The Chosen Soul (9 page)

that they had no plan and no idea what they were going to do once they’d arrived in

Kriver. They had simply assumed they would have time to work such matters out as

they’d traveled.

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Now they were in Trimontium, and time had run out.

First thing was first. They had money, but not very much. They would need more

very soon. And here was someone willing to part with a fairly good amount for agreeing

to a relatively simple task.

It was a start.

Raven turned away from her brother and smiled at the old man. Despite his age, the

elderly farmer was slightly taken aback by the beauty of that perfect, white smile, and his eyes quickly shot to the ground as his hands began to fidget.

“We would be glad to accompany you, Summer,” Raven turned her attention to the

young woman. Summer returned the smile and nodded.

“Thank you. I’ll get my cloak and we can be off.” She spun on her heel and

disappeared around the corner of the cottage.

“Keep her away from the Lords and Ladies,” the old man had leaned in toward them,

and spoke in a hushed tone.

Raven’s brow furrowed. “Who?”

“You heard me. The…” he appeared to become nervous for a moment, his gaze

shooting toward the walled city and back again, “
Them
,” he whispered emphatically.

“From the castle. They call it Eidolon. The Phantom Palace. You know – the
Fey
. The Lords and Ladies…” he swallowed. Raven noticed a drop of sweat trickle from his

receding hairline toward his right eyebrow.

He eyed her sternly and then, after glancing once over each of his shoulders, he

leaned in even closer, his lips approaching her ear as if to share a secret. Raven could not help but meet him half way. She had always relished secrets.

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Heather Killough-Walden

“The
elves
.”

He pulled away immediately then and turned to leave. As he did so, his daughter

stepped out from the corner of the cottage, this time draped in a warm traveling cloak.

She smiled at Raven, turned an even brighter smile upon Loki, and met her father half

way down the path. They exchanged a few quiet words and she kissed him on the cheek.

Then she joined them at the end of the path and they all turned toward the main road

leading to the city.

Raven glanced once at her brother, the old man’s warning ringing in her ears.

However, Loki’s eyes were on Summer, and he did not see the worried expression on his

sister's face.

Raven blinked, looked back toward Trimontium’s tall stone walls and spires and

squared her shoulders. Summer smiled warmly, and they began the short trek to the

city’s gate.

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The Chosen Soul

The Chosen Soul – Chapter Seven

Raven was beginning to become self-conscious.

They had been inside of Trimontium’s city walls for less than an hour. The city’s

vast proportions were not the only notable aspect of Trimontium. For all of its people,

and all of its business, the capital city of Kriver was the most orderly, most peaceful place in the known world. Everything seemed to run smoothly, from the perfect bread produced

by its three bakeries to the almost disturbing lack of disagreement in the market place or

social unrest at any of its multiple taverns. The people of Trimontium were polite and

considerate, and Raven would have been quite charmed by the unanimous lack of desire

for trouble, except for one tiny thing.

Every one of them stared at her as if she were some sort of specter. And their eyes

always skirted across her face to where her ears were hidden beneath masses of long,

thick black hair. They would openly eye her with abject interest until they at once

realized what they were doing and looked away, apparently chagrined, to stare straight

ahead or at the ground in front of them.

By the time the three of them had finished their business at the bustling marketplace,

Raven had been oggled by man, woman and child so many times that she simply could

not stand it any longer.

“What is it, Loki? What is wrong with me? Has my hair caught on fire? Am I

growing horns?” She stopped in her tracks and blanched. “Oh god, please tell me I

haven’t grown horns…”

Loki stopped walking and turned to face her, a confused expression on his face.

“What?”

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“Loki, everyone has been staring at me. Is there something on my face? Is it my

clothes?”

Beside her, Summer sighed and shook her head. “No, it isn’t any of those matters.

And, no, you haven’t grown horns. My word, why in the world would you suspect such a

thing?”

Raven didn’t answer.

“Here. Come with me.” Summer glanced hastily in all directions, and then gently

took Raven by the arm to guide her and her brother toward a deserted alleyway. Once

they were there, she turned to face the black-haired beauty.

“I have never been there, so I would not know, but perhaps everyone is as beautiful

as you in Aster Hollow. Here, however, such beauty is very rare. And, in fact, is

associated with only one group of… people.”

Raven and Loki were silent for a moment. And then Raven asked, “Who?”

Summer swallowed a seemingly large lump in her throat and glanced, once again, up

and down the alley as if afraid they were not truly alone. Then she leaned in close, much

as her father had done earlier.

“The Lords and Ladies,” she whispered.

Raven blinked, and then sighed. “Very well. Perhaps it is time you told us a bit more

about these Lords and Ladies. Elves, I think your father called them.”

Summer’s eyes widened and she placed her forefinger to her lips. “Shh. Be careful

what you say aloud. The Lords and Ladies do not take kindly to insubordination.”

Raven’s gaze narrowed. Oh
, so they’re
those
kinds of people
, she thought. She considered Summer’s warning a moment more and then crossed her arms over her chest.

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“Do I look like them?” Raven asked.

“No, actually, other than your beauty, you look nothing like them. Your ears are

entirely normal. And your facial structure… it’s too human. The Lords and Ladies look…

well…
different
. Beautiful, but in an peculiar sort of way.” Summer seemed to be mulling over Raven’s appearance as she spoke. Her eyes studied Raven’s features carefully.

Raven, for her part, was still fixed on something she had said about her ears. “What

do you mean, my ears are normal?”

Summer blinked. “Oh. Well, the Fey have pointed ears. You don’t. It was the first

thing I noticed about you when you walked out of the forest on our farm.” She paused

then, and smiled shyly. “Actually, it was the second thing I noticed. I looked for pointed

ears because you are so attractive, and so are they.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “All right, so, she’s gorgeous. We’ve established that. Now, tell

us more about these elves.” He didn’t mean it to sound so brusque, however he blushed

when he realized that Summer was a bit taken aback by his curt tone. “Sorry. But we

really should know, shouldn’t we? I mean, are they in charge of Trimontium?"

Summer nodded. And then she shook her head. And then she sighed. “It is rather

complicated. Are you two hungry? We can discuss it over lunch. I know of a wonderful

hostelry, where the food is always fresh.” She lowered her voice pointedly. “And the

atmosphere is private. We can speak safely there.”

Raven and Loki nodded, and the three of them left the shadows of the alley.

“Is Trimontium always this crowded?” Loki asked as they shuffled through another

large group of people.

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“As Kriver’s capital city, Trimontium holds many people,” Summer explained.

“However, the Solstice is approaching. The Mid-Summer’s Festival brings countless

revelers from neighboring cities and towns. They are setting up in Festival Square. I can

take you there after lunch. The Festival is quite an occasion.” She smiled to herself. “It is my favorite, though I would never admit as much to my father. He doesn’t know I attend

the festivities.”

They rounded a corner and were walking down another placidly busy street when the

hair on the back of Raven’s neck stood on end. Instinctively, she searched the street

ahead of her, and when she didn’t find what she was looking for, she turned to glance

behind her. There, she saw a smallish man, dressed in expensive fineries that seemed off-

kilter with his undersized stature, beady black eyes, and mouse-like features. He was

staring at her as a miner would eye a sparkling vein. She stopped in her tracks and turned

her body to face him. He did not move from where he stood in the center of the street, his

little eyes wide, his expression acquisitive.

“Um, Loki?”

Loki stopped and turned. He saw her staring and followed her gaze to the small man.

“Summer, who is that man?” he asked, his voice low, his expression turning dark.

Summer turned around. She blanched. “Oh no.”

At that, the man took off at a run, his little legs carrying him much more quickly than

would seem possible. They watched him disappear around a building.

“What just happened?” Raven asked, her gut suddenly feeling like lead.

Summer shook her head, her gaze glued to where the man had vanished. “This can’t

be good. That was Jax Narrium. He is a retired thief, a very rich, very selfish man. He is

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also the eyes and ears of the Lords and Ladies when they do not sojourn into the city.”

She turned to Raven and her expression was regretful. “I am sorry Raven, but he has most

likely run to tell them of your presence here. A woman of your beauty will most certainly

be taken as a royal courtesan.” She swallowed, blushing furiously. “I am afraid that the

King and Prince have many. It is what my father fears, though he concerns himself

without cause. The Lords would not choose one as plain as myself.”

“You are not plain, Summer.” Loki spoke up. And then, as Summer met his gaze, he

cleared his throat and nervously looked at the ground. Summer’s blush stayed put.

Raven crossed her arms over her chest, her gaze sliding from one of them to the

other. She sighed, exasperated, and rolled her eyes. “So, what do we do?” she asked.

"Right," Summer said and gestured for Raven and Loki to follow her. "We need to get to our destination as quickly as possible. I doubt they would search for you at

Marrianne’s. It is not one of the more frequented taverns, and right now the others are

filled to the rafters.”

Raven moved at a fast pace alongside her, but her expression was very worried.

“Why don’t we head back to your farm? We have done what we came to do. Shouldn’t

we leave the city?”

Summer shook her head as she strode through the street. “The first thing they would

do is post guards at the gates. The only time they do so is when they wish to either keep

someone specific from entering the city, or,” she glanced apologetically at Raven, “when

they wish to keep someone specific from leaving it.”

Raven’s head spun. “Are you telling me I’m a prisoner in Trimontium?”

Summer didn’t answer.

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Heather Killough-Walden

Raven cursed under her breath. She didn’t like the idea of being a prisoner, of being

helpless. Thoughts of hands roughly ripping at her clothes and skin came unbidden to her

mind. Her stomach clenched and her head began to pound.

“Raven!”

Raven turned to Loki. “What?” And then she noticed it – the steam she expelled with

every breath. Her eyes widened. The temperature was balmy, the climate mild. She was

producing the vapor in her own fury and fear.

She drew in a shaky breath and tried to calm her nerves.

“Just take it easy. Nothing is going to happen to you.” Loki moved closer to her and

took her gently by the arm. He leaned in to whisper in her ear. “You can control it. Just

think of something else.”

Raven nodded silently, trying to concentrate on something besides her possible

demise. In a few moments, her breath returned to normal, no one but she and Loki the

wiser. Her brother nodded slowly, smiled sympathetically, and gave her a squeeze before

releasing her.

“Here we are. Hurry,” Summer said as she held open the door of a small wooden

structure crammed between two larger buildings. It’s façade gave the appearance of

having been built specifically to the dimensions of the inadequate spaces left behind by

its neighbors. It appeared squished, but its cherry wood exterior looked new and well

kept. Overhead, a small, brightly painted swinging sign declared “Marrianne’s” to the

world, and the three of them ducked inside.

Marrianne’s interior was warm and inviting. In place of a winter’s fire, several

candles flickered in the corner hearth, lending the establishment a cozy atmosphere. The

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smell of fresh baked bread mingled with the aroma of cinnamon in the air. The tavern

was furnished with several round tables, at which sat numerous people who conversed

quietly or ate delicious looking food.

Summer led them to an empty table and they each took a seat. Before long, a lovely