spin in the air and he dropped and rolled, moving just out of the

devil’s reach as Adonides attempted to whirl around and plunge the arrow into Drake’s

chest.

Drake came up out of the roll facing the devil and Adonides landed softly, the arrow

in one hand, a look of inequitable hatred on his handsome face.

“You always manage to be touching women you have no business touching, Tanith.

Why is that?”

Drake shrugged. “Bad upbringing.”

Adonides rushed forward. Drake braced himself for the impact. At the same time,

over the devil’s shoulder, he could see Grolsch racing toward Raven. He had no further

time to watch or ponder, though, as Adonides slammed into him, knocking him

backward.

Immediately, Drake’s fingers circled Adonides’s wrist, keeping the arrow at arm’s

length. It was precariously close to his neck as the two dropped to the ground and rolled,

one on top of the other.

“Let me go!” Raven shouted.

Drake heard Raven’s shout and knew that Grolsch was getting her out of the way.

They stopped rolling, Adonides sitting on his waist, and Drake had to use both hands to

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keep the devil from plunging the deadly arrow downward. They remained nearly

motionless, each fighting against the strength of the other.

"Tanith, watch out!" Grolsch called out to his friend as he swung his sword in a wide arc, barely missing the dark skinned devil as Adonides dodged to the side and rolled out

of the way, releasing Tanith as he did so.

Drake jumped to his feet in time to watch Adonides swat Grolsch away from him

with a wave and a rush of cold, infernal power. Grolsch and his sword went flying across

the clearing to land and roll to a stop.

Once more, Drake and the Abbadonian faced off.

A sound from his left drew Drake’s attention. He glanced in Raven’s direction. His

eyes widened. Grolsch had tied her, in a sitting position, to a low-lying branch on a

nearby tree. But at the moment, the silk rope he’d used was unwinding itself as Raven’s

lips moved in archaic rhythm. Her eyes were shut tight in deep concentration.

He was impressed.

She was learning to use her powers much more quickly than he would have thought

possible. He couldn’t blame her for trying everything she could to get away but her

defiance right now was a distraction he did not need.

It was unfortunate that their first meeting had to be made under such false pretenses.

“Tanith!” Another warning from his ork friend.

But it was too late. In that instant, Adonides had managed to move with inhuman

speed, feinting an attack with the claws of his left hand. Drake attempted to dodge the

fake attack as Adonides plunged the arrow in his right hand downward, through the

bounty hunter’s black leather armor, and into his chest.

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Raven screamed as the last of the ropes fell away from her and she lunged towards

them.

Grolsch bellowed in anger and rushed forward as well.

Adonides viciously withdrew the arrow, drawing a grunt of horrible pain from Drake

as he rolled to his side. In the next instant, Adonides was grabbing Raven by the upper

arm and swinging her away from Tanith.

Grolsch watched as the woman struggled in the devil’s grip and, though the scene

made no sense, he had no time to ponder it further. His friend was injured. The arrow had

struck true.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

Just as he reached his fallen companion, the winged devil and the woman

disappeared in a cloud of steam and blue-white light.

Grolsch knelt beside Drake. “Tell me he didn’t get your heart.”

“He didn’t get my heart.” Drake gasped, his voice weak, his face drawn in pain.

“Close enough, it seems.” Grolsch pulled a small vial of clear, iridescent liquid from

a leather pouch on his belt. He brought the vial to the bounty hunter’s lips.

“We’ll take it from here, ork.”

Grolsch whipped his head around to face the source of the low voice.

The Prince of the Elves stood several yards away, a small contingent of elven guards

and soldiers flanking him on either side. Behind them stood six horses, all of them white.

He hadn’t heard anything approach.

The elves were quiet that way.

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The Prince was dressed in dark hunting garb and held a shining long sword in one

gloved fist.

Grolsch was not a fool. Prince Astriel’s skill with a sword was legendary. He glanced

down at his friend and back up at the elf.

Astriel’s lips curled into a sneer of contempt. He spoke a single word of magic. The

vial in Grolsch’s hands shattered, its contents evaporating instantly.

“Great…” Drake muttered just before slipping into unconsciousness.

Grolsch’s greenish pallor paled visibly. He gently set Drake’s head down and slowly

stood, placing himself almost symbolically between his fallen companion and the half-

dozen elves across the clearing.

Astriel’s gaze narrowed. He flung his hand out as if swatting a fly and Grolsch was

picked up and thrown back several yards. He flew directly into a tree trunk and hit it with a loud thud. The base of his skull slammed against the rough bark and the wind was

knocked from his lungs. His vision receded. His ears rang. He slunk to the ground and sat

still for several seconds, the world tilting around him.

Through blurred vision, he watched the elf prince and his men come forward.

Astriel’s attention was turned to the unconscious man on the ground. His blue eyes

sparked with untold emotion. He knelt beside Drake and slowly moved one gloved hand,

palm down, over the wound in the man’s chest.

“He’s alive. Take him.”

He stood and two elves came forward and lifted Drake between them. They moved

him to one of the horses and draped him over its back. One of the elven soldiers mounted

up behind him.

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Astriel moved to his snow-white steed and ran his hand lovingly, gently over the

horse’s long shimmering mane. The horse nodded its large head once and nudged the

prince.

Without looking at Grolsch, the Prince then addressed him, his voice a calm and very

deadly warning.

“Get the hell out of my kingdom, ork.”

At that, he mounted up, as did the others, and the group of elves disappeared, taking

Drake of Tanith with them.

*****

Adonides held Raven’s arm tightly as they reappeared behind a copse of trees beside

a small trail just outside of a bustling town. She had been struggling in his grasp,

apparently trying to get to Tanith. When they were both fully solidified, he spun her

around and held her by her upper arms and then gave her one good, hard shake.

She stopped fighting. Her face was pale, her eyes very large in her perfect face. Her

full, red lips were quivering.

“What has gotten into you?”

She gazed up at him and did not answer right away.

He shook his head slowly, admonishingly. “What is going through your head that

you could possibly feel sorry for the bounty hunter?” He had not released her. She

swallowed and he could feel her try to pull away, but he held her fast.

“Raven, he was paid by the Prince to bring you in, you know that, don’t you?”

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